Fate's Pawn 10

 

Chapter 10

 

The road running near the river was not paved as was the one they had left, nor was it patrolled. There was a sufficiency of traffic along it, however, to make it profitable for there to be a number of inns along it, often associated with small farming communities. Barges, too, plied their trade up and down the river, drawn along by patient horses on towpaths, or sailed with the triangular sails which could coax a breath of air from almost any quarter. An inn was worth staying at, rather than camping.

Alathan noticed how Kaz gravitated towards him, fell into step with him, and stood close to him; he knew she breathed in his scent, and he could sense her dawning awareness. They had to have a difficult conversation, and he could put it off no longer.

“Walk with me,” said Alathan, to Kaz. She fell into step with him, contented to be with him.

He regarded her, covertly. He had always thought of trógling as rather ugly and definitely not sexually appetising; part of that was in their malnourishment and pinched features, though, he thought, and in the way some had almost childlike proportions, with big eyes in heads which could be too large on their bodies. He had been taking more notice of trógling lately, though, and realised that their looks were often caused by being ill-treated, ill-fed, and overworked. Kaz was definitely in proportion, and with good food had filled out to have a full enough figure to be womanly. Her features were not human, but not unattractively inhuman. He sought for words, something he had never thought to lack.

“You’re becoming an attractive young woman,” said Alathan, abruptly.

“Me?” said Kaz, startled.

“You. You have a sweet face, and your eyes are intelligent and lively. I... think you are not indifferent to me.”

Kaz went purple with a blush.

“You are beautiful, and kind, and nice,” she said, in a low voice. “It is impossible to be indifferent to you. Are… are you telling me that you can no longer help me towards fulfilling the prophesy because I am an embarrassment to you?”

“No! Not at all,” said Alathan. “I do not find it an embarrassment; but there are reasons why it would be unwise to progress too far.”

I am making a complete arse of myself, he thought. I have made her draw back into herself. Damnation! How can I retrieve myself?

“I… I should have realised that there would be someone else when you are so beautiful,” said Kaz, sadly. “And I am only….”

“Stop right there,” he commanded. “There is no ‘only’ about it. And there is nobody else. It has to do with… well, magical pressure. You know I am not all I portray... or rather that I am more than I portray,” he said.

“Yes, and I wasn’t going to say anything because I didn’t think I stood a chance,” said Kaz, honestly. “You want me as a mistress?”

“I would look for something more than that,” said Alathan. “But, Kaz, I want you to think of this. If I made you mine as things stand, I would have to hold a part of myself back so as not to overwhelm you, by letting my true power show. And that would mean I would not be able to be true to you. And moreover, if I made you mine, I would, without meaning it, mould you to be more me, and less of yourself. Do you understand?”

Kaz’s brow furrowed, thinking hard.

“Not fully,” she said.

“If you consider a butt of wine that is full, the flow of liquid comes out of it very strongly; if it is not so full, it is much slower.  So it is with magical power, and in questing towards herodom, you gain in magical power beyond the level of even a full cask’s worth to ordinary glyph-lords and priests. I would drown you with the flow of magic if I did not hold back.”

“Oh! I understand!” said Kaz. “Even as one can feel the pressure of Alethos when he speaks in a dream, and even that is… is attenuated by the distance through dreaming.”

“Exactly so,” said Alathan. “And I want us to be together as equals. It means waiting; but what is time? It makes little difference to those on a hero’s path. I do not want to spoil what is between us with impatience, which might destroy both of us.”

“So, you feel that if I let this prophesy guide me, and I move towards doing what I have to do, I will grow in such a way that we can meet one day as closer to being equals, because your rate of learning will be slower, whereas someone starting out learns faster?”

“I... yes, something along those lines. I can still learn,” he said, firmly. “I do not need to be unchanging... not with the world changing too. And when you are of glyph rank, perhaps we can move forward a little more....”

Kaz wrapped her arms around him.

“It... it is permitted to love you?”

“Oh, yes; and I have come to love you, Kaz. We formed a connection when you healed me, something I never thought would happen. And I learned how much I have to learn. But such pleasures as physical gratification cannot be let out, because once released, they cannot be put back, and I would be too tempted to reach out to your spirit, with the weight of spiritual power I have acquired.”

“I understand,” said Kaz. “It’s a good incentive to get as good as I can be, even without doing it for duty. I wish I understood the prophecy, though.”

“Well, as I understand it, ‘bringing joy to the cursed’ means breaking the curse on the Toróg laid by Daze, and leading Trógling to freedom and becoming their own people,” said Alathan. “As to the rest, well, I suspect Daze will curse you for your efforts, and that will be diverted into a blessing.”

“I want to say, ‘why me?’” sighed Kaz. “But as it is, all I can do is my best.”

He gave her a brief hug; and they walked wordlessly back to the inn.

 

 

oOoOo

 

Mountains were visible on the horizon on their second day on this road, and at times the road became a little rough. There was still plenty of traffic, however,

“Adventurers, eh?” asked a big, gruff trader when they stopped to eat.

“Well, now, you might profit from our mission another time,” said Kaz. “We’ve a list of rare herbs to gather for our healer, including the silver star.”

“I thought it was a weed,” said the trader. “Pretty enough, but still a weed.”

“It has properties in cleansing the wounds made by Toróg weapons,” said Kaz.

“Arr, happen a Trógling’d know that,” said the trader. “Happen I might bring some back on my next trip.”

“It may not yet have reached much use in Kallos,” said Kaz.

“Oh, you’re with Death; happen the Lord of Death in Kallos is that far behind the times, he hasn’t heard of fire,” said the trader.

“Now, you know I can’t let that pass,” said Kaz.

“Oh, my apologies, I’m sure, and I withdraw any calumny,” said the trader, easily.

It got him out of fighting, but it had been said, and the young warriors knew he knew how difficult the old fool was, without having to admit to it themselves.

Lelyn drew Kaz aside.

“Is there anything wrong between you and Alathan?” she asked. “I was so certain the two of you were going to end up in the sack together, but you’ve both cooled off.”

“He is afraid of overwhelming me with his power, and stunting my development,” said Kaz. “He wants me to have learned enough to be closer to being his equal, so I don’t give up and just play admiring housewife for him; he wants me to reach my full potential. Which, with this prophecy hanging over me is sensible.”

“Kaz... I’ve had some of my own suspicions about Alathan. And... and I guess backing off is the only honourable thing to do.”

“I love him for his honour,” said Kaz.

“Don’t forget old friends when you rise in the world,” said Lelyn.

“We’re in this together,” said Kaz. “I suspect we’ll rise together.”

“You have a destiny, though,” said Lelyn.

“Yes, and I’ll be glad of friends, for I’m not sure I’m happy about it,” said Kaz.

“I expect you will be when you settle into it,” said Lelyn.

 

 

The mountains drew closer, and then, as the river snaked between two ranges, stayed at much the same distance, on each side of a broad U-shaped pass between them, and a waterfall as the river came down from a higher level, where there had been built a trading town. Kattarathos, the name of the town, was the sort of place nicely brought up girls avoided. It was a town with three dozen permanent residents and an ever-shifting population of around two hundred. These were largely prospectors and miners, three rival brothels, whose population was somewhat fluid, as the better girls made their pile, and left; and the richest temples were those of Merkedes, the merchant god, and Phrodine, goddess of love. The small shrine to Alethos was attached to a mercenary barracks.

“This,” said Kaz, “Is going to spell trouble.”

“What do you mean?” asked Lelyn.

“Mercenaries. We take our worship seriously, I wager half of them at least give little more than lip service for the benefits. We stay in an inn in town, not the shrine complex, and we try to keep ourselves to ourselves. We drink small beer only, and stay out of trouble.”

 

“We don’t serve your kind in here,” said the barkeeper to Kaz. Kaz frowned. “You don’t serve Alethosi? We are not mercenary scum, we are on cult business.”

“I don’t serve no stinking trogs; go to the trog inn.”

“I am a trógling, but more important, I am Alethosi,” said Kaz. “I am not going to an inn where enemies of my god are to be found. Serve my party and me, or we’ll requisition it and pay you with a chit to present to the nearest full temple – the shrine doesn’t count – not in cash. Serve us and we’ll pay. Overcharge us and we wreck the place. I want two rooms for the night, lodging for two mules, food for my party and my mules, and no trouble. And we’ll all have a beer to wash away the dust of travel before going up to our rooms. You can send the evening meal up, too.”

The innkeeper gaped.

He took in the hard, muscular young bodies, and eyes which held more in them than the mercenaries he was used to, and capitulated. He was used to the sort of trógling who could be pushed around, not those who corrected his colloquial name for Toróg generally, and then made orders with an implied threat and suggestions with an out-and-out threat.

Grumpily he muttered prices and locations of rooms, and was gratified to be paid up front, and in coin he recognised as well.

He dumped a beer in front of each of the six he saw; Alathan had made himself scarce.

One of the mercenaries draped himself on the bar.

“Hey, that’s not a warrior’s drink,” he said to Protasion. “How about some of the real stuff to prove you’re not a baby?”

Protasion sneered.

“Unlike a bunch of unwashed mercenaries, I have nothing to prove,” he said. “I’m a true worshiper of Alethos, and I am under orders, and I can obey orders and follow duty.”

“And who’s giving you orders, then?”

“I am,” said Kaz. “Now, get your scummy face out of our vicinity, we have temple duty to do.”

“I’m not going to be spoken to like that by a filthy little trog!” roared the man.

“Trógling,” said Kaz. “And you have no choice. Move aside; we are not interested in you.”

Kaz turned her back on the blowhard, whose sword whipped from its sheath, and aimed a vicious blow at the back of her neck. Kaz had more than one sense to rely on, however, and swung round as she heard the bronze hiss in the scabbard, to have her own blade up to parry with such force that his sword broke. Kaz hid a grimace of pain as the force reverberated through her own wrists.

“Don’t do that; it dishonours your blade,” said Kaz. “You should pray for forgiveness.”

She turned aside again.

A crossbow cocked.

“You little freak! Get outside and fight me, or so help me, I’ll shoot you as you stand!”

“Well, I have to invoke excommunication on you for so cowardly and dishonourable an act,” said Kaz, coldly. “And anyone who upholds you. Find yourself a weapon, then; you are not going to be satisfied with being shown up for being a dirty little cheat twice, I see.”

She and her friends stalked out onto the street.

“Duel upon a man of dishonour is hereby called, on one who struck at the back of one with blade sheathed,” said Kaz, in a loud voice. “And then used crossbow to demand a duel. Any who are like him, beware, for the favour of Alethos will be withdrawn from you for such dishonour.”

“Shuddup and fight,” said the man, who had drawn a second sword.

Kaz shut up, and fought. She still had the memory of being taken over by her god, and the lessons she had learned then had stayed with her as she relaxed into being an extension of the sword, where it was nothing more than an extension of her own body. She parried and moved aside from a vicious cross-cutting blow from above, disengaged and feinted, parried, feinted, and then came in from below to cut the man across the thighs. She stepped back.

“I draw first blood,” she said. “By the rules of duello in the brotherhood of Alethos, I win.”

“I’m going to kill you!” cried the man, taking advantage of her beginning a salute to crash his blade down towards her head.

Kaz rolled out of the way, and came up on guard, the athletics Alathan had taught her paying off.

“If that’s the way you want it,” she said, grimly.

He thrust, and she parried, disengaged, cut at him, avoided his parry to feint, and then reverse the blade’s direction. Kaz did not need to think, once again, she was the blade, the blade was her, and as his continual wild swipes missed her, her opponent became wilder and wilder, until Kaz had the opening she was waiting for, and came up under the swinging blade to insert her own into his side, under his ribs and into the quivering heart whose movement stopped abruptly on her blade. Kaz stepped back as the man’s lifeless body slid off her blade. She cleaned it on his clothing.

There were ugly murmurs from his friends.

“He called death duel,” said Protasion, stepping forward.

“After disgraceful dishonour,” said Lelyn, also stepping forward. Evgon and Svargia also moved to back Kaz, shifting to set their backs against the log wall of one of the buildings in the street.

“Alethos prepare to receive our souls in honour and love for you we fight,” murmured Kaz as a dozen mercenaries drew their swords.