CYRUS
Present. Village of the Bald Heads.
“He is nothing! And we will treat him as such!” a richly masculine voice towers above the noise.
“Do not be foolish to believe that he will not be useful. He came from the Triangle and defeated a Son of Dragon…” another argues.
“He is a bad omen!” a third cuts in, and then, clamorings soar.
I remain on my knees, tied like meat to a wooden log in a dimly lit tent close to the meeting place. Sweat greases my body, making my light-brown skin reflect light from the flame torch hanging on a lamppost nearby. I would have screamed out of frustration, but my mouth had been stuffed with a stinking piece of fabric, tasting like ash.
Attempting an escape is not even an option. A short man has been placed at the exit to keep an eye on me while the meeting proceeds. At intervals, he would stride in with ruthless pomposity and snicker like a mischievous child. “Your fate is being decided,” he would say, then walk away.
Having been here since noon—thirsty, hungry, and craving freedom—I am supposed to encourage myself with news that my fate will soon be decided. If I could break free right now, I would bury my fist in his mouth. What a stupid joke!
Ameera’s calming voice begins to hum in my head, easing my tensions with her favorite ballad. A few days ago, I would have done anything to get away from her house. But now, all I yearn for is her sweet embrace. Aside from food and a cold bath. I should have listened and remained in the city despite the pestilence. But no, I’d rather live a fast life, the life of an adventurer. Now, here is where it landed me. The search for the Triangle of Mortality, a wasted effort.
My brain has begun to recollect most of the previous events, but for some reason, I still can’t recall the episode leading to my fall. I can’t, no matter how much I try.
I know what to do; I will find that woman and ask her what would happen if I were resurrected from the dead because that would be the only explanation for this…melee. I am very sure I died!
“Listen, listen!” another voice rings out. “Our Aki will make the final decision on this matter,” she says, and a graveyard silence follows.
I can easily tell what’s going on in that gathering because it is happening just outside my tent. I want to be attentive, but the hunger pangs in my stomach, the heat in the tent, and the aches in my joints are distracting.
“…Although he shows promise, we cannot keep him here. We have a handful of enemies already. It would be madness to attract another we don’t know. Although I understand your sentiments, no one here can tell who he is or where he’s from, so it’s risky. We will do what we do best. No doubt, he will fetch a good value. At least we’ll gain coins to buy adequate weapons for the protection of our village…”
“If I may object, my lord…”
The sensation of a cold blade kissing my arm shifts my attention to the jolts of fear rippling across my body. The voices from the gathering quickly fade into the background of my consciousness.
“Relax,” a feminine voice whispers. Soft and sweet. “You better not attract that imbecile at the door. He can be pretty loud,” she warns, her blade cutting the ropes binding me.
My bones creak, my joints complaining as I stretch. My muscles stiffen out of hours of disuse; hence, I fall on my belly.
“Quietly…” she warns, pulling my legs from behind. My body slides over sand, slipping out from under the tent. Thus, a cold breeze caresses my skin, testifying to my freedom. I look up; a full moon glides past minor clouds.
A bitter smile spreads on my face while I push the stinking rag out of my mouth allowing clean air through my windpipe.
She grabs my arm, dragging me up. “Get up! Before it’s too late,” she whispers harshly.
Her red hair is the first thing I notice. “Oh, I know you. At the beach…” I say in a muffled tone.
“Yes. You saved my friend’s life; now I’m saving yours,” she replies. “Come, we better hurry.” She pulls me, and I follow, hobbling like a rabbit… At least, it is better than being tied up like a bundle of firewood.
With long strides, we tiptoe past numerous tents, trailing darker paths to avoid the bald heads, until we slither into another dimly lit tent. My heart skips as I see the creature from earlier. He lay motionless on his belly, my wooden stake still stuck in his back. He is tied up like an unwanted gift and dumped on the floor to rot.
I shake my head, turning my face to the red-haired. “Here I was, thinking you were trying to rescue me.”
“I am.” She maintains a plain face, her ox-blood dress so bogus that it swallows her finger when she points at the paralyzed soldier. “Save him. Pull out the branch.”
“What?” My eyebrows raise. “You better be joking.
“Just do it,” she insists.
“No. This…thing tried to kill me…”
“…Person. He’s a person,” she interjects, flashing an intense glare at me while a puzzle appears on my face.
“It doesn’t make sense.”
“Look, you can just trust me and do what I asked,” she continues, ignoring my question mark expression.
I scoff. “Trust you? I don’t even know your name, let alone…”
“Nabu, my name,” she cuts in impatiently. “Now do it. At least you know I don’t want you dead… Yet.”
I shake my head in wonder. She utters intriguing words, and I crave to know more. But I will not be played. I refuse it. Not again.
Folding my hands, I adjust my stance. “No, Nabu. I won’t.”
She shakes her head, cussing under her breath. “Coward,” I hear before she throws her face away.
“I find that insulting. Did I not risk my life to save your friend? You should show some respect,” I assert, animosity growling in my insides. I adjust my stance. “Since you are so brave, why don’t you do it then?”
“Pretty boy, believe me, I wish I could,” she replies, placing her palm on her forehead as if trying to quell a headache. She begins to pace around impatiently. “You can keep wasting precious time. They’re going to find us. And guess what, you’re the one who is going to be killed or sold as a slave.”
“I prefer the latter.”
“Fine! Suit yourself. I won’t be associated with your cowardice,” she stresses the last word before walking away, leaving me fuming. My eyebrows furrow as my stare trails her exit. She shows little regard for me. I thought she would be more graceful like the girls I’ve been with. Maybe, in this land, they are trained to show little refinement, elegance, and literacy.
I let out a sigh.
I have myself to blame for this. If not for my stubbornness, I wouldn’t have been here in the first place. I veer around, facing the dark warrior. Fine. I’ll heed her council just this once, only because I don’t have a choice. If doing this secures my escape, then why not?
I begin to take careful strides toward him until I am close. I squat, my gaze scanning his body while avoiding his eyes. He smells of sweat, and honestly, if not for the movement of his massive physique up and down, I would proclaim him dead.
On his bare back is a large red tattoo of a Dragon’s head, and below it is where my stake is stuck. The surprising thing about the whole picture is that he is not bleeding. Not a drop of fluid exists in the wound. It’s just there.
I sigh. Maybe this is a test. Why else would I be asked to save an enemy? A terrifying one at that. Well, f*ck it. I grab the stake and yank it out of his flesh. A deep, seething groan alarms me, and I quickly pull back to a safer distance. My eyes pop out as he sits up in the quickest possible time, like nothing ever happened to him.
Flexing his biceps, the ropes used to tie him tear like pieces of fabric. Hence, I tighten my grip on the stalk, just in case things go south. But as soon as his eyes collide with mine, my body grows numb; hence, I can neither look away nor move. His face is hard to describe; it has the shadow of an eagle and a crocodile or so. And his eyes… Oh, his eyes!
“Do not be afraid,” his voice resounds in my ears. Drawn out, scrawny. Almost like the hissing of a snake.
My pulse begins to race, sweat dripping down my earlobes. I try to speak, but then I realize that my mouth has been agape all this while.
He looks towards the exit, then turns to me again. “It’s a full moon,” he says, but I remain mute, stiff like a statue.
He pulls out the gold necklace hanging on his neck and offers it to me. “A peace offering?” He asks. But since I do not move, he tosses it at me, and out of mere reflex, I catch it.
At the sight of this jewel, my tensions relax. The weight of the gold alone should be enough compensation for my troubles. A lopsided smile appears on my cheeks, especially when I see a locket at its center.
“Don’t open it, stupid.” That still, small voice blasts into my head, but my curiosity takes precedence over caution. I drop the stake in my hand and force the locket open without waiting for further statements from the man.
Some gelatinous fluid spills on my palm, looking like a transparent paste.
“Drink it—a treasure from beyond,” he says. “Many have sort to taste it but failed.”
“What is it?” I inquire, finding my voice.
“My token of gratitude…” he replies.
“Gratitude? For what?” I scoff, my eyes still transfixed on the glistening gel.
However, the sound of footsteps approaching draws my gaze towards the exit. Bursting into the tent are three bald heads in pink robes. I quickly force the fluid into my mouth. No time for stories. It dissolves like snow, vanishing in my throat. What. That’s it? I wonder, peering at the bald heads. Their faces are hard as stone, their stares, daggers.
“Where is he?” one of them croaks, ambling towards me.
“Who?” I ask, licking my lips.
He points in the direction of the soldier, and I turn. No one is there. I glance around. Up, down, sideways. Nothing.
I swivel back to the men, my eyes baring like a thief…
“Oops,” I gulp.
Suddenly, Nabu bursts in, ambushing them, flinging fists, throwing kicks. They reciprocate, attacking her at once. But she tumbles and spins in the air, giving them kicks on their faces. One after another.
She moves like the wind; little wonder her arrogance. I nod, folding my lips in self-righteous wonder. Grunts, moans, and thuds prevail while she whips them like children until they remain unconscious on the ground.
She swivels around, her clothes sweeping the floor. “I have horses waiting,” she says, striding away.
It pains me to admit, but I’m impressed. Beauty and muscles are an interesting combination. I spring up to my feet and follow suit.
Just outside the tent, two horses linger. Without waiting for me, she straddles one, flapping its reigns so it begins to gallop away. I try jumping on one but land on my butt. My world swirls in my eyes as if I am under the intoxication of alcohol. I groan, realizing it is the effect of the gift, whatever it is.
“They’re escaping!” some voices echo from the distance.
I push my body up with much difficulty, yanking it atop the mount. Grabbing its reins with what is left of my hands, I kick my feet against its stomach. It neighs and begins to gallivant forward.
My flesh rapidly grows numb, my consciousness tricking away. My consolation remains that I ride to God knows where…
