“There are a couple things I still don't understand,” said Jade as we picked out way along an increasingly rocky and inconsistent trail. My muscles were very stiff and each step sent small shocks through my legs and back. Argyl's grimace suggested he was in similar difficulty. Jade and the goats seemed to be doing much better than we.
“Only two? You're doing much better than me.” said Argyl.
“Funny,” she said. “Kara's lady friend seemed to be pretty independent. She fell in love with Kara, for example. Also she talked about the other trees, I don't know, like they were distinct from herself.”
Our path seemed to be cut out of the mountain. Steep black rocks shot up around us so that we could walk no more than two abreast. Jade and the goats scampered up a steep rocky incline. Argyl and I lumbered up afterwards.
“I think,” said Argyl, slightly winded, “that her lover is somewhat unique. The books all indicate that trees,” here he paused to catch his breath. Jade stopped and looked back at him.
“The books all spoke of trees as, well, superficial things. I don't think they chose human form much, but when they did they seemed to, I don't know, reflect, imitate? They were very similar to the scholars who had sought them out. But also very superficial, like they didn't really understand humans very much, they were just copying the form and some of the characteristics of the scholars, but it was a, like a child playing pretend or something. There was the form of humanity, but no substance.”
“That doesn't sound like her lover at all.”
“No, exactly. I think her lover is unique. It's hard to tell, when you encounter something for the first time, if it's normal or an exception. Think of Clachnik. If you landed on our shores for the first time in their territory, if you were from some distant and very different land, you might think that all people of this content are like them, when in reality they are an extreme exception.”
“Not for long maybe.”
“Maybe, but defeating us is not the same as defeating the other major powers. We were never more than a small principality among superpowers.”
“Hmm. Well, that doesn't really answer my question.”
“Well, I think she is very very old. Kara's tree that is, not Kara. I think she is very old, and her imitation of humanity is very sophisticated. Kara, did she speak at all of her past?”
“Yes master. She spoke of a people called the Kathati. That they would give some of their children to the trees to live and mate, and that these people were considered wise.”
The goats were jumping up a series of boulders whose passage seemed improbable to me. They looked to be enjoying themselves. It made sense why goats, unruly as they were, were chosen over mules or another pack animal.
Argyl made it to the top of the boulder by holding Jades' arm and scurrying up. He sat breathing hard as Jade reached her arm down for me.
“I've never heard of the Kathati, but that proves the point, if she's reliable. I know the history of these lands as far back as there is a history. The Kathati must have been a prehistoric tribe.”
“Well, that explains her personality. But why fall in love with Kara so quickly?” Jade barely seemed winded. Every muscle in me ached as I struggled for purchase on the rock.
“Well, Kara here is very, well,” he considered the word. “She's very compulsive. She is not the type to half do anything. She's completely homicidal, crazy, reticent, submissive, or whatever other mood is on her. The tree's quick infatuation might be her reflection of her. Like, she is aping her characteristics.”
“So because Kara is crazy her tree lover is crazy too.”
“Well,” he said, looking at me as I finally made it to the top of the rock and sprawled, gasping for breath. He did not finish his sentence. Uncertain if he would offend me?
“Master, you will not offend me.”
He looked at me for a long minute. “You don't have to call my master. And you are very astute.”
“Yes master.” Was there a hint of sarcasm in my voice today?
A large body, all browns and hair and scruff, slammed into Jade and she went down, the body jabbing a sword at her throat. I meant to jump up but instead smashed hard into the rock with a heavy body on top of me that smelled of stale sweat. He was very efficient, I could not move my body.
I heard shouts and what seemed to be several large boulders slamming into the ground, but I felt my perception was off. Odd how calm I was. Was this my normal reaction to sudden violence? It had been so fast I hadn't time to react. Did that mean that they were good at what they did, or that we were particularly easy victims?
“Get up,” a gruff voice in my ear. A ridiculous request, his heavy body was still on top of me. But his weight was shifting, pulling my arm behind me and leveraging me up.
“Yes sir,” I said, although not resisting was all I could do at the moment.
“That good. Keep up like that you live long time,” he grunted out.
“Yes sir,” I said again. Did I have any loyalty to Jade and Argyl? Were they relevant now, the situation changed? Jade was struggling still and two men were holding her to the ground. A fourth man wore a flamboyant outfit, all bright greens and yellows, tight hose, puffy blouse, flowing cape.
“The essence,” this man said in a high flutey voice, “of good drama, is conflict. We have here our stalwart band of adventurers, bogged down in hopeless exposition and conjecture.”
“Fuck you,” shouted Jade just before one of the sweaty men clubbed her. She reeled from the blow but did not give up the fight. I watched impassively.
“You,” said the colorful man, stepping towards me, “won't do at all. No passion, no struggle. A totally inappropriate subject of any sort of narrative.” His face too was a rainbow of colors. Purples, red, yellows. Bright differentiated streaks across his face. He was slurring his speech.
“Yes sir,” I said.
“Ha!” he cried, and spun, furling his cape behind him in grand melodramatic fashion. The brutish man that held my arm propelled me forwards, and I walked obediently. Jade glared at me. One of the men was hefting her up onto the others shoulder as she kicked. She probably would have killed the both of them if they had been sensible to pain. They ignored her strikes and I did not look back.
“You see,” the man was saying walking before me. “There is nothing I hate more than boredom, and this mountain pass is nothing if not boring. Imagine my delight when I heard that we had visitors? Ha! That I would have known. I sent my little sparrows to you, my little finches and my little bees. But what do I hear? Prattle about the nature of trees? It could at least have been an argument! The married couple, fleeing not only their enemies but the troubles that threaten to destroy their marriage, the sexy slave girl, tempting the man to infidelity. A situation ripe for conflict, for drama! But instead this inane prattle! Bah! I could not abide it. I had to intervene.”
He led us up and out of the pass. We had nearly been to the end of it, where it widened into another forest of conifers, this one more sparse and rocky than the one we left behind. We left the path almost immediately, cutting straight and deep into the woods. My body was very sore. Jade made sounds of struggle behind me for a time. I did not turn around and she stopped after a short while, replacing it with a low steady moaning.
We came into what seemed a small village. There was a stone building in the center, with several huts surrounding it that seemed to be made of grass, however improbable that was in such a northern climate. The flamboyant man led us to the center, stopping before the stone building. The brute that was carrying Jade threw her, now unconscious, onto the ground next to me, and then the men formed a circle around us. They were huge. Muscles bunched on top of muscles. The firs they wore were poorly made, haphazardly stitched together with thick strips of hide. They were filthy and stupid looking.
“Wake up my dear,” said the colorful man. He was just a bit rotund, had a hairy and unkempt beard that made his seem mad. His hair and eyebrows stuck out at odd angles. He slurred his words together, as a drunk or as an old man who had suffered a stroke or two.
“There,” he said as she lolled awake. There was a bit of blood in her matted hair. “What's your name my dear?”
She seemed too dazed to answer, holding her hand to her head and looking about with unfocused eyes. Somewhere inside me pity stirred for her. A compulsion to rush to her and offer what aid I could. I resisted it. That wouldn't help anybody now. Besides, where was my loyalty?
“Well, we'll give her a moment to recover. How about you my dear? What's your name?” He leered awkwardly before me. I smelled the stench of liquor on his breath. Sweet like brandy or bourbon.
I didn't say anything, more because I didn't know how to answer the question He slapped me but not hard.
“Well?” he said?
“Sir, the question does not signify.”
“Huh,” he said, swaggering a bit. Jade was feeling the clot of blood in her hair and looking between the brutes around us. Calculating, I thought. A very practical woman.
“What's her name?” he said to her, spitting on the ground before me.
“Fuck,” she said.
“No, I don't think that's it,” he said.
“I don't fucking know. What do you want with us?”
“You don't know your companions name?”
“What the fuck do you want?”
“Tsk tsk now.” He turned back to me. “What do they call you?”
“Sir, they call me Kara.”
“Sir, I like that. Kara, so that's your name?”
“No sir.”
“No?” He looked at me, trying to focus his eyes. He had a flask, I saw, and he took that moment to drink a good draft of it. “Who, then, are you?”
“Sir, I do not know.”
“Huh,” he said. He came up to me. I stood before him, then came to myself a bit.
“Sir, I am sorry.” I said, kneeling in subjugation before him. He hmphed but said nothing, instead placing his hands on my scalp. I was suddenly very, very alone, adrift in a great black void, painless and terrible, as if a billion lost men were slaughtered just beyond my senses, and I floated happy and stupid and helpless against it.
Then suddenly I was back. The forest around me seemed sharper, the brutes were but shadows of themselves, week, shriveled men on the verge of collapse, bruises and festering wounds scarring their flesh. The man's face flickered, for a moment, into a gray meandering of visages. The scene solidified quickly.
“A piece of you has been cut away, little one.”
“Archmagio,” I said. He stared at me, a corner of his mouth twitching into a smile.
“What?” Jade demanded.
“Master, what is your command?”
“Kara!” Jade screamed at me, but I ignored her. I bowed to my faux master, designated to me by my true master. He leered at Jade. Why did she expect me to be loyal? Had I given her a sign that I would be? I had called her mistress, but she knew she was my little mistress, that my true master would someday come. I had wept in her arms. That thought stirred something in me. What? Why were emotions so damn vague? Fuck.
“Well, my command. Hmm. Blow me.”
“Yes master,” I said, moving towards him. He grinned stupidly at me. Was he really drunk? I fumbled at the strings that held his breeches up. They were tied haphazardly, knotted over and over again to make up in force what they lacked in skill. I picked at them.
Jade was glaring at me, hatred in her eyes. Why such hatred? The betrayal of womanhood? To meekly take a cock into my mouth at a man's command, to think nothing of it? Would taking his finger be the same insult? Was his pleasure relevant to my self-respect? Did I have self-respect?
I managed to undo the awful knot and pulled his manhood out. It was limp and useless. I kissed it a little, rubbed it with my tongue and fingers, but to no avail.
“I'm too damn drunk, fuck.” he said, looking down at me. I looked up at him as meekly as possible. Jade's scorn burned into me. Odd that it should affect me so. Did I reflect on my reflections as a defense against feeling them? I felt that I was insulting her by being meek He kicked me away and I sprawled obediently. He hadn't kicked that effectively but it is the duty of the slave to hold up their master's self delusions.
“Don't glare at me you little whore,” he was looking at Jade now, leering and stumbling towards her, fumbling with his breeches but waving his impotent cock in her face. “Whore, slut. I should fuck you instead.”
She spit at him. Her spittle fell short and landed on his blouse. He didn't seem to notice it.
“Do you think she's a whore, little slut?”
“Master, I do not think you propose to pay her.”
“Huh?”
“Master, semantically, a whore would be paid, but you seem more likely to rape rather than buy.”
He struck me across the face and I really fell this time, the impact smarting on my cheek. How like the sensation of my mind dripping out from the bull man's blade.
“You,” he said to me, “do not forget. You are the knife of my revenge. The knife of my revenge.” How melodramatic. He kicked me down again. “Put them up, tie them together in one of the huts.”
The brutes grunted and one lifted Jade easily above his head. One came to lift me but I struggled to my feet and stumbled obediently after Jade. They carried her into the closest of the huts. Inside there was nothing. Just a small empty room. They dropped her, not cruelly but not kindly either. They shoved me down besides her, and then wrapped long strands of raw hide about us. The strand did not seem strong, but they used a lot of it. Jade struggled for a short time, but they clobbered her over the head until she stopped. I think she lost consciousness. We were tied back to back, arms twisted behind us, so that we could not stand without breaking both our arms and the arms of the other.
One of the brutes reached a hand down and pushed into my mouth a wad of something dark and sticky. It took only a fraction of a moment for my tongue to realize what it was and lick at his filthy fingers for more of it. Flowers! Flowers sprouting and blossoming in my mouth and down my throat! And the wonderful dark sea that accompanied them, floating again and wonderful, the stupid painful world safely away from me now. There, but far, tolerable through the warm black tide.
How much time did I float there? I haven't any idea. It may have been the night, it may have been days. The brutes came and went several times. Jade woke up at some point and swore at me, but it seemed so unimportant. Peace, again, floating and floating and peace, such wonderful peace. Obey, obey, it did not matter, happiness was a bitter drug in my mouth, a warm and wonderful ocean in which I floated, buffered a thousand times over from the shocks and horrors of the world.
Then we were lifted and there was more tar in my mouth and I licked and licked to get it all, and it tasted foul like sweat and dirt, but it did not matter, there were flowers there and I licked it all and licked and licked. A thousand Jades might have died and it did not matter to me, as long as that taste was on my lips and tongue. And then it was bright and dark and I was tied and gagged and laying in a circle of the great brutes. Jade too was tied. She was just before me. Her eyes looked deep into mine. Bloodshot eyes. She floated too! But she did not know it for the wonder it was. She fought it, fought to remain aware of what the stupid world was doing to her. What did it matter? The ocean mattered. The flowers mattered. I tried to tell her but words, words were too far away. I floundered useless on the earth.
Then they were cutting her loose. My master, my faux master, pulled me up and sat me on his lap. I was still dressed. My lover's dress and boots still hugged my flesh. I smiled when I thought of my lover. Her soft warm body. So like this ocean. To float with her, I longed to float with her. But she was so far, and the ocean so close, and that is all that mattered, to float. And then there was more again in my mouth, my faux master was feeding it to me and I was swallowing and licking and he was laughing.
“Watch,” he said, and my eyes blearily looked out. The brutes had formed a ring around Jade, and one of them was standing inside it with her. Her bonds had been severed and she was standing, staggering, facing the man who stood rock still.
“She fights for her freedom, my little slut.” he said to me. Focusing was hard, I drifted off and floated for a long time, black closing in against my vision and numb wonderful tingles taking over every nerve in my arms and legs.
Jade faced the man. They had stripped her naked. Her flesh was strong. The least of her muscles were well toned and many were well defined against her frame. But the man she faced, naked too, had muscles bunched on top of bunches. He strode towards her clumsily. She tried to grapple and throw him, but it was like throwing a boulder. He reached up an arm and whacked her hard. She crumpled under his blow. It wasn't really a contest, more a torture to make her feel week. I watched it dully. I felt something, some pity for her, but it seemed unimportant, not worth the effort to focus or think on it.
He clubbed her with his great meaty fists and her body fell and broke before them. One of her legs stuck out at an odd angle and blood dripped from her nose. She raised her hands feebly, she was on the ground now, she raised them feebly but to no end, he clubbed past them, breaking one and smashing her face.
Then it was over. She was a bloody mess groaning and rocking on the ground. I wondered if she would live. But flowers, flowers blossomed through me and I felt my faux master grow hard beneath me. How it was beneath me I know not, somehow out bodies must have shifted.
“Suck me, bitch.” he said, standing suddenly and displacing me to the ground.
“Yes master,” I said, spinning up to my knees and fumbling with his pants again. This time his cock came out hard. I put my lips to it.
Argyl exploded into the camp, all sword and screaming. The brutes turned to him slowly, stupidly, and he had cut one down before they could react much. Two of them advanced on him, three others forming a line between my faux master and Argyl. One of the two grabbed the sword that was swinging on him and it sliced deep into his hand. But still the fingers gripped it, pulling it from Argyl's hand. The other stepped forwards and swung his great fist at him, missing him badly as Argyl jumped backwards. Argyl tumbled down, tripping over his robe.
My faux master wore a knife on his belt. It seemed so far, yet simple, so easy. I clamped my teeth down on him, tasting blood as he screamed, and the knife was in my hand and I had driven it up into him. I did not cut his manhood, but instead drove it between his thigh and his crotch, burying it deep into his organs and I twisted and wiggled it to make sure he would die. He dropped, quickly, simply, and with a great cry. So easy. A small movement of my teeth, of my hands and arm, and he was dying. I smiled a little at the thought and drifted backwards, stumbling and nearly falling.
The brutes were suddenly not what they had been. Week, frail and injured men, they collapsed screaming and clutching at wounds that festered about their bodies. The man that had been advancing on Argyl fell, and Jade's husband wasted no time. He was up again and snatching the sword from the man's hand who held it. His speed didn't matter, the brutes were down, moaning in agony and useless.
My faux master fell and struck at me, hitting me hard in my head. I held onto the knife and a great spurt of blood sprayed across my face, although I do not remember cutting him. His face then flickered away from the mad old man and became a gray nothing.
“Master!” he cried, “Save me!” I do not know if my master answered his call. I was up and stumbling towards Jade. I pulled her broken body into my arms and drifted into the woods with what speed I could muster. Argyl followed quickly behind me and we ran and ran until I fell, still floating, to the earth. Argyl pulled me up and I tasted blood in my mouth. He picked Jade up then. She was moaning and was not very conscious.