TrialbyFire Read online

  The man swallowed hard, paling.

  The King only wanted to congratulate you. Heslin said from the seat on the other side of Atar.

  Suddenly, an enormous, prick eared head reared up and put his paws on the table. One of the women seated nearby screamed and fainted into her soup. People stood and cringed from him

  Atar looked at the fainted woman with clinical interest, while Bulliwuf cocked his head to one side and sniffed deeply.

  How come Bulliwuf does not get a seat? If you honor me, you must do the same for him! Atar announced to the cringing mage.

  A timid servant was trying to figure out where he should place the Hero’s plate, since a mace took up the spot reserved for it. His hand inched toward it.

  How come everyone else has food? Are you insulting me?

  Atar’s voice had risen and Heslin clapped his hands over his ears, moaning.

  Please, please don’t shout!

  Sorry.

  “Heslin, what does he say?”

  “Yes, yes do tell us!”

  “Umm, he wants a seat of honor for his wolf. And he wants food.”

  “Oh the very idea of it!”

  “Most unusual!”

  “He is indeed a savage. Imagine seating an animal at the royal table!”

  The mage seemed to have said something to alarm them, Atar noticed. The servant was attempting to slide the plate under the mace’s handle.

  “Fetch it for him at once. He is our guest of honor!”

  Atar looked over to the girl again, almost without meaning to and he saw she was choking with mirth. He felt a smile tug at the corners of his own mouth, then saw the hand creeping toward his mace. He seized it in a lightning fast vice-like grip.

  He means no harm! Heslin shouted in his faint little voice.

  You really think so? Atar asked, sounding unconvinced.

  Yes, let him go before they call the guards!

  Ha! I can take them on! But he let go. Tell him I’m sorry, I too, would try to steal my mace if I were he.

  But…

  Bulliwuf huffed and swiped a huge joint of meat off the table. He tore into it, eyes darting a malevolent look at a man seated nearby.

  “Tell us what he’s saying!” a lady demanded shrilly.

  There was a shuffling as people made room for the extra chair. Bulliwuf got up and settled himself in, placing his huge paws on the table and grinning at them all, panting.

  I know you’re showing your teeth off now. Hey, look at the man next to you, he looks pretty sick. What do you think, intestinal problems?

  Ah, let me see. Bulliwuf stuck his nose in the man’s ear and snorfled richly.

  “AHHH! I’m being attacked, oh Lord! No! Help!”

  His meat would not be as tasty as that of some of the others, Bulliwuf said as the man’s futile struggles awakened his predator’s instinct. As the man leapt up, Bulliwuf attempted to sniff his retreating ass.

  Heslin moaned again.

  Atar bit into his meat savagely, eating with his customary zeal. His eyes swept the table, as juice dribbled down his chin. A trembling servant put a large silver platter in front of Bulliwuf. Atar grabbed a large leg of some cooked beast and set it on the platter. Bulliwuf took a bit and shook his head as a dog does when savaging a rabbit. Meat juice sprayed on the elegant dresses and a rumble of fear mixed with discontent filled the air.

  This is pretty good, but I think you cooked it too long. Suddenly, Atar caught sight of a frail looking fellow, seated across from the red haired girl. He caught Atar’s eye because of the contempt in his look. He was frowning his disapproval and his face contorted with disgust. Atar used the leg of the animal he was gnawing on to point him out to Bulliwuf. Then he started with surprise. Next to the little man was Zohak! Where had he come from? Zohak was eating in a very civilized manner, with the little silver things. He was dressed elegantly.

  “Filthy barbarian - eating in my royal presence! Ooh!” Sugreeva said. He was wearing silver brocade, which made him look pretentious and washed out.

  Atar gave him a greasy smile. Sugreeva turned his eyes away hastily and leered at the red haired girl across from him.

  Atar watched them.

  Umm, came Heslin’s timid voice, I’ll give your compliments to the chef. That man you are pointing to is Prince Sugreeva of Persia. He is the crown prince. Please do not point at his royal presence, he is offended.

  Atar still stared at the man. Heslin, that human you call the prince, he does not appear to be a man or a woman. He is weak. I believe he will die of malnutrition. See how he hesitates to put food in his mouth. He is sneering at everything. Perhaps he is constipated.

  Bulliwuf turned his head and inspected the prince man. I believe you are right. He is not worth eating. But do you notice that Zohak is very friendly with him? He is acting like some sort of city person, when we know he is a savage just like us. Look, Atar, he’s glaring at us. Bulliwuf drew back his muzzle to reveal his huge, sharp teeth, making several people scream.

  By that time, the table was buzzing with animated, loud conversations. What a curiosity they had found.

  Sugreeva leaned in closer, “Don’t be shy, sweet Sophene the Sharp. We will soon be wed. I will ravish you.”

  She glared at him. “It is not proper,” she said, biting off each word. “In any case, you are so frail that you could not ravish a willing corpse.” She looked at Atar.

  Sugreeva laughed. It was a high, tinny sound that grated on her nerves. “Proper! My dear girl, we shall share no secrets when we are wed, as you know we shall be. And I will show you my prowess. Oh there have been so many women that I have left screaming for more.” He licked his lips and opened his mouth.

  Princess Sophene sneered. “That is because you can only give so little. Look at your delicate hands. They say a man’s…”

  Umm, may I call you Atar? Atar? Can you hear me? King Cyazores wants to know how it felt when you killed the monster on top of the mountain. Atar?

  What? Huh? Atar looked around. He never would guess that others shared his freakish gift of mind speech. He’d have to watch his thoughts.

  I said King Cyazores wants you to describe how it felt when you killed the monster. He wants you to describe it.

  Atar looked over to see one of the Kings and several others staring at him expectantly. He blushed under the attention. Well, I…um. I didn’t really think too hard about it. Instinct. It was only instinct, if you know what I mean. Atar had never had to explain anything he had done.

  They goggled at him. In the distance, the tramp of marching feet thudded.

  “Really? Ask him how he likes his new life,” The Queen next to the King ordered.

  What new life? Atar asked when the mind speaker projected the question. I’m certainly not going to stick around here!

  Suddenly loud voices cut through the uneasy peace that had settled over the diners.

  “You son of a whore and a false King. You take after your treacherous father, you fop. I don’t care if the Northern Savages raze my kingdom to the ground, I’ll never marry you!” Princess Sophene the Sharp shouted venomously as she spat onto the table. She scooped up a dish of mashed vegetables and slung them into Sugreeva’s furious face.

  From around the corner, guards wearing scarlet marched toward the banquet. They were from Sugreeva’s kingdom. Their orders, straight from the mouth of Emperor Hergor, were clear: kill the Scythians—all of them.

  “You bitch! I’ll teach you to behave. Guards! Guards!” Sugreeva squeaked, outraged. He reached for his knife and Atar saw red. With a roar, he jumped up onto the table, mace in hand, scattering delicate china everywhere. With uncanny grace, he leapt over the fan of the blue-green bird and landed with a crash that made the heavy table shake.

  Screams tore through the air, flames from the knocked over candles began to catch onto the tablecloth and spread. People ran, tripping over their finery, scattering in all directions. The guards rushed toward the melee, eyes bent on the savage. />
  Atar took the little man by the throat and shook him, gazing straight into his eyes. He bared his teeth in a feral mask, and then threw the man to the floor. He could not kill the weakling. It just didn’t seem right.

  Sugreeva was coughing and gasping. Atar heard a scream of outrage from behind. He whirled and saw a guard hauling the red haired girl away. The guard was attempting to pull the Princess away to safety, but coming from Scythia, Atar interpreted the guard’s actions differently. The guard must be planning to ravish the poor girl!

  Atar roared, kicking a heap of confections out of his way. He vaulted toward the man and tore the girl out of his arms. The guard brought his sword down in a quicksilver blur, but Atar saw it coming in the nick of time and brought up his mace to crash against the guard’s flimsy weapon.

  Another two guards saw what was going on and rushed over to help, swords drawn. Bulliwuf materialized from under the tablecloth to stand in their way, hackles up, snarling. The guards turned to run and Bulliwuf gleefully tore the bottoms out of their pants, leaving their naked behinds exposed to the sun. For a moment, Atar and the burly guard were locked in combat. Atar looked into the guard’s eyes. He saw murder written in them clearly. Their shadows fell over the terrified girl and she cast around for a weapon, anything at all.

  Atar twisted his mace suddenly and the sword flew out of the guard’s grip. Atar tapped him on the head, deciding, in a split second, not to kill the man. He turned to the girl and hoisted her over his shoulder. Keeping low to the ground he streaked out of the melee through a hail of arrows, more guards close at his heels. A group of soldiers popped up in front of him. He slowed then barreled right though them, hulking mace slashing through their formation.

  Bulliwuf snarled, loping right behind them and they bolted into the streets with the speed of desperate creatures. Atar’s travel-hardened muscles carried him and the girl over the ground easily. Surprised revelers watched him bolt past. The hour was still early and there were many people about. Guards shouted, screaming orders at each other and Atar felt an arrow whiz past his ear. He redoubled his efforts and took a sharp turn into a narrower street that seemed to have fewer people in it. Behind him, he could feel the tramp of booted feet coming for him. He was running now at a flat sprint, not caring if he ran into people. He looked up, ahead—damn—was a dead end. The outside of one of the more sturdy shops blocked the way, but he didn’t slow down. Nearby he heard someone scream. Two steps away from the face of the wall he vaulted high up, grabbing for support with steely strong fingers. With one hand, he pulled himself up onto the roof. The revelers gasped with surprise.

  “He jumped that like a cat! Look at those muscles!”

  “My god! Such grace! He has taken a girl for himself as is the barbarian custom!”

  The blurring ground beneath them fell away as they rose gloriously into the air. Bulliwuf scrambled up behind them. They pelted over the roof, hoping it would not collapse, and leapt off the other side. Atar took two more turns before he slowed down and looked around. The street was crowded, but there were no guards in sight.

  He heaved the girl off his shoulder, a smile already on his face. He had saved her.

  The punch came as a complete surprise.

  He reeled back, clutching his nose, his eyes filling with hurt and confusion. He saw something flicker in those eyes then she started saying something that sounded angry. Her cheeks were very flushed. She looked gorgeous.

  Bulliwuf translated for him.

  “How dare you lay a hand on my Royal person, you could be tortured for weeks for a crime like that! What possessed you to do such a bizarre thing?” The people around them had stopped to gawk at the show. “You had better be thankful that we have witnesses, you oaf, or you would be killed.” Suddenly her eyes shifted from his face to Bulliwuf. Her tone changed, “What a lovely creature, can I touch him? Oh that’s right, you don’t understand me.” She slowly reached out a hand to the wolf then thought better of it. Bulliwuf wagged his tail at her and throwing dignity to the winds, she bent over slightly. Bulliwuf gave her a big kiss and to Atar’s surprise, she laughed and scratched his ears. The Princess began to coo soft words to the huge wolf as she stroked his silver fur. Suddenly Bulliwuf rolled over, exposing his belly and private parts for her to rub. His eyes seemed glazed with delight.

  I don’t know what they see in you, Atar complained jealously.

  She looked up at Atar as she straightened and turned. She picked up her skirts and strode away. Atar looked at Bulliwuf, who was sitting down now, biting at a flea.

  I don’t get it. What am I supposed to do to get a girl to like me?

  Well, if I am not enough for you, then just follow her.

  Atar looked dubious for a moment then struck out after her. You should talk, Bulliwuf. You were the one showing off your jewels to her. But he was still worried. What if those guards were still lurking around? She needed protecting. She must be in shock, he thought. She sounded angry. Maybe she was angry with the guards, yes that must be it.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Once he had seen the redhead back to safety, he turned to look at Bulliwuf. She was prettier than Musa the Golden Haired!

  Oh, you want her?

  I was just making an observation. What should we do now? Do you think it’s worth it to go back to my tent?

  Why don’t we just get Ishria and leave?

  Sounds good, do you know where he is?

  Yes. I had to lead him to his stall. He would not be touched by anyone else.

  They were attracting a lot of attention. He needed to move fast or they would be trapped as effectively as if the guards had tied them up.

  Atar followed Bulliwuf down a maze of streets, darting in and out of the shadows, trying not to catch anyone’s eye. This was a difficult task when everyone was looking. They passed the usual jugglers and stalls of goods. Atar could not help but notice there was an almost frantic quality to the festivities. People knew the festival would be coming to an end.

  Atar felt his breath catch as he ducked down out of the guard’s sight. He hadn’t even seen them there. The people staring at him gave him funny looks, but realized he was hiding from the guards and thankfully did not draw attention to him. If anything, he imagined they pressed a little closer to him to shield him from the guards’ eyes.

  He heard the tramp of their feet and the sound of their frustrated voices fade and he straightened.

  How much farther, Bulliwuf?

  Not too far. Can’t you smell the tasty horses?

  Sure, of course, Atar said sarcastically. Bulliwuf didn’t seem to pick up on it.

  They abruptly turned a corner and there were the stables. They froze. In front of the posh, upscale building were several burly Persian guards. One of them was talking in a loud, impatient voice and the other was shaking his head with an “Oh how stupid can you be” look on his face. The other appeared to be staring off into space. Atar felt his hopes sink when he saw a whole group of soldiers, not twenty feet away from the three, talking at the front entrance. In a flash, he pressed himself against the side of the building, out of their view.

  Inside, he heard Ishria nicker a greeting at him. He smiled. I’ll get you outta there old boy! But how? He could take his chances and knock out three guards, but even assuming the three didn’t kill him, he would most certainly be killed by the troop of twenty or so. They must have known he’d be looking for his horse. He crept around the side of the building with the stealth born of years of practice. He ran his hands along the wall as he went, hoping against hope that there would be a back entrance.

  There wasn’t. Bulliwuf, let’s climb on the roof.

  There’s a skylight up here, but I don’t know how we’re going to get up.

  No problem, Atar said, looking at the sheer wall. There was one diagonal plank nailed over the vertical planks, but it was rather thin, since its only purpose seemed to be decoration. It was very high up. There was nothing for it, but to act before the soldiers
had regrouped themselves enough to set a serious trap. He set his mace on the floor, a few feet away and looked at the wall. He took a step back and leapt up, using the momentum of his body to vault himself upward. As his hand closed around the board, he felt his fingers slipping on the slanting surface. Desperately, he scrambled for purchase, heart thudding. Two of his fingers caught a knot on the wood. Using this, he hauled himself upward, trembling all over with fear and effort.

  Just when he felt a little more secure, his heart hammered with fear again as the plank he was clutching gave a groan of protest. He looked over and could see the board slowly detaching itself from the wall. This is a nightmare he thought, as he plunged toward the ground. Atar and the plank fell with a terrific clatter.

  “Whoa, who’s there?” one of the guards shouted. He could hear the tramp of booted feet coming around the building.

  Get out of here, Bulliwuf! He flashed the wolf a half formed plan and dashed for his mace. Bulliwuf streaked away to hide in the shadows, as Atar scrambled for his mace. He drew the dagger in his other hand and plunged it viciously into the wall. Pulling himself up, he buried the points of the mace into the wall and hauled himself upwards. He plunged the dagger in again, moving with desperate, blurring speed. His foot just disappeared over the roof as the guards rounded the bend. He dashed towards the skylight and dropped down soundlessly, hoping he wouldn’t break a leg. He landed with a little woof.

  Ishria whinnied a greeting and stamped an impatient hoof as if anxious to be off. Atar hurried over to the beast and flung the stall door open, not even hearing the screech of hinges. Ishria had gouged out deep marks on the door during his stay, resentful of having his freedom curbed.

  Atar flew onto his back with the grace of a Scythian and urged his well-rested horse toward the door.

  There were shouts of surprise. “You there. Stop!”

  The guards came around from the back of the building at the sound of clattering hooves, but leapt out of the way of the wild eyed barbarian, who was swinging his club with such determination. They stood there dazed. How could he have possible retrieved his horse with close to thirty guards on alert? They stared at each other.