I.ix

 

Silence had spread over us like a mist and hadn't fled since we killed the two wolves on the beach. The only noise was the small sounds of us chewing the last of our food. Arash looked despondently thoughtful as he navigated around a tough piece of dried meat.

Night was beginning to paint the edges of the sky. It had taken us many minutes to drag the boat up the beach and into enough foliage to hide it from sight. The remainder of the daytime had been spent waiting. I slept, on and off, for some of it. It left me feeling surreal and on the edge of consciousness.

When I awoke, I felt Arash's lingering presence beside me, pulling on my edges. He seemed to have much to say, but no desire to speak. Everything had been spoken of before, and he had been given no answers. This was his acceptance, it seemed.

His face was almost unfamiliar in this dimming light and state it was set in. I saw nothing in him. His disposition was usually like sunlight off the water’s surface, deep and bright, but it sat now like a calm lake underneath overcast sky. I saw gray, but no turbulence.

We continued to eat. The silence continued also. In my mind I saw him again on the first night after I learned of the Wolf,

niko

intoxicated and nevertheless helpful. After the silver masked men had attacked, he was distressed and unnerved and nevertheless helpful.

And sitting together on a single mount, offered by a man who seemed to have nothing better to do than be led by me around the shoreline.

Across from me his face still sat silent and uncommunicative. Not saddened, not disappointed, not angered. Like looking into a grey pond.

And then suddenly I saw myself in that pond. A quick flash of something that pulled within me. Regret. Maybe at being led by a woman with a face like his was now.

Unlike other nights, we sat in the coming gloom without light or warmth. Many nights a campfire had sat between us and I had stared into my lap or the flames and listened to tales of a travelling merchant.

Many nights he had lounged on a bedroll languidly and looked over the fire as I recounted tales that always stopped at a single point. At a line that was never crossed. Yet he still sat languidly, waited patiently.

But now, across from me, a stone statue sat, picking at his last piece of bread with the same laziness in his body but a different look on his face.

I breathed. In. Out.

Saw the Wolf in my mind.

In. Out.

In

Out.

And then a startling shake in my throat as I took in and let out one last mouthful of air. Arash looked up at this, eyes momentarily gazing from underneath his brow. He went back to his food after he saw my mouth close once again.

"I worked after my father died. My brother was too small. That was our life for years."

Arash once again rose his gaze at this. Then, as he met my own, his head slowly followed, coming to rest tall on his neck. I had told him this before. He knew this. Yet he said nothing as I paused. Took a breath.

"When I was twelve and he ten, we were seen on the streets by a wandering group of Lycons. They poked and prodded us to mock. Laughed at the urchins living in the gutter. Then they left. A day after, more came. A pair, one man and one woman. They told us they could give us proper food and shelter if we took the red of the wolf as our colour. We went with them."

A moment passed in silence. It was room given for Arash to speak. He didn't. He must have guessed something of the like had occurred. He had seen the line on my arm. I regretted speaking now, something to add on to the pile. But like diving into water from a rocky cliff, I could not stop.

"Lycons do not tell you how they raise their soldiers. The mainland only knows of their skills. Those abilities are hard earned." I swallowed. It hurt. "I fled in my seventeenth year. My brother was not able to accompany me. He grew up in that place. He grew into the Wolf I pursue now."

My hands were hurting, and I realized they were formed into tight fists. My knuckles looked like stones trying to burst through the skin. I did not let the tension leave. I simply stared at them. My breathing was coming hot and bullish from my nostrils.

"I fed him as a child. I have many scars from protecting him. And that did not stop on Lycos. I taught him to survive and to keep safe and took punishment for him again and again." My lips were curled inward now, and my teeth bit down against my bottom lip as I stared down at my hands. The air from my nose was coming in hard, sudden pulses and my eyes felt aware and heavy and hard.

"And now he sends a blade meant to take my life after the cups of blood I spilled to keep him unharmed, after the hard-earned lessons I gifted him to keep him unhurt. He commits vile acts with the life I allowed him to live."

My knuckles cracked as my fingers closed tighter in my palm. My teeth grinded in my mouth and I could hear the noises through my jaw.

"He did not deserve the chance he was given. He will die. The men who serve under and beside him will die. I will bleed Lycos. Not for politics. Nothing will be left to rule and negotiate. I will bleed them until only stone and wood remain."

My stomach felt tight now. As if I had just vomited, and the muscles inside me were still heaving slightly. An aftershock.

I saw the Wolf then. For just a moment, he flashed before me, features unwritten. My hands, still tightened into stones, struck the ground near my cross legs.

It was a minute before Arash spoke. His face was softened, and I could see myself in his eyes in the failing light.

"This is what walks through your dreams at night and wakes you from rest." That wasn't a question. I didn't respond to it. "It is also what will cure that which ails you?"

I respond to that. A tight nod, as tense and clenched as my hands. Arash rubs his face for a moment. He takes in a deep breathe and lets one out. It’s almost a sigh.

He nods then, cocking his head to the side as he does.

"Okay." He stated, and leaned back against a log behind him.

 

---

 

My legs were aching. The minutes of crouching were lighting a fire inside my thighs and calves. Beside me, I saw Arash's face twitch every so often, indicating he shared the sentiment.

The Lycon camp sat in a small clearing in the trees. It was as if a large hand had simply ripped an oval shape from the forest. I tried to avert my eyes from gazing directly into the fire when I could. Even the aura of ambient light it shone made it hard for me to adjust to the darker spots where soldiers patrolled.

The Lycons were still buzzing. Some slept, tucked into bedrolls to the side or under small tents, but the camp still had a hectic energy. Two of their own had left and not returned. Slight worry was setting in, along with the annoyance of just wanting whatever it was to come forth.

The thick leaves of the foliage around me scratched as I very slowly extended my legs and lowered myself to the forest floor. Arash looked at me inquisitively. I motioned for him to stay where he was. He nodded and rolled his eyes back simultaneously. As I turned and left, I heard him adjusting to a more comfortable position.

My elbows and knees propelled me forward slow inches at a time as to not noticeably rustle the flora surrounding the camp. I wore dark leather and faded blue cloth. I hoped that would blend into the dark of the forest.

My slow circle showed what looked like ten men. Three slept to the direct north, near Arash. One in a tent to the direct south. In the center, three set about chittering and playing cards around a fire. Three actively patrolled the camp, circling the permiter.

Arash stared at me as I came back around. I told him in hushed voice what I saw. He set his mouth a bit. For a few moments, we looked out at the camp. Said nothing. Then:

"One of the guards patrolling wields a bow and quiver. Another bow sits there." He pointed gently to a tent on the west point of the oval.

"Can you acquire one without being seen?" He asked.

I stared out for a few moments. Nodded.

"Bring it back here. An idea is brewing in me."

I departed back into the bushes and tall grass after a moment of consideration and staring out into the clearing. My thighs and arms and shoulders were begging me for rest now. It was getting more difficult to ignore.

The journey was purposefully slow. The eyes of man were made to fight and hunt. We saw rapid movement as something to fear or something to find. Maybe it was a beast come for food or another man come for something we had or a rabbit or deer that needed to be chased down. Without the instinctual turning of the head to catch whatever flew around the fringes of our vision, we would starve or die.

So it was with unpleasant and languid movements I made my way around a quarter of the clearing. Grass was thought soft and pleasant in poems and tales. It was a bed for lovers or a lone hero wandering through the land. In this moment it scratched and rubbed my bare skin in a way nothing else quite did. Underneath it sat dirt, hard and unyielding to my elbows and knees.

Once arrived, I settled in as Arash had. I watched. Hours of dark remained. These Lycons had nowhere to be until the sun blessed the sky. I was much the same. Because of that, I was patient.

The patterns of the patrolling guards were long enough they seemed irregular when noting them for only a minute. After two or three, I saw them cross over one and other and leave a hole for me to dart the five feet forward and take the weapon.

I let another rotation pass. Another two or three minutes in silence. The fauna I crouched in was starting to feel small. Confined. My jaw was starting to set against the discomfort.

Again, they crossed. Through the hole in their routes I padded forward. The shadows around me hugged the dark colours of my tunic and armour and hair. Men from the fire nearby would see nothing. It was difficult to look into darkness from the light and discern anything of use.

The route back was even slower. The bow strung across my chest and the quiver across my back added an extra element of tedium. Now I crawled more than pushed, hovering my torso an inch from the ground. The wood of the bow sat between my body and the ground. It wouldn’t take kindly to being crushed between those two forces. The arrows shifted softly in their container. The sound was unmistakable. Wood and metal against leather. Another reason to move slower still.

Arash was not asleep when I returned, as I had half-expected. He was bored and his eyes glazed, but he sat alert enough to notice me arrive. With assistance from him, I passed the weapon into his possession. It was given a thorough look-over in his hands. He made a displeased face at what was only five arrows sitting in the quiver, but he said nothing. He strapped it slowly into place, leather thong lying across his torso. Then he slung the bow over a shoulder, string curving slightly over his chest.

“I will take care of the three that are amusing themselves by the fire. It will be fast, so watchfulness would be appreciated. Get into a position where you can get one of the men patrolling, and make sure it isn’t seen outright, make him disappear. Whistle when you are ready, and I will fire. We can use the confusion to our advantage.”

It was a good plan. If I were sure of Arash’s abilities with his new weapon of choice, I would have no complaints. As we departed wordlessly in opposite directions, I prepared myself to kill at least eight men with only my sword. Only two were actively armed. Weapons sat close to the men engrossed in game. They would be surprised as arrows shot from the shadows and one of their guards was taken into the night. I could use that shock to run into the group. The ones sleeping would wake from the noise. They would be groggy, unaware.

These were not Tirion volunteers, though. These were not farmers given swords at the age of eighteen. I had been woken from deep slumber by noise and the sound of enemies in the bunkhouse many times. I had been taken by surprise so that each time it happened, it affected less and less. These men would be not different.

I would have to be quicker, then.

It was minutes before I settled. The guards walked with the speed of a gentle wind. They were thorough, though. Their eyes roamed the forest, drank in detail. When their gaze washed over me, I stayed still and silent. It made a tedious journey worse.

Eventually I sat in waiting as a guard walked towards my hiding form rather than away. I sat at a perpendicular angle to his current path. With a moments gaze over the camp to map out the locations of the other soldiers, I gave a small, sharp whistle. Not a bird. The guard coming towards me immediately dropped into a slow walk. His weapon was raised to swipe and stab into the bush.

The arrows landed then. From left to right. The first man caught the head and inches of the shaft in his throat. He gurgled as he fell back. I heard it from meters away. The second landed in the now-open mouth of the first’s friend. He joined his comrade on the ground. The third had already begun to turn now. It hit the front of his throat. Obviously aimed for the center of the neck, it sliced his shifted extremity from side to side. He fell forward with his hands clasped to it.

I was sat in a crouch in the foliage, one foot solid on the ground and attached to a leg bent ninety degrees. The other rested on its knee. The first arrow hit, and the guard coming to investigate my noise shifted his vision slightly, instinctually. The second hit, and I was already making contact with him, pushing my dagger into the soft spot under his chin, pushing his body forward with my momentum, sending us crashing into the bushes across the way. With stealth gone, I began to crab walk rapidly away from his body, still concealed by the fauna.

Their attention had flicked from the three dead men to the suddenly-disappeared one. I flew from the bushes ninety degrees from the corpse, from where they gazed. I came out on their right.

I swung violently at one of the two remaining guards, unsheathing and hitting him with my blade in a single movement. He fell with half his head now in the air. The other guard stabbed at me. I pivoted on what had been my back foot in the sprint, letting the flat of the blade swim parallel to my chest, and used the momentum to throw myself at him. My shoulder slammed into his armoured torso. We fell, and I swung out my leg in a fast, wide circle. My shin connected with the ankles of the man who had been sleeping in the tent alone, how awake with weapon in hand behind me. He fell to the ground with a heavy noise and now-empty lungs. I flipped my sword so it pointed to the ground and stabbed downwards into his throat.

I heard something shift behind me, and let go of the hilt, rolling over the body. The other man, still seated on the ground, pulled forward slightly at the hips as he missed his swing. He immediately followed it with dive and roll into me, and suddenly he was on top of me. He stabbed downwards as his knees and left hand pinned me to the dirt. I felt the very cool tip of the blade scratch my cheek as I brought my hands up to grab his wrist.

One hand wasn’t enough to stave off the downward descent of the blade. I used a single extremity regardless. My other found purchase on his head, my thumb digging into his eye. It felt soft and wet on my skin. He hissed and screamed at that.

He tilted slightly to the right, and I used my hips and legs to help him. He hit the ground rolling, hand to his eye. The dagger was in my hand and then in his throat in a couple moments.

I was breathing hard. My shoulder hit from the skin to armour contact. My torso hurt from the tackle into the ground. My legs hurt from crouching and running and leaping. I cursed heartily. The other four men were coming my way.

I spun swiftly and pulled my sword from a dead man’s neck. Blood gurgled like a spring as it left the body. As I started at the group of men in a run, my hand was twirling and finding better purchase on the dagger.

An arrow flew from the trees. At the same moment, the group parted slightly to surround me. The head hit nothing but dirt.

Fuck.

Another followed almost immediately. This one found home in the back of a heart. One of the men in the middle dropped. I picked the pace up from the small stop the missed shot had given me.

The dagger finally sat comfortably in my left hand. In Lycos, we had trained with whatever they gave us. I knew my way around spear and sword and shield and bow and club and dagger. But I had never been proficient in my accuracy. Archery and the art of thrown knives was not for me.

That didn’t stop me from curling my arm back without breaking stride and hurling the dagger in the direction of the other middle man’s face. It spun and twirled and was going to hit him with the handle or flat of the blade. His instincts kicked in. Man wanted to protect his eyes at any cost. He turned his head to the side and slowed slightly, enough that his two companions drew ahead.

There was now a two foot space between the oncoming men. Just enough that I could possibly dart from reach if one tried to hit me from where they would attack. My thighs tensed. I leapt. Slammed into the left-most Lycon, sword held up and forward and flat near my shoulder, sliding into place. It cleanly sheathed into his neck.

We fell. His lifeless back hit the ground with force. I rolled off him, positioning my arm so I could pull the blade out of his body and keep it in my grasp without slicing myself open. I was on my feet in a moment, behind my opponents now.

They had already been turning when I landed. When I rose, they were three-quarters of the way to facing me. The man who I’d thrown the blade at was recovered and standing farther ahead. As I moved towards him, I slid my blade along the dirt. The tip caught in the dirt and sand and stones. With a heavy flick of my wrist and a pull on my forearms, the contents of the ground now flew into the soldier closest to me. He sputtered slightly, and it gave me a moment to crash my shin into his groin as hard as I physically could. He was moaning heartily on the ground in seconds.

I followed that with a mistimed duck and turn. That rewarded me with a sharp, clean slice on my shoulder courtesy of the Lycon behind him.

It was deep. I grit my teeth and clenched my jaw and felt muscle twinge as I moved it slightly. Ignoring it, I moved into his swing. He met me with glee and grasped me tightly as we met.

I was strong. Especially for a woman on the mainland. I lumbered and stomped where others around me walked like lions and cats and birds. This man was a finger taller than I, but his power was twice mine. Sweat and dirt smeared the cut on my shoulder. I cursed loudly. The absolute force behind the action caused my hand to open. My blade fell to the dirt with a hollow noise.

My back cracked. Something around my upper chest cracked. My lungs seemed to shrivel.

I gathered whatever I could in my mouth and spit in his eyes then. He sputtered and raged at this, but he wasn’t able to react in time when I darted my head forward and sunk teeth into his upper cheek. That elicited a deep shriek from him. His grip loosened. I let myself go dead, and suddenly I was many stones worth of weight that wasn’t holding itself up. I fell to the ground and rolled away.

My first instinct was to fill my lungs. His was to rush me. The spit had been taken care of. The blood could be ignored. As he quickly traversed the few steps it would take to get to my prone form, I kicked out with my left foot. My heel hit his knee. He was quick, however. He saw the movement and moved slightly at the last second. The hit connected, but the force behind it was halved. Because of that, I received a sharp kick to mouth. My head whipped to the side.

Something parallel to panic began to flare. The man on the ground near us was making less noise. He would rise soon. Then I would be dead.

And then an arrow sat in his throat. He looked surprised at that. Then he fell to the ground. He made no motion to stop himself as his face connected with the earth.

I turned languidly and saw the expected. Arash stood where the single missed shot had landed a minute ago. Blood trickled into my mouth from an unknown source as he stared at me. I spit in response. Then, I gently rose to my feet. Collected my sword from near the now-dead soldier’s feet. Walked back to Arash, and set my knee to the last man’s throat.

For a moment, I said nothing as my sword sat in the dirt beside him. I was resting most of my weight on that hand. It looked like a threat from the outside. A mind game.

My thoughts were muddled from the kick and the deprivation of air. It took me a few seconds to grasp what exactly I wanted to ask.

“Where is the weapon?”

The man was neutral beneath me, the only emotion colouring his face one of pain. He gave nothing away. I continued under the idea he was confused.

“Your unit was to find a powerful weapon on this island. It is said to be held in a cave system under the waves. Where is the entrance?”

Another bout of silence. I began to drip blood on the man inadvertently. He shied away from the crimson droplets slightly.

Without another question, I set the flat of my blade against his mouth, and my hand against his forehead in a solid grip. The edge of my sword touched the bottom of his nose. I let this stand for another beat, then began to saw. It drew blood immediately. It was difficult and an odd angle and the nose was tough and grisly. He squirmed and writhed at first, but kept eye contact. I was halfway through before he began to shout. I ceased.

“You are going to die. Choose whether it will be by a sword to your throat or a thousand cuts.” I said stonily. I could already feel the right side of my mouth beginning to swell. The gash on my shoulder was aching from the constant use.

He pointed north east. Said there was a cliff devoid of trees and covered in sand. Under it was a ring of three pointed rocks. Below those was the entrance. It was barred by a door their men could not open.

Next I asked him of the Wolf. 

He told us that he had left three days ago. Sailed away to the mainland. They were to wait for further orders. They were not informed of his next location. I finished the job on his nose at this revelation. After a handful of cries, he repeated the same statement in a hoarser voice. I was enraged. I also believed him. I stabbed him through the throat, and the force was enough that the blade reverberated when it hit the ground.

Arash stood there as I rose and stared.  His bow was slung over one shoulder. His quiver sat empty. His eyes were unreadable in the darkness. His features did not look content.

“Collect your arrows.” I paused for a moment. Continued: “Take more than five.” As he did so, I wiped my sword on a length of Lycon clothing.

Around me laid bodies. Blood blended in dirt and stone. One stared vacantly at the dark misty sky. None looked at us as we kicked dirt on the fire and let darkness settle. None looked at us as we left them alone in that newly-made black spot. The only gaze I felt on my form was Arash.

No words were spoken. We had settled into a silence like before. Unlike then, I felt little judgement weighing on me. Arash regarded me like a wronged animal now. Something that could lash out and bloody and tear. And something that had been hurt before. Pity. That made me angrier.

I kept silent for other reasons. Every shift of wood and heavy noise against dirt was a finger to a bowstring for my mind. It pulled and released and pulled and released. Tension, rising and falling, never ending. In my mind’s eye I saw the vague whereabouts of smoke breaching treetops, but it wasn’t written in ink on paper. Lycos had taught us to orient ourselves, but this was a large enough island. We could stray without meaning.

But we didn’t. The moon was hazy above us as we came to the end of the forest and stepped onto a clear plateau. Far-away light sources seemed stretched, as if viewed through mostly-closed eyes. Mist was gathering, and it was heavy.

Below us, water sat eerily calm. It lapped against rock like a dog at a bone. It was near silent when we exited the fauna and foliage. As we moved closer to the cliff’s edge, we heard the hollow noise of waves. Somewhere inside me, the bowstring relaxed further than it had. The salt was brought to the forefront of my mind as I breathed in. Not Arash’s pity. Not the new bodies behind me. Simple ocean air.

“This is extraordinarily high.” Arash noted. No dry wit to his voice. Nothing underneath the damp tone. He held his bow away from him as he leaned at the hips to peer over, as if the water would pull it in if he let it sit too close.

“It’s a seaside cliff. As reported to us.” I spoke. Arash made a vague noise at this.

“I held onto hopes that the word ‘cliff’ was misleading.” He responded. He suddenly moved away from the edge, as if he couldn’t stand to look another moment.

“What we seek lies there.” I said lamely. Wasted air. A sudden, stupid need to fill space with words. I turned away, towards the foliage. Where the bushes were thickest, I began to strip. The leather that covered my torso came off first, followed by one wrist guard after another. My belt, then, undone and set on the ground wrapped around my blade. Finally, sandals. My dagger stayed at my lower back. It was light.

Arash was looking at me. Not staring. That implied something uncouth. It was curiosity mixed with displeasure at knowing what came next. He came next to me and left his bow and quiver and sandals next to my things. Atop it he placed the light leather vest he wore, leaving him in loose pants and a thin, long-sleeved shirt. The cloth rustled in the cool breeze that greeted us.

Once again, I felt Arash’s gaze on the back of my neck, and in this moment it wasn’t for violence or a lack of words or something that grated against his spirit. It was nothing he would bring up to me in later conversation. He would have little complaints. It was simply me. Doing something foolish.

I found myself letting out a small release of breath at that. My throat was dry and coarse, but if it wasn’t, a laugh would have accompanied the twitching of my diaphragm. I took a few steps back. Dug and released my toes into the ground, loosening dirt. Felt its cool pressure on my skin. My thighs tensed, and the muscles protested once more, a half-second before I broke into a run. After a few strides, the ball of my right foot met the edge of stone and sand. I launched off, pulled my arms together overhead, and arced into darkness and the sounds of gentle water.