Chapter Five

  To Live Freely

  Within the pockets of the hunter was little of interest, spare for one that would change the course of many lives, being the ennoblement of some and the downfall of thousands. Kugo was the first to begin looting the corpse, finding a hefty pouch of coin which would supply them for a long while, even with Nephis’ pestering. Moss plucked every odd trinket, hanging them from his rugged form so he might search for more. In the end, he resembled both a crow and his nest. Nephis, however, was most interested by a bundle of letters and a leather-bound journal. She rifled first through the journal and was excited to see it full of incantations, but her expectations soon withered away. They were only shorthand, not containing any philosophy or formulations needed to be useful. But also within the journal were strange notes, often short and terse, and many drawings.

  The white towers of the countryside were detailed at great length, apparently by the hunter. He had sketched both from without and within, drawn in stern and quiet detail, with special attention given to the inside. Often cracked and damaged, and if the hunter was to be believed, bare; they were sturdy and of uniform material, always the white stone. Even despite their sparse decoration, it was plain to anyone that these were works of elegance and fine craftsmanship. There was a weightlessness to how the hunter depicted them, with their narrow and deep inlays, like the stone was made of fog and wisps. And lining the walls were carvings, often of birds and angels, but also of trees and seeds, but mostly of revelry, and in the revelry, always a star. Wine and gluttony were common themes. Upon one page was an impression of writing, it was of a script that Nephis did not recognize, though had heard of. It was nearly similar to their own, like a reflection in a rippling pool; it had the natural coils and tapers of the long-lost elves and the silhouette of this region's tongue. It could not be read, but it still called to the reader.

  Nephis stared in wonder at the words. The hunter had tried in vain to decipher the language, but had come no closer than Nephis did right now. Eventually, she tore herself from the book and took to the letters. The first made her blood run cold, it described her and where she had last been seen, in the forest where Kugo had kidnapped her. It gave full rights to her corpse, only very politely asking for whatever money she had. Nephis had no doubt as to who this letter was from, and quickly handed it to Kugo, who could not help but rub his temples as he read it. All the other letters, however, were from one man dubbing himself Wadiam, meaning ‘knowledgeable’ in the native tongue of the people. The letters pestered the hunter for constant updates, with each prod reminding him of the treasures he had expended at the hunter’s expense. And treasures they were, should the letter be believed. But there was one phrase that kept Nephis entranced, “Valai Kei”.

  “Keep in mind what we seek, the Valai Kei, and report to me as often as you can on your hunting. There are many who seek after it, and as sturdy as you think you are, they are clever and vicious, particularly the insatiable Barthus and his dullard hounds. I have also heard whispers of the Black Oak nosing in, it is their wont to involve themselves in others’ affairs. Do not alert them. Should we find the star, we should never want or worry ever again.”

  Nephis was gripped by the letter. The Valai Kei was only a myth, yet here was conspiracy. But then Moss pulled from a pouch something strange. It was a small idol, shaped like the white towers, being tall with a great bottom. It was finely etched, with a coiling pattern, like vines. But seated on top, within the crown, was a carving of a star that had been greatly worn down from constant rubbing and prayer.

  “Look what I found,” Moss said, as he tilted the statue from side to side.

  The fair lady’s eyes went as round as dinner plates as she looked at it, and she carefully plucked it from his hands. It was an idol, a carving as ancient as could be, of a myth.

  “Kugo,” she warbled, “Have you ever heard of the Star of the King?” she asked.

  “The children’s tale?” he asked, and it was true, the Valai Kei often appeared in stories and legends as a grand treasure won by the hero. “I suppose so.”

  And Nephis handed him the journal and the letters. Kugo read them over before tossing them back with little more than a scoff.

  “Leave fools to their foolishness,” he said. “If someone wants to waste their time digging in the dirt for buried treasure, I won’t get in their way. They may as well seek after the gnomes in the cupboard.”

  Nephis went red in the face. “What do you mean! Why would there be an idol if it were fake?”

  “Pagans have beliefs too, it doesn’t make them true,” he answered.

  “Oh, come on, Kugo! But what if it’s real! It grants wishes!” she pleaded.

  “Really? Weren’t you just telling me that sorcery comes from blood? How much life is in a stone or a diamond?” he challenged her, for indeed the firmament was studded by luminous stones, diamonds and rubies and amber. “And if there was a wish-granting star, what happened to its owners? Surely they could wish themselves out of any harm, no?”

  Nephis stammered and stuttered, but was unable to form any true rebuttal. “Well, maybe it was lost! Or sealed away!”

  Kugo chuckled.

  “You’re mocking me!” Nephis blubbered, “Stop laughing at me! It’s not fake! It’s not!”

  He continued to chuckle, but when she grew more flustered and began to bat at his shoulder, Kugo laughed, great and heavy, nearly doubling over at the frazzled mess the high lady found herself in. His laughs echoed through the streets and into the still dark night.

  “Alright,” he said after calming himself, “We’d best be going before it’s light. We don’t want anyone seeing us near this mess.”

  They gathered their things, returning only to the inn to collect what they had left behind in their plight. By first light, they left the city, heading onward through the rolling hills. Yet the allure of this treasure and its hunt would not leave Nephis. And her mind swam with the possibilities, anything she had ever wished for, all her troubles disappeared. And so the road became a little less dull.

  At long last, they stopped for the evening in a small village where they could find a room for the night. But once they had set their things down, Kugo took Nephis and Moss out away from the townsfolk and behind the hills. There, while the sun was not yet set, he had them stand twenty feet from him.

  “Nephis, you don’t know how to fight,” he said plainly.

  “No,” she grumbled, “What’s your point?”

  “You were nearly killed, twice, if it had not been for me,” he chastised her. And he tossed her a sheathed dagger. “You are going to learn to protect yourself, because frankly, you would die if you looked at a goat wrong.”

  “Quiet!” she exclaimed, “I could burn you to a crisp if I wanted to! Besides, you’re my retainer now, it’s your job to protect me!” Though she said this, she knew full well how close to death she had come in recent days.

  “Alright, but how long would you need?” he pressed.

  “Well, if I were to cast a spell, it would take me about five seconds,” she grumbled.

  Kugo then began to count to five and walked towards her. Nephis scrambled back, but even still he reached her as he said “three.” He held the wrist that would have been used in her gestures.

  “Fine,” she spat.

  “Unsheathe your blade,” he said.

  “What!” she eeped in shock.

  “You need to get a feel for the weight,” he explained, “But don’t worry, you won’t hurt me.”

  As she was about to ask yet another question, he ran at her with his still sheathed sword, knocking her gently on the head with it. “Dead.”

  “I wasn’t ready!” she protested.

  “That is the hope of any assassin or bandit,” he replied as he walked back, spinning on his heel as he finished and charging her again. Nephis squealed in terror as she shrank away, only to get knocked in her stomach.

  “Come on!” Kugo demanded, “Try to kill me!”

  “No!”

  “I’m going to break you!” he bellowed.

  Nephis shrieked.

  This continued fruitlessly for half an hour or so, before Kugo lay his sheathed blade on the soft earth. For all his efforts, they had gotten nowhere. The girl had the survival instinct of a worm. He sighed. “Nephis,” he said. The girl was currently lying flat on the ground, wheezing for air. “Do you have anyone you care about? That you want to protect?”

  “What?” she coughed, “Are you going to beat them too?”

  “Do you have anyone you’d die to protect?” he asked again.

  Nephis' thoughts went away, her little sister Calina coming to mind. She was a clingy thing, always following close and pestering her older sister. It had long annoyed Nephis, but in truth, she found it endearing.

  “You’ve got some iron in your eyes, stand up,” he said, and she did. “I’m coming for them, and you are all that’s left.”

  Nephis grimaced, still catching her breath, but held the knife a little tighter. And Kugo rushed her once again.

  Another half an hour passed with little to show for it. The closest Nephis had gotten was a limp-wristed jab, in which the point of the dagger stuck into Kugo’s armor for a moment. Nephis was black and blue with bruises, her muscles ached, and she could hardly move. Kugo sighed in disappointment. “Well, that’s all I can expect for tonight,” he surrendered. “Go get some dinner.”

  And Nephis began to set out, alone apparently, as when Moss came to follow after, Kugo called out to him.

  “Hold on, Moss,” he asked. “I’d like to spar with you.”

  Nephis limply waved goodbye and went on her way. But Kugo and Moss sparred for a long while. Moss did not flinch at Kugo’s blows and simply accepted each one as it came. And despite Kugo’s urging, he was slow to punch and fight back, always responding just a moment after. He said nothing, but Kugo was glad for it. And by the end of it, he felt he had come to know the golem a little.

  Their days on the road were simple, full of hearty food and often of sturdy beds, a blessing to weary Kugo. But as they slowly passed, the allure of the treasure hunt bore into Nephis’ mind, and she could not leave it alone. Her head spun with the possibilities, and her heart swelled with the romance of it. Out there in the world, all the threads of the world were converging on adventure.

  On these days, Nephis spoke up. “So, were you to find the Star of the King, what would you wish for?”

  Kugo ignored the question, while Moss mulled it over for a long while.

  “I’d wish to be a god,” Nephis haughtily announced, “I think I would make a fine goddess.”

  Kugo stared at her in horror.

  Moss gazed at her in disappointment.

  “What!” Nephis exclaimed. “Wouldn’t I be!? Fine and Fair? A spirit of humor and delight?”

  “Nephis . . .” Moss said softly. “Don’t be a god.”

  Nephis was horribly wounded, or so she thought, but let the offense pass. “I will forgive your insolence if you answer my question.”

  “I’d wish for wine and cheese,” Moss answered, “Every night.”

  “I think that can be arranged for,” Nephis answered, and she turned expectantly to Kugo.

  “There’s no point in something if you can’t take it for yourself,” he answered dully.

  “You’re no fun!” Nephis answered, “Come on, or I’ll have to smite you for your offense.”

  Kugo raised an eye, though none could see it, and sighed, “I’d wish for better shoes, or wiser companions.”

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Nephis huffed, but ignored the slight. “I thought you’d wish to walk freely,” she admitted.

  “I am free,” he replied. “I am bound by nothing. You should be the one wishing for freedom, living life in a gilded cage.”

  “You will be killed if you ever show your face, that’s no way to live life!” she protested.

  “Then I will choose how I die, that is one luxury I am sure is not afforded to you,” he said.

  Nephis ground her teeth, but could say little to the contrary.

  They came, after a short day of travel, to a small village of little renown. The road to it was long and lonely, and a grove bordered the road and much of the village. Yet as they approached, a small boy saw them and then ran towards the village. Nephis thought little of it, they were an eclectic group after all. As they came to the main road, they were met by a man, grey of hair and wearing the fine clothes of a mayor. He nearly fell at their feet.

  “You are here!” he praised them, “And so soon, we called to the governor for help, but they were silent. But here you are!”

  Each of them gazed in wary confusion at the strange man. “What is the issue?” Nephis asked.

  “You didn’t hear?” the mayor asked, “Did they not warn you of the orc?”

  Kugo tensed himself. “An orc, you said?” he asked.

  “Yes!” The mayor said, “We saw it lurking in the woods. But you needn’t worry, we have slain it. Would you like to see it?”

  Nephis was unsure how to answer and glanced up to Kugo. “Yes,” Kugo said sternly, “Show me your kill.”

  And the mayor led them into the village and through the town. Many of the men bore wounds, broken arms, bandages, one of them was even missing a leg. And on the edge of the village, near the woods, were homes in disrepair. One even seemed smashed in, a great portion of its wall missing. A few men were taken to putting them back in order, slowly building a frame where the door had been. Seeing the extent of the damage relaxed Kugo some.

  “Is this all your number?” the mayor asked nervously.

  “Yes?” Nephis answered, “Why should it not be?”

  “Ah, well, we were hoping for more to protect the village and now to help with the repairs if possible,” he wrung his hands, though tried his best to keep a thankful expression.

  “Do you fear another attack?” Kugo asked.

  The mayor nodded, a knot still in his throat. “Orc attacks, so deep in the country,” he muttered nervously. “Who has ever heard of it, not in many years. I had never seen an orc before, but I have heard that they travel in packs.”

  “Yes,” Kugo merely answered. “And what of the women? Are they alright?”

  “They are!” the mayor proudly said, beating his chest, “Yes, the men fought valiantly! Though many were terribly injured in the fighting, and a poor few dead, I do not know how we will make it through this, so many of our men injured,” he groaned, “Not without aid from our most wounderous governor.”

  “Indeed,” Nephis answered plainly, “I will have to inform him.”

  “Ah, outstanding! Yes, the orc is just this way; I had the boys drag it into a barn where it might not offend the eyes.” And the mayor led them towards an old, rotting barn that lay at the end of a fallow field. And Nephis and Kugo followed. But Moss did not. He watched as up the hill a young girl was playing, picking flowers and braiding them together. He did not notice as the others left, instead, his attention was drawn to the woods, where he saw something shifting in the dark.

  The mayor pulled open the doors, where in the cramped room, full of junk and tools, was a wide lump covered by a rough tarp. What lay beneath it was massive. Larger than Moss, and even splayed out, the creature came to Nephis’ knees. The mayor grabbed the tarp and pulled it away.

  There lay the corpse of an orc, full of wounds. Its great and muscled form was peppered at every inch with spear wounds and axe gashes. It had the form of a human, though much larger. Its face was sharp and almost beautiful, but even in death it was twisted into a grotesque snarl. The nose was long and thin, though broken a thousand times, and its ears long as daggers. It bore little, having the barest semblance of clothes. Nephis had heard that the creatures could and often did bear weapons, but it seemed this one did not. She was repulsed by the mouldering creature. But Kugo stared at it with nothing short of hate. For on its shoulder it bore a familiar mark, one he should never forget.

  There on that fateful day atop the mountain, deep in the dark of the night, Brother Kugo collected firewood, for winter had been harder and longer than any suspected it would be. And as he saw the smoke rise from the monastery, he ran as fast as he might, as fast as he could, to see it engulfed in fire and cold. Standing before the monastery was an artist admiring his work who bore the very same symbol, a hand of three fingers.

  It was fitting, Kugo mused, to find the mark on this beast and not a man. But his eyes could not leave it. “Could you leave us to it?” he asked the mayor.

  “Of course!” the mayor answered nervously and bowed out of the room.

  “What is it, Kugo?” Nephis asked.

  But he hardly heard her. He hunched over the shoulder, it had been burned on, like a brand to an ox. So large was it that it was impossible to miss. Orcs were not known to brand themselves. Cut and wound, yes, but not brand. It was presumed they could learn to forge and bend steel if they wished, but so wicked were they that any orc who tried would likely be beaten and slaughtered by his own for trying to gain an advantage over the others. Instead, when they were about, they pillaged and raped the countryside, looting what they could, bearing plows for spears and anvils for clubs. And staring at the beast, Nephis looked at Kugo with concern. “Kugo?” she called again.

  A beast sprinted from the woods towards the little girl. It bounded after her, grey skin and of human form, though it hunched over, falling onto its knuckles as it ran. Its long tongue wagged from its open maw, its eyes sharp and black, latched onto her. His long, greasy black hair clung to his form as each footfall shook the earth. Moss slammed himself before the beast, grabbing the orc by his branded arms, but the great weight of it pushed him back until his heels were deep in the dirt. The girl ran away, screaming in horror as the monster had returned.

  “No!” It croaked in a loud and hoarse voice, “Let me go! The girl will get away!” It barked at Moss, in a crude pronunciation of the common tongue.

  But Moss did not respond, all his efforts were on holding the orc back. The orc struggled and shook at Moss, all the while his eyes were locked desperately on the girl as she ran. He snapped and salivated, his beady eyes shaking in their bounds. “Unhand me!” The orc roared and tried to gnaw at Moss. They wrestled, Moss was barely strong enough to even hold him. But as they did, vines began to sprout around the monster’s legs, slowly and sturdily they grew and wrapped him in. Yet as soon as the girl left the orc’s sight, he howled in fury and threw Moss off of him. Yet Moss did not give in.

  “Kugo?” Nephis called again. “Do you want to step out?” she asked.

  “I’m fine,” he said, “I know what an orc is.” And then he paused. “Do you hear that?” he asked. And so there was a clamour, a fight, and a screech.

  Then the orc and Moss burst through the far wall with a great CRASH and BANG! The orc lay flat on his back, and Moss held him down by every limb. “Kill it!” Moss demanded. And vines once more began to sprout around its wrist, and neck, and feet. But seeing the brand, Kugo could not.

  Kugo plunged one blade into a hand, and another through its foot. Seeing a hammer and peg, he slammed on through, pinning another foot to the ground. And then he pressed down on the last hand. Moss stood and raised his foot to crush the orc’s head. “No!” Kugo demanded. And Moss paused.

  Kugo opened his mouth, but the words that came forth were not familiar to Nephis. They were rough and vile by their sound, like rot to the ear. “Who gave you that brand?” Kugo snarled in the language of the orc.

  The orc’s yellowed eyes were locked onto Kugo with crazed delight. “You speak the Black Tongue?” It asked back.

  “Answer my question!” Kugo ignored him.

  “Tell me!” the beast shouted, a smile inching up his face, “How do you know it? Who taught you? Who first spoke it to you?”

  And Kugo ripped his mask off, revealing his greying skin and a manic look in his eyes.

  The orc laughed. It boomed through the empty barn, shaking the walls. “Why do you wander from us?” It asked. “They will not love you like we will,” it purred, “Let me go and come home to your brothers.” It spoke the words, but it did not understand them.

  “Silence!” Kugo demanded in the foul speech. “Who branded you?” He spat again.

  “You wish to know him?” the orc asked, once again excited. “The Flesh Cutter? The Blood Letter? Orc Hewer? He Who Speaks!” Kugo did not notice that the eyes of the orc fell from him and onto Nephis. His eyes narrowed like a dog upon prey, and fingers tensed, and his muscles grew taught. The orc continued, “You wish to see him? The Cutter! The Iron Thorn! The Leader of Many!” As the orc said this, he thrust his hand through the sword, cutting it through, but as he would snatch the princess’ black skirt, Moss crushed his head. And the orc fell limp.

  “No!” Kugo wailed.

  Nephis was still flinching as the orc fell to the ground.

  “Moss!” Kugo roared, “I almost had a lead, why did you kill him?”

  “Kugo . . . “ Moss answered softly, “It is was going to grab Nephis. . .”

  Kugo snapped his head to look at them, his face still twisted in anger and frustration. But looking at Nephis’ face, still wide with fright, he turned his gaze to the ground and slowly put the mask back on. “Well, let’s let the mayor know we’ve dealt with the problem,” he said solemnly.

  “Yes,” Moss answered.

  And so they went out and informed the mayor of all that had happened. The people of the town quickly began to tie strings and bells about the wood line, and children were disallowed from leaving their homes. Every able-bodied man bore a spear, and those who had none hammered their plowshares into swords. With great caution, trees were hewn into palisades, and the little village walled itself in. Kugo was silent for the rest of the day, his thoughts far beyond them and the village. Nephis did not bother him, thinking it best to leave him to his stewing. When the mayor and his people found out that they were not from the governor, but from the capital, they felt all too coarse in their manners and thanks. And quickly, a banquet was arranged in their honor.

  The long table was set before them, and upon on it were great trays of food for their picking. Every delicacy in the village was given to them. And on either side of the party were all the important people of the village, hoping to catch a word or an ear. The people sang songs and danced, hoping to amuse their storied guests. Wine flowed from the casks until none was to be had any longer, and the ovens burned throughout the night. Every sort of dish the village could muster was to be had, beef pies, honeyed cakes, sausages from every larder, eggs of duck and chicken, pheasant, and every dried fruit were piled onto the tables, their plates crammed into one another and spilling over. All were welcomed to the hall, and all feasted until they should burst. The three of them sat at the center of the table, and were the admiration of all, especially Moss. But Kugo did not speak a word, at most grunting when offered this or that. And shortly into the feast, he slipped out and away. Nephis did not notice, for she was busy regaling the people with all that she had done in her journey, the stories always seeming to twist and bend to her favor. But Moss noticed.

  Once it was clear that Kugo was not returning to the dinner, Moss went to his quarters for the evening. He slowly opened the door to a dark room as black as night. Kugo sat on his bed, his head cradled in his hands. Kugo pulled at his face, seeming as if it had slipped off. He did not speak. He did not move. He only breathed and burned.

  “Kugo?” Moss called to him. “They are going to put out more cakes.”

  Kugo slowly sat up. “I’m alright, Moss,” he sighed. “I just need to go for a walk.”

  “Alright,” Moss said, “Would you like me to go with you?”

  “No, Moss. I’m alright. You stay with Nephis for now,” Kugo said softly.

  “I will,” Moss said cheerily and returned to his seat.

  The night was long and full of revelry. Every trick and talent that the people knew, they performed. Flutes and songs, dancing and plays, they told every story and joke in their heads for their mighty guests. The evening air swelled with wonder. Nephis laughed, and she and Moss drank and sang along to all their tunes. And for a night the both of them forgot their troubles, only stumbling into bed as the first light of morning drenched the horizon like blue water.

  Nephis awoke with sloth as her greatest companion. Slowly inching from her warm covers to the cold, hard ground of morning. She prepared herself as she always did, washing her face and straightening her hair, prying new scales from her arms. For breakfast, the people had come up dusty, an err she did not hold against them, and so was only afforded a single egg that had been laid over night. She packed her things and was sure to pen a letter to the governor and seal it with her own ring, requesting, if not ordering, some protection for the town. But as she planned to leave, she waited and waited outside of Kugo’s room. But he did not even make a sound. And so she knocked softly and called his name. And when there was no response, she slowly peeked through the door, seeing it empty.

  “He’s not in there!” she exclaimed to Moss. “Where could he be?”

  “Oh, he’s probably still on his walk,” Moss said slowly and plainly.

  “What do you mean ‘still’?” she asked.

  Nephis and Moss combed their way through the woods. The gnarled oaks twisted over the paths, tripping her as she tried to find her way through. For a while, she followed the trail of broken branches and crushed leaves, but she had no way to know that this was the path Kugo took. And not after long, the way disappeared. And she and Moss were soon lost. They sat in the wind, long away from the road, unsure of where they were or where to go.

  Then they heard stumbling, crushing, and murmuring in the distance. They did not know who made the noise, be it man or orc, but in hopes that it was Kugo, they followed. And this was not hard. For he stomped and cursed and cut his way through vine and branch. And indeed it was him. He looked over each branch and leaf, studying every bruised vine with hardnosed spite, slowly crawling forward on hands and knees, until the mouth of his mask was filled with grass and chaff.

  “Kugo!” she called out, “What are you doing?”

  “I’m tracking,” he hissed, “I’ve got to find where they’ve come from.”

  “How long have you been out here?” she asked.

  “Since last night,” he answered.

  “Last night!” Nephis squeaked. “Kugo, that’s enough!”

  “I’ll stay out here tonight as well!” he spat in anger, “I’ll stay out here as long as it takes to find them!”

  “This is madness!” she exclaimed. “The village is safe.”

  “The village? Damn the village! I need to know who branded them!”

  “Kugo,” Nephis murmured before gathering her courage. “How long will you be out here? Wandering the forest, following the tracks of boars and deer! How long has it been since they were branded? They’re tracks are long gone, as is the man who branded them!” she shouted at him with all the might she had. “Now come with us, and get some rest.”

  “Black!” Kugo cursed, “Black night!” And he ripped the mask from his head and threw it to the ground. He raged and wailed, tearing at his hair and clothes, bounded by his boiling hate.

  And in his rage, little Nephis crept towards him and reached up to hold his face, slowly turning it to her. Seeing her sad eyes, Kugo paused and became still.

  Nephis stepped back and reached out her hand, her signet ring glinting in the morning light. “Kugo, listen here! I am Nephis Flores, thirteenth of my father’s line, Emperor Aoth Flores, blood of the terrible drake Gorynych! That same blood flows through me! Recall you are my retainer and wield your hate and might for me!” Her proud gaze met his.

  Kugo smirked and nearly laughed before pausing for a short while. “Very well, Lady Flores.”

  “Good!” she said with a grin, “Now give me your sword and kneel before me.” He seemed baffled. “Just do it!” she ordered.

  And so he did, handing her his silver steel and kneeling in front of her. She unsheathed his blade and held it to his shoulder. “From this day forward, Kugo, you are my blade.” And returned his sword to him. “Now stand, recall you are to take me to the sea.” And they left once more.