Savage (13 page)

“Do you ever miss it, your old home?”

His old home, Lagvon stronghold, did he miss it? It wasn’t something he spent a lot of time thinking about. At least something he tried not to think about. The old memories often crept up on him. The days when he had family, friends, and a purpose. “I was probably eight when I realized I was different than the other orc children in the village. I mean, I knew our family was different, my father stood out like a raven in a flock of doves. But I never realized his being different made me different as well, not until playing with the boys in the village and a couple decided to try to hurt me. First, they threw insults, half-breed, puny toothless twat, anything that pointed out that I was different. Then when that didn’t break me, they started throwing rocks. Another orc boy, Dalthu, jumped in with me and together we fought the two orc boys. When the fight was over, Dalthu became my best friend. One of the orcs we fought became another friend. It is the orc way to respect strength, and when he saw I was an orc at heart even though I looked different, he quit bothering me. The other orc child was different. He never looked at me as truly belonging among them. I was a good fight and I gained a couple friends, but it was then that I realized I was not like them. I would always be the son of a human. It was like that the rest of my childhood. Most of the orcs embraced me as one of their own, but there were always a select few who viewed me as an outsider despite Lagvon being the only home I’d ever known. When I lost my parents and was banished I had no choice but to leave. I do miss it. I miss much about my home, but I try not to think about it. It only brings pain. I refuse to let anger and regret rule my life.”

“Then why do you live alone in the badlands?”

“I was rejected from my home for being half-blood. The minute I walk into any city I am stared at for being half-blood. The badlands don’t care what my heritage is. The desert tries to kill everyone equally.”

“It sounds like a lonely life.”

“Are you any less alone than in the city? You are surrounded by people, but how many can you trust? How many treat you like an equal?”

“I trust no one but you,” admitted Kyra, “The rest want me for my body or for my skillset. But I don’t feel alone as much as I do out here. The city offers distraction. Out here, surrounded by space and the vastness of nature, I feel more alone.”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t trust me either.” Bazur would freely admit to wanting her body.

Kyra chuckled. “Oh, don’t worry, I know that you want me. I saw it in your eyes the first time we met, but you didn’t force yourself upon me. Even when I showed up at your cave and curled up against you, you showed restraint. Most men couldn’t or wouldn’t do that. I am grateful to have you as my companion. I don’t think I would’ve taken this job without you along.”

“You still might regret taking this job. It is going to get more dangerous before it is over. We still need to find out who is paying for the attacks. Tracking or capturing Vargas is no easy task. Especially when he is surrounded by so many warriors.” Bazur deftly shifted the conversation back to Vargas. His resolve to behave like a gentleman was only so strong, and now was not the time to consider pushing their relationship past that of a business partnership, despite the mutual attraction. Perhaps when this job was done they could revisit the matter, but even then it would likely be a bad idea. He feared that getting too close to Kyra and then have her reject him, would be like losing his family and friends all over again.

“I knew the job was dangerous when I took it. If it weren’t dangerous, they wouldn’t be paying us so much.”

…

When nightfall came, Bazur left Kyra and headed towards Westmere. As he had suspected, Mauri and his men were camped at the old fort. Three of Mauri’s men were on guard duty, but Bazur easily slipped past them and into the camp without being noticed. A fourth mercenary pretended to be asleep like his companions, but Bazur could tell by his breathing and the way he carefully concealed a weapon against his hip that he was waiting for Bazur to get too close to him. “I mean no harm. I want to speak to Mauri,” he said to the mercenary.

The mercenary silently got up, took a long appraising look at Bazur, and then went into one of the old fort buildings.

Minutes later, Mauri strode out with the mercenary at his heels. “What are you doing here? I told you that your assistance was not needed nor wanted.”

Bazur smiled. Such an arrogant shit! “My assistance has been paid for by the prince. I couldn’t give a rat’s ass if you live or die. I thought you might like to know you’re going to be attacked in the morning.”

“Impossible. My scouts have seen nothing. No one has followed us.”

“The moment you left Pera, heading north instead of east, every bandit within a hundred miles knew you’d be coming here. It is the only watering hole big enough for a group your size. They were at the watering hole earlier today.”

Mauri turned to his mercenary. “Is this possible? Could any idiot know where we are?”

The mercenary shrugged. “There are only so many watering holes in the badlands. If someone was watching Pera, then they know where we are.”

“Damn it,” swore Mauri. “We’ll just have to defeat them in battle. Thank you, Bazur, that will be all.” Mauri turned and went back to his quarters.

The man was not only arrogant, he was downright stupid, thought Bazur as he watched Mauri return to his quarters in the old fort. Bazur looked at the mercenary to see if he was as equally dismissive.

Looking back to make sure that Mauri couldn’t see, the mercenary lifted a hand, signaling that Bazur should wait until Mauri returned to the fort. Once the arrogant merchant was out of sight the mercenary spoke. “He’s not the most sensible client we’ve ever taken. I told him when we took this job that avoiding an ambush was almost impossible. He insisted he could do it by taking this route.”

“You took the job anyways,” commented Bazur.

The mercenary shrugged. “He pays well. My men are well trained warriors and have survived such attacks before. It is what we do. Although, I am not so confident in our abilities that I’d turn down knowledge of the forthcoming attack. I, Jediah, would appreciate your information. It will save many lives.”

Mauri might be stupid, but at least he hired someone with some sense. Jediah seemed a logical man. Hopefully, he was a good fighter. He would need to be. “About two miles from here, the valley starts to narrow and there are a series of box canyons. You know the spot?”

“Near the Devil’s Arm?” asked Jediah.

“Yes, just west of the Arm.”

Jediah nodded. “I know the spot. A good location for an ambush. My scouts went past there this evening without seeing anything.”

“Your enemy, a man named General Vargas, was there this morning. He scouted the area and then left. He will attack there.”

“General Vargas is behind the attacks? That is not good. He is a dangerous man. How did you know he was scouting the area?”

“I knew you were coming north from Pera, so I climbed the Devil’s Arm. I spent the day up there spying on the route.” Bazur didn’t mention that he wasn’t alone. The fewer people that knew Kyra was with him the better. Who knew if there was a spy among Mauri’s men or not.

“A difficult climb, but an excellent location to watch the valley from. That explains why they didn’t see you. So how would you defeat the attack. How many men does he have?”

“There were eighteen including Vargas. I counted six archers and the rest horsemen. It appeared that their plan is fairly simple. The archers will be stationed on the ridges of the plateaus and the horsemen divided into three groups, one for each box canyon. Once you are in the middle of the valley between the box canyons, the archers will open fire and the horsemen will surround you, pinning you down under their archer’s fire. To defeat the attack, I’d send out your two best warriors, ones who can move with stealth, and have them stalk the archers on the north ridge. When you enter the valley tomorrow, you stay to the north side, and at the first sign of attack or even before the attack if you can, you charge the warriors in the northern box canyon.”

“We would be committed to fighting in that box canyon. There would be no escape.”

“True, but if your men take out the archers, you would control the high ground and in the box canyon you can focus your attack. They would no longer have you surrounded and you could reduce their numbers down to equal, completely removing their advantage. At least with this plan you have a fighting chance to win. If you don’t engage the enemy now, they will just plan another ambush.”

Jediah nodded. “That is my fear as well. We will use your plan.”

“Best of luck. Don’t let Mauri’s arrogance be the death of you all.”

Jediah smiled, his white teeth contrasted with the dark campfire coal lit night. “Mauri barks, but the men are mine. They will bite on my command not his.”

Bazur left the fort the same way he came in, avoiding the sentries and stealthily making his way through the night till he returned to Kyra. He found her asleep
. Good
, he thought.
She will need it. Tomorrow will be an eventful day.

BADLANDS

DAWN came early. Bazur tried to sleep but every time he shut his eyes he had visions of his parents being slaughtered and Snagluk standing over them, laughing at him saying how glad he was that he could finally rid himself of Bazur. The nightmares had been common occurrences shortly after the banishment, but with time had subsided. Now, something was drudging up the old feelings.

Ignoring the nightmares, Bazur thought about the day ahead. The plan he’d given Jediah was good, but once a battle started, plans went with the wind. Battles were won in the moment, adjustments made on the fly, the skill of the warriors involved all had more to do with victory than just having a good plan. Whether Mauri lived or died was now out of his hands. His focus was now keeping Kyra alive and helping her find out who was employing General Vargas.

“Is it time?” asked Kyra as she woke.

“Soon,” said Bazur. Mauri and his men would be waking now as well, eating breakfast, refilling their water containers, and breaking camp. They would likely be at the ambush site within the hour. “We should get moving.”

“Where are we going to be during the attacks? We can’t let Vargas get away.”

“We won’t. We’ll be watching from the northwest. There is a ridge there that is near the box canyon but far enough away to be safe. From there we’ll observe the fight, and we can track Vargas down afterwards.”

“My safety can’t be your primary concern, Bazur. We need information. We have to be close enough to observe details. Anything we see that gives us hints as to who Vargas might be working for will be invaluable. We may never get another chance like this to observe Vargas in action. If we could somehow capture him…”

Bazur shook his head. “No. Capture is something we can consider in the future, it is too dangerous to think that way. You are no warrior and Vargas has eighteen men. Either you are as crazy as a borang bear beetle or you highly overrate my skills. Either way, we stick to the ridge. It is close enough.”

…

The ridge was as close as he promised. It was actually part of the same rock outcroppings as the box canyon along the north edge of the narrow valley where the battle scene was to be played out. The rock walls spread west, rising up into another small mountain of rock that snaked through the desert floor. The entire badlands were filled with these little valleys and ridges of rock. Not quite big enough to be considered mountains, but still providing hundreds of feet of drop to the low valley below.

The ridge Bazur had picked was only about a hundred yards away from the opening to the box canyon, but it was easily thirty yards higher and partially hidden from view by the ridge in front of it. They couldn’t see deep enough into the canyon to tell if Vargas’s men were there or not, but Bazur was confident they were. They settled in, lying flat on their stomachs to minimize the chance of being seen. In fact, they sat far enough back, they couldn’t actually see the valley below. There was no reason to expose themselves. They wouldn’t need to see Mauri and his men coming, they would hear them.

It wasn’t a sound that alerted them to Mauri and his men but instead a small dust cloud. Bazur waited until he heard the first sounds of battle before looking over the ridge. Jediah had stayed true to his word and followed Bazur’s suggestion. As soon as they got close to the ambush site they rushed to the northern side of the valley and into box canyon to attack General Vargas’s troops before the rest of his men in the southern canyons could get started. Jediah now had a portion of Vargas’s men pinned into one canyon. Now they needed to defeat them before the rest could arrive.

Bazur looked to the high ground of the canyon below. Somewhere down there were Vargas’s archers and Jediah’s assassins stalking them. Soon the archers revealed themselves. They’d been hiding under burlap clothes as to blend into the sand and stone background.
Clever
though Bazur. The canvas was perfect camouflage. As soon as the archers started firing their arrows into the riders, the assassins showed up and hit the archers with arrows of their own. Jediah’s warriors then took their spots and started firing into the box canyon. Bazur couldn’t see their targets but he could hear the screams of Vargas’s warriors, filled with panic and terror as they fell. Across the valley floor, the rest of Vargas’s warriors rode fiercely to join the battle in the box canyon. They would be too late to save their companions but they could still trap Jediah’s warriors. The battle was far from over.

Suddenly, Jediah’s warriors on the top of the canyon were struck down from a volley of arrows. General Vargas had even more archers hidden higher in the rocks! Not only did the hidden archers strike down Jediah’s warriors, but they’d spotted Bazur and Kyra and were firing at them. Arrows struck the ground in front of Bazur’s face. They needed to get out of there now!

Bazur grabbed Kyra’s hand and started to run and jump down the rocks heading northeast and away from the battle. Glancing back, Bazur saw at least a dozen archers at the highest point on the canyon. General Vargas had sacrificed almost a third of his men, but he now had Mauri and Jediah trapped in the box canyon and they controlled high ground. Bazur grunted, as pain pulsed through him where an arrow pierced his leg. He ignored the pain and kept running, pulling Kyra along with him. They needed to get out of range of Vargas’s archers. They needed to get to the north side of the ridge and then as far away from the valley as they could before Vargas’s men could start hunting them down. The archers were already starting to concentrate on Jediah and his men, only a few arrows chased after them as they fled. When they went around a large boulder that safely covered them from the archers’ aim, Bazur stopped and snapped the shaft off of the arrow that had penetrated his leg. Later he would pull out the rest of the arrow and clean the wound, but for now he needed to be able to run.

Behind him, Kyra slipped on a rock and fell awkwardly to the ground. Her leg struck a large rock and made a terrible cracking sound. Kyra groaned in agony. “I don’t think I am going to make it. You should go without me,” said Kyra. “I can’t run any further like this.”

Bazur stopped and turned to check on her. Kyra looked terrible. Her face was pale, her leg was sitting at unnatural angle, and she had an arrow sticking out of her back. He felt his heart almost stop. He couldn’t lose her!

Kyra tried to get up but as soon as she tried to put weight on her bad leg it collapsed.

He grabbed her before she could fall to the ground. He then gently put her on her side so he could inspect the wounds. The arrow was high on her back, close to her right shoulder. It was only a flesh wound, but the hard running had sped up the blood loss and weakened her. Bazur ripped the bottom of Kyra’s top, making a bandage. Pulling the arrow from her back, he wrapped the cloth around her shoulder to close the wound.

“That Vargas is a tricky bastard,” mumbled Kyra as he tended to her wound. “Archers covering the archers. I’ll bet he had the same on the southern ridge as well.”

Kyra’s leg was broken. He could feel the bone pressing out of her skin. He would need to set it back in place. He took a piece of the broken arrow and handed it to Kyra.
“Bite this.”

Kyra knew what was coming next. She took the broken piece of arrow and put it in her mouth, biting down on it hard. She looked at Bazur, giving him a nod.

Bazur pushed hard on the bottom of her leg. Pushing the bone back into place.

Kyra bit harder on the arrow, groaning in agony. But she never screamed or said anything. Instead, she just bit even harder on the arrow.

Bazur took the arrow that had been in her back and used it to brace her leg.

“I’m going to carry you. Relax and I’ll get you out of here.” Bazur lifted her and placed her across his shoulders.

“I feel like a sack of meat, goat maybe…” groaned Kyra. She sounded delirious.

She did feel like a sack of meat. “I’m sorry. I need to run.” They needed to get away from the valley as quickly as possible. With Vargas having the extra archers hidden above them, the entire landscape of the battle had been changed. Vargas must have known that they were watching from the Devil’s Arm. Bazur felt the fool. He’d underestimated his opponent. General Vargas thought of all contingencies, and outsmarted him. Now, both he and Kyra were wounded and would likely be hunted down. Vargas couldn’t risk them escaping and telling the prince that he was the man orchestrating the attacks.

As he jogged with Kyra across his shoulders, Bazur calmly plotted their escape. They need to get east, back to Draisha. They had a lot of desert to cross to get there, but that wasn’t a bad thing. General Vargas and his men were horsemen. They could travel farther, go faster and longer without water due to the advantage of their mounts, but they had to stick to ground the horses could cross. There were plenty of old volcanic areas with dangerous ground that Bazur could lead them through to slow their pursuit. And horses needed more water than men. Water for a large number of riders could only be found in so many places. Westmere and Pera were the closest watering holes that could support that many animals. They would avoid those areas, head right across the badlands towards Draisha. It would be rough on them, but rougher on Vargas and his men. Hopefully, it would be enough to discourage them from following them.

Bazur ran for miles, zigging through crevices and around hills, keeping to low ground. Occasionally, he stopped and put Kyra down. He then doubled back and wiped out his footprints, sometimes purposefully stepping into soft sand heading in the wrong direction. Anything and everything he could do to confuse the trail, making it harder to track them. By night, they were far north of the valley and making their way east. But when he made camp, he could see a fire, miles back along the path they’d come. Vargas was coming.

Cleaning and checking her wounds, he made sure that there were no signs of infection. He wasn’t sure if her leg was set properly or not, but he wasn’t a healer nor did he have time to fully check it. His priority was making sure she didn’t lose any more blood. He then made a broth to feed her. “Here, eat this. You need to regain your strength.”

Kyra weakly accepted the food and water. “I feel so exhausted.”

“You’ll be fine, drink more water.”

“We won’t have enough for both of us,” said Kyra as she tried to push the water sack back to Bazur.

“I’ll be fine. I’ve been living in the badlands long enough to know my limits. I can go a lot longer without water before we have problems,” he lied. It didn’t matter how long one lived in the desert. You eventually needed water, or you died. Today, he wasn’t drinking any so that Kyra could heal faster. He wouldn’t risk her life for his own. Especially not now after it was his mistake that put her in this situation. Tomorrow, he would need to find water.

“How far back are Vargas’s men?” asked Kyra.

“A couple of miles. Judging by where the fire is, I’m guessing they lost the trail in the rocks where I put tracks heading west. They’re waiting for morning to resume tracking us. That is one advantage we have. We can gain ground traveling at night.”

“Aren’t you tired yet?”

“I’ll rest when we get you safely to Draisha. Besides, traveling at night is cooler, conserves water.” He waited for her to take another drink of water. When she was done, he picked her up again. Using his weapons harness, Bazur fastened a sling around Kyra so she could ride him piggy back without having to hold on. He needed her to conserve her strength. They both needed to conserve their strength. One factor that worked in their favor that night was the moon. It lit the desert with its pale light, allowing Bazur to make good time as he trudged across the badlands. They were now heading south into lands he was familiar with. He’d often hunted these areas north of Pera and knew the terrain well. Old volcanic rock, dangerous ground filled with quicksand and pitfalls. Life threatening land to the inexperienced traveler, perfect for trying to lose their hunters.

Spotting a patch of morning flower cactus, Bazur stopped. The gods were kind. Morning flower cactus were ugly, prickly plants with needles so sharp they’d tear a man apart if he wasn’t careful. However, the prickly plants were exactly what they needed. Taking a knife, he scraped away the needles and outer skin from the cacti. Then he chopped them down and carved them up. The cactus was filled with moisture and the flesh of its insides was edible. Bazur chewed on a chunk of the cactus as he squeezed the rest, filling an empty water sack with the cactus juice. Normally, he would only take enough for himself, leaving the rest of the cactus to the animals and men who called the badlands home, but with Vargas’s men behind him, Bazur filled all their water skins, and then took all the edible cactus flesh. Vargas’s men would not benefit from the cactus. Now Bazur had the advantage when it came to water. Instead of being low on water and desperate to find a watering hole, he could continue straight towards Draisha. Now the pressure would be on Vargas to find water. It was a small victory, but still a substantial one. The need for water was a constant in the badlands. With it you could travel anywhere, without it you died.

Pushing on, he headed towards an old volcanic area. As the moon faded and the sun slipped back into the sky, he knew Vargas and his men would be back on his trail. The fake tracks west had slowed them, as had the need to wait until morning. It allowed Bazur time to gain on them. Their hunters could move much faster, but only when they could see where they were going. As long as Bazur didn’t make his destination obvious, the trackers would be forced to follow his tracks. Today, he would make that even more difficult. The volcano was long dead, but the ground around it had been covered with molten lava the last time it erupted. The lava bubbled and covered all the vegetation and ground. The lava rocks are hard on the surface but can be thin layers with air gaps below. Often the ground below you can collapse into nothing. The gap between the lava and hard ground can be only a couple of inches, sometimes it can be yards and yards. Crossing the lava was dangerous, but he knew what to look for and took his time weaving his way through the maze created by the ancient volcano. It took three times longer than normal for Bazur to walk a mile across the lava, but now Vargas’s men needed to follow his steps, and they wouldn’t be able to ride their horses through the lava fields. The trackers would have to lead them around the dangerous ground. Once safely through the lava fields, Bazur knew he’d bought them more than enough time. Vargas could not catch them now. But it didn’t make them safe from the dangerous general. Vargas would likely suspect they intended to return to Draisha. He would have men in the city waiting for them. It didn’t matter as long as he got Kyra to safety. The prince had healers and his royal guards. They could protect and heal Kyra while Bazur worried about General Vargas.