Weregamers: thirteen stones pt.3

thirteen stones
By JBL3

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

And they were adversaries, no doubt. The contentiousness between the two was palpable. They were laughing as we entered, and had fallen silent as we drew nearer. My stomach let out another mewling rumble. I caught the barest glance from Mugha, who had her head bowed already.

Stupid me, I hadn’t been paying the least bit of attention to her, I was too busy scouting out the gathered personalities. So, here I was about to get my head chopped off or something similar. I bowed my head and knelt to one knee. I could sense the frustrated strike being reigned in from Zhura behind me.

"What have you brought me, Sollen?" asked the big man. His eyes lit with curiosity, and intelligence.

He already knows something, I thought. He’s playing this other D’Shan for some reason. But what does he know?

"A new acquisition, D’Shan," spoke the blond man. "We fished him from the river, near death. This slave, who belongs to Murika, has nursed him back to health. He is finally fit to be judged by you, D’Shan," stated Sollen matter-of-factly.

Finally, I thought. How long was I out of it?

"And has the slave of Murika’s ownership come to beseech some reward?" I could sense real curiosity about that, as if it was unexpected.

"No, D’Shan, she is here to answer for verbally abusing one of your warriors, Calchas." The name was spoken with the hint of relish, even from my disadvantageous view, I knew Sollen was suppressing a smile.

"Very well, I cannot have my people’s slaves speaking out against them. Where is Murika? I would have her here if I pronounce sentence on her chattel." The other D’Shan snorted. He shifted in his seat so as to hide his scoff.

"You disagree, Malachi? What would you do, put this poor slave to death? She has her talents in healing, after all." Malachi was not impressed.

"Have her whipped for her insubordination, Dhras," intoned Malachi without the slightest hint of compassion for the old woman. "Otherwise she will seek to hide behind her age and your leniency."

"Hmm," Dhras pretended to think it over. "I think a half-dozen lashes on the pole will suffice." Dhras was silent for a second. I simply waited. "Now for the next matter."

Zhura took one step up to my back, but I did not react. It would only go bad for me if I did. Shiza also moved to my back, and Sollen’s blade clicked slightly as he grabbed it’s hilt. I heard Dhras laugh.

"What is this? Is he so fearsome that I must be guarded so?" I did not react, I just recited the First Thirteen Steeping Stones. This had always been my madho’s form of punishment for me. To memorize and and recite these again, and again, and again.

"To learn of the path, one must first be ignorant
To journey one must have no will
To walk the path one must have no legs
To see the path one must have no eyes
To speak of the path one must have no tongue
To hear of the path one must have no ears
To touch the path one must have no feeling."

That was as far as I got.

"He bested Calchas in single combat, D’Shan," Sollen waited for the inevitable remark.

"How did this one achieve possession of a weapon, Sollen, that he could best Calchas?" The puppy dog ingenuousness was gone from the D’Shan’s voice. I could feel the anger.

"He did not have a weapon, D’Shan. He was unarmed." Sollen then filled him in on his perception of the ’fight’. It was technically correct but his assumptions were a bit off, if natural.

I kept going.

"To smell the flowers on the path one must have no nose
To eat on the journey one must taste no food
To navigate the waters on the path one must have no boat
To achieve the heights of the mountains, one must never climb
To succeed in the journey one must avoid the desire to succeed
To reach the end of the journey is to begin once again from the beginning."

There were others that comprised the whole philosophy, but I had my attention grabbed, literally.

Shiza grabbed my arms, and I stifled a grunt as the pain exploded in my arm. I let myself stand up and Shiva bound my hands with a leather thong. Zhura then slipped one around my neck as she brought me forward. The leather was braided, and it burned as she torqued it tight from behind. I stopped thinking about the air, which I wasn’t getting enough of, and kept my head down. I had a feeling this wasn’t going to be pleasant. Almost wish I had drowned.

"He is injured?" The question came from Dhras, and he was fairly close. I could hear his breathing and the slight movement of silk. My eyes caught those of the girl at the D’Shan’s feet. She was doing anything but enjoying this. I could see the spooked look in her young eyes. A blackness no child should experience so young. I winked and smiled, despite my predicament. Her eyes widened and then dropped.

"His arm was damaged when he was pulled from the Drun, D’Shan," Sollen’s voice was farther behind him now. I could feel the weight of both D’Shani as I stood there, eyes downcast.

"This man defeated one of my best swordsmen with his bare hand?" The D’Shan was surprised, but not shocked. "Was Calchas drunk again, Sollen?" "No, D’Shan," said Sollen simply. "This man simply bested him. This one’s hand-fighting skills are - impressive."

"You!" At the Dhras’s accusation, my head was raised by means of Zhura’s fist in my hair. I could feel some of it ripping out. Bitch must pay.

"Yes, D’Shan? How may I be of service to you?"

Dhras was silent. I could tell I had thrown him off. He was expecting something else. "Tell me, why should I not kill you now?" My eyes narrowed suspiciously. For some reason the guards across from me all took a step forward.

"Why would you do something as incredibly stupid as that?" Ouch! The thong about my neck tightened by a factor of a thousand. I relaxed the muscles and barely managed to wheeze in a half a lung of air. I started reciting again.maybe they were good for something. If I hadn’t known better I would have assumed someone had begun to pound on a war-drum. As it was, I knew the sound of blood pulsing through my ears was likely the last sound I would ever hear. At least I kept my feet. Another sound intruded and intertwined with my pulse. Malachi was laughing. A deep hearty baritone that pealed forth like rocking thunder. I started to see blackness constricting down my field of vision. I saw, through a dim fog, Dhras nod curtly. With that unspoken command I could take in air again. I did so slowly, letting it snake in and fill my burning lungs. It felt strangely like dousing flames with water.

Dhras’s countenance had darkened. "Who are you, cur?"

I did not answer at once, and Zhura rabbit-punched me in the kidney. I turned my head to glance at her.

"If you abuse me one more time, Zhura, I will make you very, very sorry. Do you understand me?" Malachi thought this was funny and gales of laughter swept forth. He had tears in his eyes as he tried to regain his composure.

"Dhras, I am so happy we called this little parley," chuckled the D’Shan. "I will have stories to tell for ages!" In a more serious tone he made his true feelings felt. "Kill this one, Dhras. He will be your undoing. Or at least let me buy him. I will beat him into submissiveness."

He probably could, too, I thought. I was still locked eye to eye with Zhura when she smiled. Smiled! It was the most unnerving thing, to be sure, but she did not test my warning. Bluffed my way out again. I turned back to Dhras.

"I am sometimes called Malik, D’Shan," I said matter-of-factly. "I have no surname as I was an orphan." True enough. "I was driven from my foster home at an early age and have acquired certain survival skills along the way. Unfortunately your man Calchas found that out the hard way." A little overbearing, but close enough. "You have allowed me to be healed by this fine person next to me. But you do not own me, nor will you." I had this feeling my mouth was going to get me into trouble again.

"I think I will be the judge of what I own - or who," asserted Dhras. "You would have to kill me before I would go under your yoke," I said seriously. And it was true. "However, I have at least one skill that you might find useful, D’Shan." I loosened my muscles, and prepared to explain explicitly.

Calchas chose that time to make his appearance. He was still angry and was sporting a painful limp. Bet he had a nasty headache, too. The right side of his face was already purpling and swollen. Blood and dirt covered his silken blouse. Now that really was a shame. The man started to draw his sword, but Zhura let me go and grabbed the man’s wrist as his hand touched his sword’s hilt.

"Not before the D’Shan, Calchas," Zhura warned. A malicious grin slithered across her mouth. "Or we’ll let him go again." A couple of guards coughed away snickers. Malachi, was watching me closely, though. His reserve of mirth had been expended, I guess. "D’Shan," began Calchas earnestly, "I apologize for my lateness. And my incompetence."

This seemed to bring Dhras up short. Even I had to admit I hadn’t expected this. Zhura turned back to me, but merely drew the thong away and stowed it in her belt. Calchas winced at the pain his words elicited.

"I have heard, Calchas," Dhras’s gaze turned on me again. "I do not think you have any fault save that you let your temper cloud your already inhibited thinking." He waved Calchas back, so he would not bleed on the carpets. "After this healer has recovered from her lashes she may tend to your wounds." Shiza reached for Mugha.

"No, D’Shan," I said. His brows drew dangerously close, and any leniency I had gained with Zhura just evaporated. The thong whipped out again. "I will stand her place for the punishment, D’Shan," I think that sort of froze everybody.

"What?" That from at least three different people, Mugha included. "She is old, and a dozen lashes will curb her effectiveness as a healer until she herself heals. Besides, it was because of me that she said anything at all. And lastly if you do not have me punished, your position here is called into question, no?" I let that sink in, and to Dhras’s credit, he caught the import of my words immediately. "You have spoken correctly, but foolishly," he said. "I could have her lashes dropped to five and still get my message across. And I could still have you whipped."

I dared not say anything, because if I did he might just change his mind. Malachi was regarding me with unusual interest.

"This thing I will have done - on one condition." Dhras leaned forward in his chair and the cushions wheezed under the pressure. His bushy brows knitted together. "You will trade me your life and the life of the slave for the skills you were going to bargain with. You will teach my warriors to hand-fight, or I will kill the old woman, Murika’s slave or no. You understand?"

"Perfectly, D’Shan," I said without any hint of satisfaction. I think. "You will not have free reign of the wagons, no," mused Dhras. His eyes lit upon his closest captors. "You will go to the wagon of Zhura and Shiza." I heard the barest intake of breath behind me. "You will perform such tasks as necessary to them, and if you cause me any trouble, I will have you killed, along with the old woman. You understand?"

"Perfectly, D"Shan," I repeated. I would be surprised to live to see the sunrise. These two will slit my throat, given the chance. The thong whipped around my throat again, and it was yanked tight with a meaningful jerk. Great, I thought. When I had those fantasies of being tied up by amazons, there had been significant points of difference.

"Calchas," ordered the D’Shan, "go with the healer now, and do not abuse her. You will receive much benefit from this arrangement, so behave." Dhras gave a stern look at the women behind me. "Zhura, I charge you with both his safety and his imprisonment. Do not fail in either." Or else, I heard.

"I will perform as ordered, D’Shan," gritted Zhura through clenched teeth. She gave a stiff tug on the cord, but I bowed to both D’Shani. That of course hurt like hell, but formalities had to be observed, didn’t they? As she tensed to really yank, I turned to leave the tent.

"I think you are inviting a viper into your nest, Dhras." I heard Malachi say before exiting the tent.

On to Part 4