Farmers & Mercenaries (10 page)

T
he body rested on the altar of Hezmire, the God of Fallen Warriors, in the temple of the Twelve Gods of Man, called the Palintium, which stood in the center of the stead. A statue of Hezmire loomed overhead. Some four paces tall, carved from a stone with a reddish hue, the statue portrayed the God as a powerful looking warrior with a strong face and body. Hezmire wore no armor however, just a simple cloth robe that left half of his chest exposed. The scabbard belted around his waist sat empty. It was said that Hezmire waited at the gates of the aftermore to greet each warrior and start them on a new path of training. A path of peace and ease. A path of rest.

Arderi Cor had been inside the Palintium only a few times in his entire life. Rarely would a common fielder have a reason to come here. When a fielder or herder passed into the aftermore, their bodies were cremated. The service was usually held out in the fields where they had spent so much of their lives. The only ceremony common folk observed requiring homage be paid to the Twelve was Talintithe, the festival of creation. Like most families, however, they held this ceremony in the large dining hall of their public house with the rest of the residents of the apartment. “The Gods have time only for great men, not the likes of us.” Arderi’s father had told him this once when he was younger.

When Arderi entered the chamber, a sticky-sweet smoke greeted his senses. It bellowed from several braziers that lined the walls. The chapel itself was a small, simple room. One of the dozen nestled inside the Palintium, each designated to a different God of the Twelve. There were no benches or chairs to be seen, only the altar standing alone against the far wall. Tapestries covered the walls depicting fields of wheat or barley, all bent to their side by a slight breeze blowing over them—the Plane of fallen warriors.

His father walked next to him in a line of others who came to bid well the man who passed this day. The room remained hushed, although not silent. The two men in front of Arderi peeled off to the side, and he found himself looking at the body of Ralin Sard. The neck had been wrapped in a deep gray cloth to match the robe now covering his body. He lay with his eyes closed, hands placed on his stomach, fingertips touching. On the man’s feet, he wore the simple brown leather sandals you might see on any common man.

He seems more asleep than dead, if
you can escape noticing that his chest does not move with breath.

It struck Arderi how peaceful the man’s face seemed. Remembering the gory-horrid look on it when they loaded the body into the wagon, he wondered how it could have changed so much in such a short time. Tanin nudged him and pointed off to the side, toward a woman standing at the head of the altar. She was a pretty woman, even if well past her prime and a little on the heavy side. She wore her long brown hair pulled back in a tight braid—as was common in the Hild’alan stead. Her braid fell down the back of the gray robe she wore, one identical to the dead man’s.

Stepping up to the woman, Tanin took her hands in his. “I am sorry for your loss and grateful to your husband for saving my son.”

The woman turned to look at Arderi, tears welling in her eyes. She pulled her hands from Tanin and embraced the boy. Arderi hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do. Finally, he draped his arms around the woman. She sobbed into his chest. After a time—what seemed like an eternity to Arderi—the woman released him, yet kept her hands on his shoulders. “We never had any children of our own. The Gods never felt it right for us. You must not let me down, boy! Ralin has paid for your way with his life. Make it a good purchase.”

“I will, Mis’am Sard.” Arderi shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

His father took him by the elbow and escorted him out of the sanctuary through the outer hall, and onto the cobblestone street. When they were well away from the Palintium, Arderi looked over at his father. “What did she mean, Papa?”

“Son,”—Tanin stopped and faced him to look deep into his eyes—“a woman like that has not except her man. No children to call her own, do you understand?”

Arderi nodded even though he did not.

Tanin grasped the back of his son’s neck with his right hand. “It is like this, when someone loses all they have, they are left with nothing other than memories. Seems to me that someone must have given her a good memory about her husband’s death—a heroic one.”

Looking back down the road to the Palintium, Arderi sighed. “You mean they told her Ralin saved my life somehow?” He looked back at his father.

“Aye, son. Let her feel something good from her loss.” Tanin ruffled his hair, and they walked again.

“Alas, Papa. Now she feels I owe her something. She said as much.”

Tanin chuckled. “You owe her no more than you owe your Ma and I.”

Arderi glanced sideways at him. “What do you mean?”

“We expect you to grow well, work hard, and achieve all you were born to. That is all you owe any of us.”

Aye, Papa, and if
I fail the Test? I will let you and Ma down. I will let everyone down.

They walked on, each man deep in his own thoughts. Soon, home loomed before them.

“Sleep well, Papa. I am off to bed, I think.” Reaching for the door, Arderi stopped when his father grabbed his arm.

“Are you all right, son?” Concern filled Tanin’s voice.

“Aye, just tired.” Arderi gave a halfhearted smile. “Hard day, I guess.”

“Must have been, since it seems you have forgotten about Alant’s Crystal.”

The boy’s eyes flew open. “Ahh! May I draw upon it now?”

“Aye, come.” Tanin chuckled. “We can fetch it together.” Clapping Arderi on the shoulder, the two entered their public house side by side.

A
cool, fresh breeze washed over Klain, and with it came the sensation of floating on a soft billowy cloud. Consciousness crept upon him with a gentle caress. He half opened one eye, content to drift in the realm of semi-sleep. Something soft and silky covered him. His sluggish, lazy mind conjured up an image of a spider web.

Spiders! I hate spiders!

Jerking upright, he flung off the filthy mess, and watched in befuddlement as a thin silk blanket drifted to a pristine marble-tiled floor.

His eyes darted around as he took in his surroundings. He found himself in a spacious room. Ornately carved stone pillars, each with colorful silken curtains dangling from them, reached up to support a high vaulted ceiling. An intricate designed painting stretched across its expanse, depicting winged creatures frolicking amongst clouds. Wide chairs covered in plush pillows lay scattered about the room. These matched the huge, bed-like bench Klain occupied. The blanket, a light blue wisp of fine silk, thrown away in his moment of repulsion, now lay crumpled on the floor. An airy, open balcony led out into a vast darkness. A fresh breeze blew through the opening, causing the curtains flanking it to billow into the room. Opposite the balcony, a set of massive wooden doors stood closed.

Yet they seem puny. Not even re-enforced with iron bands.

The fresh scent of meat took hold of his nose and drew his eyes to a wondrously carved table, upon which sat trays piled high with food. Sitting up, he felt something tight around his midsection. Looking down, he noticed that a pair of loose fitting breaches covered him from waist to ankle.

Much like a Human would wear.

Even though the pants felt odd, he let them be and stood, scanning the foreign chamber with a wary eye. Stalking to the table, the claws of his hindpaws sinking into the plush rug that covered the center of the marble floor, he kept sharp for any signs of danger. Marveling at the assortment of food sitting before him, he wondered whom it was all for.

Surely, this must be meant to feed many.

“Actually,”—Klain recognized the wispy voice instantly and his hackles rose—“it is all for you, Klain, yes?”

A shiver cascaded down Klain’s spine as he spun toward the balcony and the direction of the voice. His muscles clenched in anticipation for fight or flight. He glared at the Honored One as the strange gray creature stepped from the balcony and into the room. A low growl rumbled in Klain’s chest. Displayed in all its grandeur—not simply a face through grimy cell bars—the sight of the being gave him pause. It stood almost as tall as Klain. Blue-gray skin covered its entire body, matching the color of its face. It wore a thin, red-silken robe draped over its right shoulder that hung to mid-thigh, accentuating the thinness of the creature’s arms and legs. So thin were its appendages, Klain remained at a loss to understand how they could even hold up its weight.

My thigh is thicker than its chest!

With trepidation, Klain peered into its eyes, waiting for the same feeling to wash over him as it had done in his cell—taking control of his mind. That first encounter with the Honored One seemed like an age ago. Nothing happened. Klain blinked and waited.

“Please.” The creature extended a bony arm and waved it over the food table. “Serve yourself what you wish and let us sit and talk, yes?” The Honored One pointed one long, slender finger toward the seating area. Klain noticed the finger had only two other digits joining it on the hand.

I see none missing. It simply has only three fingers naturally.

A compulsion to eat overcame Klain and he grabbed a plate—made from a type of metal, shining like the surface of a puddle of water—from the end of the table. It seemed a shame to mar its beauty by putting food on it, yet he grabbed some meat from the nearest platter and slapped it over the engraving of a bird, which covered the plate’s center. Joining the Honored One, who had already taken a seat, Klain chose a chair opposite the being so he could keep his eye on it.

“To ease your mind of some of its burdens, please, allow me a moment to talk, hmm?” The being waited as if on an answer. When none came, it spoke again. “I will start by assuring you that you are safe, the food is safe, and you may now eat.”

Even though the Honored One’s voice did not change, a sensation much like he had felt within his cell, only not as intense, fell upon him and he relaxed. He looked down at his plate, picked up a sliver of meat, and put it into his mouth. Never had he tasted its like before.

The sheer flavor of it is intoxicating.

“My name is Sarshia’Mion Mocley, and I am an Elmorr’Antien.” The Honored One continued as if it was normal to talk over a meal with a savage beast. “I have purchased you from your old master, Estular Jerts. I am not your new master, however. You are now free, yes?”

Klain continued to chew. “You are female?” He spoke with no concern of the food filling his mouth. She nodded once, her black eyes never breaking contact with his.

I do not understand what this creature wants of me.

“I do not want anything of you, Klain, yes?” Sarshia’s thin, deep-gray lips curled into a smile.

Klain paused in mid-chew and stared once more into the fathomless black pools of her eyes. She sat calmly before him, her hands resting in her lap. He again expected the paralyzing feeling he had experienced during their first encounter to envelop him.

It does not come, as it was before. I might simply run.

He turned and studied the doors.

There is no way those doors will keep me in.

“They are unlocked, Klain, yes? You need not run nor damage my beautiful doors. You may walk up to them and open them if you wish, yes?”

Klain turned back to the Elmorr’Antien. Without breaking eye contact, he set his plate on the floor. Rising, he kept her in his sight and backpedaled to the door. Reaching a paw behind him, he found the lever and lifted it. The door swung open. He risked a quick glance over his shoulder. What he saw forced him to turn around and take in all that lay before him. The doors opened onto a grand entrance hall. Marble floors, with lush carpets covering their centers, flowed away in all directions. Statues lined the sidewalls between large, open archways, which led off to other areas lost from his vantage point. Huge columns rose to support a ceiling high overhead. At the far end of the hall, opposite from where Klain stood, two massive wooden doors stood propped open. A lush garden lay beyond. Elaborate stained-glass windows towered up either side of the doors. Moonlight filtered through the colored glass and played gently on the floors.

“You may leave now, yes?” The voice of the Honored One rang from behind him. “Or you may wish to hear what I have to say first, hmm?”

Turning back to the Elmorr’Antien, Klain thrust a thumb over his shoulder. “I can leave?”

“Of course.”

“I can walk out? Where are the guards?” Klain let his hackles rise once more.

“There are no guards.”

“I can… stay and eat?” Klain pointed to the table of food.

“If that is your wish. I have already told you, the food is for you, yes?” Sarshia extended a thin gray arm again to the table.

Long moments dragged on. Klain felt trapped, frightened. He had never known fear to rage this deep inside of him. He had no direction, nothing to fling himself against.

I am like a mouse in the middle of a field looking into a sky full of Owls!

“Come, sit. Eat and listen. You may then make a choice as to what you will do, hmm?”

Klain took hold of the command as a dying man clings to life. “Aye, I will sit. And eat.” He tried to make the statement his own and knew it for foolishness. Returning to his chair, he picked up the plate of meat once more, yet did not eat. Instead, he stared at the being sitting a pace from him.

She has no expression. It is like looking at the face of a corpse.

All at once, the eyes on the thin gray creature brightened. “You are correct. We Elmorr’Antiens do not show emotions the same as the other races of Talic’Nauth. However, I assure you, I am much like you.”

“Why did Jerts call you the Honored One? What are you?” Klain felt somewhat braver having said this, and plucked another piece of meat from his plate, popping it into his mouth.

“I have already told you enough about me. Let me now tell you something about you, hmm?”

“About me? I know me well enough.” He set the plate of food down on a nearby pillow. “Why have you brought me here? What is this place? Another holding area?”

Sarshia cocked her head to one side. For the first time, Klain saw thin, semi-transparent sheets slide down and up her huge globe-like eyes as the creature blinked. “You are in my home. A small villa in what the local Humans call Old Town, within the City of Mocley.”

“Where I fought in the Great Coliseum.”

She nodded once and glanced to the patio and out into the darkness beyond. “You can see the Coliseum from my balcony if you choose to, hmm?”

Klain cut his eyes toward the open doors then shook his head. When he did this, his mane swayed in a way that caught his attention. Lifting a paw, he ran his claws through the coarse hair. Instead of being dirty and matted, as it had been his entire life, it felt soft and full—the torchlight of the room made its golden highlights glisten.

“While you slept, I had you bathed and groomed, yes? I hope you do not mind, hmm?”

It struck Klain, that for the first time in his entire life, his body felt magnificent. Nothing itched. No parasites used him for their daily sustenance. He rotated his right shoulder.

Even the old wound is healed.

“They bathed me and I did not wake?”

A smile crept over Sarshia. “When I went to retrieve you, you had been injured. I… took certain steps to insure that you would remain asleep while you were transported here. I felt it best to leave these in place while my servants prepared you. For their safety, yes? I also took the liberty to heal your wounds, both past and present.”

This brought his attention back to the pants he wore. “I am to be paraded around as an attraction again, then?”

“No, Klain. You should be dressed if you are to go out into the city, yes? This makes Humans feel… more comfortable—less likely to see you as an animal, yes? You will need to learn these things if you are to fit in, hmm?”

Klain snarled. “Why would I wish to fit in with
Humans
? They are vile little things.”

“Not all Humans are vile, Klain, yes? This you will come to learn in time. You will come to learn many things in time, yes? Did you know you are the only Kithian to be successfully raised in captivity, hmm?”

Klain bared his fangs. “Do you now wish to taunt me?” The words came out in a growl.

The Elmorr’Antien’s expression did not change. “Do not be angered by your past, Klain. Your past makes you who you are now, yes?” Sarshia said nothing more, as if waiting until Klain calmed a bit before she continued. “It is almost impossible to take a Kithian as a captive. The Slaver’s Order claims it is a waste of their funds. They never seek out your kind as their… product, yes?” Reaching over the arm of her chair, she retrieved a golden goblet from a side table and took a sip. “You see, if you take a Kithian captive, they will fight you relentlessly until they have no strength left with which to fight, yes? When their mind is broken, as all slaves’ minds are, they realize they cannot win through force, and they simply stop living, yes? They do not eat or sleep, instead wasting away to death.”

“What lies are these? I am not dead! I have been a slave, as you say, my entire life! Yet my mind is my own!” Klain growled.

“That is the trick, yes? To make a Kithian a slave, they must be taken very young. The age of eye opening happens to a Kith cub around two weeks after birth. If they can be taken prior to this time, as you were, there is a chance they will accept their captive surroundings, yes? Once the age of eye opening has passed… well, let us say this is why Kithians do not make good slaves, hmm?”

“So the stories told to me were true, my family was murdered?” A small piece of hope—the one that had nestled in the back of Klain’s skull for so long, the one he would pull out late in the eve—broke away and fell to the ground like a dead leaf in autumn.

“I am afraid they probably were. Nevertheless, Klain, it is those truths which give you your strength, yes? You are still very young—you have not yet reached your tenth winter, hmm? Still, you have an inner fire that burns brighter than most I have seen—it is so bright that your future is hidden from me by its radiance. This is why I purchased you and set you free, yes?” The Elmorr’Antien took another drink from her cup.

With her last words, fear crept back into Klain’s heart. He looked around the room seeing nothing in particular.

“I realize this will take some time for you to understand.” Sarshia words regained Klain’s attention. “We will take it slow, yes? For now, let us say that you are confined to my villa grounds, hmm?”

“So I am a captive!” Klain’s blood heated again, and he welcomed the familiar feeling.