Chapter Seven: Prizes of War
Kephra woke that next morning, his hands clenching the improvised weapon he had constructed. Absalom was probing Micah's wound, checking to see if the fester had set into the gash yet. It was still incredibly painful for the raichu. "I wish I had my mum here," Absalom wished. "She would be able to take much better care of it than I could."
"How bad?" Micah hissed, waiting for the pain to subside. The wound throbbed, sending waves of pain up his leg and side.
"I don't see any major infection," Absalom concluded after his examination. "But in order for it to fully heal, we would need to stitch it back up. And I don't have the right supplies for that."
"Great," Micah muttered. "I'm getting old for this."
Kephra snorted jokingly at the remark. "Aren't we all?"
"Me more than you, thank you very much."
"Should I carry him?" Absalom asked.
"That would be a good idea," Kephra glanced down at the spear in his hand. To carry Micah and the weapon would have been too much to juggle.
Micah pointed at Kephra's spear. He clenched his small fists when Absalom lifted him off the ground. "You did that last night?"
"Yeah, we were pretty much defenseless until now."
"How did you do it so fast?" the jeweler whistled.
"A friend of my father was a well known spear fisher and he taught me how to make your own spears. It's crude and might break, but it will do, at least I can find myself a decent weapon." The blaziken kicked the remnants of the fire, scattering the ashes to the winds, lest the guards pick up on their trail. "We should get going and hopefully, we'll come across a village and get the proper care for Micah's leg." Kephra gestured dramatically to Absalom. "Since you probably know this better than I do, lead the way."
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She darted along the tops of the branches, her paws light as a feather as she danced across the trees. The cloak she wore to banish the rain flew behind like a pair of indigo and black wings. Her silver medallion clanged against her chest. She paused in her tracks, perched precariously over a cluster of branches, her pale blue eyes surveying the scene below. It was a supply train, going to feed the Tao armies, trundling slowly down the road, the wagons pulled by tauros and bouffalant. There were about three score soldiers patrolling the wagons, eyes open and wary. "They never do look up," she told herself quietly.
She snorted, her ruff around her neck twitching with her movements. This would not do, Zalya thought to herself.
"Perfect," she muttered, formulating the plan in her head. According to the spies of Rhianu, the supply train would be passing this way, but it was too early, not enough time to plan everything out; she would have to improvise then.
She eased her way out of the tree, already creating the illusion to conceal her body. She would be disguised as a little igglybuff, wandering the forest looking for her big sister. The thought of an older sibling brought a pang to her chest and Zalya changed it. The igglybuff would be looking for her aunt instead. She adopted a periwinkle colored paisley dress, all the better to fool her enemies with.
She landed on the ground, near the edge of the road with a thud and she fought, for a moment, to maintain the illusion with the impact. She dusted herself off and wandered towards the wagons, hoping the guards would see her plush pink form before they ran her over with the thick heavy-set wagon wheels.
Thankfully, an infernape astride a zebstrika caught sight of her. He appeared to be the leader of the party, bearing the standard of a legion Zalya didn't recognize. He wore gilded armor molded close to his body, encasing him like the shell of an insect. "What are you doing out here?" he asked.
Zalya sobbed horrifically. "Please help me! My aunt and I were in the woods, looking for berries and she fell and hurt her leg! She told me to go get help! Please help me!" she begged.
The infernape studied her for a moment and Zalya feared he sensed something. He was pressed for time, delivering supplies to General Tiber's army, but as a soldier, he was taught to treat the locals, despite their loyalties, with respect. After all, they could turn against you at any moment. "Why are you and your aunt all the way out here?"
"We live in a very small cabin that my uncle built. With my parents gone away. . ."Zalya trailed off, sniffling once or twice during her monologue, hoping to fool the infernape.
The soldier released the reins of the zebstrika and slid off the zebra pokemon, handing the standard off to the handler of the first wagon. He offered a hand to the igglybuff, really Zayla in disguise, so she could take him to where her "aunt" was at.
As Zayla took his hand, she began to pull him off the side of the road, the signal for the rebels. Then, out of the darkness of the forest, a bolt flew and took the soldier in the neck, the feathered shaft lodging all the way to the fletching. The soldier sank wordlessly to the ground, hands reaching in vain to pull the offensive item from his throat. Arrows then flew at the wagons from every direction, sending the supply train into chaos. Tauros and boufalant attempted to flee the scene, but were shackled by the massive collars they wore, chaining them to the wagons; therefore, when they fled, they dragged the wagons with them. Soldiers attempted to fight back, raising their shields to deflect the arrows aimed at them; however, the arrows sunk home more often than not. The arrows were fletched with black feathers, the shafts dyed black, to hide in the shadows as they flew to their targets.
Then, the rebels materialized out of the trees, bearing cloaks of greens and grays for camouflage, the cowls of the cloaks obscuring their faces. They bore weapons of steel, the reflective metal dusted with ash to not give away their positions. There were about a dozen total, wielding their swords with a swift efficiency that was evident of experience. One of the soldiers, clearly the leader of the band, wielded an unusual weapon, a sword that curved in a sleek sickle shape. It was referred to as a khopesh.
The soldiers, now with actual targets to combat, pulled out the short swords that were standard issue to the Tao armies. Their armor proved effective against the blades, but not the black arrows that hummed in the air, each and everyone finding their mark. Tao soldiers fell to the earth, their lifeblood sinking into the dusty road.
Eventually, the grove fell into silence.
The bandits swiftly went to each wagon, removing the supplies inside with precision. Other rebels came out of the woods now as well, their longbows resting across their backs, assisting the foot soldiers with the movement of the pilfered supplies out of the wagons and into the forest. Other rebels bent and plucked the arrows out of the corpses of the Tao soldiers. Every arrow was precious to them. None could be wasted. Every now and though, an arrow could not be salvaged and they left those where they were, a message to any passerby.
Once the supplies were completely removed, the rebels moved to the corpses, removing armor and weapons, coinage and even their shoes. The leather could be used for armor and straps and any metal could be melted down. They dragged the bodies to the empty wagons and placed them inside in unceremonious piles. The rebels, satisfied with their progress, pushed the wagons to the side of the road, out of the way for travelers, but still a reminder for the would be Tao conquerors.
The leader of the band removed her, revealing a lupine face, blue, with a black "mask" around her eyes. A single earring was in her right ear. She sheathed her weapon. "Congratulations Zalya, you did it again."
The igglybuff nodded and she dropped her illusion, revealing a small fox like pokemon, coal gray, with red accents and pale blue eyes, a zorua. The paisley dress she wore changed back to a cloak that covered the bulk of her small delicate frame, her silver medallion still on her chest. "Thank you Rain. They were too easy."
"Aye, and we got a large amount of supplies from this one as well. General Rufus will be quite upset with this one, especially since we apparently managed to pilfer his favorite ale as well." She patted a nearby barrel, clearly marked with both the stamp of the Tao Empire and of the brewery. Rain smirked. She was a lucario and the leader of their merry little band.
"One of these days, they'll be smart enough to send a bigger force, and perhaps to be more cautious about innocent little pokemon on the side of the road," Zalya said, looking at the pile of bodies in the wagons.
"Let's pray that day never comes."
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They trio managed to find their way into a small mountain town alongside of the road leading to Black Pit Mines. The day was beginning to fade into twilight, the merrily winking lights of the town enticing the three. Micah moaned, half-conscious in Absalom's arms. The jeweler had worsen throughout the day, feverish. Absalom had sworn that there had been no fester setting in, but Kephra had surmised the raichu was how he was due to blood lose. Either way, they had to get help and fast.
They crept to the edge of town, towards a good-sized two story building made of wood, with a stone foundation. A few shingles were missing, with more on their way to falling off, and the windows were lit form the inside out, inviting and warm. A faded wooden sign of a prancing venasaur swayed back and forth with the slightest breeze.
Kephra turned to Absalom. "What should we do?"
The charmeleon shrugged as best he could while carrying Micah. "I don't know, investigate, I guess."
Kephra released his spear, any notions of a fighter gone. "I'll take a look. Stay out of the way." Absalom nodded and melted back into the shadows, his reptilian eyes glowing in the night. Kephra crouched and snuck close to the building, to get a better look. It seemed busy enough, judging by the sounds coming from within. He squatted by an window that opened out to the gap between it and a old well. The smells of warm home cooked food enticed Kephra and his mouth watered at the thought. Even more so when what smelt like a chicken pot pie was placed on the windowsill. It was too easy. The scents of flaky dough and the warm gooey insides proved too much for the starving blaziken and he peeked up, to see if anybody was watching. Once he deemed it safe, he grabbed the dish pan, the pan still much too hot to handle and he struggled to keep it from dropping, but he couldn't, because this could be the only meal he would get.
"What are you doing?" Kephra froze, the hot dish in his hands. He turned his head to find a matronly miltank scowling at him, like he were a petulant child caught with his fingers in the pie. "And what are you doing with my pie?"
Kephra's mind raced as he tried to come up with an decent excuse. He had none. "Please help us," he pleaded.
"Help? Help with what?" she asked, not buying it.
"I can't say here. You have to come outside." Kephra gingerly placed the pie back on the windowsill, blowing on his hands.
She studied the blaziken, taking in his scruffy appearance, including his gaunt frame and the dried blood on his person. She suspected something was happening without her being aware. She always knew everything going on in her small mountain town, whether her information was gained through town gossip or just simple intuition. She nodded and wiped her hooves on her apron, formerly white, now an off white with grease stains, flour and all manners of dirt and grime splattered all over it. "I'll be there in a second." she disappeared from his view and he carefully peeked his head inside the window, to track her. The inn and tavern—the latter he presumed—was busy tonight, filled with what appeared to be locals and out-of-towners looking for a place to stay for the night. His mouth went dry when he studied them. There were Tao soldiers among her guests, the gray, black and white tabards unmistakable. Either they were soldiers from the Black Pit Mines on a holiday, or soldiers coming in to the Mines. At the moment though, Kephra didn't care.
The miltank interrupted his thoughts. "Would you care to explain why you were snatching chicken pot pies off harmless inn owner's windowsills?"
"My friends and I were escaped slaves from the Black Pit Mines. We haven't eaten since we fled and my friend is injured and we need to get medical supplies for him. Please help us."
The miltank, who happened to be shorter than he, eyed him up and down, from his gaunt, slender frame to the blood splattered pants and feathers. His blue-green eyes were alight with a fire that was uncommon among the common folk, feverish, almost. "Normally, I wouldn't believe such tall tales like that told to me, but in this case, I'll make an exception. There is a stable a little ways that way," she pointed in a northwesterly direction, to a dark lumpy shadow about sixty yards away."It's empty tonight, so you can stay there. Go there and I'll meet you later."
"Thank you," Kephra gestured to Absalom and Micah, who had been hiding close by. "Come on, let's go." The trio began to head over to the stables when the miltank called out:
"And take the pie with you. You look like you could fall over with a sneeze."
Kephra smiled wide, the small token of kindness too much for him. "Thank you, and may the All-Father bless you and your endeavors." He picked up the pot pie on the way to the stables, not caring whether the pan would burn his hands.
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The three huddled in the darkness in one of the stalls of the empty stables, Absalom's tail providing some light in the darkness. The fire cast everything into harsh lights and stark shadows, morphing things into monsters and other forms that should not be there. The stench of musty and old hay filled their nostrils, as well as the pot pie Kephra had placed on the ground. He borrowed Micah's knife and cut the pie into three large portions, passing them to Absalom and Micah. Micah was lucid now, the smells of the pie enticing him, Kephra had teased. Absalom inspected Micah's leg once more, but he had nothing on his person to clean the wound.
The trio froze when they heard the stable door creak open and a torch light appeared in their view. Kephra had sworn that there had been no one in the stables, or so the inn keeper had said.
"Hello?" Kephra let out the breath he had been holding. It was the inn keeper, the matronly miltank. She approached them, a cloth sack in one hand, the torch they had seen in the other. "There you are. I was afraid you had run off." She hovered in the threshold of the stall, waiting for their invitation. "I brought some more food for you, and some canteens." she wiggled her shoulder and four canteens clinked against each other, their contents filled with some unknown liquid. She caught a glimpse of Micah's injury. "The All-Father have mercy! What happened?"
"It happened when we were trying to escape the Black Pit Mines," Kephra explained, as Micah had a mouth full of pot pie. "We don't have anything to help treat it though."
"Well, if it doesn't get stitched up soon, it'll get the fester," the inn keeper frowned. "Here, take this and I'll be back." She placed the canteens and satchel down and left the stables. Kephra reached for the bag first, upending the contents onto the ground. There were some apples, about half a dozen small loaves of breads, dried meats of an unknown variety and a wheel of cheese just short of a foot wide.
"Oh bless her!" Absalom praised, cradling one of the loaves of bread in his hands. "Bread, and cheese!"
Kephra sniffed one of the canteens. "The canteens have water in them, which is just as well, since we really don't need alcohol at the moment."
"We can save the bread and cheese for tomorrow," Absalom suggested. "And finish the pot pie tonight. I imagine that the pie will be plenty for us."
"Indeed," Kephra agreed, nursing a piece of the pie. He hadn't had a decent meal in over two years and too much food would be too much for his stomach. He wasn't sure if he could even polish off his piece of the pot pie, but he had to, since food wasted was both a tragedy—according to Micah—and a signal to any wold be pursuers.
The torch returned once more, the innkeeper holding another, smaller satchel, one that could be carried over one shoulder. "Here, there are some needles, thread, and some medicine from one of my more frequent customers. He gives me supplies in exchange for my pies." she added, chuckling to herself.
"Do you know how to stitch up a wound?" Absalom asked her.
"Not for something that horrendous," she replied, kneeling next to Micah. She had since placed the torch into an old sconce at the entrance of the stall. "But I could sure try." She rummaged through the bag to pull out some thread, a slender needle made of old bone, the material yellowed with age, a small spool of black thread and a pair of small crystalline bottles. "Take a swallow of this." she told Micah, handing one of the bottles over.
"What is it?" Micah asked her, reaching for the bottle.
"Whiskey," she replied jokingly. Micah dutifully took a swallow of it.
"Hey! It is whiskey!" Micah proclaimed, surprised.
"Maybe I should take a swallow," Absalom offered.
The miltank shook her head and clipped off a long piece of thread with a pair of tiny shears. "Your tail, please," she asked Absalom. The charmeleon obliged, shifting his tail flame so that the inn-keeper could use is as a source of light. Then, she popped the cork off of the other bottle and dipped the thread inside, holding it in there for a few seconds. She then did the same with the bone needle. Finally, she pulled a piece of cotton from the satchel and dipped that in there as well. She began to dab at the wound with the soaked cotton. Micah hissed sharply and was tempted to jerk his leg away.
"By all the Legendaries that burns! What is that?"
"The herbalist calls it "anti-septic"," she fumbled over the unfamiliar word. "It burns the fester out of your leg."
"I think it's going to burn my bloomin' leg off," Micah cursed through gritted teeth. After what seemed like an eternity, the burn subsided and the miltank began her work, threading the needle and tying a knot at the end of the thread. She slowly, but surely, began to stitch the ragged edges of the wound back together. Micah clenched his fists and gritted his teeth as she pulled the needle through the ragged skin, sewing them together. Kephra, watching the scene unfold, could tell she was somewhat experienced, but not experienced enough to sew up a wound of this magnitude. Kephra wondered if he should say something along the lines of getting the town's mysterious herbalist, but decided against it. He did not want to seem ungracious to the one who could have very well saved Micah's life.
She finished up the last stitch and tied the excess thread into a knot and then clipped the end of the thread with the shears. "There, I think that should do it." She busied herself with cleaning up the bottles and needles. She placed them in the small satchel, then hesitated for a moment. She finished cleaning, then handed the satchel off to Absalom. "You'll need them much more than I will. I can get another set from the herbalist."
Absalom took the small leather satchel, amazed at her generosity. "Thank you for this."
She nodded, smiling broadly. "You're very welcome. The Children of the Sky must look after their own, correct?" She continued. "Besides, the "anti-septic" can be used every morning to help keep your friend's leg clean of the fester." She got up from her kneeling position, brushing the bits of hay and straw off her apron and self. "I must go tend to my guests. Hopefully, they haven't completely destroyed my inn. Good night and good bless."
After she had gone, the three turned to each other, near stupefied at her charity. Micah studied the freshly stitched up wound. "It's a miracle," he whispered, eying the crisp clean stitching, as if she had done the stitches on a quilt.
"I hope it holds up," Kephra remarked marveling at the stitch job.
"Should we have a watch?" Absalom said, asking the question on all their minds."
"I'll take it," Kephra offered, reluctant to tell them of the Tao soldiers at the inn.
"Are you sure?"
"I'll be alright. If you want, you can take the second."
"Very well," Absalom buried his form under a pile of musty straw leaving his tail sticking out to prevent the possible chance of a fire. It stunk, but it was as luxurious as a rich cotton sheet to the former soldier. Micah leaned back in another pile, still muttering under his breath over the "marvelous job" the inn keeper had done.
Kephra leaned back against the low wall of the stall, one hand resting lightly on his spear, his blue-green eyes peeled for the soldiers in white and black.
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She sat back in the corner of the inn, her eyes—well, eye, anyway, absorbing every detail around her. She was blind in her left eye, nothing more than a milky fog, a mess of scars crossing her body, a road map of her life. A heavy metal choker rested about her neck, itching horribly, but it was a slave's lot, to wear such a collar until one dropped dead or was freed, but more than likely, it was the latter.
She eyed her slavers, Tao soldiers destined to make a living at the Black Pit Mines. She was a personal slave to one of them and as such, was forced to go along. Serena frowned at the thought of spending the rest of her days serving the whims of her capricious captor and should she not die from injury, illness or exposure, it was to be a long time. The soldiers were clearly drunk, for she could smell the heavy plume of alcohol reeking from them, casting a pallor over that part of the inn. She was to be served scraps from them, or, if they were considerate enough, some of their meal. A dead slave was a useless slave, they told her many times, during her early days of enslavement when she would rather die than to serve such monsters.
But, according to them, she committed a crime and as a result, was forced to serve out her punishment under their yoke.
Serena turned her attention to the other parts of the tavern and inn, watching the patrons and servers of the place. A hot steaming chicken pot pie was sitting in a windowsill and at times, she could catch a waft of it through the haze of alcohol. It was delicious and at times, her stomach rumbled, imagining the delights that laid inside the pastry dish. She caught something though, with her good eye. A stranger , a blaziken, was hovering by the windowsill, a pained expression on his face as he studied that pie intently. He reached out and began to slip the pie off the sill, until Serena caught the stranger with the offending item. There was an exchange and at last, the miltank allowed him to make off with the pie.
Serena was struck by the exchange and while she could not hear it, it intrigued her, stoking her curiosity. So, seeing that her captors were well on their way to be becoming blind drunk, Serena decided to sneak, to see what the fuss had been all about.
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It didn't take long for her to find the source of the pie; Serena could smell it all the way from the inn. The pie was at the stable, where probably the blaziken was as well, whoever he may be. She found a small hole in one of the walls of the stables and crawled under it, to find herself in a very dusty and musty stable. There were hay bales stacked almost to the rafters, the earthy, heady scent reaching her nostrils. Serena sneezed, her nose itching quite horribly. She could not see the entirety of the place from her vantage point, so, she decided to climb a nearby pile of hay bales, to get a better view. She clambered on one of the shorter bales, her puffy tail straight as a rod, using it for balance. It was an arduous climb, but she had at last managed to find herself on top of a large pile of bales. In one of the stalls, she caught the soft glowing light of a charmeleon's tail, as well as a raichu and the blaziken from earlier. The miltank was patching up the raichu for some injury or another, as the other two ate slowly.
Serena decided to get a closer look, hopping to another pile of bales to listen in.
After a short while, the miltank left, leaving the three alone. Serena got a good look at them. They were thin, the raichu and blaziken bearing the marks of former slaves, seeing the scars on their wrists and ankles. They must have escaped, Serena determined, for a freed slave would have found shelter among the normal folk, rather than hiding themselves from the world. Their fear was palatable even from this distance. The blaziken carried a spear, clearly of homemade construction. They were discussing something, something about 'keeping watch'. They were escaped slaves, fearing retribution from their captors.
Serena felt a pang of envy. It wasn't fair! They enjoyed the sweet taste of freedom, albeit bittersweet, and she could not. The iron collar never felt so heavy around her neck at the moment. A plan sprang to her head. Maybe, just maybe, the Tao soldiers would be kinder to her, if she were to alert them of the escaped slaves. Maybe, they would free her, in exchange for her information.
A nauseating taste sprang to her throat. If she were to think about it, she and they had much more in common, all of them being slaves at some point or another. To snitch on them would be a sickening thing to even consider. Serena mulled her options over, seeking a compromise.
She would tell the Tao soldiers of her discovery, but only after the slaves had fled the area. A good compromise and both of them could win in the end: they could escape and she could be free.
The bale wobbled suddenly and Serena froze, panicked that the bales would tumble down and crush her under the mass of hay. She had to leave, and quickly. So, she hopped off the highest one and nimbly made her way back down, inching back under the hole in the wall, to make her way back to the Tao soldiers, who were probably now in a drunken stupor.
For those curious, yes, I do know how to stitch up a wound. It is not quite like the process the miltank uses, but considering that she does not make a living of this, it is understandable.
Another thing, some real life animals exist in this world. Cattle, chickens, geese and most farm animals (save horses), along with many species of fish live here. Basically anything that could be eaten without offending somebody is consumed here. We can't have cannibalism now can't we?
The OC, Zalya the Zorua belongs to The Imaginatrix.
Serena the Eevee belongs to Hazelblossom.
Reviews, please? The reviews are lonely and want some new friends to hang out with; you don't want to make them sad, do you?