Vagabonds Page 9

  As much as Sejit hated to admit, there was a certain joy to reminiscing.

  “Once he had healed enough, he continued to antagonize me. The priests shook like whipped dogs whenever he appeared. Every time I saw him I wanted to tear his limbs off, rip his body asunder and display it as an example to the others who would annoy me.”

  “Ah, love,” Sophia sighed, clasping her hands together against a cheek.

  “…Yes,” said Sejit with half-lidded eyes, “That said, after some time…”

  The lion was roused from her slumber by a commotion coming from the main chamber. Was it that time already? He had a regularity to his schedule. Almost respectable in that regard.

  The voices of the priests joined together, pleading with him to avoid incurring the wrath of Sejit, and a well-known voice would tell them off, that no, he wasn’t going to leave without giving the lazy lion a piece of his mind. This would then prompt a short struggle, but one in which the priests always lost. They believed in strict adherence to a policy of no violence within the temple, lest it awaken Sejit’s bloodlust.

  And yet, despite clear and specific instructions to not let him through, they would allow him anyways! One couldn’t get more specific than beheading a priest along with the declaration of: “This is what will happen if you allow him to bother me again.”

  Yet here he was.

  Somehow, what they believed was more important than the words of the goddess herself.

  Mortals.

  “I find you here once again,” the man said, soot and grime clinging to his sweat-slicked skin, “While the people hunger because they have no food. They sleep under trees because they have no homes. Women and children with no knowledge of the craft try to lay brick or fish.”

  Sejit yawned and stretched out, shifting from a four-legged shape to one that strode upon two legs with bare skin as easily as a mortal changed clothes. Picking up an ankle-length robe of white cotton, trimmed in gold, Sejit slid into it. The sensation of the soft fabric was a pleasant one, she had to admit.

  “Do you know how many people could be clothed with that one robe?”

  She eyed him. Without a word she approached and in a swift, easy motion hooked one foot behind his, then gave him a light shove to the chest, dumping him onto his back.

  “Do you not tire of teasing death? Do you wish to die so?

  “I do not wish for death,” he said, rubbing the back of his head where it’d smacked the ground, “I wish for a goddess instead of you.”

  She let out a sharp laugh and dove at him, slamming him back to the ground, straddling his chest with her knees pinning his arms.

  “If not for me, the other gods would have overrun this city long ago.”

  “Would they really be worse than you? And if not for you, they likely would’ve never attacked to begin with! You were the one who challenged them!”

  Sejit squeezed her thighs together, corded muscle bunching under cream-colored skin. Ribs that didn’t have time to fully heal popped and creaked. Most times, tormenting the mortals would put a sadistic grin on her face. But now? It’d become mundane. No matter how much abuse he took, he always came back for more. Even his cries of pain had become a simple annoyance, a dull end to a script that never changed.

  So why don’t I kill him?

  “You’ve heard wrong, boy. Long ago I decided to settle here after I had enough of wandering about. A bunch of hapless mortals showed up one day, I used them to hunt for me, and for some reason they decided to worship and build a city around me after I picked off a few raiders who bothered me.”

  “Then why did you not keep wandering and settle elsewhere?”

  “Because it was fun,” her teeth shone through like a beast, but as quickly as they flashed, they vanished behind her lips, “For a while, then it got old. Just like our little talks here.”

  Yes, just end this annoyance.

  Wearing the face of a joyless butcher, she lifted an arm. The limb morphed from human to lion, claws extended. His eyes lingered on her claws. There was fear there, yes, but it wasn’t of death, no, more like fear of not being able to live.

  “You’re no goddess of hunting or war, no protector. You’re just an animal that learned cruelty from us. I’d say I hope you return to wherever you came from, but no one deserves that fate.”

  “What’s that?” She hissed, eyes thin as razors.

  Silence poured into the rift between them. Claws twitched.

  They should be so lucky I defend them! This is how they repay me?!

  Never before have I had to endure this!

  Yet, it wasn’t just rage pumping through her veins. Whatever it was, it was… confusing. It burned like anger, but it wasn’t. It commanded her to conquer him.

  Claws receded, replaced by human fingers. He breathed out relief, but only got halfway through the breath before it caught in his throat. Sejit leaned down, close enough for her sandy-colored, shoulder-length hair to tickle his nose and cheeks; it was softer than he would have thought, akin to the fluff of a cat’s belly.

  She inhaled deep.

  “What is your name?”

  “Dasj’kit,” he responded, eyeing her warily.

  “Good, Dasj’kit. You belong to me now.”

  “What? I do not—”

  She silenced him with a ravenous, greedy kiss. A short while after, he let out cries of a different sort.

  Sophia blinked several times. “You raped him! How could you?”

  “You think nothing of me slaughtering mortals, yet I force myself upon one man and your sensibilities become offended.”

  “It’s… y’know, different,” Sophia said, attempting to use her hands to convey how, exactly, it was different with a variety of abstract gestures, all of which failed to convey anything. Seeing as how her argument was failing to persuade Sejit, she abandoned ship. “Aaanyways. How does a guy fall in love with you after something like that?”

  “You never cease to amaze me,” Sejit said, shaking her head. “While yes, I did force myself upon him to quell my desire, I do believe, in the end, he enjoyed the experience.”

  “What, ‘cause he came? That’s still rape, just so you know.”

  “I am aware,” Sejit said, “It took some time after the first encounter, and several others. I made him mine, to use at my leisure. Perhaps it was due to his nature, but once he came to understand his position he used the opportunities to engage me.”

  “…Engage you?”

  “Yes. At some point, after sex, he would seize upon the chance to discuss with me while I was content and satisfied. I cannot say when, but I found myself sharing things with him I had never told another soul. He reciprocated, and we eventually formed a bond unlike any other before then,” Sejit said, drifting close to the display case, the paw pads at the ends of her digits tracing across the glass, “I learned a great deal in my short time with him.”

  “Short? Did he die in a year or something?”

  “No. He lived… until I believe his 40’s,” Sejit said, low and flat. Sophia noted the muscles at her jaw had tightened so much she could make them out through the fur. And her ears—for the first time since she could recall, Sejit’s ears had sagged sideways.

  “Ah, short…”

  “Yes, they are.”

  Sophia shook her head and tapped an ear, just to be sure. It was Sejit’s voice and her words, but… Melancholy?

  “After we’d become acquainted…”

  Dasj’kit hammered away at the axe head, each blow reverberating in the empty smithy. Night had long fallen, leaving him to work by the light of the forge—which was fine enough, he’d reached a point where he could’ve made just about anything while blindfolded.

  By day he produced swords for the garrison and nails for the carpenters. By night he worked on something special.

  Three years ago Sejit had given him an incredible gift: The god of smithing, Ujumer. He’d been captured during an assault on a distant city that’d been funding mercenary raids.
Along with the god himself was a stockpile of silvery metal that he’d never seen before. It was incredibly hard yet wasn’t brittle, producing a sword that held an impossibly keen edge even after extended combat. Just as amazing, it never weathered. Other gray metals would turn reddish brown in a single day and could even begin to flake apart if they weren’t kept oiled.

  Of course, having such incredible properties meant it was an incredible task to work. He had to construct a second forge to the specifications of Ujumer as a normal forge couldn’t hope to achieve the needed heat—even the fuel needed was a laborious product. Tools suited for working bronze couldn’t hope to shape the godsmetal, requiring him to use Ujumer’s tools—via Sejit’s asking—to achieve any sort of progress.

  For two years he studied under Ujumer, learning secrets of the craft that he suspected few mortals possessed. Unfortunately, they’d only scratched the surface of what Ujumer knew before his untimely demise—an escape attempt gone awry. He couldn’t blame Sejit for lacking precision when it came to fighting three gods at once, two of which were well-versed in combat.

  A year ago he decided to craft her a weapon for the anniversary of their union. And tonight, it would be finished. All that was left after the hours and hours of pounding and heating and shaping and grinding and polishing were the finishing touches on the spear point capping the poleaxe.

  A labor of love brought to fruition.

  It wasn’t all that long ago when he hated giving her simple bronze swords, and now here he was.

  Dasj’kit paused to wipe the sweat from his brow. Even had to laugh at himself. He’d despised her. Then, after she gave in to lust, an apparently unknown emotion to the violent goddess until that moment, she truly claimed him. He was forced to live in the temple with her, subjected to her every desire.

  A few of the younger, dumber men had the gall to claim they were envious. Apparently, the cuts, scrapes, and bruises adorning his body were invisible to them.

  For a while he planned and plotted how to escape, to flee the city, but he couldn’t leave behind his parents and siblings. It was only by his skill that they had housing and food. So it was, one night after the deed was done, that he felt a sudden urge to ask, why him? Out of every mortal in the world? And she gave him an answer he couldn’t have ever expected: “Because I find myself drawn to you.”

  Really, it was such an obvious thing, yet hearing the words made him consider that he had her ear. So he asked if she would be able to lend him a hand the following day.

  She was sleepy, half-buried in cushions, and through closed eyes asked what he needed, then agreed before he’d had a chance to say what it was.

  In the morning he assumed she’d “forget,” but, no. While not thrilled by the prospect, she was a goddess bound by her word and agreed to drag a load of stone that was to be used to construct a smithy. In two trips she’d managed to haul what would have taken ten men half a day.

  From there, things built up. They’d developed a relationship.

  Dasj’kit wasn’t convinced by the reasoning that being the strongest meant one had to be the meanest, and he wished she’d stop calling him and the people mortals. Would be nice if she were kinder to people other than him—not that she was especially kind to him to begin with, at least not in the typical sense. She did handle him with a certain gentleness and willingness she showed no one else, for whatever that was worth. Plus, she’d become willing to help every now and then and ensured he and his family didn’t want for anything. With her aid, limited as it was, reconstruction breezed by.

  Everyone was still terrified of her, to be sure, but now there was respect mingled in.

  Several hours later, he finished. The weapon was light and sturdy. Strong. He ran a strip of leather across the sharpened edge, whereupon it seemingly cut itself in two.

  Sejit was on her back, sprawled out in her pile of cushions like a playful lion cub. The first cool night in an age. She’d been getting sick of all the heat.

  “Good evening,” came a familiar voice.

  There was Dasj’kit, standing on the ceiling.

  More importantly, what’s that he’s holding?

  He went from the ceiling to the floor as Sejit righted herself, assuming a two-legged shape and stood. “What’ve you brought me?”

  “Must anything I have be for you?”

  “Naturally.”

  “I’d love nothing more than to spite you,” he sighed, then tapped the butt of the shaft on the floor, “But yes, this is for you.”

  “Is this something Ujumer made?”

  “No, it’s something I made from the remaining ingots.”

  She took the weapon from his grasp, and then held a stance, rolling it in one hand. A few practice swings followed, the blade slicing through the air itself with a muffled ‘whoosh.’ A wide arc, a full circle, spinning it round one arm, flowing across her back to the other arm.

  The edge had come close enough to Dasj’kit to shave his eyebrows, leaving him with shaky knees.

  Her motions came to an abrupt halt as she noticed an inscription on the back of the axe head. She read it once, twice, three times, lips moving along silently. Carefully, she propped the weapon against the wall and came back to scoop Dasj’kit up in a hug that left his feet dangling.

  “I accept. And…I love you,” she whispered in his ear.

  “A-about time you admitted it,” he croaked out through the crushing hug.

  “I did not think mortals had such customs,” she said, letting him back down to his feet where he could catch his breath.

  It took him a moment to reply.

  “You’ve been around how long? Though I guess, yeah, you’ve never been the friendly type… And I love you, too, for what a mortal’s affections are worth to a goddess.”

  “Yours are worth more than others,” she said, leaning so that her face was inches from his, “Now, I believe I shall show you how I reward such devotion…”

  Dasj’kit smiled. “Go easy on me, I’ve had a long night—and morning—as it is.”

  “…No guarantees.”

  “Aw, how romantic!” Sophia said, sighing dreamily.

  Sejit kept one paw on the glass case, raising the other in Sophia’s direction. With a flex of her wrist, a single claw popped out to make the goddess’ point.

  Sophia’s hands shot up in a defensive wall, “No, really! I think it’s sweet.”

  The claw did not waver. A second one joined it.

  Several possibilities regarding the correct answer raced through Sophia’s mind, along with so many questions she wanted to ask.

  A third claw sprang up.

  Did the thumb count?

  Wait, that was it!

  “I mean, I’ll stop mentioning it. Mentioning what? I forgot already! What were we talking about? Ha ha ha, silly me…”

  Claws retracted. Sophia breathed easy, or easier at the least. The lioness pulled away from the case with some difficulty.

  “I appreciate your efforts with Hu’phed,” Sejit said, walking towards the doorway, “That will be all for tonight.”

  “Ah, right. I’ll see myself out, then.”

  “Right,” Sejit said, and that was all.

  But, before Sophia left the room as well, she remembered something from the story. Her gaze tracked to the weapon, to the door, and back again.

  Sneaking on tip-toes, Sophia made her way to the back of the display case, struggling to read the symbols inscribed on the back of the poleaxe head. She could just barely decipher them, and reaching to her vast reserves of knowledge on the subject, put the syllables together and turned the crank to spit out the answer.

  “Mun’skit, huh?” She smiled. Maybe one day a boy would propose to her with a nice halberd or handgun instead of some silly ring. After all, if it could happen to Sejit, it could happen to anyone.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Tess let out such a yawn it made tears well at the corners of her eyes and stretched out enough to give her back a good pop. A gentle n
ight rain pattered against the window of her office at Sejit’s penthouse. After the dinner fiasco, she’d elected to linger in Sioun for a while in case any exciting developments popped up. While not quite a monsoon season like the regions further to the south and east experienced, Yosel hosted gray skies, rainy days, and drizzly nights. Aside from the rain and the whirr of her computer, the room was silent.

  As much as she preferred to be as hands-off as possible, there were things that only her hands could do, regardless of how capable those she hired to run her corporations were. One day she’d figure out the secrets to instilling wisdom within them, and then, gloriously, she’d be able to limit herself to working a handful of hours a week. One day…

  Her chair creaked as she leaned back and stared at the ceiling, giving her weary eyes something else to focus on. Goddess she may have been, staring at a bank of flat-panel monitors for hours on end was enough to make her eyes want to retreat into her skull. She plucked a cigarette out of a pack from her desk and rested it between her lips. The end lit, sending a faint wisp of smoke into the room.

  At least the hours-long video conference was over, which meant she could button up the actual work and then she’d be free. Until the next meeting, anyways. Buying companies these days was such a chore. Not all that long ago, she’d just go to whoever owned the company and ask them to think of a number. Now? Now every company, even those of a few hundred employees had shareholders, layers of ownership, and everything else. Making money was easier than ever, yet a bigger pain in the ass than ever. She wasn’t sure which she preferred.

  She spun round in a lazy circle on her chair. Sejit would appreciate the latest acquisition, a metallurgical research and development firm to complement Krutt. Top notch people and equipment, working with all manner of exotic alloys.

  The department heads were already tasked with creating and analyzing a certain alloy that’d been used to create a certain weapon. It hadn’t been sourced from Sejit’s toy, of course—she’d have sooner broken Tess’ fingers than allow that to happen—but rather a tiny fragment they’d unearthed elsewhere and had to pay a tidy sum for. The scientists and researchers had been most curious about where the magical metal had originated, but Tess had simply told them it was a secret. Hells, could even be a game: Could they figure it out?