Savage (11 page)

“That is disgusting. There is no way I’m eating that crap. I don’t even like crab, why would I want to eat oversized desert crab.”

“Scianes might look like an ugly oversized crab, but they taste more like pheasant soaked in honey and berries.” Bazur sliced big chunks of sciane flesh from the carcass. When he was done carving the meat away from the shell, Bazur used his war scythe to pry the beasts top shell away from the rest of the carcass. He then hacked off one of the sciane’s pinchers, and cleaned it out. Using his sword, he drilled two holes into the shell. With a strip of leather from his weapons belt, he made a makeshift caring case out of the pincher. He then placed all of the cut meat into the pincher. “Let’s go. We’ll cook the meat when we get to Westmere.”

Kyra gave his handiwork an appraising look. “I’m still not going to eat any of it, but that is a smart way to carry the meat.”

Bazur grinned. “If we weren’t in a hurry, we’d be salvaging all of the sciane shells and meat. We could make a small fortune off this stuff.”

Kyra raised an eyebrow.

“Sciane shell is strong and very lightweight. The top shells make excellent shields, and the rest can be made into armor. It’s not as tough as vraber skin or dragon hide, but it is better than any metal armor.”

“How about orc skin? If I skin you and make a shield, can I sell that?”

“Why would you do that?” asked Bazur, amused by her threat.

Kyra turned and started walking, she slapped her ass. “Rude comments.”

Shaking his head, Bazur followed Kyra. If they didn’t run into any more trouble, they’d make Westmere by nightfall. Perhaps by then Kyra would forget he’d said anything about her bottom. He couldn't understand why human women were so sensitive about it. Female orcs found it a high compliment. It meant their hips were wide enough to produce large and powerful warriors.

…

WESTMERE was an abandoned fort built near a series of natural pools. The pools were a year round source of water, which made building the fort logical. The problem was, operating a fort in the middle of the badlands was expensive and the watering hole wasn’t strategically situated. The watering hole at Pera was closer to all the major trading routes, and with the small community of traders that lived there, it became the natural route for the majority of traders. The fort at Westmere had long been abandoned and was now mostly decaying ruins. The water pools were still good and any travelers that chose to go through Westmere found the clear water and available shelter lifesaving.

When they arrived, Bazur was extremely cautious. They circled the pools and old fort twice searching for tracks and any sign of bandits. He didn’t expect the bandits to be here this early, but he wouldn’t put it past them to be scouting all the watering holes in the badlands while they waited for Mauri Planche to make his trek. Satisfied that no one had been to the watering hole in several days, they made their way to it. After drinking their fill and replenishing their water sacks, Bazur and Kyra moved away from the watering hole and the old fort. They found a large rock cropping that gave them cover from the wind and hid them from view of the watering hole. After gathering a few handfuls of dry wood, Bazur built a fire and started roasting the sciane meat. The aroma of the meat was strong, sweet and savory. Bazur’s mouth watered as he waited for the delicacy to finish cooking. Despite her earlier protests, Kyra seemed intrigued. He’d noticed her subconsciously licking her lips whenever she glanced over at his cooking fire. Bazur pretended to ignore her and focused on his cooking. Taking the first cooked morsels off the fire, Bazur made a show of slowly biting into the meat. He closed his eyes and filled his nostrils with the scent of the meat. It truly was a delicious meal. It was a shame they’d had to leave so much of the meat behind, but he’d enjoy what they had. If his guess was right, so would Kyra. Bazur smacked his lips in satisfaction as he swallowed the first morsel. The meal was almost perfect. All they needed was a jug of orc mead to make it perfect.

“Are you going to be a jerk all night or are you going to share?”

Bazur opened his eyes and glanced over at Kyra, giving her a confused look. “I thought you said you’d never eat sciane. I only cooked enough for myself.”

“Come on, you giant oaf. I’m starving and it smells amazing. It even looks like a proper meal now that you’ve cooked it.”

Bazur shook his head as he teased her. “There’s still plenty of jerky in our stores. You can have that. You don’t have to eat the sciane.”

Kyra stood up and walked over to Bazur, plucking a chunk of meat out of his fingertips. She placed the morsel in her mouth and started chewing. Between bites, she gave a running dialogue, “Wow! It is does taste like pheasant. The juices are like honey. This is amazing!” She continued chewing. “Oh, now I can taste raspberries, and a hint of bumble berry.” When she finished swallowing, she turned to Bazur. “I’ll have some more, please.”

“You want me to share?” asked Bazur mockingly.

“Don’t be like that. Do you need me to say you were right?” asked Kyra. She then stepped closer to him, putting her hand on his shoulder and sliding it slowly down his arm while she leaned in and whispered in his ear, “Or do you need me to beg for it?”

Beg for it
, he thought to himself as naughty images of Kyra on her knees begging him filled his mind. He then pulled his roasting stick from the fire, removing the next piece of meat. He lifted it to Kyra’s mouth. She opened her mouth, letting him slide the roast sciane onto her tongue. She closed her lips around his fingertips trapping them in her mouth so she could lick them clean of the juices. She stared into his eyes and he slowly pulled his fingers free. The digits made an audible pop as they exited her mouth. Kyra closed her eyes as she started to chew. “Thank you,” she purred after devouring the morsel.

Bazur grinned and started cooking more of the sciane. The sweet meat was a favorite of his, but feeding it to Kyra made it an even more special meal. He took enjoyment from her pleasure.

After several more pieces, Kyra finally groaned and rubbed her belly. “No more. It’s so good but my poor belly is going to explode.”

“I’m surprised it hasn’t already. You ate a whole sciane.”

“Ha. Not quite, but more than my little belly can handle. Maybe it will all go to my ass.”

Bazur groaned. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Probably not. There are certain things you never say to a lady.” Kyra belched loudly. “Where are we going tomorrow? You said we could see it from here.”

It was getting dark out, the evening light was quickly fading, but the nearby hills and rock formations could still easily be seen. Bazur pointed out into the night. “See that one in the distance. The one that looks like a finger pointed towards the sky? That is the Devil’s Arm.”

Kyra squinted and scoffed. “That doesn’t look like a finger. It looks like a giant cock!”

“I’ve heard it called that.” Bazur admitted. “I think Devil’s Arm is someone being ironic.”

“Well, phallic shape aside, why are we going there? The base of it isn’t really high ground. We could go onto any of the plateaus nearby and get a better view of the area.”

“From the top of the Devil’s Arm you can see for miles,” replied Bazur.

“From the top? Are you crazy! How are we going to climb that thing without ropes?”

“That is a question for tomorrow. Get some sleep. It is going to be a long day tomorrow. We leave before dawn.”

BADLANDS

WHEN Bazur woke with Kyra snuggled up against him, it didn’t even bother him. It had simply become part of their complicated relationship. While there was a large amount of sexual tension between the two of them, the cuddling up to him during the night was something else. Bazur didn’t quite understand it, but he accepted it. Gently nudging Kyra, Bazur rose and started packing. It was only a few miles to the Devil’s Arm but he wanted to be there as early as possible. He didn’t think that the enemy bandits would know to scout this route until Mauri left Pera heading north towards Westmere, but it wouldn’t be wise to make any assumptions. The sooner they were hidden, the better.

Silently, they trudged across the cold rocky desert, the cool temperature would soon turn to blazing hot as the sun filled the sky, but for now the weather was their friend. Bazur walked as swiftly as he could, using his war scythe like a walking cane to feel for boulders and drops in the ground. There wasn’t enough light yet for the eye to see the ground. He’d scouted the route the previous day as best he could, but as they got closer to the Devil’s Arm, they began covering ground he’d not yet seen. They had to slow down and rely more on his scythe to tell them what was ahead. As dawn started to break and the world went from black to grey, travel became easier and they were able to speed up. The sky was getting lighter by the moment. Soon it would be daytime and they would be visible to anyone in the area. Bazur felt the need to get up the rock formation as soon as possible.

“It’s much bigger than it looked from the camp last night,” said Kyra. “But I still don’t see how we are going to climb it. It’s almost straight up and down.”

“Only on this side,” said Bazur as he kept walking around the base of the Devil’s Arm. On the opposite side, not visible from Westmere, the base of the rock formation stretched out several hundred yards farther as a small hill. By following the ridge of the hill, they easily made their way up until they were almost half way up the rock formation. At that point, the rock became much steeper, but they still could hike up without great difficulty. When they were twenty feet from the summit, the rock became a sheer cliff.

Kyra looked up and shook her head. “I can’t climb that.”

Bazur hadn’t expected her to be able to climb the last section, it was a dangerous and challenging cliff. Only an experienced climber could do it without ropes, a climber like Bazur who’d ventured all over the rock formations of the badlands. Instead of replying to her comment, Bazur focused his attention on the cliff. It looked sheer, but there were little ridges and cracks in the rock all the way to the top. Satisfied that he knew his route, Bazur removed his boots.

“What are you doing?” asked Kyra.

“Climbing.” Bazur took the leather harness off his back and put it around Kyra. He needed to shorten the strap for her smaller frame, but with a quick knot he secured it and placed his war scythe back in the harness. He then attached his food and water sacks to the harness, loading Kyra like a mule. After making sure all their supplies were tightly fastened to her, Bazur moved closer to the cliff. “Jump on my back.”

Nervously, Kyra climbed onto Bazur’s back. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tight. “Drop me and I swear to the gods I will come back as a ghost and haunt you for the remainder of your days.”

Squatting down, Bazur tested the weight. Kyra herself wasn’t heavy, but her weight along with the weapons, food, and water was more of a challenge. Launching himself upwards, Bazur grabbed the first little ledge and pulled himself up until his chest was about even with his hands. He then turned his left arm and rested all his weight on it. His face pressed against the cliff, Bazur couldn’t see the next crack in the rocks, but from memory he knew it was up and to the right. Sliding his right arm up, he found the tiny crack. It was only big enough to get two fingertips in, but that was all he needed. Jamming his fingers into the crack, Bazur shifted his weight until his fingers were holding them up. Lifting the left side of his body, he moved up until his left foot found the first ledge. Using his toes to balance himself, he straightened up and was now standing on the first ledge. The next move was tricky. There was another crack above them but it was a foot higher and almost two feet to the left. He needed to jump again, but this time from the tiny ledge he was tiptoeing on. “Hold tight,” he warned Kyra. Taking a deep breath, Bazur carefully bent at the knees and sprung up and over. His left hand grabbed at the crack, but as he pushed his fingers in, a piece of rock broke loose and his hand slipped out. Bazur stretched his right arm over and clenched his fingers like a giant claw. The tips found just enough traction to grab hold. Bazur, with Kyra on his back, swung back and forth like a pendulum as he waited for his momentum to stop. Once his body finally stopped swinging, he was able to pull himself up. Thankfully, the next two crevices were easily reached and they were soon on top of the Devil’s Arm.

Despite being back on solid rock, Kyra didn’t let go of her grip around Bazur’s neck.

“You can let go now.”

“I’m trying. I think my hands are frozen in place. That is the scariest thing I’ve ever done. I don’t ever want to do anything like that again!”

Bazur decided now wouldn’t be the best time to remind her that they still had to get down, and would be doing a similar climb before they could leave. Instead, he drew her attention to something else. “Well, we might as well enjoy the sunrise. You’ll likely not get as good a view of it without heading into the mountains.” The Devil’s Arm wasn’t a particularly high vantage point, but it was high enough that it looked over all the nearby surroundings, and offered an unobstructed view to the east and the rising sun.

At first Kyra said nothing. They just sat there watching as the sun slowly started to climb over the horizon. “It’s beautiful. I haven’t seen a sunrise like this since I left Televia.”

The comment surprised Bazur. Televia was an Azmarinian city, far to the north. It was well known to Bazur because it was one of the major trade cities of the north. When he’d lived in Lagvon, he’d been on several trips to the city. “A beautiful city. I found the sweet rolls very appetizing.”

“Oh, you’ve been there? I suppose that shouldn’t surprise me. Orc trade was a big part of Televia’s economy.” Kyra chuckled. “Sweet rolls. Of all the wonders and riches, the thing you remember is the sweet rolls.”

Bazur shrugged his broad shoulders. There were plenty of impressive buildings in Televia, and its citizens all dressed to impress. Bold and brilliant colors, exotic jewels and gold jewelry adorned their persons. But riches didn’t do anything for Bazur. He couldn’t care less for money, other than its use as a trade tool. Food, on the other hand, was entirely different. Food was something needed for survival, but a good meal could serve a purpose beyond substance for the purpose of survival. A good meal set a man’s senses on fire and creating such a meal was an art form that he admired over all others. The sweet rolls were not the only delicacy that the rich city of Televia offered, but it was one that he’d not found a match for in any other city. That was worth remembering. “Goat’s milk, honey, and ground vota flour, that is the secret to Televian sweet rolls.”

“The sweet rolls were excellent, but if you are going to talk about the best dishes Televia had to offer, you must mention the Belugosi wine and the aged lamb loin with cream sauce. Those are what I miss most of Televian food, the wine and the lamb,” said Kyra.

“How does a Televian noble end up a thief in Draisha?” asked Bazur. He knew it was going to be a sad story but he wanted to hear it, to understand her better.

“Who says I was a noble?”

“You did, when you said you miss Belugosi wine. Even in a rich city like Televia, there are only so many who could afford such an expensive treat. That you’ve had it more than once means your family was rich or you traveled in circles where such riches were offered to their guests. You also have the posture and grace of a noble. I suspect you took dancing lessons as a child.”

Kyra sat quietly watching the sunrise. Finally, she turned and looked at him. “I wasn’t really a noble. My family was well off. My father was a city official, one high enough up in the food chain that nobles would invite our family to their gatherings and parties for the opportunity to bend his ear and offer bribes. We couldn’t afford Belugosi wine at home, but my mother would drink it at all the parties, pretending it was her normal drink at home. I learned very early how to fake being rich. I guess that is how I got my start in forgery. Much of my life was fake, designed to look like something we really weren’t. When I turned seventeen, my father started arranging suitors for my marriage. He expected me to marry strategically so as to help further his career. I wasn’t entirely against the idea. My whole life had been training to be a good Televian wife. The dancing lessons, the art lessons, the writing lessons, everything my parents put me into was for one purpose: to raise my value to my future husband. So when my parents suggested I go and meet with Lord Petra Zargo, I agreed. He was a handsome young lord, and my parents were thrilled that he was considering me. They hinted I should do whatever it took to make him want me as a bride. Petra took me riding out into the country. He was pleasant enough until we stopped for a picnic lunch. There he started getting aggressive. I tried to stop him, but he was too strong. He took my virginity and then laughed at me. “Sorry, I can only marry a virgin. It is the law. However, I have a place for you among my concubines. Now that you are a ruined woman, no noble will marry you.” I was so hurt and angry. He’d used me and was destroying my life simply because he could. My parents had practically offered me up on a silver platter, and he treated me like a whore or worse. Before I knew what I was doing, I grabbed his dagger from him and stabbed it into his belly. I knew as soon as I did it that I could never go home again. It didn’t matter that he’d raped me. He was a noble and they’d hang me. My father would lose his position; my parents would hate me. I bottled up all my anger and hurt and all that was left was the cold realization I needed to get out of Televia as soon as possible. I took what Petra had on him, a few gold coins, his jeweled dagger, and a gold necklace. I took his horse and immediately started riding south. I sold the horse and his bobbles in Carmore. Luckily, they were worth enough to buy me plenty of time, but I knew that wasn’t far enough. I needed to get as far away from Televia as possible.”

As he had suspected, it was a sad story. One that hurt his heart to think of someone so young and innocent being so cruelly used. Her pain, of losing her family and her old life was one he could relate to. Your entire life changing in one moment, and having to go out into the world and starting anew was something he understood intimately. “Did you ever get a chance to speak to your family again?”

“No. A few years ago I spoke with a man from Televia that knew the story. I got him drunk and pried him for details. It was weeks before Petra’s body was found. No one went looking for days, and by the time they found his body there was little evidence of what had happened. The man said the rumor was one of Petra’s enemies finally got him, and I was taken as a prize. The man knew who my father was and said he is still in his old position, so I can’t reach out to them. If anyone from Televia suspected that I was Petra’s murderer, my family would suffer. It’s better this way. They suffer not knowing, but that is the price they pay for choosing to trade me like a good to that beast.”

Despite her hard tone, Bazur could tell Kyra was holding back emotions, whether at the physical or emotional pain caused by the attack of brutality by Lord Petra Zargo, or at her parents for putting her in that situation. Perhaps her pain stemmed from the loss of connection to her family and friends. That was something he took a long time to get over, and still he had moments where he’d think of what he’d lost, but in order to survive, he’d put that pain behind him. He found peace in the solitude of the badlands, where his main concerns were survival and exploring his culinary skills. Until now that had been enough, but Kyra was reawakening desires he had long suppressed. Bazur wondered about Kyra’s desires. He wondered how many men had shared Kyra’s bed? He didn’t care about the number; he was just jealous they’d been so lucky. She was a notorious flirt and hadn’t shied away during the sexual activities in the brothel. However, he sensed Kyra simply used her sexuality as a tool and that whatever number of lovers she had was meaningless as none would’ve gotten to bed the real Kyra, none had gained her trust. Did he have her trust? She certainly had just displayed a level of trust telling him her secret past, and she’d trusted him to respect her wishes every night when she cuddled up to him. That seemed more significant now that he knew her history. It was something to think about. Perhaps some of his judgements of Kyra’s motivations had been too quick. Sometimes it was hard to read what was going on behind those pretty eyes.

“You are awfully quiet. Does my history bother you?”

“No,” replied Bazur. “Not at all. You were a child put into a terrible ordeal and you did what you had to do. That is not something to be ashamed of. I’m not some noble who believes your purity is damaged by not waiting for marriage, consensual or otherwise. I was raised as an orc. Orc women are not forced into marriage. They choose their man with their hearts. In orc society, strength, wealth, and power are not a priority. Orc women are warriors themselves, they don’t need protection or someone to hunt for them. Orc women choose a companion that fills their heart with joy. I’ve seen male orcs reciting poetry, picking flowers and writing love letters. Orc women will take a man for a lover to test him, see if he makes the effort necessary to become a life partner.”