Emerging from Exile: The Listra Chronicles, Book 1

Chapter 8 – A Little Mouse

(17 years later)

Zel buried his sword deep in the boar’s chest and watched as it gave its last breath. Five down, one to go. The last giant boar charged him, its huge tusks drawing closer by the second. Zel tried to pull his sword out of the slain boar, but it was stuck. He tried again and it wouldn’t budge. The last boar was closing in quickly. Too quickly. He could draw his other sword in time, but he’d have a second of recoil disadvantage to strike and it would be too late. Evading was his only option.

He ducked low and to the right- almost made it, but the boar’s tusk caught the edge of his leather. The boar flung his head upward piercing the leather’s shoulder and hurling Zel a dozen feet through the air. He landed on his back, the blow knocking the wind out of his lungs.

The boar snorted, scratched a hoof on the ground, then came charging again. Zel inhaled and burning pain tore through his chest. He strained to grab his second sword, but his sword belt had shifted lodging underneath him and he couldn’t move to reach it. The boar was coming fast.

Leyal appeared at the edge of the clearing with his legs spread and back arched. Baring his teeth in a ferocious snarl, he let out a menacing growl drawing the boar’s attention. It turned and charged the dire wolf as Zel started to get his breath and movement back. With his sword belt twisted behind him, the short, thin dagger that would normally be at his back was now at his side. He pulled it from its sheath and aimed for the boar who was drawing dangerously close to Leyal.

Releasing the blade with a quick prayer to the warrior God, Argas, he watched it fly through the air, end over end, until it made contact. Though it barely penetrated the boar’s thick and hairy hide, the hit drew the animal’s attention. This time, Zel would be ready.

The boar raced toward him, his hooves digging into the ground, dirt and grass spewing up behind him.

Finally able to twist enough to reach his second sword, he drew the blade. At the last moment, when the boar was almost upon him, he held the sword over his body and allowed the beast’s forward momentum to bury the metal in its own throat. He quickly slid the sword out before the boar collapsed, its weight pinning him to the ground, his enormous tusks framing Zel on either side. The boar released his final stinking breath in Zel’s face and Zel scrunched his nose. Ugh. Disgusting creatures. He laid back allowing his arms to fall, and released his sword as Leyal walked across the field of slaughter and sat next to him.

“Thank you, boy,” he eked out, still working to get his breath back.

Leyal responded with a low bark.

“I did tell you not to get involved though. You could have gotten yourself killed, you know? These beasts are even bigger than you, boy.” Leyal let out a grunt.

He didn’t like Leyal fighting, especially not against enormous animals that could kill him. But when it came to life and death situations, all his strata, especially Leyal, were known to have minds of their own. Each had ignored his commands to keep back in order to save him from extreme peril in the past – and he couldn’t blame them considering their lifespans were tied to his. So, he didn’t admonish Leyal but, instead, sent a mental message of thanks and buried his hand in the wolf’s fur. Leyal nuzzled into his affections.

After the painstaking task of removing the tusks from each of the boars, he returned to the village representative who hired him. He rode past small farms and grazing cattle into the village with just his tunic on under his cloak. His mangled leather armor dangled off one side of his horse while eleven huge vilco boar tusks jutted out of a sack on the other, and one huge boar tusk sat on display, strapped to the back of his saddle.

He found the village representative who hired him tending pigs in front of a barn. “I’ve killed your boars,” he said, dropping the tusks in front of the farmer. “Half dozen boars, eleven tusks as proof. You can see I have one on the back of my horse as well.” Zel gestured toward his horse. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to keep that one for myself.”

The man crouched to open the sack. His eyes widened and mouth gaped as he stared at its contents. “You did it. You really did it.”

“Your children and your village’s children will be safe now.”

“Thank you so much, Sir.”

“No thanks needed, but I will take my coin.” His tone was too gruff and impatient even to his own ears, but he was tired. Fighting a half dozen vilco boars was a draining task for anyone, even a Listra.

The farmer gave him two gold pieces a head as promised. It would be enough for his new armor, but not much more. He’d have to find another job before he could continue his search for Fogard. Zel thanked the man, got back on his horse, and rode into the center of the village. Smaller than others surrounding Veyforge, it contained only a few buildings besides the farmsteads: a tavern, inn, smith, leatherworker, a couple of stables, and a general merchant shop.

For its size, it was surprising it had an inn at all. He was thankful it did though. He might be only a few hours outside of Veyforge but, he wanted to sleep in a bed something fierce and simply didn’t have the energy for more travel that day. He paid for a room and indulged in a stew and a warm bath and felt better for both. The warm bath, in particular, was always a cherished luxury after months of bathing in cold rivers.

Once finished, he went to the inn’s stable to check on his animals and found Bubo still asleep on a beam in the stable’s rafters and Essy content in his saddlebag. He decided to spend some time brushing his horse.

After a short while, he noticed a girl watching him from outside the stable. He looked the wall where she hid. “Girl, what are you doing there? Come out. Let me see you.”

With shoulders slumped and hands clasped in front of her stomach, she sheepishly stepped out from behind the stable wall. Shifting her eyes downward and to the side, she avoided his gaze.

“What are you doing, girl? Why do you watch me?”

“I… I heard you ask the innkeeper…”

“Yes. You heard me ask the inkeeper what?”

“I… I heard you ask him about a brothel,” she said in a soft voice.

“Yes. What of it?”

She stole a glance, then looked down again. “I… if you want… I… you could…”

“Out with it, girl. What is it you want of me?”

She kicked at the ground, shuffling her foot in a nervous gesture. “If… if you want to lay with a woman…”

“Yes? Do you know of a whore for me, girl?”

“I could. I mean, if you wanted to…”, she stole another a glance, “with me.”

“How many years are you?”

“Twenty, Sir, soon to be twenty-one.”

She was of age, even for his species. But she was also short and slight of frame. He shook his head. “Girl, you are but a little mouse, a pretty little, mouse indeed, but I am a large man and a rough man, not one made for a pretty, little mouse. Go, girl. Be on your way.” He turned and took the brush to his horse.

But she didn’t leave. Instead, she took a step closer and met his gaze, looking at him over her lashes with pretty, brown doe eyes. “Do you… I mean…” she lowered her head again, “would you beat me during?”

He stopped brushing the horse and straightened his back. “I don’t beat females.” His face bore a tinge of anger at the mere suggestion.

She lifted her head and looked at him directly, this time with her chin out. “Then I can take you. I promise I can.”

He was sure she was an Orman girl with no idea of the rougher mating practices of Listra males. Maybe he should wait until he visited the brothel in Veyforge? But it had been four months since he’d had a woman and the aggression of the fight had ignited his primal desires, something that happened, not only to Listra, but to all male shifters. He really didn’t want to wait. A gentle mounting is better than no mounting.

“Have others had you, girl?”

“Yes, Sir. A few of the village men,” she said maintaining much better eye contact now.

She still did look back to the ground periodically, but he could tell she was beginning to feel more comfortable with him. He also felt better knowing she’d sold herself before. “And how much coin would you want for this?”

She hesitated. “Two copper?” It was more of a question than an answer.

“Where?”

“Wherever you like, Sir. Away from other villagers?” It was another question.

He wasn’t sure why she wanted to be away from other villagers, but he’d respect her wishes regardless. That meant he wouldn’t take her to the inn, nor would he take her where they were.

He returned the brush to its shelf and walked past her out of the stable. “Come.” She followed him to the edge of the woods just out of sight of the village. He found a fallen tree that sat at the perfect height to bend her over. “Right here will do.”

She faced the tree and began to lift her peasant skirt.

“Wait.” She turned to him. “Give me your hand first.” She did and he placed a gold coin in it.

Her eyes grew wide. “But, Sir!”

Before she could say more, he crouched to her height and put a finger to her lips. “Girl, you listen to me now. You’re worth more than two coppers to any man. Don’t sell yourself for so little. Ever.” She looked down as she had before, and he put a finger under her chin, lifting it, forcing her to look at him. “When you sell yourself to those in the village, you ask them for only two copper?”

“Yes. Well,” her head tilted, “sometimes only one.” She tried to look down again.

“No, girl.” He stopped her. “You look at me. Don’t you be afraid, not of me. I will not harm you. But you listen. From now on, you tell them you want at least two silver pieces or they can’t have you. Do you hear me? At least two silver.”

“But what if they don’t want to pay that much?” Her voice held desperation that tugged at him. “I need the coin, Sir. My family needs coin,” she said with doleful eyes.

“They will.”

“How do you know, Sir?”

“Are you the only female in the village who sells herself?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

“Then they’ll pay most anything you ask. Males need to have females in a way that females don’t need males. Remember that and you’ll have power over them.”

“Why are you tellin’ me this, Sir?”

“Because you are female.” He ran his hand along the side of her face and brushed some loose strands of her brown hair back. “You are precious, to be treated with respect.”

“But I’m a whore,” she said pointedly looking directly at him now.

“So?” He stood. “You sell males what they want, what they need. Why should you be treated poorly for that?” He’d never understand the Orman view of whores. In Listrand, they were simply necessary – and well regarded. He untied his britches.

Her face bore a look of confusion. “But even you said you’re rough with women.”

“In mounting, yes, girl. I’m a large man, larger than most, and not gentle when I take a female. That doesn’t mean I don’t respect the females I take.”  

She nodded seeming to understand. And, if she noticed his continual accidental use of the words “male” and “female,” a telltale sign he was a shifter, and a habit he still hadn’t broken, she didn’t mention it.

Fearing he’d hurt her, he took her gently and with care, far more so than he would have preferred. But he just couldn’t bring himself to do as he wished. While he laced his britches, she asked, “You were gentle with me, weren’t you, Sir?”

He shrugged.

“No, Sir,” she said, stepping away from the log she’d been leaning against. “That’s not what I want.” She said it with such force it surprised him. He looked up from the belt he’d been buckling and met her pretty brown, doe eyes, now filled with determination. She put her hands on her hips. “You said I should ask for what I’m worth?”

“I did.”

“Then you should take what you pay for.” She nodded decisively.

It was logical, but he wasn’t sure he completely understood her meaning. “You want me to be rough with you?”

“I want you to plow me the way you wanna plow me, especially for a gold piece. I know what you just did wasn’t… satisfyin’ to you somehow,” she said with a wave of her hand.

He couldn’t deny her words. Maybe she was older than he thought, certainly wiser than he’d expected. He shrugged again. “I got my release. That’s good enough.” He looked back down at his weapon’s belt.

She put her hand on his arm, stopping him from buckling the belt, forcing him to look at her again. “No, it’s not. Please, Sir. If you’re gonna pay to take me, I want you to enjoy it. I wanna please you. Please let me do that.”

He stood looking into her eyes not knowing what he should do.

She continued to peer up at him, far more confident than she had been with him initially. “Please.” She kept her hand on his arm.

Huh. She might be the size of a little mouse, and shy at first, but there was a fire in her. He lowered his weapon’s belt, put a hand behind her neck, bent, and brought her to him for a kiss. He didn’t often kiss the whores he bedded, but something about her boldness in that moment made him want to kiss this female. Then he did as she asked and took her a second time over the log, this time for longer and harder. He still didn’t use his full force, but he did enjoy her much more the second time.

When they were done and dressed, he pressed another gold coin into her palm. Again, her eyes grew wide. “But Sir, you already gave me one. This is too much, Sir.”

He crouched to her level and caressed her cheek. “You’ll make yourself available to me the next time I pass through the village?”

“Oh yes, Sir, please. Anytime. Definitely.” She leaned forward with eager eyes.

He smiled. “You’re a good girl,” He cupped her chin. “Don’t you let the men take advantage of you, okay?” His smile vanished. “Promise me.”

She cast her eyes downward then back up again. “I promise,” she said finally.

“That’s a good girl.” He smiled again, then kissed her forehead.

After a comfortable night in a soft bed, he left early the next morning to ride to Veyforge. A few hours later, he arrived at his leatherworker’s shop.

“Hey, Luther,” he called out as he pushed the door to the cramped shop open holding his armor in one hand and a sack containing the tusk in the other. He searched for an open surface to set down the sack, but there were few available. Boots and shoes took up almost all the shelf space. Where there were no shelves, armor, belts, and bags of all types and sizes were on display from floor to ceiling. Leather hung drying in sheets behind Luther’s workstation and its scent filled Zel’s nostrils. He inhaled deeply and the corners of his mouth turned up. It felt good to be back in Veyforge.

“Zeltam!” Luther tilted his head to look over his round spectacles. “Long time, no see. Where you been?” His eyes were kind and surrounded by wrinkles that showed his advanced years.

“South. Way south. Been searching through the lands south of Socentra.”

“Still lookin’ for that friend of yours, eh?”

“Always. But I found no trace of Fogard down there so I thought it time I work my way back to Veyforge to check the surrounding villages up here again.”

They’d met when he first began searching for Fogard, back when Luther was in his prime and still had hair at the top of his head. Zel couldn’t help but wonder what it was like for Luther, what he thought about aging so visibly while Zel remained youthful and vibrant. Then again, what good was a multi-hundred-year lifespan if you were going to waste it alone? At least Luther had Nandafal and their two boys – reasons to live. He’d never have that.

Shaking off his thoughts, he held up his leather brigandine with its gaping hole in the shoulder. “Had some trouble on my last job. Think I’m ready for a new armor again.”

“My word, whaddya go up against?”

“A half dozen vilco boars and, as you can see, one of them almost got me.” He turned the brigandine to look at it himself. “I don’t know how he got the armor like that and didn’t tear through my shoulder.”

“I dunno either.” Luther ran a hand through the short, mostly white hair that still remained on the sides of his head. “Since when are you slow enough to take a hit though?

“Ah, one of my swords got stuck in a damn boar and I spent one too many seconds trying to dislodge it. Stupid mistake.”

“Unlike you.”

“Hey, everyone makes mistakes, Luther.”

“Even you?”

“Even me.” The corners of his mouth turned up.

“Bastard must’ve had huge tusks.”

Zel moved some shoes aside to make room for the mangled armor and set it down. “I can show you,” he said with a mischievous smile.

“No!” Luther set down the boot he was working on. “Lemme see!” He left his workstation with child-like anticipation.

“I gave all but one to the Orman who hired me to wipe them out.” Zel pulled the tusk out of the sack. “This is the one that almost got me.”

Luther’s eyes grew wide. “Bugger, that’s huge! Whadda you gonna to do with it?”

“Hoping to trade it with Momajin for some elixirs.” Zel handed the tusk to Luther.

Luther stood with his arms spread wide holding the thick tusk, admiring it. “Man, if you had yourself a house, you could mount it. What a trophy. That’s somethin’ else.” He handed it back to Zel. “Heavy too.”

“So were the damn boars.” Zel took the tusk from him and put it back in the sack.

“I bet.” Luther picked up Zel’s armor and inspected the damage.

“You can keep that.”

“Excellent. I’ll put the leather to good use. Lemme get your new armor.” He walked to his backroom with Zel’s mangled armor in his hands and a spring in his step, then returned wearing a huge smile and holding a lightweight, attractive gambeson, a long leather brigandine vest, and what appeared to be an unusual set of rods. He handed the gambeson to Zel.

 “Looks like Nandafal’s handiwork.”

“Of course. You know my woman is the one who’s the master with materials. She made it specially to go with the new leather vest I made you, but she designed it so it can be worn by itself too.” Luther gestured toward leather patches on the gambeson’s shoulders. “Those are mine though. I added them for Bubo, so he can land on your shoulders and not tear the gambeson to shreds.”

“Nice,” Zel said as he put it on. Made to his exact measurements, it enhanced his wide shoulders while cutting in at his much narrower waist. Its rich brown, darker than his skin by several shades, would blend well in the woods. “This is brilliant and it looks great, Luther, so good that I could wear it most anywhere, but it’s too light to be of much use as armor.”

“It isn’t. Nandafal tested a sample of it right in front of me. Many times, with many weapons. She’s developed a special weave that’ll hold against most anythin’. And when you plan on battle, you just add the leather over it for extra protection.” Luther handed him the vest.

He put it on over the gambeson and found the combination surprisingly light and more comfortable than he expected. Testing it, he discovered sword movements weren’t hindered in the least. He sheathed his sword and the rods in Luther’s hand caught his eye. “What’s that?”

“This,” said Luther holding it up, “is a special attachment that slides into here.” He slid the flat, iron underside of the dual rod attachment into a slot in the shoulder of the leather vest. A wooden rod remained on top. “And now you have a perch so Bubo won’t scratch this armor to shreds either.”

Zel had commissioned the armor, as always. He and Luther had an ongoing arrangement; anytime he picked up a set of armor, Luther would immediately start making the next set so it would be ready whenever Zel needed it. But the attachment was a complete surprise.

Zel eyed Bubo’s new perch smiling. “That’s even more brilliant.”

“Yeah? You like it?” Luther clasped his hands together with a gleam in his eye.

“I do, and the armor as well. This may be the best set you’ve made me yet.” Thrilled, he paid Luther accordingly, then handed him his boots to resole, and pulled up the only chair in the shop. He rested his feet on a barrel, grabbed a leather ball that sat on a nearby shelf, and tossed it up and down while he waited. “So, what’s new in these parts since I’ve been gone?”

Luther picked up Zel’s first boot and started removing the sole. “Pair a Listra warriors nosin’ ‘round a couple weeks back.”

“That’s not new.”

Luther peered at him over his spectacles. “Askin’ for Zelstrason.”

Zel’s eyes widened. That was new. And concerning.

“Haven’t seen ‘em lately though.”

“You sure they were Listra warriors?”

“I’ve known you a good many year, Zeltam. I know a Listra warrior when I see one by now.”

Zel’s brow furrowed. While it was common for Listrand to send warriors in pairs to scout towns and villages for fugitives, they didn’t typically set out to find particular fugitives – and the hunt for him had been over for decades. So, who would be seeking him by name and why? Maybe he’d gotten too comfortable, too lax in his comings and goings in and out of towns and villages and he’d been spotted?

Luther didn’t give him any time to dwell on the subject before continuing. “Purists goin’ nuts preachin’ all over the place, too.”

“That’s not unusual either these days, unfortunately.”

The door to the shop flew open and Luther’s youngest son burst in. He almost ran into Zel – barely avoided the collision – but didn’t flinch before continuing to Luther’s workstation. “Father! Father!”

“Yes, boy, what is it?”

“You told me to tell you if I heard anythin’ more ‘bout them bandits,” said the boy excitedly.

“Well then? Whaddya hear?”

“A man just come into town. Said they attacked Lurran. Said there was forty of ‘em and everyone couldn’t run fast enough is dead.”

Luther frowned. “Anythin’ else?”

“No, that’s all.”

“Alright. That’s a good boy.” Luther pressed a copper piece into the boy’s hand. “You did good. Now don’t tell your mother I gave you that.”

“I won’t,” promised the boy. “Thank you, father.” He ran out of the shop nearly as quickly as he’d entered.

Zel turned back to Luther. “What’s this about bandits?”

“Was just gettin’ to that. Couple bandit raids nearby. Last one was ‘bout three weeks ago. Been hearin’ it’s a big group. ‘Fore this, I heard thirty-five strong. Now, you just heard my boy. They’re sayin’ forty of ‘em.”

“That’s unlikely.” Zel frowned. “When bandits attack, they make a lot of noise to create fear and panic and to sound like they’re greater in number. I’d bet the actual count is somewhere around half that.”

“Even twenty’s a lot.”

“It would be one of the largest groups I’ve seen. Any call for hunters yet?”

“Not yet. Figure they’ll put one out soon though, ‘specially since they just attacked another village.”

“I figure you’re right. And you can bet I’m going to be answering that call.”

Luther paused his work on the boot and met Zel’s eyes. “Can you go up against that many?”

“I can,” Zel said with confidence. “Not all at once, of course. But with patience and stealth.”

Luther went back to working on the boot. “This is a killin’ group, Zeltam. You should know that. They don’t leave no one alive.”

Zel’s face hardened. The only thing good about that news was that he could take extra enjoyment in it when he ensured they met their end.

Luther continued. “You gonna finally stop lookin’ for your friend then?”

“Never. But I’m almost out of coin and a job this big could fund my search for Fogard for a long time. In fact, I think I’ll take a ride to Lurran. See if I can determine how they executed the attack and where they’re camped. It’ll give me a leg up in the hunt when they put out the contract.”

Lurran, one of several nearby unprotected farming villages that supplied Veyforge with food, was close enough that he could make it well before nightfall. He rode with Leyal by his side, Essy wrapped around his waist and Bubo on his shoulder enjoying his new perch. Once they arrived, Bubo took flight around the village to check for survivors and ensure there were no threats. Leyal roamed on foot doing the same and Essy stayed with him. He dismounted, tied the horse to the first hitch he found, and started searching for tracks amidst what remained of the village.

The smell of smoke and fresh slaughter filled the air and he was thankful the dead hadn’t yet begun to reek. Only a few homes remained. A couple still smoldered, their dark gray clouds rising into the overcast sky. He walked past a villager lying face down in some mud, the arrow that killed him still lodged in his back, then another who’d been stabbed, then another, and on it went. He ceased counting and returned to inspecting the ground for tracks. They were a jumbled mess throughout the village, but the perimeter told the story, enough to estimate a group of at least twenty or more in size – not anywhere close to the forty speculated.

Meandering through a few of the shabby ransacked homes, he searched for anyone who might have survived, but was met with only dead bodies. Everything of value had been taken, too. Not that Lurran offered much before the village had been raided. Like most villages throughout the Orman lands, Lurran was a poor one.

Now, it was a dead one.

He felt an internal pull, strong and insistent – Leyal urging him to come quickly. Then his wolf howled and it held a painful melancholy note. With quick strides, Zel made his way toward Leyal. He found him just outside the village, behind a few trees, sitting next to a girl covered in an obscene amount of blood. Dark crimson coated her midsection and beyond, coloring the surrounding pine needles and spreading in thick fingers on the ground around her. Angry purple bruises covered her eyes, swollen to the size of baby’s fists. Her lips and mouth were so engorged, her face looked deformed. She been beaten to such a degree that, if it weren’t for Leyal’s howls, Zel would have thought her dead.

But because his wolf was so insistent, he bent and turned the girl’s head to the side. He heard soft gurgling, barely audible even with the acute hearing he had from his animal bonds. Bending closer, he heard faint breathing. She was barely alive.

But maybe there was a chance.

Chapter 9 – Veyforge Visits

Zel took the beaten and bloody girl to Veyforge as fast as the horse would allow. He thought about taking her his alchemist, but this girl was near death, in need of more than elixirs. She needed an actual Myaran healer, not just a Myaran alchemist. So, he rode until he got to Luther’s. It was the only other place he could think to go. He left Essy to guard the girl while he ran to get Luther.

“Luther, do you know of a healer? Preferably a Myara, a powerful Myara?” Zel asked when Luther opened the door. “I need someone with a lot of magic.”

“What happened?”

“I found a girl in Lurran. She lives, but barely and not much longer, not without aid.”

“I know someone, but I’ll have to take you, to vouch for you. You know how it is with magic these days,” Luther said as he rushed out of the house toward his stable. He hastily saddled and mounted his horse, then led Zel through the narrow cobblestone streets of Veyforge.

Thankfully, night had fallen, which meant the streets were no longer bustling and they could ride quickly. The hooves of their horses thundered through the stone streets until they reached the outer ring of the town. They stopped at a modest, non-descript two story wooden house with a thatch roof, one that looked like every other in the row barring a small loop symbol with a dot over it above its door. Luther knocked and a fair skinned woman with fiery red hair answered. They spoke in hushed tones before Luther signaled to Zel to bring the girl.

Zel carried her inside and followed the healer past two large, ornate shelved cases filled with books, bottles, and various other items he assumed were related to the wielding of magic. To the left was a door next to a ladder that led to the second floor. He followed the healer through the door and into a small L-shaped room aglow with light from a candle that rested on a boxy wooden night stand. The healer moved a chair aside, the only one in the room, then gestured toward a bamboo framed bed – from her homeland of Ley Lanna, no doubt, as bamboo didn’t grow in Vaylen. He gently placed the girl upon the bed and backed away. The healer made a pattern with her hands over the girl, then directed him into the main room with Luther.

“I’ve halted any progression temporarily just to give us a few minutes to talk but it won’t last long,” said the healer.

Luther addressed them. “Zeltam, meet Delphine, a Myaran healer. Delphine, meet Zeltam, a Listranian outlaw.”

Zel glared at him with wide eyes.

Luther shrugged. “I had no choice.” He looked him up and down moving his hand in the same motion. “Look at you, Zeltam. I had to give her reassurance.”

“Fine,” he said gruffly, making no effort to hide the aggravation in his voice. He was far from thrilled, but there was nothing to be done about it now. He turned to Delphine. “Can you save the girl?”

“I won’t know until I evaluate her condition. Do you know what happened to her?”

“I don’t. I found her in Lurran after the village was attacked by bandits.”

“Looks like she’s been beat’n nearly to death,” said Luther.

“Give me some time to take a look at her.” Delphine ushered them out of the house. An hour passed before she called for them. When she did, she looked different- drained. Her rosy cheeks had gone pale and her green eyes appeared heavy with exhaustion.

She gestured toward a round table with two bamboo backed chairs, then pulled another larger chair over from in front of the fireplace. She waited until they were seated, then took a deep breath before she spoke. “Men forced themselves on her, likely repeatedly and very violently.”

Zel frowned. “Men? More than one?”

She met his eyes. “I believe so. She was very badly damaged,” Delphine pointed, “down there. “She was also with child.” She took another deep breath. “I had to remove the dead infant from the womb. It appears they beat her everywhere but paid special attention to her stomach, in particular. I believe they may have… that they may have used both fists and feet.”

 “Are you sayin’ that, on top of forcin’ themselves on the poor girl, that they punched and kicked her stomach just to kill the baby?” Luther’s eyes narrowed.

“To kill the baby, to kill her,” Delpine shrugged. “to kill them both… or maybe just for their own sick enjoyment. I’m not sure it makes a difference at this point.”

“My word,” he said, shaking his head, his features marred by disgust.

Zel’s jaw clenched. His body became taught, his muscles tensing and tightening throughout.

Delphine continued. “I can save her, but it’s unlikely she’ll be able to bear children after this and, of course, it’s impossible to determine whether or not there will be any lasting emotional damage, if she even remembers what happened.”

“I’m thinkin’ it’d be better off for her if she can’t.”

She nodded. “I agree.”

“Please, just do everything you can for her.” Zel ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t have a lot of coin now, but I give you my word that I will pay you handsomely as soon as I have some available.”

“Do you even know this girl?”

“I don’t, but I can’t allow her to die because some bastards…” He waved his hand. Anger boiled inside him.

Delphine nodded then told them that, even with her healing powers, the girl would need to rest overnight, at minimum. Zel said he’d return the following day to check on her. They departed with Luther going home and Zel going to the inn.

Late the following morning, Zel went to visit his favorite alchemist, Momajin. Though he kept it quiet nowadays, Momajin was formally trained in magic, and in alchemy specifically, making his potions and elixirs more potent than any other Zel had found in the Orman lands. Momajin was ecstatic about the boar’s tusk too and, in exchange, provided Zel with several healing elixirs, two new antidotes for Essy’s poison, and a couple of special elixirs for his pretty little mouse in the village.

After he finished at Momajin’s shop, he left to spend the last of his earnings visiting Freya at Madame Zarretra’s brothel, the largest and most refined in Veyforge. The Madame charged more than other brothel owners, but Freya was worth it. Unlike most whores, she liked more than just his coin. She actually liked him.

He might have to take the necessary measures to deal with having the sexual needs of a shifter, but the transactional encounters with others often left him with more emptiness rather than less. It was different with Freya though, which made him wish he could visit her far more often than he did. But he refrained. Keeping his visits infrequent was what was best for both of them.

Upon opening the red door to Madame Zareetra’s, the sensual music of a small band engulfed his ears and the scent of smoking herbs permeated his nostrils. A young female, clad in only a skimpy sash tied around her waist, danced on a platform as males looked on holding tankards and mugs and wearing lust-filled smiles.

His eyes shifted to the right and landed on the Madame’s unpleasant pasty white face framed by dark curly hair. She stood behind the reception desk, barely taller than most twelve-year-old Ormans, but somehow seeming larger than a full-grown Listra. He swore the piercing black pools that served as her eyes bored through to his soul every time she looked at him.

“Madame Zarretra, how lovely to see you.” He gave her what he hoped might be his most winning smile.

She scowled at him. Zel wasn’t sure she’d ever looked upon him with anything other than disapproval or outright disdain. “Zeltam.” She gave a slight nod. “I assume you’ll be wanting Freya.”

“You assume correctly, Madame.” He continued to smile as charmingly as he knew how.

She grunted her displeasure, commanded a nearby girl to fetch Freya, then turned back to him. “Can you not break her? I need her working tomorrow,” she snapped. “I’m going to charge you extra if the girl can’t work after you’re done with her.”

He hoped not, at least not this time. He was giving her the last of his coin as it was. “I understand, Madame. I’ll do my best not to ‘break her’ as you put it.”

She grunted again.

After a few torturous minutes of waiting in the lobby with the Madame glowering at him, Freya appeared with porcelain skin so white she could almost pass as an Orman. Straight black hair contrasted sharply against her skin and accented her crimson painted lips. With her eyes piercing his, she walked down the stairs, slowly extending one shapely leg at a time and swaying her hips seductively with the movement. “Zeltam, nice of you to finally make it back to Veyforge.”

“Missed me?” He hoped that wasn’t irritation he heard in her voice.

She stopped before she reached the bottom and tossed her head to the side. “Come.”

He followed, unabashedly staring at the exaggerated movements of her perky bottom as she ascended the stairs. Once they reached the second floor, she stood next to her door waiting for him, but avoiding eye contact. Yet, she leaned against the wall with her skirt raised, one bare leg in front of the other, her head tilted toward the slightly raised bare shoulder nearest him- a subtle and silent invitation. She seduced even when doing nothing but standing. It was a skill of hers he greatly admired and appreciated.

Opening the door, he inhaled deeply as the pleasant fragrance from the brothel’s courtyard rose garden flowed in on a light breeze. It came through the room’s only window, a sizable shuttered opening decorated in delicate pink drapery. He offered a polite bow and gestured toward the interior. Still avoiding eye contact, she entered and stopped at the foot of her bed with her back to him. Then she folded her arms.

Pursing his lips, he removed his cloak and hung it on the end of her open wardrobe next to a striking red corset, one in a series of sexy garments on display. He was certain they were meant to entice guests to make requests and stay longer to have them fulfilled. Considering even he couldn’t help but eye them, he assumed they served their purpose more often than not.

He took a seat in an armchair next to the door and bent to unlace his boots. “You’re angry with me?”

Silence.

He removed his weapon’s belt and slipped his tunic over his head before she spoke.

“I’m a whore. I have no right to be angry.”

“No, you don’t. But that doesn’t change the fact that you are.” He untied his britches.

“Fuck you, Zeltam.”

He let his britches fall to the floor. “No, Freya, I’m going to fuck you.”

“I hate you.”

He came up behind her and put his arms around her waist. “Do you?” he whispered in her ear.

“I do,” she said softly as she melted into him.

Nearly two hours and a half dozen sessions later, he rolled off her, and laid on his back. “Still hate me?”

She grabbed the closest pillow and hit him with it. “Yes!”

He laughed and she smiled with him. But then her smile faded into a frown. “Just don’t make it so long between visits next time.”

“You knew I was going to travel the southern lands of Vaylen. Did you think I’d be back in a week?”

“No, but it’s been eight months. That’s a long time.”

He sat up in the bed. “And?”

“And what? It’s a long time. That’s all.” A few moments of uncomfortable silence passed before she finally added, “And I know I have no claim to you, but…”

“No, you don’t.” The muscles in his jaw tightened. “You know I must continue my search for my friend. But even if I didn’t, you know what this is, Freya.” And he’d never have anything more. He’d accepted that a long time ago. He rose from the bed and strode to the armchair where he’d left his clothes. “This can’t be more than what it is.” He grabbed his britches off the back of the chair. “Please, don’t push.”

She remained silent while he donned his pants, then she straightened in the bed. “There’s somethin’ I have to tell you before you leave.”

“What is it?” he asked still sounding aggravated as he bent to put his boots on.

Freya continued, seemingly unphased by his tone. “There was two men here ‘bout a week ago, men who looked like you in size and strength. They bought time with every one of us, half each, and then, after they finished with us, asked if we knew someone named Zelstrason.”

His head shot up. Listra hunters with Freya? His stomach twisted into knots as he peered at her, hoping his face didn’t betray his emotions. “What did you tell these men?”

“Nothin’. I don’t think any of the girls told ‘em anythin’. I don’t think any of ‘em made any connection between ‘em and you but the one who was with me…” She furrowed her brow.

“Yes?” he prodded.

“After he was done with me, he said he thought I was Zelstrason’s whore because of the way I let him take me. And he did it like you do, you know? Most of the girls, they won’t let the men do it like that. I let him and it made him think I was this Zelstrason person’s whore. Are you this Zelstrason?”

“What did he look like exactly? What was he called?” Zel asked with urgency.

“Good lookin’.” She looked to the right and smiled. “Really good lookin’, actually. ‘Bout your size. Gorgeous hair any woman would die to have for herself – a silky, rich brown. Just beautiful.”

“Freya?”

“Oh, right. Yeah, said he was called Buzan, the one who had me. The other was called Terber.”

His warriors. Thank the Gods. He could breathe again. “And what did they say? Did they leave a message?”

“Just that they need to meet with this Zelstrason as soon as possible.” She stood to retrieve a lightweight robe she had hanging over the back of a fancy chair next to the bed. “So, are you this Zelstrason?”

“Did they leave any way to contact them?”

“You are.”

“Freya, please. This is important.”

She let out a frustrated sigh. “No, they didn’t leave any way to contact ‘em. But Buzan said he’d visit me ‘bout once every two weeks and he hoped I’d be able to tell ‘im that I was Zelstrason’s, I guess your, whore soon… You are this Zelstrason then?”

Apparently, there was to be no getting around this. “You can’t tell anyone, Freya. It’s very important that you never use that name, okay?”

“Okay.” She donned a thin robe that did nothing to conceal her assets.

Her response was far too casual for him. “I’m serious, Freya. Using my real name could put you in danger.”

“Why? Who are you?”

“It’s not important, at least not important that you know, and probably better that you don’t. Now tell me, did they say anything else?”

“Just one other thin’. He told me if you had any doubts they are who they say, that I should tell you ‘we all remember Zelwen’ or somethin’ like that. I don’t know if I have that quite right.”

“You have that exactly right.” He walked to her, put his hands on both sides of her face and kissed her forehead. “Thank you,” he said softly. She gazed up at him, her deep blue eyes dreamy. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her head.

“I’m sorry I push, Zeltam.”

“Don’t be. I know why you do.” He held her for another moment before releasing her and turning to get his tunic from the back of the chair. “But you need to find a male who can feel for you, one who can give you what I can’t.”

“Oh, you can’t tell me you have no feelin’s for me, Zeltam. I’m not a young girl. I know when a man feels somethin’ for me.”

He sighed heavily. “Freya, we’ve been through this. Must we go through it again?”

“No.” She shook her head. “No. We needn’t go through it again.”

She wasn’t wrong. He did care for her. But that didn’t change what couldn’t be.

Considering the hunt he planned to go on, he thought it best to arrange a meeting to take place after his return and asked Freya to convey a message to Buzan in that regard. They’d meet at sunset in the back of Luther’s shop in nine nights.

Luther mentioned a couple of Listra warriors looking for him by name. That had been vexing him, had him thinking he might be under threat. But this information indicated it was likely Terber and Buzan. Setting the meeting at Luther’s meant Luther would be able to confirm or refute that for him.

Before he left Freya, he stressed how important secrecy was to her safety. Again, he instructed her not to use his real name and also not to give any information to anyone other than Terber or Buzan. She promised to keep his secrets and was happy to help. He wasn’t surprised. Still, he hated having her act as a liaison fearing it would endanger her. But he had no choice. He had no other way of getting in touch with Terber or Buzan and, if his warriors were reaching out to him, he had to find out what it was about.

He remembered something else the moment he put his hand on the door to leave. “Oh, and one more thing…”

She met his eyes.

“Stop using my visits as an excuse to take a day off.”

“Why?” She cocked her head. “Did the Madame say somethin’ to you?”

“Only that she’s going to start charging me extra for ‘breaking’ you.”

She giggled.

“I’m glad you think that’s funny.”

She looked at him over her lashes and blew him a kiss.

He shook his head and tried to purse his lips, but couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth from turning up.

Zel went back to Luther’s shop to retrieve his own boots and return the boots Luther lent him the day before. He told Luther about the upcoming meeting as well, then went to Delphine’s. The girl he’d left probably wouldn’t be awake yet, but he wanted to check on her anyway.

He rapped lightly on Delphine’s door and only had to wait a moment before she appeared with her fiery red hair a little more mussed than the day before. “Oh, hello Zeltam.” Her smile reached her weary, sunken eyes. Her skin was drawn and ashen and she looked like she’d aged considerably since she answered the door the day prior. “So good to see you. Come in. Come in,” she said in a voice just above a whisper.

“Hello Delph…”

She put her hands out to let him know he needed to lower his voice.

“Hello Delphine,” he repeated much more softly.

“She’s asleep, but doing much better now. Wait ‘til you see her,” she said with a wide smile. “Come.” She gestured for him to follow and he trailed her to the room where the girl was resting. She cracked the door. “Look,” she whispered.

He peered inside. The girl looked remarkable, almost entirely healed. Delphine closed the door softly, led him back to the main room, then gestured toward her seating area with the round table and bamboo backed chairs. Once seated, he asked, “What did you do? She looks amazing.”

“I used a ton of my power is what I did. I even took the extra steps to ensure she won’t feel any ill effects from the pregnancy. No bleeding or cramping. It’ll be like she was never with child. I figured that would be best. Easier, you know? So, there’d be no reminder.” She took a deep breath.

“And are you okay?”

“Oh, yes. I’ll be fine.” She waved her hand. “It’ll take some time before I recover, but I’ll be fine. And I’m happy. Thrilled even. You brought me a treasure. Not to say that I ever want to see anyone hurt or injured. No, no. But I haven’t had a chance to fully pour my magic into something in a long, long time. For that reason, this was a joy. A draining joy, granted, but a joy nonetheless.”

“It’s gotten pretty bad for Myara in these parts, eh?”

“Oh, it’s awful.” Her brows drew together. “I have to allow people to die, people I could save, because I’m too afraid someone will go telling those crazy Purists if any cure looks too unnatural. They get worse all the time too, bolder with each passing day. It’s no longer uncommon to hear about Orman Purists burning Myara at the stake or murdering us in our sleep because they believe our magic to be ‘unpure.’” She shook her head. “I’ve only ever used my magic for good, yet I’m considered ‘unpure.’”

Her eyes got a little watery and Zel put a hand over hers. “I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, no, no.” She pulled her hand away and waved off his concern. “I am. My apologies. I can get overly emotional after using so much magic, when I’m this drained. It’s just frustrating when you have the ability to help people, but can’t. All the more reason I’m just so happy to have been able to help this girl. It felt good to save a life again, really good.”

“I’m happy you were able to save her too.”

After a brief pause, she leaned in toward him. “I was wondering if I could ask a favor?”

“Anything, Delphine. What do you need?”

“I’m running low on supplies and have to go to market. I didn’t want to leave the girl and have her wake with no one here. Would you stay and watch over her?”

“Of course. I’d be happy to.”

Delphine departed and Zel walked into the room with the girl. A bucket filled with scraps of her old bloody clothes sat at the foot of the bed. He moved them outside the room; best she not see any grim reminders of what she’d gone through.

When he returned, he sat in the chair next to the bed and gazed at her. She looked so peaceful in sleep, but her face seemed familiar, like he’d met her before. He hadn’t noticed that when he found her. Of course, her face was purple, swollen, and distorted then. The perimeter of her eyes still held some discoloration, but the majority of the swelling had subsided and her lips, jaw, and remainder of her face looked almost normal again.

And she was a pretty girl, with high cheekbones and honey brown hair that fell below her shoulders to land at the top of her modest bust. She had a strong, but soft, feminine jawline, and smooth, youthful skin. But her lip and cheek bore scars from before he found her and something about her, something he couldn’t place, showed age, like she’d already lived a long, hard life. Her bare shoulders poked out of the covers revealing skin lighter than his by several shades, closer to a tan than his golden brown, but dark enough that she couldn’t pass for white. He lifted the covers over them, then sat for a while contemplating why she looked so familiar. Eventually, he nodded off.

Sometime later, he heard a soft voice say “Hi” and woke to her hazel eyes appraising him. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Good.” She offered a small smile. “You’re the one who saved me.”

“I am.”

“I told you I’d meet you again. But you don’t remember me, do you, Sir Zeltam?”

“We have met before then?”

Her smile grew. “We have. In Lurran. With the deer.”

His eyes widened and his mouth gaped. “I do remember.”

It was one of the strangest encounters of his life.

Chapter 10 – Two White Wolves

About eight years earlier, Zel was near Veyforge in the small village of Lurran looking for Fogard and Ankara. While sleeping in Lurran’s inn, Bubo woke him in the wee hours of the morning and urged him outside. The owl led him past the small buildings and farms to a brown-haired little girl who stood alone at the edge of the forest.

He approached until he stood next to her, then followed her gaze and found himself staring at the grotesquely twisting branches of the blackened forest, its trees eerily surrounded by early morning mist. It was a sight he’d expect most children would run from in the darkness. “Why are you out here at this hour, child?”

“There’s a deer. It’s hurt. Sufferin’,” she said and then started walking into the woods.

“You can’t go into the woods alone. It’s dangerous.”

She turned to face him. “I’m not alone. You’re here to protect me,” she said, then turned and started heading into the woods again.

It seemed she was right. He couldn’t allow her go by herself, so he followed until he joined her and they walked together. It wasn’t long before they came upon a small, misty clearing bathed in the soft, green glow of Arpemal’s full moon, the only moon visible that night. An injured stag lay in the clearing, his legs buckled underneath his body, blood covering his thigh. The animal’s antlers towered above the child even while he lay on the ground, but she approached it without hesitation.

For a second, Zel was nervous for her and almost held her back. But the deer seemed to recognize her. Or maybe it was that she was communicating with it? Whatever it was that was happening, it was something he didn’t understand.

She approached it like she understood though, like she could feel it. She rubbed the deer on its head, then its neck, and said, “I’m sorry this happened to you.” Then she looked to Zel. “He suffers,” she said, her eyes sorrowful.

“We should put him out of his misery.”

“Yes,” the girl replied in a soft voice.

Zel pulled the dagger from his ankle holster and closed the distance between them.

The little girl held out her hand. “I’ve never done it before. I should.”

He simply looked at her. It was such an odd request for a child to make.

“I need to learn. Will you help me?” she asked. “Do it with me?”

He didn’t know why but he felt it wrong to refuse her, so he said, “Yes, child.” and handed her the dagger. She wrapped her little hand around the silver handle a couple of inches below the milky white stone set into its hilt. He then put his hand over hers and positioned the dagger. “The heart is here,” he said pointing just behind the shoulder. “You want to push as fast and hard as you can so it’s quick and the animal doesn’t suffer any more than necessary.”

She nodded.

“You’re ready?”

With somber eyes, she looked to the deer one more time, seemed to get its approval, then turned to him and said, “I’m ready.”

They pushed the dagger into the deer’s heart together, his massive hand over her small one. The light in the animal’s eyes faded quickly.

“Are you okay, child?”

“Yeah. Just sad.”

He nodded. “Let’s get you back to the village.”

“Not yet.” She walked to a downed tree at the edge of the clearing. He didn’t feel he could force her to leave, so he followed. She sat and scanned their surroundings before landing on him, then studied him with a puzzled look until she eventually asked, “What are you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re not an ordinary human, not an Orman,” she said with certainty. “You’re somethin’ else.”

He cocked his head. “What makes you say that?”

She looked at the ground. “I’m not ‘posed to say. Mother says I shouldn’t tell anyone. That…” she kicked a small rock, “that people might come and put me to death for my evil.”

“I will not harm you.”

She played with another small rock near her feet. After several minutes of waiting, he joined her on a nearby log. He positioned himself diagonally across from her, several feet away, but still close enough to protect her from any threats should the need arise. After he sat, she looked at him and said, “You don’t have the light around you,” then looked back down.

“Light? What light?”

She looked at him again. “There’s a light around Ormans. Other people can’t see it, but I can. But you have no light around you. That’s how I know you’re not Orman.”

This was the first he’d ever heard of such a thing.

“That and the wolves,” she said.

“Wolves?” His eyes widened just a touch.

“The two white wolves that were with you yesterday when you were at the smith’s shop.”

“There were two white wolves with me?” Zel’s brow furrowed.

“Yeah. They had light around them too, but it was different light. They glowed.”

“They glowed?”

“Mmm hmm,” she said looking down again, moving the small rock back and forth with her foot. “They were pretty. Big too. Really big, bigger than me.” She raised a hand above her head without looking up from the rock, then continued, “Brother and sister, I think. The boy come over to me when I was playin’ on the hitchin’ post.” She pushed the rock back and forth a few times. “He come over and looked at me, looked in my eyes. He had pretty eyes too. Gray. Grayest eyes I ever seen. Then he put his paw on the hitchin’ post. I put my hand over it and could almost feel his fur like it was real. Then he left when you did. Followed you. They both did.”

“They weren’t alive?” Zel asked already knowing the answer.

“No,” she said seemingly unfazed by such a thing. She finally looked up from her rock. “You know the wolves I’m talkin’ ‘bout, don’t you, Sir?”

He didn’t know what to say, so he chose the truth. “They were my wolves once; Lanna and Lupa.” His voice was mournful even after all these years.

“They’re still your wolves. They’re with you still,” she said looking at him directly.

“Do you see them now, child?” He couldn’t help but ask the question.

She looked around. A moment later, she pointed past his left shoulder. “Over there. They’re leavin’ now though. I think they were ‘posed to bring us together.”

“And why do you believe that?”

She went back to playing with her rock. “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I just know things. Mother says it’s evil and I should never tell anyone.” She rolled the rock under her foot. “And the kids all call me ‘freak.’ They think I’m evil too ‘cause I know when bad things are gonna happen and I try to warn them.” Her words were coming much faster now. “I tried to warn them before the baker’s boy fell into the well and they thought I did it even though I wasn’t there when it happened, so they all hate me even more now.”

She abandoned the rock, picked up a stick and moved it around in the dirt at her feet. “I won’t tell anyone you’re not Orman. I don’t tell anyone anythin’ anymore.”

Zel watched her and contemplated her words. He didn’t know what to say, so he chose not to speak. As they sat in silence, he felt Leyal become uneasy and the hair on the back of his own neck stood on end. The girl looked up and into the forest next to them. Then he heard an eerie, hollow growl in the distance. He sent Bubo to search for threats while he scanned the woods in their immediate vicinity and Leyal scanned a large, outer ring around them.

The child didn’t give any indication that she heard the noise though, at least nothing that would show she was frightened. Instead, she simply went back to playing with her stick. The sound didn’t return, nor could he or his strata see any trace of what made the noise. Whatever it was seemed to pass, so he let it go.

They sat in silence a while longer before the girl spoke again. “There was an animal. It watched over you on our way here.” She looked up seeming to search around Zel. He saw her face change when she found what she sought. She pointed into the darkness of the woods. “There.”

Zel turned to look behind him though he could feel his wolf’s presence and already knew Leyal was watching from some distance away. He could also see him even in the dark of night in the black forest, but he could see him only because of the night vision he had due to the bonds he held with his strata. He couldn’t imagine an Orman would be able to see a black wolf at that distance under the cover of such darkness.

He turned back to her. “What do you see there, child?”

“Red,” she said simply. “It’s what animals look like to me at night when they’re too far for me to see. I can’t tell what they are, but I can tell how big they are. He’s big.” She looked at him. “That’s what you have at night too, the red light. It’s different than the light around Ormans. The red light is inside, like part of the animal.”

“I have a red light inside?”

“Yeah.” She resumed moving the stick around in the dirt. “But I can only see it a little now. If you were far away, I could see it more. It’s another way I can tell you’re not Orman.”

Fascinating, Zel thought. This was no ordinary little girl.

“Are you some kind of animal?” she asked. “I heard of people who can change into animals. I never met one though. Are you one?”

He wasn’t sure if he was making the worst decision of his life, but something compelled him to trust her. “I’m one of the shifter species, a Listra, so I’m part animal. We have a primal core.” He guessed that was the red she was seeing inside him.

“And the animal in the woods? Who’s he?”

“He’s one of my strata, an animal that’s bonded to me.”

She looked up. Her head tilted and her face scrunched in confusion. “Bonded? What’s that mean?”

“Listra don’t shift into a single specific animal like other shifter species. We shift into animals we make special connections with. Once we make a connection with one, there’s a ritual that binds them to us. Then we can shift into that animal and, in the case of Listra, we only shift parts.”

“Parts?”

“Parts,” he repeated then shifted his eyes into the huge, orange, round eyes of his owl, shifted his hands into the paws of his wolf, then shifted both back to his human form. “See.”

Her eyes grew wide. “Wow! That’s amazin’!” She scrunched her face in confusion again. “But it was more than one animal?”

“I can shift into three; an owl, a snake, and a wolf.”

“That’s the wolf!” She jumped up from the log and pointed the stick in Leyal’s direction. “Can I meet him?” she asked eagerly.

“He’s big and scary for a child, girl.”

“Not for me,” she said with her head held high.

Without prompting or Zel using his mental connection, Leyal walked toward them, past Zel and straight to the child. She looked at his huge frame and into his emerald eyes with no fear, but with fascination. He sat in front of her, right in front of her. She dropped the stick she’d been playing with and held her hand out to him. He lowered his head and she ran her hand alongside his jaw. Then he lowered his head more and she moved forward until they were forehead to forehead, something he and Leyal sometimes did together when they had to part. She put her hands on both sides of his face, and they stayed still like that, forehead to forehead, for a long moment before she released him and Leyal backed away. He sat between the two of them and the girl returned to her log.

Zel had never, in all his years with Leyal, seen his wolf behave that way with anyone else.

“I like him.” She smiled.

Again, without prompting from Zel, Bubo came flying noiselessly out of one of the nearby trees and landed on the log next to her. They looked at each other before she gave him the gentlest of pets on his back. He hooted. “He’s so cute,” she said with a big smile. Bubo hooted once more, then flew to Zel and perched on a nearby branch.

Next, Essy slithered out from wherever she’d been hiding, and Zel had a moment of doubt. He thought to command Essy, to hold her back, but this girl clearly had some kind of power over or connection with animals, even strata, so he stopped himself and allowed the snake to behave of her own accord.

Essy slithered to the girl. Again, the child showed no fear. Zel had never seen a human of any species, whether ordinary or magical, show no fear in the presence of a death snake – and there wasn’t anyone of speaking age on the planet who didn’t know what a death snake looked like. All children were warned of them and everyone feared them. But not this child. She watched as Essy slithered to the log next to her, then on top of it, then onto her lap. Then she petted Essy and giggled. “She feels funny,” she said with a precious smile and child’s wonder on her face.

“How do you know she’s a girl,” Zel asked genuinely curious.

“I don’t know. I just do.”

“And how do you do this with the animals?” He waved his hand to encompass them all. “Are you communicating with them in some way?”

“No… I don’t know. I like them and they know it so they like me.” She was still petting Essy. “They like me more than people like me, and I like them more too.”

Essy slid off the girl’s lap and made her way to Zel, then wrapped herself around his waist.

The girl looked to him. “We can go now,” she said as she stood.

They walked through the darkness of the misty woods with all three of his strata, Leyal leading in front of the girl. When they arrived at the village, the animals stayed behind.

“Where do you live, child?”

“Just there,” the girl said pointing to a small, wooden shack a short distance away. She looked back at him. “I think I’ll see you again, Sir. What are you called?”

“Zeltam. What are you called?”

“Amora,” she said, then turned and ran to her house.

“Amora,” Zel said coming back from the memory, seeing her on the bed in Delphine’s healing room once again. “You’re called Amora.”

“You do remember.” She smiled.

“You’ve grown.” He smiled back.

“I have. How are your animals? What are they called? Strata, I think it was?”

“You have quite a memory. They’re good. Very good. But we should be worried about you. How are you doing? How are you feeling?”

“I’m good. Delphine is amazing.”

“She is,” he agreed. “I’m sorry about the babe.”

Her mouth crinkled. “Don’t be. I didn’t want it anyway. I was forced to wed a man I didn’t want to marry and to carry a child I didn’t want to carry,” she said, her voice laced with contempt.

“So, you lost your husband too then?”

“I hope so. Good riddance.” She pursed her lips and patted the blankets in front of her. “I’ll be happy not to feel the back of his hand again.”

Zel growled deep in his throat. It was the growl of his wolf and not something he could do in front of anyone who didn’t know what he was. As he expected, she was completely unfazed by it. A thought crossed his mind. “You…uh…still have that ability you had, you know, how you just knew things?”

“I do.”

“Then why were you in the village when it was attacked? Didn’t you know it was coming?”

“It’s not always so clear. I didn’t know exactly what was going to happen, only that something bad was coming. But it didn’t matter because I was too heavy with child to go anywhere and my husband wouldn’t allow it anyway. I tried to run out of the village in time to hide. I would have made it if not for…” she waved a hand over her stomach.

 “I’m so sorry.”

She stared at her hands for a long moment. When she finally looked back at him, there was a steely resolve in her eyes. “I want to kill them, Zeltam,” she said. “I want to kill the men who… I want to kill them with my own hands, each one of them. I want it to be slow, and to hurt them first as they did me, to laugh at them while they suffer as they laughed at me.” She might be talking about laughing, but her eyes were filled with tears and her voice was rife with anger.

Zel said nothing.

“You’re going to hunt them, aren’t you? Going to hunt the bandits?”

“I am.”

“There were four who… did what they did to me; they’ll be in that group.”

“They will.”

“Then you must take me with you.”

“I can’t, girl. It’s too dangerous. I won’t risk you. Besides, you have to stay here to heal.”

“I am healed. At least I’m plenty healed enough. Please,” she said with pleading eyes. “You must take me with you.”

“I cannot.”

“Sir, please.”

“No,” he said gruffly, then stood. “I will kill the men who hurt you. You have my word. They will not live. But I will not risk you.”

“But I want to kill them. I want to see them die. I want to do it with my own hands. Please, Sir. I must.”

 He let out a deep breath. “Girl, I understand your desire, but it’s out of the question. I simply cannot risk a female in such a way.”

“But you…”

“Will be back to check on you again later. Rest now.” He turned and left the room.

“No, I don’t want to rest. Please, Sir,” she cried from the bed. “Please!”

He closed the door and thanked the Gods when he saw Delphine, bent over, stoking the fire in the main room, getting ready to cook. He heard a soft thud. Something had hit the closed door behind him, likely a pillow. Apparently, she had a good throwing arm.

“She’s up? Doing well?” Delphine asked.

“Maybe a little too well.”

“Too well? How’s that?” Her brow crinkled.

“Zeltam! Come back here! Please!” Amora’s cries came from the room.

“That well.” Zel shook his head. “She’s fine. Definitely fine. You’ve done a remarkable job, Delphine. Really.”

“Oh, thank you so much, Zeltam”

“Zeltam! Please!” Amora cried again from the other room. He said a quick, silent thank you to the Goddess, Arganna, that she didn’t have clothes on as he was certain she’d have already followed him if she did.

He continued to ignore her and addressed Delphine. “And I will pay you handsomely. I give you my word. I’m waiting for them to put out a call for hunters to go after this group of bandits. I expect the reward will be substantial. I’ll earn it and be sure you get a piece of what I earn.”

“Zeltam!” Amora continued to call for him.

“You intend to hunt them?” Delphine asked with raised brows. “And why does she keep yelling for you?”

“Because I do intend to hunt them, and she wants to join me and I said no.”

“Ah, I see. Well then, you’d better get to the Lord’s keep to petition for the job. They just put out the call. The market was all abuzz about it. Ten gold per head.”

Zel’s eyes widened. “Ten per head is a substantial amount indeed. It seems I must be on my way.”

Delphine put a hand on his arm as he was walking out the door. “Have you ever petitioned Veyforge’s Lord before?”

“I haven’t. Why? Is there something I should know?”

“I’ve heard stories. I don’t think petitioning is quite the same here as in other towns. Just be wary.”

“I will be. Thank you again for everything, Delphine.”

“Good luck,” she called from the door as he left.

Chapter 11 – A Generous Offer

The sun beat down upon him as Zel stood inside the inner bailey of the Lord of Veyforge’s castle waiting in line with the rest of the potential hunters vying for the bandit job. The overwhelming smell in the vicinity indicated that the nearby stables hadn’t been mucked, and a smith’s incessant hammering rang in his ears making every second feel like an eternity.

There were times he wished he didn’t have enhanced senses.

To keep himself distracted, he scanned his competition. Most didn’t look anything like hunters to him, but all were groups of males and groups were going to look more capable than he’d look as a single hunter. And he needed this job. He was out of coin and he’d given Delphine his word. He also wanted to provide Amora with some coin to start a new life, and get back to his search for Fogard sooner rather than later.

He really needed this job.

The wait was long and Zel spent most of the time watching the Lord’s archers practice, trying not to roll his eyes at their poor form and lack of ability to aim with any respectable speed. Having trained warriors for years, the urge to assist gnawed at him. But it was best not to draw attention to himself needlessly.

Over the hours, a steady stream of men, his competition, entered the great hall clean and left bloodied. More than once, he wondered What in Jallah is happening in there? Eventually, the numbers dwindled to the point that he would soon be called. Sevosa, a short, stocky Moreal man walked toward him with his long thick white hair and matching beard blowing in the breeze.

Most Moreal, often referred to as “mountain people,” looked at least somewhat similar to Sevosa, and were like Akari in that they were a distinct and recognizable species. In the case of the Moreal, it was, in large part, due to the light to heavy dusting of white hair that covered most of their bodies. Their body hair, along with incredible balance and climbing abilities, and differences in their lungs that allowed them to breathe thin air, made the Moreal well-suited to their mountainous homelands.

But they weren’t in the mountains and his species adaptations didn’t do him any good in Veyforge. Still, to Zel’s knowledge, Sevosa ran much of the crime in Veyforge including Veyforge’s Cave, one arm of several that were part of Vaylen’s costal underground crime network – a network in which Zel once held a membership, though he’d let it lapse more than decade prior and never rejoined the organization.

“Sevosa.” Zel nodded as he approached.

 “Zeltam, been a long time,” he said with a smile as he twirled a short, thin metal rod between his fingers. It was rumored the rod held a poison spike, and Zel had never seen Sevosa without it.

“It has,” Zel replied. “Are you going for this hunt?”

“Planned on it but, now that you’re here, I’m not so sure.”

“Why’s that?”

“Eh. I don’t much like killin’ my own kind – bandits an’ criminals, that is – but these bastards are eatin’ into my profits. Thought I was gonna have to go after ‘em myself, but here you are.”

“Here I am indeed.”

“You hear how big this group is?  They talkin’ forty of ‘em, maybe fifty.”

“The number increases every time I hear it.”

Sevosa chuckled. “Yeah, I ain’t surprised. You know how it is.” He twirled the rod. “But if there’s that many, can you handle ‘em?”

“I can handle as many as I need to handle.”

“Mmm hmm. You sound confident.”

“I am.”

He continued twirling the rod. “Not all at once, I’m sure.”

“No, not all at once.” What was he getting at?

“Mmm hmm. That’s good. Very good,” said Sevosa holding the rod to his mouth.

Zel wasn’t sure if he liked what he heard in Sevosa’s tone, but another group came out looking like they’d just taken quite a beating, so he let that go for the moment and instead asked the question that had been eating at him all afternoon. “Why do so many men leave the keep bloodied?”

Sevosa guffawed. “’Cause the Lord makes us fight for the job, that’s why. That’s what petitioning is in Veyforge. It’s fightin’ each other to see who’s good enough to do the job – like a tourney.”

“Is there an audience?”

“’Course. Townsfolk comin’ to watch the fights is how the Lord raises coin for the contract.”

“I see.” That was not good news. Zel couldn’t use his strata or most of his magical abilities in front of Ormans. He’d have to pretend to be an Orman during any fight, putting him at a significant disadvantage.

Not to mention that fighting in front of an audience could expose him. But what were the odds of a Listra warrior being in the audience? Slim. Very slim in his estimation. Slim enough that he could take the risk. As a precaution, he’d have Essy make her way inside. If he needed to kill one or two silently from a distance, she’d be able to carry out the job, though he preferred not to kill Listra if he could help it. But when it was him or them, what choice did he have?

“Yeah, see, that’s why I’m so happy you’re here,” said Sevosa interrupting his thoughts.

“Why is that?” Zel asked, now very suspicious of what Sevosa had in mind.

“Well, I was figurin’, instead of me an’ you fightin’ for the job, I’ll back down, only put a couple a’ my weak men in there with ya, men I don’t give a shit about losin’,” he shrugged, “men that’d probably bite it durin’ the hunt anyway. You beat ‘em, kill ‘em, whatever you like, then take the job an’ pay me half what you earn.”

“And just why would I do that?”

“If you don’t, see my guys over there?” He pointed the rod toward a large group of nasty looking, fighting men near the keep’s entrance. “They’re gonna kick your ass in that hall an’ you’ll be one of ‘em comin’ out bloodied… or maybe even dead. There ain’t no way a knowin’. But I do know there ain’t no way even you can beat all my men… not all at once.” Sevosa’s smug smile was filled with dirty, brown teeth. “So, you can either get your ass kicked an’ get no coin or you can take the job an’ get to keep half. I figure I’m givin’ you a generous offer.”

Zel looked at Sevosa’s goons, at least a dozen strong. And though they were Orman, Sevosa was right. It was too many to handle at once if he couldn’t use his full range of capabilities. “What makes you think it’s going to come down to you and I?”

“’Cause there’s only one group left an’ the other half a’ my men is in there fightin’ ‘em fools now.”

The other half? Shit. Zel pursed his lips. “I’ll give you a quarter of what I earn.”

“Half.” Sevosa didn’t hesitate. “I got you by the balls an’ you know it, Zeltam.”

Zel didn’t respond.

“You know I’m right, an’ you’re lucky I’m allowin’ you to keep half.” He paused, Zel assumed for effect, to let his little threat carry weight. He continued. “So, I’ll tell ya what’s gonna happen now. What’s gonna happen now is you’re gonna give me your word you’ll give me half ‘cause I know that means somethin’ to fools like you. So, you give it now or you face all my men,” he twirled the rod, shrugged and said, “or you can just walk away from the job.”

Zel couldn’t walk away from this job. He also couldn’t face twenty or more men by himself without using his full range of capabilities. He’d have no chance. He growled though he didn’t allow the wolf’s growl to come out even though he wanted to so badly in that moment. Instead, he said, “I give you my word, Sevosa.”

“Your word for what, Zeltam? Say it so I know there’s no way you’re gonna go back on it.”

The muscles in Zel’s jaw twitched. “I give you my word, Sevosa. Half the gold I earn on the job is yours,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Good. Good. Very good.” Sevosa smiled broadly. “I knew you’d see it my way, Zeltam. I’ll be here to collect the day you get paid. You can be sure of it.” He winked and tipped the rod toward Zel before he walked away.

Asshole. Zel curled his lip.

A short while later, he was called to enter Veyforge’s great hall. He did what he could to check the hall for warriors before entering and, thank the Gods, there were no Listra to be seen. The fight went as Sevosa told him it would and Sevosa kept his word- for the most part. He actually sent six of his men to go against Zel which Zel considered more than the “couple” that was promised. Still, Zel killed four of them and left two standing, or at least alive. It was enough to entertain the crowd though and, more importantly, enough to convince Veyforge’s Lord he could handle the job.

Zel stood before the Lord who sat in a ridiculously huge chair at the end of his great hall, great merely because of the enormity of the space, but for no other reason. It was the blandest hall of its size Zel had ever seen. But then, he was from Listrand where there was wealth and their Laspet ruled from a palace. He doubted a single Orman in the room even knew what a palace was.

A man read the official decree sentencing the bandit group to death, then Veyforge’s Lord addressed him directly for the first time. “Zeltam of Ardevon, I grant you this contract and, in so doing, grant you the authority to carry out this sentence in my name. However, I’ll need proof of completion.”

“I can bring you fingers or teeth,” Zel said. “Whatever you like.”

“You could get fingers or teeth from anyone. I want a witness.”

“A witness?” Zel raised his brows. He couldn’t have an Orman with him, not and use his abilities, at least not overtly. This would add a significant challenge, and major inconvenience, to this job, a job for which he’d already lost half the earnings. He rolled his eyes internally.

“Yes, a witness,” repeated the Lord. “Does anyone volunteer to accompany this hunter to witness the deaths of the raiding bandits?”

A man in the audience stepped forward and nearly tripped over his feet doing so. Zel shook his head. Bumbling idiot.

“My Lord, I would be honored to…”

“Get back over there and shut up, Dwerrav, you bloody fool. You will not witness anything outside of this castle. Do you hear me?”

“Yes… uh, yes, my Lord,” said Dwerrav bowing and stepping back into the crowd, nearly tripping over his own feet a second time.

For a split second, Zel was relieved.

Then, “You there, you girl,” said the Lord pointing beyond Zel to someone behind him, “why do you step out of the crowd?”

Zel turned to see who the Lord was addressing and his eyes grew wide. It was Amora. How in Jallah did she get in here? He pursed his lips and held back yet another growl he so badly wanted to let out.

“The bandits… they… hurt me,” she said. “I would like to bear witness, my Lord. I want to see these men die. Please, my Lord.”

“Perfect!” said the Lord entirely too pleased. He looked back at Zel. “I trust that, with all your capabilities, you can protect this girl, Zeltam of Ardevon?”

Bloody Jallah. He just went from having to travel with a bumbling idiot of an Orman whose life was worth no more than his own to having full responsibility for a young girl whose life was worth more than his and the idiot Orman’s combined simply by virtue of her being female. This day couldn’t get any worse. Zel took a deep breath and silently prayed to the Gods that he could protect this girl. “Yes, my Lord,” he replied.

“It’s settled then. The girl will accompany you as witness.”

“Thank you, Lord.” Zel offered a small bow, turned and headed, with long, determined strides, directly toward Amora, ire evident in his eyes.

When he reached her, he took her by the arm and dragged her out of the great hall. Once outside and a reasonable distance from everyone, he glared at her. “Girl, so help me Argas, you are lucky you are a female. If you were a male, I’d beat your ass from here to Listrand and back again. What in bloody Jallah are you thinking? What is wrong with you? Do you know how dangerous this is?” He kept his voice low but the anger in it was more than apparent.

She began crying. He put a hand on his head, looked to the sky, to the largest of their three moons just on the rise though the sun hadn’t yet set. “Argas save me. What have I done to deserve this?” She whimpered softly. “Girl, I cannot have a female with me, let alone a crying female!”

“If you weren’t yelling at me, I wouldn’t be crying,” she snapped back at him.

He bent until his face was only inches from hers. “I. Am. Not. Yelling!” He kept his volume low, but his tone clearly said that he’d be yelling if they weren’t within earshot of other people. “What if I can’t protect you, girl?  What if I’m not there for even a moment and one of them finds you? What if they kill you?”

“You’ll protect me,” she said with certainty. 

“How do you know, girl?” He barked at her. “I failed once before. I wasn’t good enough and I failed to protect a female, the most important female. Did you know that? Did you? Little girl who knows everything?” It had been eons since he felt so much anger. “Arghhhh!” He threw his hands up and back down again in frustration as he stormed off.

After he walked about a dozen feet, he turned. “Well don’t just stand there. If you’re going to come, then come.” She hurried after him. He went to his horse, untied it and got on. “I don’t have a second horse, girl. I trust you can walk.”

“I have no shoes, Sir.”

He looked at her feet and saw they were bare. “Now I’m responsible for shoeing you as well?” He let out a growl. This time it was his wolf’s growl though he kept his volume low. He held a hand out to her. “Come,” he said in a voice still gravelly from the growl and put her on the horse with him.

He rode to Luther’s shop and thanked the God, Argas, when Luther produced a pair of sturdy leather lace up ankle high boots that fit her. He even found a pair of socks for her. Zel promised to pay him for both as soon as he could. He was grateful Delphine had provided her with a smock and kirtle as well. The kirtle was a practical brown that would do well in the woods, but the smock was a far less practical white. There was no chance it would remain white for more than a day in the forest. Nonetheless, they could both be thankful she had decent clothes- and he’d need to remember to pay Delphine for those as well.

It had grown later in the day than he would have liked. But he didn’t want to wait until morning, and he was determined not to let this girl slow him down, at least no more than was absolutely necessary, though he did make her walk while he rode. It was his way of punishing her for weaseling her way onto this hunt with him. He felt slightly guilty considering what she’d just been through, but this was her doing, her choice to come on this hunt, so that guilt didn’t override his anger. He was still seething when they reached the woods and Leyal greeted them. The wolf was much happier to see her than Zel was. Maybe she was right that animals liked her more than people did. That was certainly the case at the moment.

At least the girl was smart enough to remain quiet while they walked.

After several hours, they came to the edge of a small village. “Wait here,” he said. “I have to deliver something. I’ll be back shortly. My strata will watch over you while I’m gone. Do you understand me, girl?”

“Yes, Sir,” Amora said rather sheepishly. He could tell she felt guilty and, at the moment, he wasn’t sorry for that.

Chapter 12 – A Pretty Name

Zel left Amora at the edge of the woods with his strata watching over her while he rode into the small farming village. Chickens roamed the dirt path and squawked as he passed patches of potatoes, broccoli, and other vegetables. Though the village was scantily populated, it took him some time to find his little mouse. She was bent over a large, stone well near the inn, her hair hanging, obscuring her face instead of pulled back like the last time he saw her. He didn’t realize it was her at first. But when he approached, she looked up. “Sir! You’re back so soon!” she said with bright eyes and a wide smile. She was no longer the shy girl she’d been with him initially.

Once he reached her, he dismounted and grabbed the elixirs he got from Momajin from a small pouch he’d attached to his saddle. “I have something for you,” he said as he approached.

“You do?”

“I do.” He handed her the two small bottles.

She examined them with a furrowed brow. “What are these?”.

“They’re special elixirs whores in all the larger towns around Vaylen use. You put one single drop in a cup with water or wine every morning and drink it and it will prevent a male from putting a babe in your belly.”

“Really?” Her eyes twinkled, the corners of them creasing.

“Really,” he said smiling more than he had in ages.

“Oh, thank you! Thank you so much, Sir.” She wrapped her arms around him. He towered over her, but hugged her back as best he could.

“I’m delighted this has pleased you, my little mouse,” he said once they parted.

“Oh, you have no idea. I didn’t know what I was gonna to do if… well, you know.”

“My alchemist told me those two bottles should last you several months.”

“That’s wonderful. Truly.” She beamed. It warmed his heart to see her so thrilled. He kissed her on the forehead because he couldn’t help himself.

“And you’ll have me now then?” she asked, her voice bubbly, her eyes still smiling. “At the log or someplace else?” She sounded excited at the prospect which surprised him.

He bent to her level, brushed the hair from the side of her face, “I’d love to my little mouse, but I can’t. Not today.”

“Why not?” Her shoulders slumped. The corners of her mouth turned down.

“I have no coin for one…”

“You gave me the elixirs. Besides,” she looked down and then back at him, “I don’t care about coin, not with you. You’re the only man who I want to have me. The others I let have me for coin. But you, I want to be with you. I want to be with you because I want to, not because you pay me.”

Zel swallowed. She liked him? Actually wanted to be with him? He took her face in his hands and kissed her, softly at first. Then he deepened the kiss and she met him fully. When they broke apart, he saw that look in her eyes that told him he shouldn’t have done that. What was he thinking? He couldn’t have this. “My little mouse, you flatter me so. But I must apologize.”

“Why?” Her brows scrunched together.

“I shouldn’t have done that. You mustn’t feel for me, girl. I don’t have the option to keep a woman.”

“I know, Sir. I’d never expect you to keep me. But you’re the only man who’s ever shown me respect or kindness so, if you don’t mind, Sir, I’d like to enjoy carin’ for you.”

Gods, how he wanted to save her from this life. Instead, he stayed crouched at her level, his hand on the side of her face staring into her eyes wishing things could be different. He brushed the hair from the other side of her face for the first time and noticed something he hadn’t seen before. “What’s this up here? This bruise?”

She looked down.

He put his finger under her chin moving it until her eyes met his. “Answer me, girl.”

She took a deep breath. “A couple a the men…”

“Yes, girl. What did they do to you? Tell me.” The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and the muscles in his jaw tightened. He detested the way Orman men treated their women and, in particular, their whores.

“They wanted me and I told them I wanted two silver, you know, like you told me to.”

Gods, let this not be his fault.

“They laughed at me and took me into one a the stables, plowed me, then threw me down when they was done with me. My head hit one a the tool racks when they threw me, and when I come to again, I found they left me a single copper.” She shook her head. “Typical village assholes,” she said with a wave of her hand.

His primal core stirred and he allowed his wolf’s growl to escape from deep in his throat, not caring that it was in front of her. He wanted to kill something, someone, in particular those who did this to her. Her eyes went wide at the growl, but then she just looked at him, this time putting her hand on the side of his face and brushing his hair back. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, Sir. You can’t save me from all a them and I don’t expect you to.”

He stood. “Where are these men, girl?”

“Sir?”

“Where. Are. These. Men? Tell me.” It was a demand though he kept his voice low and steady.

“Probably in the tavern, Sir.”

“Show them to me.” He turned and strode toward the tavern only a few ragged structures away with her running behind, barely able to keep up. The door creaked as he entered the old, wooden building with her trailing him. The scent of strong ale hung in the air in the dimly lit room, and the buzz of a couple dozen village men, mostly farmers and shop keepers, grew silent the moment the door slammed shut. All eyes shifted to them. 

“Where, girl?”

She scanned the bar’s heavy wooden tables then pointed to the right. “Those two, Sir, over there.”

Patrons began clearing a path as Zel, with his face twisted in fury, strode toward the men she’d pointed out. The villagers at the table with the two in question fled to the other side of the room and the accused men stood. “These two?” he asked looking them up and down. “These two pathetic excuses for males?” His words came out in a deep growl.

“Yes, Sir.”

Dirty, smelly, scruffy with unkempt hair – he kept himself in better condition living in the woods than these assholes did living in a village where there were washtubs available.

“You two like forcing yourselves on females? Disrespecting them? Throwing them away after you’re done with them?” His voice dripped with barely contained rage.

“We didn’t do nothin, Sir,” said one of the men.

The other said, “She’s just a village whore. What do you care?”

Zel punched the man so hard he flew across the room into the back corner. The tavern shook vigorously when he hit its walls, the impact dislodging bits of dirt and debris from the roof. It showered the interior as the man slid down and landed on the floor with a thump. The other man put his hands out. “Please, Sir, we didn’t mean nothin’ by it. It won’t happen again.”

“You’re damn right it won’t happen again.” He clenched his fists. “You listen to me, all you assholes,” he scanned the room making eye contact with each of the men, “if I hear of any of you pathetic pieces of shit harming a hair on this girl’s head, or any other female in this village for that matter, I’ll be killin’ men in here next time, not just punching them. You all understand me?”

There were murmurs of “yeses” and “yes, Sirs” that went around the room with almost all the men nodding frantically.

“Now I don’t give a shit if you plow the whore, but you do it on her terms. She asks you for coin, you pay what she asks or you don’t take her, and if you do pay to take her, don’t fucking harm her. Otherwise, you’ll deal with me. Have I made myself clear?”

There were more murmurs of agreement.

He turned back to the man left standing. “I believe you two assholes owe the girl some coin.”

“Yes. Yes, Sir. Of course, Sir.” The man pulled four silver pieces from his coin purse.

“I don’t think that’s going to be quite enough, asshole.”

“Right. Right, Sir. Of course, it isn’t.” He began digging through his coin purse.

Zel ripped the purse out of the man’s hand and held it out to the girl behind him. She took it.

“I think that’ll about cover it, don’t you, asshole?”

“Um, yes. Yes, Sir. Definitely. That’s good, Sir, very good.” The man’s body trembled.

Zel smelled the piss before he looked down at the fresh wetness covering the man’s crotch. “You might want to clean your britches… after you wake up.”

“Huh?” said the man right before Zel’s fist met his face.

“Anyone else in here, girl? Anyone else harm you or try to cheat you out of coin?”

He noticed another man attempting to sneak out of the tavern. She pointed at that man. “Him. He used me then didn’t pay me.”

“Reeeally?” Zel turned his attention to the man.

The man froze with eyes bulging and beads of sweat on his face. “I didn’t mean it, Sir. Here. Here you go.” He held out his coin purse with shaking hands. “It won’t happen again. I swear.” His words came quickly.

Zel took the coin purse from the man and handed it to the girl. “You’ll pay her what she asks next time?”

“Yes. Yes, Sir. Definitely. I swear,” The man crouched low as if to make himself as small as possible.

“Do I need to punch you too?”

“No. No, Sir. Please.” He held up trembling hands. “I swear, I’ll treat the girl with nothin’ but respect from now on. Never harm a hair on her head. I swear it, Sir. Really I do.”

“Good.” Zel looked around the room again. “I’m glad we all understand each other.”

“Come.” He gestured for the girl to follow him and strode out of the tavern with her hurrying to keep up. He led her across the village to their spot with the log at the edge of the woods, though he had no intention of taking her. When they got to the log, he told her to sit and relax.

“What about you?”

“I just need some time.” He rubbed his brow while he paced. He needed a fight, needed to release some of the aggression he was feeling. Punching the men wasn’t enough. The desire to kill them rode him. But it was one thing to kill bandits in the woods; it was entirely another killing a man in a tavern with many witnesses, especially unprovoked. This wasn’t Listrand. Defending a whore didn’t fly as an excuse in the Orman lands. Females simply weren’t valued in the Orman lands as they were in Listrand, and whores even less so.

She sat on the log while he paced back and forth working on reigning in the animal aggression all shifter species had to deal with and, as a warrior with three predatory strata, he had far more to control than most.

After eying him for a while as he paced, she asked, “Is there anythin’ I can do for you, Sir?”

He looked at her sitting there with her pretty brown, doe eyes, worried about him of all things, when she had to live life with these wretched excuses for males. And he found he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Instead, he stood there, staring, marveling at her selflessness and, for the first time, noticed she looked much older with her hair down, more womanly, more enticing. Her hair was just a little mussed with stray brown tendrils streaming in front of her eyes, their partial concealment creating a sense of mystery, a sexy look, one that bellied the innocence of those pretty, doe eyes.

He walked to her knowing he shouldn’t. But he couldn’t stop himself, didn’t want to stop himself. He put one hand behind her head, the other upon her slender, upturned neck, then held her steady and lowered his lips to hers once again, slowly this time. Despite the rage swirling inside him, he wanted to savor the warmth of her lips, the softness of them. He tasted a sweet hint of strawberries and craved more of her. He deepened the kiss.

She was so willing. She’d put her arms around him and met his kisses with all the fervor he possessed, so much so that his desire for her ignited all too quickly. But today wasn’t the day for that. He could only allow himself to enjoy their union for a few more brief moments before he had to slowly soften their kisses again and, finally, grudgingly, disengage.

He found kissing her calmed his temper though. Being in her arms steadied him so he didn’t want to kill the next man he came across. But when he broke from her and saw that look in her eyes again, he felt selfish. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t do that with you.”

“Sir, if there was ever a man who had nothin’ to be sorry for, it’d be you,” she said smiling with a hand to the side of his face. “It’s okay to care, you know.”

He looked into her eyes and wished he could believe that. If only she knew what happened to Voenna, what happened to the female he’d cared for most in his life, how he’d failed her. He had much to be sorry for that she knew nothing about.

He couldn’t allow himself this pleasure, couldn’t risk her, couldn’t risk his little mouse. He stood straight. “I must go.”

They walked back to the village near the well where he’d tied his horse. Before he mounted, she put a hand on his arm. “Thank you for everythin’, Sir.”

He crouched, put his hand to the side of her face and caressed her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “You’re welcome, my little mouse.”

“Peela,” she said. “I am called Peela.”

“That’s a pretty name.” He smiled at her warmly, his face having softened considerably from their time in the tavern.

She looked down, then back at him again. “But I like bein’ your little mouse, Sir,” she said with her head slightly cocked and a shy smile on her face. She looked like a young girl again and, for some reason he couldn’t understand, that shy smile made him ache inside.

“Then you shall remain my little mouse, Peela,” he assured her. “And you may call me Zel.” He didn’t want her calling him Zeltam. Zeltam was a lie, and he didn’t want that lie rolling off her tongue.

He started to turn to mount the horse, but she held his arm tighter until he looked back at her.

“I know you don’t think we should, but one more kiss. If you please. I don’t know when I’ll see you again and,” she looked down then back at him, this time with resolve, “I want to remember the taste of you, the feel of you. Please… Zel.”

Her words surprised him and made him ache even more. But he couldn’t deny her. There was no way he could deny her.

He bent to kiss her once again. When their lips met, he lifted her off the ground bringing her to his height. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he held her tightly enjoying the feel of her small frame against him, his desire to both mount her and protect her burgeoning and growing stronger with each kiss. Their kisses lingered longer this time. He didn’t want to let this girl go, the young female, his little mouse. He wanted to take her right then and there.

But it was getting close to nightfall and he had to get back to Amora. So, he couldn’t take her, nor could he keep her, nor could he allow himself to feel for her. The ache in his chest grew stronger when, eventually, he forced himself to let go. He mounted his horse and looked at her one last time hesitating to leave.

“You know you look at me the same way I look at you, don’t you?” she said with that shy smile again. She cast her eyes downward for just a second before looking back at him. “Thank you,” she said softly and then smacked his horse hard on its hindquarters. The horse took off before he could respond though he had no idea what he would have said.

Gods, was she right?