Tales of
Erogenia
Based
on the online comic created by J.E. Draft.
Episode 2: Journey to
Jinqua
Chapter
2: The
Departure
Zenaria’s departure
from the stockade of the Snow Leopard was without
fanfare. It was not her tribe’s
way to stage elaborate ceremonies.
However, her fame as a warrior
meant that there were a number of people to see her and Shalandra off, and
of course, Cron was there.
“May the Snow Leopard
go with you,” Cirilia said, offering the familiar blessing of her
people. “And may this venture
prove as blessed as your first.”
“I’m not sure
I want to return carrying a child this time, mother,” Zenaria
smiled.
“If the warrior who
seeds you be valiant it is an acceptable outcome,” Cirilia
returned. “But take care
for Shalandra. She has not yet
had her first Moon.”
Shalandra frowned, annoyed
at being the subject of conversation.
However, she said nothing, honouring her mother’s
word. Although only Zenaria’s
half sister, there was a strong resemblance through their
mother. Like Zenaria she was
tall, already standing five-foot-nine inches although she had only seen her
thirteenth summer, and she was blessed with the same thick, richly dark hair
as her sister. However, her striking
blue eyes came from her father, Shalan, a Wolf Tribe warrior who had ventured
into the Snow Leopard lands.
Instead of killing him, as was the norm, Cirilia had taken a liking
to him and the result was her youngest
daughter.
Cirilia turned to Shalandra,
embracing the younger girl and then holding her at arms’
length. “You are young to
be leaving the nest, but you are a warrior of the Snow Leopard and equal
to the task. However, I ask that
you obey your sister in all things.
Although you promise to be most powerful as your talents mature you
are not her match as a warrior and the path you travel will be filled with
danger.”
Shalandra flashed Zenaria
a quick look of irritation, but she turned back to her mother and gave the
ritual answer. “I will do
as you ask, my queen.”
Cirilia smiled her appreciation
at Shalandra’s answer and stepped
back. She would say no more to
either of her daughters, but she waited to watch them
leave.
Zenaria took a quick look
toward Cron. She met his eyes
and smiled, but it was not the smile of a lover leaving her beloved, but
that of a woman who knew she could leave without
regrets. Cron was surrounded
by several admiring females, one of whom was already running her fingers
over the muscles of his right arm.
There was just one more
goodbye to be said. Standing
to one side was a tall blonde carrying a dark-haired
child. Zenaria took her daughter
into her arms and cradled her next to her
breast. “Goodbye
Trenaria,” she said planting a kiss on her downy
cheek. Following Snow Leopard
custom she had named her daughter after the father, taking Tren’s name
and adding the feminine suffix. The
infant crowed, grabbing at Zenaria’s long braid, and she felt a quick
tug on her heart, but it was time to go, and by Snow Leopard custom Trenaria
was no longer truly hers. Now
she belonged to the tribe and most of her upbringing would be carried out
by Zenaria’s aunt Darria, the stately blonde who had been holding
her. Reluctantly she relinquished
her hold on her daughter and turning her eyes to the road she set out, Shalandra
following.
They carried very little
gear. Snow Leopard warriors usually
travelled light, but in consideration of the fact that Zenaria was acting
as the ambassador of her tribe Cirilia had given her a donkey to help carry
their gear. It was a welcome
addition, especially as it allowed Zenaria to take her exquisite brass-studded
leather armour with her without being forced to wear
it. However, the donkey proved
to be a bit of a mixed blessing.
Shalandra christened the animal “Balky,” which about summed
up its personality.
After a number of false
starts which Zenaria finally resolved by using the flat of her sword on
Balky’s hindquarters they finally got going, cheered on by the well-wishers
who had stayed to see them off.
They headed for the Ice
Gates, a high pass that was the only way in or out of the land of the Snow
Leopard. It was a steep climb
through rugged terrain and it got tougher as they progressed, so they took
their time. There was no point
in rushing. Shalandra’s
vision had contained no sense of urgency, and so much as Zenaria looked forward
to visiting other lands she did not hurry, more for Shalandra’s sake
than anything else. She did not
want her sister to become discouraged by exhausting her in the first few
days’ march.
Although Shalandra would
have been considered remarkably fit by the standards of almost any other
society, by Erogenian standards she had led a sheltered life, her training
in the arcane arts taking her away from the normal athletic pursuits of Snow
Leopard life. Zenaria planned
to let her get her wind first before tackling the more difficult terrain
near the Ice Gates.
Within a few hours they
had trekked several miles from the
stockade. The isolated domain
of the Snow Leopard tribe was a region dominated by coniferous vegetation,
primarily spruce, but containing a mixture of fir, and
pine. The forest provided shelter
from the high winds that often tore down from the mountains, but also contained
a variety of dangers and Zenaria kept her senses
alert. Occasionally she stopped
and sent out a mental probe.
Highly attuned to nature,
Erogenians had a strong connection with the animals that populated the wild
lands they had chosen for their homes, but Zenaria had a special connection,
one unmatched by anyone else in her
tribe. She called, seeking a
link with a mind that only she knew.
She felt a faint tug and then suddenly an animal awareness filled
her mind.
The contact was always
startling. The creature she was
bonding with thought nothing like her.
Its thoughts were completely alien; filled with images of blood, fang,
claw and animal passion, but underlying all of this was another thought,
one of affection and trust.
“Jaree,” Zenaria called.
“Come to me.”
There was a confirmation,
almost like a mental purr and Zenaria
smiled. Her childhood companion,
the enormous snow leopard that had bonded to her, had
answered. She turned to
Shalandra. “Keep hold of
Balky. We don’t want him
making a break for it.”
Shalandra
nodded. She knew of what Zenaria
was alluding to. She stepped
closer to the donkey and took hold of his
halter. A few seconds later Balky
went mad.
Slipping through the trees
like autumn mist, a huge ghost-like cat suddenly emerged from the
trees. Ignoring the screaming
donkey it moved toward Zenaria and rubbed against her, a low rumbling issuing
from somewhere within.
Zenaria knelt and threw
her arms around the neck of the leopard, holding tight to keep from being
knocked off her feet as the giant cat tried to rub against
her. Shalandra stared in
amazement. She knew of
Zenaria’s bond with the huge snow leopard, but like most members of
the tribe, she had never seen the animal
before. Jaree came and went when
she chose. Standing four feet
tall at the shoulder, the snow leopard dwarfed other members of her species,
but was meek as a kitten when her bondmate was present, and Shalandra watched
the powerful cat as she attempted to calm the terrified
donkey.
Her hand upon Balky’s
neck, Shalandra called on her training, radiating soothing thoughts into
the distraught donkey. Gradually
the animal calmed, although it kept a wary eye on the huge
cat.
“You did well,”
Zenaria said. “You have
progressed far in your training.”
“It is only a small
thing,” Shalandra replied, but she blushed with pride.
Although she and Zenaria were
sisters, there was no rivalry between them; the five year age difference
was too great. However, it was
no small thing to receive a compliment from so famous a warrior as
Zenaria.
Jaree’s arrival seemed
a good omen, and Zenaria wondered if this time the great cat could be persuaded
to accompany her beyond its normal range.
The wilds of Erogenia were fraught with danger, and although confident
that she could handle almost anything that came her way, it was always good
to have allies, particular one as impressive as
Jaree. The addition of the big
cat also meant that they could proceed more
rapidly. There were few things
in the forests of Erogenia that Jaree would not sense
first. By late afternoon they
reached the upward climb to the Ice Gates.
“We’ll camp
here,” Zenaria said. The
spot she had chosen was a small clearing screened by trees, and next to a
small creek. It was an ideal
spot and it was still early enough that she and Jaree could hunt before night
set in.
“You set up camp,”
Zenaria ordered. “Jaree
and I will see if we can provide any fresh
meat.” She strung her bow
and sent out an image that Jaree
understood. The flickering images
of the cat’s reply indicated that she agreed with Zenaria’s idea
and without a sound she slipped into the forest, moving upwind of
Zenaria.
Zenaria moved in a semicircle,
allowing Jaree to get into position.
The plan was simple. Jaree
would move a few hundred yards upwind, allowing any game to catch her
scent. The animals would flee
toward the waiting Zenaria who would bring them down with her
bow. It was a tried and true
method that Zenaria and Jaree practiced
before. Zenaria had no idea how
much Jaree was capable of understanding.
The huge cat was intelligent, but their communication consisted of
a transfer of images, and Jaree’s thoughts were so full of feline violence
that it was difficult to hold anything resembling what might be called a
conversation. For hunting the
system worked well enough, but Zenaria had another idea in mind for Jaree
and she hoped that she was capable of communicating
it.
She reached her position
at the edge of a meadow and waited, screened by a stand of alder. She
didn’t have to wait long. Her
keen ears picked up the sound of something moving rapidly toward
her. She readied her bow and
waited.
Bounding across the meadow
came not one deer, but two, a buck and a
doe. In a single smooth motion
she drew and released, bringing the buck down in
mid-leap. The buck collapsed
in a heap, dead before it hit the ground.
Zenaria slung her bow over her shoulder, drew her knife and crossed
to the dead animal. She knelt
before it, asking its forgiveness for taking its life and offering up prayer
to its spirit. Then she cut its
throat and allowed it to bleed.
Jaree approached and she cut off a generous portion for the
leopard. Leaving the cat to feed,
she tossed the remaining meat over her shoulder and returned to
Shalandra.
Shalandra had their simple
camp set up by the time Zenaria returned.
Balky was tethered close to camp, but where he could graze on the
succulent summer grass. A fire
had been started and Shalandra had set a small pot on the fire to boil in
preparation for making tea, the traditional beverage of the Snow Leopard
Tribe.
Zenaria set the carcass
on the ground and began the process of gutting and butchering
it. She cut off enough for supper
and then set some aside for breakfast the next
day. If there had been a need
she would have prepared more, but she knew there was no
need. Game was plentiful and
she and Jaree could continue to hunt as they
journeyed.
Shalandra had also gathered
a few wild onions and a number of small plants that could be used to season
the meat. Zenaria set a couple
of steaks by the fire to cook and then sipped at the tea Shalandra had
prepared.
The meal finished, they
prepared places to sleep. With
Jaree nearby there was no need for either of them to stand watch or for Shalandra
to set up any wards. Snuggling
down inside the simple shelter she had built both warriors were soon
asleep.
Zenaria woke
early. Without disturbing Shalandra
she crawled from her shelter, attended to her personal needs and revived
the fire. A yawn from her sister
revealed that by this time she too was awake and a few seconds later she
joined Zenaria for a breakfast of the remainder of the
venison. A few feet away there
was a loud crunching as Jaree too joined in the
meal.
Breakfast finished, they
broke camp, and continued their journey.
Both women were alert. In
spite of the presence of the big leopard there were still dangers that could
threaten their lives, as was proved just an hour into their
trek.
A snuffling sound from their
left alerted them to the danger.
Barely thirty feet away a stand of fir suddenly parted and a gigantic
horned snout emerged. As it
shouldered the trees aside an enormous brown-haired body was revealed, measuring
twenty feet long from the six foot horn on its nose to the tip of its tail,
and standing over ten feet tall. It
swung its enormous head toward them.
Downwind, it had clearly caught their scent while its own was
masked.
Jaree screamed a challenge,
ready to take on a monstrous beast more than thirty times its own
weight. Zenaria sent out a single
command:
“Flee!”
Already, and with astonishing
speed, the rhinoceros was thundering toward
them. Zenaria let go of Balky’s
rope and ran for her life. This
was something that mere arrows could not
stop. The eight ton monster
shouldered trees aside and tore through thick stands of willows as if they
did not even exist. Zenaria headed
for a large boulder just ten feet away, hoping to place itself between her
and the charging beast, but the speed of the rhino was so great she knew
she was not going to make it. Out
of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Shalandra sprinting to
safety. She could hear the steamy
puffing of the rhino’s breath and feel the ground shake as the deadly
six foot horn speared toward the middle of her
back. There seemed no escaping
death, but at the last instant Zenaria threw herself toward the base of the
large stone and curled her body toward
it.
With a “whuff”
the rhino came to a sudden halt, sensing the immovable block of granite in
front of it. Gravel and turf
sprayed over Zenaria as she lay under the beast’s
head. Dim-sighted but with a
remarkable sense of smell, the rhino scented Zenaria beneath it and swung
its head back and forth in an attempt to dislodge
her. She curled her body as tight
against the rock as she could; hoping that the granite mass would prevent
the rhino’s huge head from reaching
her. With a snort of frustration
the beast took a step back, enabling it to probe at her with its
horn.
Zenaria came out of her
fetal crouch and grabbed at the giant
horn. It was a desperate measure,
but it was either that or be speared like a
fish. The rhino whuffed in anger
and tossed its head, lifting Zenaria like a
feather. She flew straight out
from the rhino’s horn, her body waving like a flag on the edge of a
pole. It was all she could do
to keep her grip, but Zenaria knew that to let go would almost certainly
mean her death. She would be
dashed to the ground and then either gored or crushed to death under the
rhino’s feet.
The rhino whipped its head
back and forth with tremendous force.
Zenaria’s fingers slipped.
With a frantic twist of her body she let go just as the rhino lifted
its head. Her body described
a high arc and then descended, coming down in the middle of the rhino’s
back. Instinctively she clutched
at the rhino’s long thick covering of hair, digging in her fingers with
a death-like grip.
For a heartbeat the rhino
came to a complete halt, and then sensing the unfamiliar weight on its back,
it went berserk, crashing through the forest and heaving its huge bulk in
an effort to shed its unwelcome burden.
Zenaria hung on with all her strength, her muscles straining as the
rhino swept under and through branches, crashing headlong through the
forest. Branches slapped against
her face and tore at her arms forcing her to bury her head in the fur of
the rhino, but as the beast thundered over the uneven ground each jolt caused
her to fly into the air, her heels higher than her head, and then she would
slam back down, the impact almost knocking the air from her
lungs.
But gradually the rhino
slowed as its frenzied attempts to get rid of the uninvited weight upon its
back drove it to the edge of exhaustion.
Finally it came to a halt in the middle of a meadow, its sides heaving
like some great bellows and jets of steam shooting from its
nostrils. Battered and bruised,
Zenaria released her hold on the beast.
She would get no better chance to escape than this unless she decided
to try and kill the beast.
That she could have
done. She was perched directly
over the rhino’s massive shoulders.
She could have drawn her sword and driven the razor-edged blade into
its spinal cord, but she could not do
that. The code of the Snow Leopard
taught that it was wrong to kill without reason, and the rhino had done nothing
wrong except to defend its territory against a possible
predator. Zenaria had killed
wild beasts before when attacked, but only when there was no other way and
there was no glory in killing a helpless animal that had run itself to
exhaustion. She slid off the
rhino’s shoulders and moved away as fast as her battered body would
allow.
“Zenaria!” Shalandra’s shout echoed through
the trees. The call came again
and Zenaria answered, driven so close to the edge of exhaustion she could
barely speak.
Shalandra pushed through
a stand of willow, her eyes wide and frantic with
worry. Behind her was Jaree who
immediately rubbed up against her and began to purr
loudly.
“Sister,”
Shalandra exclaimed, “are you all right?”
Zenaria leaned against a
tree, trying to catch her breath.
Gently she pulled Jaree’s
ears and knuckled the big cat’s
head. “I’m fine,”
she gasped. “Just give me
a few heartbeats.”
“You don’t look
fine,” Shalandra said, unslinging her bag of herbs and medicaments from
her shoulder. “Sit down
and let me tend to you.”
Zenaria did as she was
told. She was too beaten to do
much more in any case. While
she sat on a fallen tree Shalandra took out her waterskin and began to wipe
the blood from her numerous wounds.
“Hmm,” Shalandra
said professionally, “not too bad.
I’ll just clean you up and put some ointments on a few of the
deeper scratches.”
“Of course I’m
not too bad,” Zenaria replied, recovering a little of her
wind. “I told you I was
fine.”
“I am the healer
here,” Shalandra said, “and you will let me treat
you.”
Zenaria
acquiesced. Shalandra would just
keep on nagging until she agreed.
She had the same sort of determination that her older sister had and
although she had not yet seen fourteen summers she was accomplished in the
healing arts. With time when
her powers came to the full she might even become one of the great healers,
but that unknown was before her.
She would know nothing of her true potential until she had her first
moon, and from the look of Shalandra’s blossoming body that would not
be too long.
“There,” Shalandra
said finally, putting her tools and medicines
away. She had neatly stitched
up two deep cuts and smeared pungent and stinging cream on the rest of her
scrapes and bruises. “How
do you feel?”
“Like a healer’s
medicine bag,” Zenaria replied, getting to her
feet. It was important for her
to get moving. She could already
feel her bruised body stiffening, but with her amazing stamina she had recovered
enough that she was able to move off at a brisk
pace.
There was no sign of the
rhinoceros and she didn’t expect there would
be. She had ridden the maddened
beast until it was on the verge of collapse and she doubted that it had the
same powers of recovery that she had.
She headed off the way she had come, following the trail of broken
trees and crushed bushes until they reached the place where the rhino had
attacked. About halfway back
they found Balky. The donkey
was calmly munching on some tender willow shoots, having shed every bit of
gear it had been loaded with.
It took some time to locate
the scattered items and reload the donkey, but eventually everything was
found, including Zenaria’s sophisticated leather and bronze armour which
she carefully inspected for damage before repacking
it. Then, the reburdened donkey
in tow, they continued their interrupted
journey.
“We’re not going
to make the Icegate today,” Shalandra commented.
“No,” Zenaria
agreed. “We’ve lost
too much time. We’ll go
on a bit farther and then look for a place to
camp. It’s a good thing
we aren’t in a hurry.”
A short time later they
found a suitable campsite. It
consisted of a flat area near a large fallen
fir. The tree would provide both
firewood and support for a simple
shelter. Also nearby there was
a small stream trickling from the rocks.
While Zenaria worked on the shelter Shalandra unpacked Balky and built
a fire. Soon the small pot of
tea water was heating and then Shalandra cut up what was left of the
venison. There wasn’t much
left, Jaree having devoured most of it for breakfast, and they would have
to hunt soon to avoid digging into their
supplies. Jaree was not a
factor. Shortly after rejoining
the expedition she had disappeared into the forest to do a little hunting
on her own.
Zenaria paid little attention
to Jaree’s departure. She
snow leopard was a free spirit, not a
pet. She came and went as she
wished. She would return when
it suited her.
With the unexpectedly early
halt Zenaria decided a short hunt might be in
order. She readied her bow and
set out. Within a few minutes
her keen eye and powerful bow had brought down two rabbits and a wood
grouse. She returned to camp
and prepared the rabbits, skinning, gutting and spitting them with expert
skill. Placing the rabbits near
the fire to slow cook she took out her sword, and placing it across her knee
carefully oiled and polished the blade.
Shalandra joined her, taking
out her own sword. Although a
member of the priesthood, all members of the tribe took weapons training,
and her younger sister was an expert with the
blade. Their weapons attended
to Zenaria went to their gear and took out two
She tossed one of the swords
to Shalandra who caught it with a smile.
“Careful, big sister.
Now that you’re all crippled up you might get a bit of a
surprise.”
“Defend yourself, little
one. And I’ll try not to
lay too many bruises on you.”
Raising her wooden blade she moved toward
Shalandra.
For the next half hour few
other words were spoken. There
was only the sound of wood on wood, and the grunts of blows given and blows
received. Zenaria held back,
but soon found she did not have to give her sister too much breathing
space. The girl had improved
immeasurably since she had last spared with her and she soon found herself
admiring the girl’s skills.
“You’ve been practicing behind my back,” Zenaria said,
sweat dripping form her body. She
was nicely warmed up and hoped that the stiffness from her wild ride might
have been worked out. It probably
would have had it not been for the several bruises Shalandra had laid on
her.
“I hoped to surprise
you,” Shalandra replied.
“Cron practiced with me when you were working with the
others.”
“That
weasel. I underestimated
him.
Training my sister behind
my back. However, he taught you
well. I will have to give him
a beating when I return.”
Zenaria lowered her blade.
“Enough for now?”
“One more touch,”
Shalandra replied. She raised
her sword and stepped forward on the attack and then suddenly doubled up
in agony.
Zenaria dropped her sword
and stepped toward her sister.
“What is it, Shel?”
She didn’t have to ask if her sister was in
pain. Members of the Snow Leopard
tribe were stoic in the extreme, and for Shalandra to show any sign of discomfort
meant she must really be suffering.
Her sister looked up, and
to Zenaria’s surprise she was smiling.
“I’m alright, Zenaria,
I have received the blessing of the Moon.”
Zenaria took Shalandra in
her arms and gave her a powerful.
My sister, you are now a woman.”
“I’ll be a dead
one if you don’t stop crushing me,” Shalandra
gasped.
Zenaria released her and
headed for the tiny stream.
“Do you need water?”
“No, I took
precautions,” Shalandra answered.
“I knew it was going to happen soon.”
Zenaria
nodded. Shalandra’s prowess
as a healer had enabled her to anticipate her moon and her bleed had not
soiled her clothing. She continued
to the stream and stripped off her
clothing. The stream was glacial,
but she thoroughly doused her nude body, washing off the dust and sweat of
the day’s events. A short
time later, Shalandra joined her and they took turns washing the hard to
reach parts of one another’s bodies.
“Hmm,” Shalandra
mused, running her fingers over Zenaria’s
back. “The salve I put on
your cuts and bruises seems to have
helped. I see no sign of infection
and the stitches seem to be holding.
You should be back to normal in a day or
so. But you are still going to
be sore tomorrow.”
“I’ve survived
worse,” Zenaria replied.
“I can see that,”
Shalandra said. She looked admiringly
at the scars crisscrossing Zenaria’s powerful body, mementos of her
duels and adventures. Except
for the few bruises she had received while sparring with Zenaria her own
body was unblemished and she wondered whether she would ever receive such
marks of honour.
Zenaria pulled her clothes
back on and went to check the rabbits.
They were so well done the meat was falling off the bone and her busy
day had worked up quite an appetite.
Sitting cross-legged on the ground she picked up one of the rabbits
by the stick she had used to prop it near the fire and began to pull the
meat off the bone, leaving the other rabbit for
Shalandra. A few heartbeats later
Shalandra joined her and together they demolished the two
carcasses.
Zenaria licked her fingers
clean. It was not yet dark, but
they still had the Icegate to traverse.
She might as well get as much sleep as she
could. Before retiring, however,
she sent out a probe for Jaree. She
got an almost immediate reply. The
big leopard was nearby and from the sleepy response Zenaria knew that the
cat’s hunt had been successful.
However, Jaree would return to camp and stand guard as on the night
before.
She crawled into the shelter
and was joined a few heartbeats later by
Shalandra. Although it was not
cold at the moment, both women knew that cold air would flow down the pass
from the Ice Gates and their shared body warmth would be
welcome. Huddled together they
were soon asleep.
As before, Zenaria awoke
well before dawn. She was well
rested, but as Shalandra had predicted stiff and sore from the beating she
had taken on her wild ride.
Ignoring the pain she slipped out of the shelter and soon had a fire
going and tea water on to boil.
Shalandra soon joined her and together they prepared breakfast and
broke camp, but not before her healer sister had once again inspected
Zenaria’s wounds.
“You will live,
sister,” Shalandra pronounced.
“I could have told
you that,” Zenaria replied, pulling her doeskin shirt back
on. Buckling on her sword and
slinging her quiver over her back, she picked up her bow and moved
off. The Ice Gates called and
she wanted no more delays.
They had not gone far when
it began to rain lightly.
“This is what delay brings,” grumbled
Zenaria. The rain would soon
make her and Shalandra quite uncomfortable, but it was more than
that. At higher elevations the
rain might easily turn to snow. She
had crossed the Ice Gates once before in winter, but it had been a painfully
slow ordeal and had taken her two weeks of slogging through deep snow and
climbing over avalanches, and it was not an experience she cared to
repeat. She unpacked a pair of
elkskin capes from the packs Balky carried and handed one to
Shalandra. The capes would help
keep them dry for a little while and hold in their body heat, but eventually
they too would become soaked.
However, the only other choice was to seek shelter and wait out the
rain; and since it might last for days it was an option she
rejected.
She trudged on, Shalandra
and Balky following. This time
Jaree followed as well, although the cat sent out a query as to the wisdom
of not denning up when it was raining.
Zenaria was glad of the leopard’s
presence. On her first ascent
of the Ice Gates she had encountered a creature out of her tribal
legends. In order to save herself
she had been forced to kill it and this time with her younger sister along,
she hoped that Jaree’s presence would keep the huge snow beast
away.
They climbed through the
day with the rain falling steadily and then as Zenaria had feared, turning
to snow in the higher reaches of the
pass. At that point Zenaria called
a halt beneath a large rock overhang.
She wanted a chance to eat and rest before making the final push over
the pass. For the first time
they had to dip into their stores of food, having eaten the grouse for breakfast.
They had seen no sign of game during the day, all animals except them apparently
having the intelligence to get out of the rain, and they had to make do with
strips of dried meat and a mixture of dried nuts and
berries. It was nutritious and
filling, but not particularly appetizing.
However, the tea they brewed gave them a needed
pick-me-up. After drinking her
tea Zenaria went to the pack Balky carried and took out dry elkskins, giving
thanks that they had brought the donkey with them. Without it they would
not have been able to carry a change of dry
clothing.
Zenaria stepped from their
shelter. “Let’s go,
and pray to the Moon and Sun that the snow does not get any
heavier.”
They spent the next part
of the day marching through slush.
It continued to snow, but just heavily enough to make them thoroughly
miserable without slowing their progress.
By
It was Jaree who sensed
the danger, the giant cat’s low growl alerting both Zenaria and
Shalandra. An image flashed into
Zenaria’s.
“Urtts,”
she muttered. There was
no fear in Zenaria’s voice, but the urgency in the way she said the
word made the hairs on the back of Shalandra’s neck stand
up.
Shalandra had never seen
the almost mythical lizard beings, but she had heard Zenaria’s story
of how she had been lured into a trap by a traitor from her own tribe and
almost brutally raped. The traitor
had used Urtts to capture her, a plan that had eventually backfired when
the Urtts had turned on him and had him for
dinner. But the misadventure
had almost ended Zenaria’s short
life. Shalandra had her bow off
her shoulder and strung in an instant.
She stood beside her sister, an arrow fitted to the
string.
Zenaria also stood
ready. She flashed a mental command
to Jaree. Like a ghost the cat
disappeared into the trees on the left side of the
trail. They were at a point in
their descent where the pass widened to allow a steep tree-covered slope
to their right and a more open area to their
left. It was to the right where
Jaree had sensed the danger.
Zenaria was a little
surprised. No Urtts had dared
trespass on Snow Leopard lands in recent memory, probably due to both the
isolation and sparse numbers of her people, but here they were, daring the
high pass of the Ice Gates to infiltrate her tribal
territory.
“Not this time,”
she muttered. She owed the Urtts
for the humiliation they had forced on
her. It was time to pay them
back. As if on cue the trees
thirty feet ahead of her shivered and a green-skinned figure stepped onto
the trail, followed by several more.
They were definitely man-shaped,
even wearing crude skins to conceal the region between their legs, but the
resemblance was only superficial.
Their skins were covered with green snake-like scales and lank unkempt
black hair reached to their shoulders.
Their eyes were blood red and set above a snout-like nose and
mouth. Pointed teeth filled their
mouths when they smiled as they were doing
now. They were armed with a variety
of weapons, including crude spears, spike-studded wooden clubs, and
axes.
The largest of them stepped
forward, his teeth barred.
“Ssso,” he hissed, “two
femalesss. Thisss will be
fun.”
Zenaria
waited. A year earlier she would
have plunged unthinkingly into an all out attack, but she had learned a bit
of patience in her first adventure and she waited to see just haw many opponents
she faced.
The Urtt leader glanced
at their bows. “Come,”
he said. “Sssurender
peacssefully and we will not eat you.
You cannot essscape.”
He motioned with his hand and the trees behind him seemed to come
alive with Urtts. The two women
were facing a full Urtt war party.
“It is you who will
not escape,” Zenaria retorted.
“Surrender now and I won’t kill every one of
you.”
The Urtt leader hissed out
a laugh. “Ssstupid human
femalesss. You will regret your
desscission when I am between your legsss.”
Zenaria let him
talk. She counted thirty Urtts
lining up on the narrow trail.
Confident in their numbers they had overlooked one basic
fact. There was only room enough
on the trail for them to come at the two Snow Leopard warriors two at a
time. And they knew nothing of
Zenaria’s secret weapon.
“Get behind me,”
Zenaria said to Shalandra.
“Sister, I will fight
at your side,” Shalandra protested.
“No, I need room to
swing my blade. Stay back and
shoot from behind.”
Shalandra opened her mouth
and then closed it, seeing the wisdom of Zenaria’s
strategy. She knew in spite of
her success in sparring on the previous day that Zenaria was by far the better
swordswoman, and Zenaria had real experience in battle whereas she had
not. She stepped four paces back
and readied her bow.
“Now, before the little
one esscapess,” the Urtt leader shouted, mistaking Shalandra’s
action.
The horde of Urtts charged
up the trail. Zenaria loosed
her arrow and then tossed her bow behind her, drawing her sword in one smooth
movement. The arrow caught the
lead Urtt in the throat, dropping him in front of his charging comrades and
tangling up their attack. An
instant later Shalandra’s arrow struck true, taking down a second
Urtt. And then they were on top
of Zenaria.
They were met by what seemed
like a wall of steel.
Zenaria’s blade seemed everywhere, cutting off hands, ripping
through throats, and cleaving skulls, while at the same time blocking or
deflecting every blow aimed at her.
From behind Shalandra chose her targets carefully, loosing arrows
at any Urtt that stood back with the intent of hurling a spear or axe at
Zenaria. Within seconds a dozen
dead or dying Urtts lay sprawled on the mountain
trail.
Zenaria slowly stepped back,
allowing the Urtts to press her back up the
trail. Her retreat was not, however,
due to any threats from the Urtts.
She wanted to draw them on, deceiving them into thinking that they
might have some chance of winning.
It was not until she gutted the Urtt leader that they realized there
was no hope. By then almost half
the Urtts were hors de combat or dead.
As the realization spread over them they suddenly broke.
Screaming in their own language
they turned almost as one and attempted to run back down the
trail. “Now, Jaree!”
Zenaria thought.
Seemingly from out of nowhere,
the huge cat plunged out of the bush, cutting off the retreat of the panicked
Urtts. A swipe of a huge paw
took down one; another’s skull was crushed by her
jaws. Completely panicked the
Urtts fled any way they could, Shalandra’s arrows continuing to impale
one Urtt after the other.
Zenaria reclaimed her bow
and emulated her sister, picking off whatever targets remained, until finally
the only Remaining Urtts that were still alive were those that had only been
wounded. Zenaria made short work
of these, lopping off their heads in grim
determination.
Shalandra watched, her face
expressionless. The adrenaline
drained out of her. She had never
seen an Urtt before this, but her sister’s cold dispatching of the wounded
showed her a side of her sister she had not yet
seen. Still, she did not
object. She had sensed the foulness
of the creatures they had killed and knew well the tales of her
ancestors. If anything deserved
to die it was an Urtt. It was
what Zenaria did next, however, that had her wondering.
Methodically Zenaria behead
even those Urtts who were already dead, and then setting aside her sword,
she retrieved an axe from Balky.
Amazingly, the donkey had wandered off only a short distance to graze
during the mayhem. Taking the
axe she lopped off the top of a number of trees equalling the number of heads
and then trimmed off the branches leaving a living
stake. On top of each she impaled
one of the heads.
Shalandra swallowed as she
looked at the gruesome forest of heads.
Expressionless, Zenaria cleaned off the axe, did the same with her
sword, and retrieved and cleaned any arrows that were not
broken. She turned to
Shalandra. “I remember a
place to camp not too far from here.
We will stay there tonight.”
Shalandra nodded
dumbly. Without a word she took
Balky’s halter and towed the donkey after
her. She knew why Zenaria had
set up the macabre monument. Any
Urtts that dared think of venturing into Snow Leopard territory would have
to pass by the heads of their
brethren. It would give
them something to think about if nothing
else.
She quickened her pace,
moving alongside Zenaria.
“That was well done, sister.
I would not have had the courage to carry it
out.”
“It needed to be
done,” Zenaria replied.
“But it was a task I did not relish.”
Slowly Shalandra reached
out and took Zenaria’s hand.
Her sister’s fingers tightened around hers and then hand-in-hand
they proceeded down the trail
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