Alarik's Crusade

CHAPTER 19: THE KHORSULI THIEVES OF STREPSIS

​They were marching again. While no stranger to long treks, she preferred the travels through the desert, back before moving to Vanderik lands. They’d move through dry, blistering heat, bogged down by their goods that were their livelihood, avoiding bandits and thieves that were scattered across the paths and the “officials” that would charge inordinate costs for the simple act of living, a unique kind of thievery masquerading as an institution. Shal would complain the whole way, but still manage to do so with a smile on his face. It was that strange characteristic, an incongruous mixture of hating his surroundings and joyously pushing through them, that made the two great friends.

​She wondered if he was joyful now.

​Shalmanesser was one step above a skeleton, laid back on a stretcher and carried on the shaky ground by Farmund. His weight was so light that to the giant man it must have been lighter than the gear they started with.

​Alarik whistled from up at the front of the line. They had come to a clearing, and the signal meant that it was time to once again make camp. That meant she would be on the hunt again. She took off a boot and found that her feet had blistered from the endless marching so terribly that they had begun to bleed. The soles, worn to almost nothing, had grown soft and wet. Still, with Shal the way he was, she had little choice. Through all his complaining, all his laziness, all his whining, he would have done the same for her in a heartbeat.

​---

​Inaya slid across the slippery docks of Strepsis, the restless waves crashing upon the trading port with the fury of the ocean. She was running low on ideas; the heavyset merchant, a wealthy one even by Vanderik standards, wasn’t believing a word she was saying, and the two guards he had at his back had blades that were far too sharp and faces far too cruel for her liking.

​“You tried to swindle me,” the big man said, breath so heavy with liquor it found its way to her in spite of the dockside breeze and the pouring rain. He waved a sausage-like finger back and forth in front of her face as she lay on her back, nursing a bruise where she landed heavily. He then knelt beside her, leaning in close, his long sailor’s jacket draping over her like a shadow. “I’ve never taken well to thieves. You probably knew that from the beginning, too. And by my fortune, neither do the guards of Strepsis. Blood washes so easily from these docks, and if some Khorsuli rat washes up on the shore with a slit throat, how many are going to ask questions?”

​She didn’t say a word. Neither did she cower. She had cheated him, that much was true; she was pretending to work on behalf of a trading house, offering a small amount of valuable gemstones for a large sum of gold. A keen-eyed appraiser did her in, and the gig was up. If this was the way she was to go, then so be it. She’d robbed - liberated, in her words - so much Vanderik wealth already, her role in this world felt all but complete.

​“Inaya!” a voice called out through the rain. Across the docks ran a well-dressed, thin-as-a-rail Khorsuli. “Have you slipped? I’ve been looking -” He noticed the two guards, weapons drawn and far too eager, and put a hand up to his mouth. “Oh dear me. What have I stumbled into?”

​“This one’s been running a cheat,” the big man said. “‘Bout time she got what’s coming to her.”

​“A cheat? Why…” The Khorsuli looked flustered, tying the ponytail of his long black hair tighter in the back as if that would add to his decorum. “I’ve been trading with this young lady on behalf of my benefactor for years now, and I can assure you I have been met with nothing but the most respectable service. She trades on behalf of-”

​“Lord Durus,” the big man sneered.

​“Indeed. I beg your pardon sir, I have not caught your name.”

​“Didn’t give yours, neither.”

​“I beg your pardon twice,” the Khorsuli said with a bow. “Shalmanesser, of Lord Ruso’s treasury.”

​“Still don’t need to know mine,” the trader said, spitting with every word. If it bothered Shal he showed nothing of it, acting as if it was the splashing of the waves. “Almost let one Khorsuli trick me, I ain’t letting another.”

​“If you say so. Now, I believe we may be interested in procuring the same particular items. A small pack of gems, of which my benefactor has… immense interest.”

​“These?” the merchant said, holding up a small pouch, stumbling a bit as if the weight was overbalancing him, but rather just because the man was clearly profoundly drunk. Shal took a short step closer to inspect them, but that only brought the guards a short step closer as well. “No sense comin’ to see ‘em. I’ve had ‘em checked. Bunch of fakes! Worthless!”

​“Worthless! A gemcutter in Vivileth, now that’s worthless. Those, however, are worth a small fortune.”

​“Did you not hear me?” the man said, more of a guttural growl than a cultured Vanderik accent, which Shal attempted as closely as he could. “I just told you, I’ve had ‘em checked, and they’re more rocks than gems!”

​“May I?” Shal said, holding out a hand.

​“If you want to look at rocks, be my guest.” He tossed the bag into Shal’s hand. Opening it carefully, Shal inspected each stone individually, hunched over each shiny gem so the rain would not fall on them.

​He straightened his back, turned to Inaya, and spoke very clearly and quite loudly to be heard over the driving rain. “Whatever this man is offering, I am willing to double it.”

​“I…” Inaya said, wincing at what felt like broken ribs. “I’ve already promised them to… to him.” She held up a shaky finger. “Can’t renege on a deal once made.”

​Shal raised his eyebrows and smirked. “It appears the man is not interested in your offer.” Turning to the merchant, he spoke with all the poise and confidence he could muster, drawing on every obsequious, prim and proper trader working on behalf of a lord he’d ever seen. “If you are willing, I will pay what you owe for the gems and add an additional percentage to assure you that yes, my benefactor does dearly wish for these particular items to be in his possession.”

​The trader stumbled slightly, fighting on the twin fronts of confusion and inebriation. He opened up the pouch and inspected the gems again, closely. “Can’t in good faith sell you these ones. They ain’t real. Had ‘em inspected not long ago.”

​Shal was slightly taken aback by the surprising moment of integrity from the trader. He had him pegged as a drunk who beat and robbed his way through to prominence. As for the beating he had planned to put on Inaya, well, if he had been on the receiving end of a cheat he’d be rather upset as well. Still - a fool is a fool, and if Shal wasn’t to take his gold, then who would? “Well, sir, the wonderful part here is for one reason or another my benefactor is set on procuring them. I dare say, if they are indeed useless, his loss is your gain.”

​“Why would you want to buy a bunch of useless gems?”

​“I believe that’s not for me to ask. I inquire, I purchase, I report. It is my duty, and a duty I do well.” He leaned closer. “Of course, perhaps your jeweller is not as good as one may believe. Did he at any point… no, no.”

“Speak it,” the trader growled.

“Did he ever offer to take them off your hands?”

​“Hmm,” the trader thought. “Might’ve. Hardly remember.” The rain was falling in sheets now, and with the wind picking up, it was becoming very cold. Of course, when you’re doused in alcohol sometimes it seems to act as a coat, and the trader seemed not to mind. “Well,” he said finally, “I think I could consider your offer. Come my way tomorrow with the price.” He motioned to his guards. “Come on, boys. We’ll leave this for the day.” He started to walk off, bringing his guards with him, but turned at the last moment. “Who did you say you worked for again?”

​“Lord Ruso, sir.” Shal had long said he worked for Lord Ruso, as he had a tendency to hire Khorsuli merchants already, believing they could always find a way to reach a lower price by hook or by crook. On that, he wasn’t entirely wrong.

​“And how then do I know you’re not making this whole thing up?” the drunk man asked, his speech slurred.

​“Well. Let’s just say I know why he needs a great deal of gemstones. He may have had… a liaison, shall we call it, with a rather comely lady in his waitstaff. The wife appears to be seeking… reparations.” Shal said the whole thing with a smirk.

​“Hah!” the trader laughed heartily, sending another shower of spittle Shalmanesser’s way. “Sounds about right from Ruso. Filthy man... I’ll take your word on this today. But if I find you’re fleecing me too, I will make sure myself that I’ll see your feet swinging from the gallows. I can promise you that,” he said, pointing his meaty fingers into Shal’s chest. With that, the three men walked off into the misty distance, disappearing behind a veil of rain and darkness.

​Watching them leave, hardly believing that she had made it out alive, she waited until she couldn’t see them any further. In the meantime, Shal had slipped away as well, as to be seen with her would be a sure sign of a conspiracy. So, alone, Inaya laid back and let the rain wash over her, taking a moment’s rest even if she was near freezing. She breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

​The next morning, they would be taking the first boat out to Theolar, leaving behind the drunkard and his useless, shiny stones. It wasn’t the first time Shal had saved her, nor would it be the last.

​--

​Inaya tilted Shal’s head back to pour more water down his throat. All he managed was a small cough, still staring up at the sky. She wanted to strike him, pound on his chest and force him to move, flip him over into the dirt so he couldn’t stare uselessly forward anymore. Anything to get a reaction out of him, anything to make him move again. To see him languish in this way was almost more than she could bear.

​She held him by the arms, gently shaking him. He seemed so fragile now. The bone seemed so terribly close to the skin. Shalmanesser had always been thin and waifish, but now, he seemed little more than a skeleton. His skin was wrapped tightly around his ribs, his legs looking just like dangling twigs. Yet, even though his eyes were sunken, they still seemed strangely blissful. How could they be? And how could he look so content knowing that she was wearing herself down to nothing to save him?

​She fought back tears, knowing that the rest of the camp was looking at her out of the corner of their eyes. Vanderik mongrels, she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing her weep, let alone allowing herself a moment of self-pity. That wasn’t her. She had made herself stronger than this. Pushing herself up, she took a deep breath and quickly addressed the captain. “I’m off again. One more hunt, now that we’re settled. I’ll keep an eye for the navigator.”

​Through tight lips, Alarik nodded. She knew that he understood it was a moment to be left alone. He didn’t say a word.

​She stepped out into the rainforest, taking a brief moment of clarity to remember just the direction she was heading to ensure that she could find her way back. She was not so arrogant as to think that whatever happened to the navigator could not happen to her; she was still in a strange, unfamiliar land, and there were few guideposts in order to find her way back to camp. Even when plagued by doubt and worry over Shalmanesser’s condition, she needed to be at the ready. Of course, her lack of rest provided little for her in that respect.

​Falling into the mindset of the hunter, she was provided a brief reprieve from the nagging thoughts. Even though her feet were in terrible pain, her head clouded from a lack of sleep, and her muscles aching with the strain of constant travel, it was better than staring into the lifeless form of her dying friend. While most would come up empty in this state, she still managed to bag a couple small creatures to return, harnessing all she could from her Khorsuli shamanistic powers.

​Another rustle. Perhaps she’d capture a third.

​Crouching low, she readied an arrow and pointed it in the direction of the noise. She pulled it back, having it at the ready…

​A human hand came up from the brush. “The second time in but a few days I’ve had one of your camp point an arrow at me,” came the voice of Majad. “This is the first time I've felt truly threatened, however. The last time was from your duchess.”

​“She’d be more likely to shoot herself. Now. Show yourself. Immediately.” She was not in the mood for bantering with anyone, let alone Majad.

​“Now now,” he said, holding up his hands and having no visible weapons with him. “You have no reason to want-”

​“You poisoned my friend. The only reason an arrow isn’t in your heart right now is I need you to fix him.”

​Majad lowered his hands. With an intensity matching her fury, he looked her straight in the eyes. “I cannot help him now. But I want you to know - I did not poison him.”

​“Do you not know who I am? What we do?” she said, her voice rising, but steady. “We can speak with the animals here. Even if this is your land, we have eyes everywhere. Every single bush and tree has those that will answer my call. And yet still you lie to me? Everything. I know everything you’ve done.”

​Majad took note that while she may be speaking the truth, she had not used these skills to locate the navigator - nor had the Vanderik been smart enough, or understood her enough, to ask. “I am not lying. Your friend was foraging when I came across him. Do you know this?”

​“I do.”

​“Good. He was searching for animals to hunt, but he came across a number of small berries. They’re alluring, and I have heard from the legends that their taste is exquisite. But, they give a terrible, wasting disease to any that consume them. When I came across him, I knew it was too late. I provided him with a calming potion that will reduce the pain to almost nothing. While it will not cure him, it will give a peaceful end.” It was a good lie. Jathi had crafted it herself. “I did what I could to-”

​Inaya released the arrow she had in place. It tore through the air, planting just above Majad’s head, shaking violently in the tree it hit just beyond him. “A foolhardy mistake to make when I told you I am well aware of what happened. Lie to me again, and there’ll be no mask big enough to cover the wound.”

​Majad stood up straight. His face hardened, looking dreadfully serious. “Very well then, Inaya of Khorsul. But if you know everything already, then what purpose do you have in asking?”

​“Details. I could see it. Through the eyes of the snakes and buzzing flies, I could see it. What I need to know is why, and if there’s a cure.”

​“Ahh, very well. Sadly, no, there is no cure, but-” He paused when Inaya placed another arrow into her bow. “I believe you may want to hear me out.”

​“I can only hold this string for so long. Speak quickly. My patience is already running thin.”

​He explained at length much the same as he had for Edda. His people, the potions, the honest attempt to offer assistance, albeit this time he was far more honest in his intentions. Inaya held the string back the entire time, listening, showing nothing. He even spoke of the tests his people had set for the Vanderik, and the necessity of it to defend their own land. It was an argument that any Khorsuli would understand.

​“So through your ‘offers’ my friend is dead. I care little for your reasons. You have nothing to offer me.”

​Majad was brave enough to take another step forward, his smirk managing to be evident on his face in spite of his mask. “Oh, but I do. Ask yourself. Has it appeared that I am a friend of the Vanderik?”

​Her bow loosened, but only slightly. “No.”

​“Then speak honestly with me. Neither are you.”

​She stared back at him, wishing her head could have been clearer. Instead it only pounded, her stomach growled, and her feet, oh, her feet were wearing down the very layers of her sanity. Inaya found she was breathing rapidly. She had to let it out. “Yes!” she said as forcefully as a quiet voice in the dangerous rainforest would allow her. “I despise them! I curse them with the most venomous hatred! They came to our homes and destroyed everything. Then, I had to go to them, just to survive. It was humiliating! Do you understand that? The humiliation of having to travel to your oppressor’s kingdom just to get by? In Khorsul, it was all just dust. Our very way of life, just gone. Do you understand that? The fury, the hatred that courses through you at every waking moment, it’s… it’s all consuming. And Shal, he… he could find a way to look beyond it. And now he’s…”

​Majad kept his stony expression. “I know all too well your tale. The story of our people is one of rejection and displacement. We’re the sons and daughters of castoffs from Rukara from the north and Vanda to the south. I know your plight. All inhabitants - permanent inhabitants - of this rainforest do. I have lost many to persecution, to subjugation. If you can stare into my blind eyes, you’ll see the milky white still burns with the fires of hatred. It does not abate, Inaya of Khorsul. So if you believe me, and I think that you do, you’ll see that perhaps we have more in common than you first thought.”

​Inaya calmed herself, steadying her nerves again. She noticed her bow was sitting uselessly at her side now, not even noticing she had dropped her guard. It was unlike her, and for a moment she felt ashamed that she had done so. But now that she had, it seemed useless to raise it again. She gave in entirely, sitting down in the dirt. There was no more for her to give.

​“What brought you to this rainforest, Khorsuli?” Majad asked, standing above her. She hadn’t noticed he closed the gap between them.

​“I wanted to profit from them. This expedition, that is, I knew they would pay me well. Any Vanderik coin in my hands is a coin better placed.” There was no sense in lying to him now. She felt he could see right through her. Or, at least, she was becoming predictable in her weariness, and there was little emotional and mental strength left to draw from to ward off his prying. Perhaps she just didn’t care anymore.

​“Why work for them honestly, then? Why not steal it out of their very hands?”

​Inaya shifted. She looked down at the ground, not wanting to answer. Putting her head in her hands, she looked as if she wanted the whole world to pause for a moment, just to give her a moment’s rest.

​Majad would provide no such reprieve. His cold, empty eyes sensed it was time to press further.

​“The Khorsuli have been here before,” Majad said, his voice so smooth, every syllable quiet but commanding, even behind the mask that covered his mouth. “And you knew that. Which means surely you knew the rainforest is impossible to survive in without the blessing of the Hashadi. Yet here you are.” Majad nodded, slowly, deliberately. “I’m beginning to understand why you’ve come here. I’m beginning to understand your regrets.”

​She buried herself deeper into her arms, her voice slipping out from underneath them. “It wasn’t supposed to get this far.”

​“You knew the mission was doomed,” Majad said, treating his guess as a statement of fact.

​“It was supposed to fail so quickly,” she whispered.

​“You underestimated the Vanderik will.”

​“...a whole rainforest of torments…” she rambled.

​“They’re a people that have both created and felled empires. They will not be one to give in easily.”

​“...the animals, the food, the fools they brought here…”

​“And now, your friend lies dying. You feel the blame falls upon your head. You brought him here.” The rainforest’s cacophony felt blaring now in Inaya’s head as Majad said those words. The weight of the world felt as if it was about to crush her. “I cannot save your friend, Inaya. But I can give you the means to do as you came here to do.”

​Her head rose up from her arms, just enough to have her red eyes peek over. “And what is that?”

​“Rob them,” he said. From his robes he pulled a flask. Taking out the stopper, he dabbed a tiny drop of a sparkling, viscous yellow liquid onto the tip of his finger. “A single drop will allow you to slip past even the most vigilant. But be wary - a drop is all you need. Too much, and the covetous nature will consume you. Remember how-”

​“I need no such reminders of his fate,” she snapped. She stood up, wiping her eyes and finding her focus. “And what do you want for it?” she asked.

​“Only that you do as you wish. I have already said, I am no friend of the Vanderik. And an enemy of my enemy…”

​He handed her the flask. This gave her something, at least. “Does it really work?”

​“Better than you could imagine,” Majad said truthfully. He was surprised even himself how quickly he had won her over - something that Adilash and Jathi doubted greatly. Her hatred and mistrust of her companions, and perhaps her beleaguered state, clouded her vision to see what Majad was truly offering. For the briefest of moments, Inaya forgot about Shal, and focussed only on the riches she would take. “Use it well. Now, before you return to camp, I do have a question for you. What of the captain? You seem to have taken a liking to him.”

​“He’s a good man, at heart,” she said, begrudgingly.

​“Will you steal from him in the same manner?”

​She nodded solemnly. “He’s a Vanderik.”

​Majad nodded back. “Then I wish you luck. Remember, Inaya - a single drop.”