The Birth of Vengeance

by Slawomir Rapala

Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4, part 2
Chapter 5
appear in this issue.

Chapter 4: Breath of Fire

part 1 of 2

The sun had passed its zenith by the time Aezubah and N’Cton finally left the mercenary barracks and headed out of town. Though they meant to have been at Aezubah’s homestead by mid-day, their plans were hindered by a merry company and a few jugs of strong wine which neither was able to refuse. They spent the morning exchanging stories with fellow mercenaries, all of whom were eager to break the boredom and monotony of everyday life at the barracks.

By the time they were ready to leave, Aezubah’s men had returned. Their tale of the wild night which they had spent desecrating the priest’s sanctuary further halted the two friends from leaving. The men brought with them more wine and they all spent the morning merrily, recalling with humor how they dragged the whining mage through the dirty streets of Oyan.

Many of the city’s inhabitants witnessed the spectacle and they joined in, rushing after the poor wretch and nearly stoning him to death. With the help of the city guards, the mercenaries tossed the wicked priest through the gates. The whole city laughed as he stumbled to his feet, shaking his fist and mumbling inarticulately.

“I think you may have a new enemy now, Captain,” one of the soldiers scoffed.

“I have many,” Aezubah dismissed the comment with a shrug. “One more makes little difference. Besides, what can the wretch do now?”

N’Cton, who was more eager of the two to leave the quarters where he was forced to spend most of his time anyway, urged Aezubah finally to bid farewell.

“You’re lucky, Captain,” the mercenaries said as they patted him on the back. “You have a home to go to and need not waste your time in these cursed holes!”

“I can’t believe the King won’t let us stay in the new quarters!” someone else added.

“He doesn’t favor mercenaries!” N’Cton laughed bitterly. “We’re here to do the dirty work, the work that the pretty army boys won’t touch!”

“We always get the worst of it!”

“What do you want? Parades? Medals?” Aezubah asked with a snort. “Take a look at yourself, boys. War doesn’t make pretty men.”

“You can tell that the Bandikoyans don’t do much warring, then!”

“The King’s army is good for presenting arms! We’re the ones who do the work!”

“No gratitude for our blood and sweat!”

“You’re lucky, Cap!” someone repeated. “You have a family to go home to.”

“That’s because I got married while you spent your time chasing whores!”

The men broke into laughter and it was amidst these merry shouts that Aezubah and N’Cton finally left the barracks.

“You’ll be eating a home-cooked meal before the sun sets,” the young mercenary assured his black friend.

Aezubah’s home lay several leagues away from Oyan, close to the beaten path leading West towards the No Man’s Desert and into the red-haired Kingdom of Estrata. This close to the Capital, her many artificially maintained basins and her extensive network of aqueducts that ensured all citizens access to fresh water, the earth was still largely productive though growing crops required more effort here than elsewhere in the Southern Realms.

If one ventured another day’s travel westward, however, he would see the earth slowly crack beneath the scorching sun, and soon he would see the path disappear in vast stretches of sand. The interior of Bandikoy was entirely claimed by the desert, and nothing survived in it. Savage winds shifted building-sized dunes freely and changed the landscape at will. An unprepared and inexperienced traveler was met with a quick and horrible death.

By the time the sun had started its slow descent down the cloudless sky stretching over the vast steppes, both of the armor-clad men suffered from heat and were eager to rest. And yet they urged their horses forward, hastened by the knowledge that just beyond the horizon lay their journey’s end. Jugs of cold beer, dishes full of meals...

Aezubah wiped the sweat away from his forehead and threw an envious glance at N’Cton who seemed to suffer less, a trait typical of black men whose entire history had been spent in the desert.

The ebony warrior suddenly halted his mount and raised his fist. Aezubah’s forehead darkened because he too noticed the black clouds rising from beyond the horizon. They could clearly see the smoke, its dark shade cutting sharply across the vast blue canvas of the sky.

Proceed to chapter 4, part 2...