Takeo's Chronicles, page 43
That didn’t take long, Takeo thought. And it comes as no surprise he chooses the prettiest of the three to woo. Those high cheekbones and luscious lips are the female equivalent of his strong chin and dashing smile. Actually, on second thought, I’m not upset. Past experience suggests nothing will come of this.
As for Zulima, she was nowhere to be seen.
Everyone waited patiently and quietly, save for the lewd remarks from the mercenaries to the women, which said women admirably ignored. They stood in their own groups, arranged like the five points of a star and seemed content to stay that way for quite some time. They did so for an entire hour, but when Zulima still didn’t show, one of the younger men in the satyr’s group cleared his throat and asked the group of women if they’d been told to meet here at first light, too. They said they had, and Gavin quickly confirmed their own group had, as well. Attention fell to the mercenaries, who ignored the social cues.
A second hour passed.
“You think this is another test?” Nicholas asked.
“What for?” Gavin scoffed. “If this is a test, what possible benefit could it have?”
“Weed out those who don’t want it badly enough?” Nicholas shrugged.
“If that was the case, there would be more people here,” Takeo replied, shaking his head. “There’re fifteen of us, sixteen with Zulima. That’s not too many for a hunt, as far as I know. This is just plain unprofessional.”
Halfway into the third hour, the group of four mercenaries began to complain about sobriety. Two seemed desperate to get a drink and return, one wanted to get a drink and not return, and the last was the only one who wanted to stay at all. Some loud bickering ensued, and they wandered off by the end of the third hour, their last words something along the lines of they’d “had enough of being made a fool.” None encouraged them to stay, though Takeo did entertain the idea. This group of four was exactly what he’d had in mind when he thought of sacrificing mercenaries to the hydra.
Within minutes of the mercenaries leaving, Zulima finally appeared.
She came sauntering out of the city in no particular hurry, looking tired and disheveled, with a ragged bag strapped over her shoulder that looked lazily packed. When her eyes fell upon the eleven remaining souls, she snarled and muttered what Takeo could only assume was a curse.
“Those other four aren’t here yet?” she croaked, voice sounding dryer and scratchier than the day before. “I hope they don’t think I’m going to wait for them. I don’t have time for that.”
Takeo’s and Gavin’s heads swiveled slowly to face each other as they shared a look of disbelief.
“They were here,” one of the women said, the one with whom Gavin had been exchanging looks. “They left when you didn’t show.”
Zulima stopped a few paces from the severed heads, breathing hard as she squinted at the bright sun, and dropped her pack to the ground. Then she put a calloused hand to her remaining ear and leaned forward.
“Huh? What was that?” Zulima said. “I didn’t quite catch it. Did you just say I didn’t show? That seems odd, considering I’m standing right here. I’d have to be, in order to hear you insulting me. I hope you don’t fight like you look because you look like you’d be more comfortable in a warlord’s palace with your rear sticking up in the air and your face shoved into a pillow.”
The woman balked, as did damn near every other person standing with their arms folded, which was everyone except the satyr, his companions, and Krunk. The woman turned a shade of red and seemed about to reply, but then turned the other cheek and swallowed her anger. Takeo heard Gavin start to grumble and step forward, but he stopped the knight with a cautious hand. He met Zulima’s gaze and pointed to the sky.
“You told us to meet here at first light,” Takeo said. “Yet it’s near midday. She has a point.”
“And you owe her an apology, you old crone,” Gavin seethed.
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing,” Zulima replied. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you just called me a liar and then demanded I admit wrongdoing.”
“Your instincts are correct,” Takeo replied back, coldly. “I’m calling you a liar. He’s demanding you apologize.”
It was Zulima’s turn to balk this time. She looked down to the ground, then back up to Takeo. When his expression didn’t change, she looked over at the woman in scale armor, but that one glared back. Zulima blinked and shook her head.
“You all are dumber than I thought,” she muttered. “I ain’t no liar. If you’ll recall, I said for you to meet here at first light; I didn’t say nothing about me! Secondly, when I opened my eyes this morning, this was the first light I saw right there. Apparently, you opened your eyes earlier and saw light before me. How was I to know you were going to see a different light, hm? You should have told me which light you intended to see; then I’d have known you were expecting me, and I could have told you to wait your filthy, short, ugly self right here until I get here and I DON’T CARE HOW LONG I MAKE YOU WAIT, YOU DAMNED WELL BETTER WAIT. DOIMAKEMYSELFCLEAR?”
We’re doomed, Takeo thought. We’re clearly and utterly doomed.
Zulima had shouted until she was blue in the face and breathing hard. Her chubby stomach puffed against her patchwork armor of hide and scale, and she darted her hideous face from one group to the next. She ended by settling her eyes on the lone man standing off to the side.
“You haven’t said a word,” she accused. “You got any problems?”
“None yet,” he said and shrugged. “Just so long as I get paid.”
“That’s the right attitude.” Zulima smiled, then turned her gaze on the satyr. “And what about you, stumpy? Any smart comments?”
The satyr opened its mouth, paused, and then closed it.
“Aye, you’re as smart as you are hairy,” Zulima said, then turned on the trio of beautiful woman. “So what about you? What’s it going to be? You seemed able enough two days ago, saying you wanted to kill some rakshasas. Don’t you want to add some flavor to that lovely face? What’s changed, hm?”
Zulima ran fingers down her mauled face, grinning in a way that made her appear more hideous. To the other woman’s credit, she only raised her nose and curled her upper lip.
“My opinion of you has changed,” she said.
“And why in the world does that matter?”
“I’m sorry, but I anticipated dealing with someone a bit more,” she paused to look Zulima up and down, “refined, or at least somewhat refined. We came to this city hoping to join up with a fellow Kshatriya, specifically a seasoned female Kshatriya. Unfortunately, we arrived while you were on a hunt and had to wait months for your return. In that time, I heard stories of your generosity, your hospitality, and your passion. Some warned you were a bit crude and hard to look at, but this? Your tardiness, your anger, and your childish banter? I’ve met mercenaries with better manners.”
“If you want manners, hire a whore,” Zulima replied. “I deal in blood, money, and results.”
Zulima grabbed her scimitar, ripped it from its sheath, and leveled it with both hands, making everyone step back in surprise. Hands went for weapons, but no one drew when Zulima went still. Takeo’s pulse ticked up a notch, and he felt a thirst in his throat.
Zulima eyed each of them and then pointed her blade at the severed rakshasa heads.
“You see these, huh?” She tapped each. “Do you smell that rotten stench on the morning breeze? That’s my work. That’s my reputation. You are breathing in my legacy. Go on, take a big whiff. Decide now if that’s what you want. If so, then follow me, because I’m going to line this city in rakshasa heads, then the next city and the next city and the next until I run out of heads or someone puts my head up instead! I don’t have time for your nonsense about tardiness and manners. And you, dress boy, I don’t have time for history or even names. By this time tomorrow, half of you may already be dead. Every time, every month, every hunt, I see people just like you die, and die, and die again, trying to scrape together just a piece of what I’ve accomplished. You all look the same to me now. Just faceless, stupid, blood- and money-thirsty nitwits who have no idea what you’re up against. How could any of you dare to think, even for a moment, that you are worthy enough to question me? Huh? The level of arrogance in your eyes and faces makes me almost want to watch you die. Especially you, woman. You claim to be a Kshatriya—all three of you—and yet you place more weight in my lateness than in these two decapitated piles of flesh right before you? No wonder you sought me out. Your priorities are so backwards you’d probably piss in your bed on a cold night.”
Zulima was blue in the face again. The woman she’d yelled at was standing tall, but with her jaw open and eyes popping. Her two companions were in no better shape, both gritting their teeth while clenching their weapons. Gavin looked similar, only his face was stained with too much disbelief to be angry. Krunk seemed to have caught on that something was amiss and was now snarling, while Nicholas and the lone man were grinning like they’d just been a part of some clever inside joke. Takeo wasn’t sure what to think yet, but the hand on his katana was starting to come up with an idea of its own.
“No more?” Zulima said. “Nothing else to say, pretty little wench? I hope you’ve finished your little woe-is-me party. Your little, boohoo, I-had-to-wait-a-little-while-in-the-sun party. Pathetic!” She spat in the woman’s direction. “Anyone else need a lesson in manners? Anyone else want to be reminded of why they’re here and whom they’re listening to? I prefer we do it now before the dying starts.”
This woman is out of control, Takeo realized. I’ve seen akki with more sanity than her. Something needs to be done. I can’t let this continue unchallenged.
“I’m not sure how much longer I can hold back,” Gavin whispered.
“Let me handle it, please,” Takeo replied.
Time to establish dominance.
He stepped forward and drew his katana, the quiet ring of metal barely audible over the midday breeze, yet loud enough to draw every eye. Zulima raised a brow.
“I need a lesson,” Takeo said. “If you’d be so kind.”
Chapter 17
Zulima eyed Takeo’s exposed katana like it was a foreign object of unknowable design. Then she eyed him, his defiant stance, and huffed.
“And what do you need exactly?” she snapped.
She broke into a stride, marching straight up to him until her belly pushed against his, and batted his katana away. She stared right up into his face, and Takeo met the gaze with what he knew was an icy stare. Being this close, Takeo could see the acne scars under Zulima’s battle scars, and he was surprised to find her breath didn’t stink half as bad as he thought it would.
“What are you thinking, you dumb dress-wearer?” Zulima spat the words at him. “You think just because you know where some rakshasa is, hiding away and shivering like a coward in a cave, that you’re in command now?”
“I think my knowledge and number of companions makes me more useful than you,” Takeo replied, levelly. “Useful enough that I can demand you tone down the aggression and disdain you’re showing to your would-be allies.”
Zulima glanced at Takeo’s katana again and drew in a deep breath through her nostrils, sucking down what sounded like a load of snot at the same time, and swallowed it. Out of the corner of his eye, Takeo caught one of the other women gagging and the satyr grinning. Zulima backed away and began pacing around Takeo, eyeing him up and down while casting glances at the others. Takeo remained rooted and unfazed.
“Just for everyone’s information,” Zulima began, folding her arms around her back, “this one here came to me claiming he knows where to find a rakshasa. Apparently, he thinks this makes him special. He’s also got four friends, which is rare for a knave. Course, he has yet to explain to me where this rakshasa is, or more specifically, why he needs my help in slaying it. So let’s have it out, ronin. Why are you here?”
The attention shifted to Takeo, and he felt somewhat resentful of that. A quick calculation told him where this conversation was headed and that he’d mistaken Zulima’s insanity for stupidity, which was a foolish thing to do. He should have known better.
“There’s a rakshasa hiding in a cave along the coast just a few weeks’ travel north,” Takeo said. “However, there’s a hydra guarding the cave. We five can take the rakshasa, but not the hydra without help.”
“Ah, I see,” Zulima replied. “So, what you’re telling me is that you do need my help. That, truth be told, you are not more useful than I am. In fact, by the sounds of it, you actually need me more.”
“I think we need each other equally,” Takeo said, then regretted it.
Zulima laughed. “So now we’re equal? By all the goodness in my heart, did I hear correctly? Why, just a second ago you were saying I was less useful, but now we’re equal? I’ve rarely seen anyone retreat so quickly. Can I ask, little ronin, how you stand up straight without a spine?”
Takeo remained quiet, keeping the emotion drained from his face. He wouldn’t be goaded again so easily.
“You don’t need no talking to, I see.” She squinted. “You’re holding that weapon mighty tight, though. Is that what this is all about? You’re mad you had to dodge a cup but I get to claim superiority unchallenged? You want to see what I’m worth.”
“What you’re worth?” Takeo repeated, a dim memory echoing in his head. “Are you suggesting that men are only worth the time it takes to kill them?”
“I am,” Zulima replied, “and it’s true.”
“I knew a rakshasa who used to say that,” Takeo said. “His name was Jabbar.”
The name shuddered through the crowd like a tremor, causing all the others to balk and jump like villagers hearing a warning gong. Eyes popped wide, as did backs straighten and ears perk. However, it was Zulima’s reaction that caught the most attention. She recoiled as if struck, her eyes dilating and mouth falling open, aghast for a moment. She seemed so shocked that it surprised Takeo and the others, who turned on Zulima with absorbed interest.
The hideous woman caught sight of the looks and quickly regained her composure, then glared at Takeo.
“You knew Jabbar?” she asked.
Takeo hesitated to answer, fearing perhaps he’d gone too far. Then he tossed that away because going back would only show weakness. It was better to charge forward, and Aiguo had been right; the best lies were sown with truth.
“Not just him,” Takeo said. “I knew the Angels’ Vassal, as well. I was her companion. You see this man right here? The blonde one? He was her first love and had her first kiss. The man behind him is her brother, and the purple one there, her friend. And this man here? He was Jabbar’s right hand. As ridiculous as it sounds, we’re on a mission to continue the Vassal’s legacy and save the world, and the first step is to cleanse this land of evil. We’re here to hunt rakshasas, and we’ll not be trampled on, even by the likes of someone as reputable as you.”
Zulima’s jaw dropped open, showing off her remaining black and yellow teeth, and she mouthed some silent words of disbelief. Takeo glanced to the other groups only to see them bewildered. The lone man seemed to be taking it best, only raising his eyebrows and looking quite entertained.
Zulima looked slowly from Takeo to his companions, eyeing them one at a time until her gaze fell on Aiguo. It held there the longest, suspending them all in silence, until a smile crept across her face. She looked at Takeo as if they were sharing a joke, and then laughed.
“You were her lover?” Zulima asked. “And that one, too? And the big viking is somehow related to some short twig of an amazon? Yeah, sure. And I shared drinks with her for a fortnight under the stars! Ha! You and every other person from here to The North seems to have known the Vassal personally. Good one, ronin. Alright then, if you say so. You proclaim you’re worth so much? That you’re not some common rabble to be pushed aside? Prove it. Just understand that when I beat you, you’ll fall in line and do precisely what I tell you, when I tell you, how I tell you. Do we have a deal?”
“Deal,” Takeo said with a smile, “but if I win, the tables turn. This no longer becomes your hunt. I dictate what happens next, and you’re nothing but hired muscle. Is that a deal?”
Just say yes, he hoped.
If Zulima agreed to this, then they’d have a much easier time of everything. He could coordinate the attack on the hydra, perhaps sneak into the cave undiscovered. If they were lucky, they might even be able to use the jinni’s powers to capture two rakshasas of their own without any help from Hyun at all.
No messy risk of trying to send a message to Hyun. No worrying about following this psychotic woman, who’d obviously cracked under the stress of war. No chance of a rakshasa slipping away if Hyun decided to do something foolish.
Please say yes, he hoped.
“Whatever you say,” Zulima said and waved, walking away to an open area amongst the sands. “It’s a deal. You were the one foolish enough to ask for this, so we’ll do this with naked steel. First to draw the other’s blood wins.”
He breathed a sigh of relief and looked back at Gavin, who smirked. The knight nodded his approval, Nicholas was grinning, Krunk looked delighted, but Aiguo was holding his breath.
Takeo drew his katana and walked out to the sands to face Zulima. As he leveled his blade at her, he could almost hear Hyun admitting he’d underestimated Takeo. He could picture the two rakshasas in chains before him. He could hear Lady Xuan telling Takeo about his father.
