Sunlight woke Tia; a nice change of pace from hollered orders or nosey hands. But as her eyes focused it was Ciro’s back at the entrance to the shelter which demanded her full attention. She opened her mouth to speak but his hand jerked, the blade coming up to block her mouth. Ciro’s chin tightened in warning and Tia nodded. Someone was here.
“I hope you can fight, Muri. I’ve no taste to be your knight.” He hissed at the perfect volume for Tia’s high, round ears to catch.
Tia slipped her legs beneath her, ready to spring from the shelter, a sly grin on her face.
“Seven. Armed. Surrounding us.”
“Make your move. I’ll follow.”
“Don’t get in my way.” He growled and Ciro launched from his seated position and towards their assailants so fast, Tia fell back on her behind in shock. Strangling a yelp with a muttered curse, she rolled around the dying embers of their fire and two bloody piles of grey robes. Another fell to Ciro’s sword before Tia got to her feet.
Only Ciro’s blade was stained with blood, shimmering in the sunlight. Four more grey robes remained, each completely covered save their eyes and barbed whips in their hands. The only color these figures sported was a blood red spiral disk clasping their cloaks to their shoulders. None of them looked at Tia.
Ciro easily ducked the whip coming for his neck, his sword claiming the hand which sent it. The man reared back, taking the loss of his arm with curious silence, and Ciro laid him into the ground with his fast before taking his head as well, leaving the corpse in a crumpled heap.
Tia’s wide blue eyes blinked in disbelief. Despite his speed, Tia thought Ciro a short, standoffish oaf, capable of intimidating a slave or some brainless townspeople. What she saw now was skill; pure, lethal, and cold… And about to get his ass handed to him if he didn’t pay attention.
Two robed figures advanced on Ciro, going high while the third aimed his whip for Ciro’s legs. Tia’s ribbon snapped to life as Ciro ducked to save his legs, killing the third with a quick thrust to a warm belly. His sword turned to the swatch of grey to his left but not nearly fast enough to take them both. Tia jumped over the dead body, her ribbon flashing in the daylight and splitting open the last grey robed back. The whip faltered as a clean white spine was exposed to air, missing Ciro completely, leaving her master to carve open the chest of the last.
Tia shook her ribbon very similar in form to how Ciro shook blood off his blade, and allowed it to dissipate, a splatter of blood disrupting the quiet around them. Her new master didn’t speak a word as he cleaned the last of the blood off on the cooling body nearest to him, his angular face showing as much annoyance as someone late for a meeting.
“You don’t see anything, do you?” Tia muttered, watching Ciro pack up their camp.
“I saw him just fine. Don’t think so highly of yourself.” Ciro grunted, revealing finally his tent and cookware were rolled tightly in a sack strapped to the small of his back under his thick coat. “Let’s get moving.”
Tia’s eyes went skyward in frustration before kicking the nearest grey robe over. Now she could see the spiral sigil clearly; bone painted with dye and split down the middle with a severe black line. It shivered and rotated, and Tia bent closer to watch it.
“They have nothing worth stealing. Move it!” Ciro barked, moving to kick dirt over the black smudge left from their fire. The sigil clicked, turning to follow him.
‘Doesn’t really see anything.’ Tia thought, ripping the medallion off the corpse before stepping away. “Don’t you want to do something about them?”
“Yes, I want to leave.” He tossed her bag and the water skins in the general direction of Tia’s hands. She scrambled to catch it, clutching it to her chest and pressing her fingers into the worn canvas to check the contents. Thankfully, nothing was damaged.
With Ciro’s back to her, Tia was able to slip the medallion into her bag. None of those men had even looked at Tia. If they were after her master, Tia wanted to know them better.
After another full day at a demanding pace and enduring the indignity of being harassed by Ciro while taking care of her business in the bushes, Tia fell to the ground in a pile of sweat and anger, immediately draining her water skin. Ciro calmly set up camp, not a single ash grey hair out of place, breathing evenly as he set up his shelter in record time and left to fill the water skins on his own. “We’ll get where I’m going tomorrow.”
Tia’s head fell back to see the first stars peeking though the darkening sky. She would have smiled knowing she was close to her own goal as well but she kept it to herself. “And where is that?”
Her only answer was his footsteps heading away from her. Tia closed her eyes to concentrate on relaxing her cramping muscles. She blindly reached for her bag, her calloused fingers slipping beneath the tattered flap and pinching the strange medallion to lift it to her line of sight. It clicked and shifted, the black gash in the center turning slowly to follow the direction her new master went.
‘No wonder he’s such an edgy bastard. These guys are hunting him.’ She felt something akin to sympathy, familiar with the feeling of dogs at her heels. But he was still her owner, another master. The feeling was bitter and thankfully brief.
Never forget they believe they own you. You are another chair, a table, a beast of burden. Her elder said. Never forget a good master is still a master.
“We lost the team sent to retrieve him.”
“By ‘lost’ you mean Ciro slaughtered them all.” Jeshe did not take his yellow eyes away from the sky, pressing his fingers into his narrow chin. “He is headed to Grey City.”
“There is nothing there.” A voice hissed, thin hands sliding up Jeshe’s leg. A shimmer of light played on the scaled skin as they scraped at his tunic.
“Go watch him, Erila. Watch him and call me when he arrives at the city.” He stroked her wandering fingers with his free hand. “Do good work for me, love.”
“Yes, Master.” Needle thin teeth flashed before Erila slithered away.
Tia chewed lazily on the rib bone of whatever animal Ciro caught while she went to enjoy the lake.
“It’s food.” He snapped in response to her query, shoving a bowl and spoon Tia had no clue he had into her hands and sulking on the other side of the fire.
Ciro was a confusing son of a bitch. She was ordered to bathe in a lake she never even smelled but Ciro was certain existed. Not only that, he didn’t sweat. Tia had yet to see him bathe. Or eat. Or take a sip of water. She cleaned herself till her skin pruned and waited for her clothes to dry without a scrap of interest from her master, who only made a snide remark about how long she took but there was no venom in it. When he threatened to cut off her hands, there was nothing more true in the world. But his mockery was practiced, part of a tailored performance to feign interest in anything other than his own survival.
“You don’t belong here.” Tia mused, lounging on her side, her creamy blue eyes set firmly on Ciro.
Ciro met the pupil-less eyes. “Neither do you.”
“I am Muri. My people are nomads. We don’t belong anywhere.” Tia snorted, flicking the bright, clean bone into the fire.
“So where are you so determined to go that you thought you could get there alone?” Ciro smirked. “No plan; just thought you’d walk through town like you’re some queen.”
Tia bit back her sarcasm. “I’m going to Grey City.”
“Ah.” Ciro chuckled, dropping his hands to his knees. “You think you’re gonna rally other escaped slaves. Cute.”
Tia grinned, bearing one sharp, little tooth. Grey City belonged to ancient Muri in a time before branded slaves and daily beatings. They were more than free. They were gods. Thanks to the item in her bag, they would be so again. “Yeah, it’ll be real cute. Where are you going?”
“Passed there.” He huffed and Tia rolled her eyes. “You’ll be disappointed trying to bare my soul, Muri.”
“I’m not sure your kind have souls.” Tia growled.
“All that lives has a soul.” Ciro whispered, tossing a twig into the fire. A haze passed over his yellow eyes and he did not look up at his slave.
The Muri’s ears flushed bright red in fury and she sat up to glare at her master. “Have you ever heard a Muri woman try to hold in her screams as she’s taken while her children watch? Have you heard the sound the infants make when the brand is put to their bellies as soon as the mother-chord is cut? When you smell the burning flesh of a newborn or year the children wail for the pain of their mother, tell me again you small eared monsters have souls!” Tia spat into the fire and stomped into the tent, her back to her brooding master.
Ciro didn’t move; his eyes still on the spot where his slave sat. “A filthy soul is still a soul.” He murmured, the leather of his gloves creaking in his clenched fists. “And gods are overrated.”
Having this creature with him on his journey amused Ciro, even though he knew what a dangerous distraction she was. A fragile thing in need of food, protection, and carrying some slab of rock she believed would save her people from servitude. He could smell it, taste her vengeful hope the Muri would no longer be slaves. Cute, but futile. It was all futile; all gasping little sparks sputtering against the dark.
And he was no different. On this journey again, sputtering against the dark. Countless times and this one is exactly the same.
Tia grumbled in her sleep. Oh, that had changed. A Muri slave who can injure her captors. Worth the risk to follow her to Grey City. If she did nothing interesting there, he’d leave her with the other Muri. Ciro had no use for slaves. They just cause trouble. He was tired of having to slaughter those grey robed idiots and Tia would only get in the way if she chose to follow him.
Tia woke slowly, after both moons had set and the sun was well into morning. Only bird song and the scent of cooked food filled the air. No snotty comments, no orders. Just quiet.
‘Is he dead? Did he abandon me here?’ Both thoughts gave Tia too much relief. But Ciro would not have left food and shelter before taking off and the bastard was too tough die quietly and not wake Tia. She crawled from the tent and saw the sun nearly at its zenith in the sky and Ciro seated by the pot on the fire. “You certainly must be well rested. We should make good time to Grey City.”
Tia curled a pump lip in disbelief. “You’re gonna escort me there out of the kindness of your heart?”
“One time offer, Muri. Take it or leave it.”
Her ears twitched in anger as she stepped from the tent to tell Ciro exactly where he could shove his offer but before she could utter a single word, a silver backed python poised to strike caught Tia’s attention. It coiled angrily at her feet, hissing through venom coated fangs.
“Stay still.” Ciro muttered, continuing to stir the aromatic contents of the bubbling pot. “She will get bored in a moment and move on to real prey.”
Tia watched the snake’s eyes, the hollow fangs dripping venom from its open mouth, and knew the snake had no intention of leaving. Tia kept her face calm, waiting for the animal to make a move. They watched each other; the snake hissing in anger, the Muri’s ears twitching slightly to gauge the air. Ciro watched them both out of the corner of his eye, curious to see how the Muri would react.
Tia knew the snake would strike. It was in the eyes. But when the snake moved, Tia’s ribbon was faster. It came down hard into the ground near Tia’s foot, the snake’s head slamming into it with a horrid sound that even made Ciro cringe. Tia used the ribbon to throw the dazed animal far from the camp then turned to see what Ciro had made for breakfast.
“What?” Tia said when Ciro continued to gawk at her. She spooned food into her mouth as if nearly getting killed by a venomous python was as normal as breathing. “Did you want me to kill it?”
Ciro shuddered at the sight of half chewed stew in Tia’s mouth. “She wouldn’t have a problem killing you.” He looked at the hole in the ground then back to the feasting Muri. “What else can you do with your magic?”
She shrugged, swallowing the last spoonful before filling her bowl again. “Nothing much thanks to the brand. I can carry heavy loads like other slaves.” Tia swallowed two more large spoonfuls and Ciro waited patiently for her to continue. “But I can get the ribbon to be as solid as a shield, sharp like a blade. Tried to teach others but no luck.” She stopped and looked down at the metal bowl and spoon in her hands. “You didn’t have these before. Where did they come from?”
“I pack efficiently.” Ciro peered into the steaming pot, eyes widening at the sight of the scraped clean bottom. He kicked dirt on the fire to allow it to cool so he could clean it. “Let’s go. No time to lose.”
“And how did you know the snake was a she?”
“Move it, Muri!”
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