The Cult of Sutek (7 page)

She made a disgusted sound. “What’s wrong with those people?”

“They probably wonder the same about everyone else. Different cultures have different standards of what’s normal.” He paused. “You had to know this was coming.”

“I did. But I was promised a say in the matter.”

“So you had someone already in mind then?”

“No. I know who I didn’t have in mind.”

“I take it that’s who Horus set you up with?”

“King Kafele.”

Rondel choked. “He’s old enough to be your father’s grandfather.”

“I know. Marriage wouldn’t be nearly as bad of an idea if it was to someone closer to my age or at least someone less revolting. It’s disgusting to imagine making love to some shriveled old man.” She shivered despite the warm weather. “I’d rather die than marry him.”

“If I remember right, his name does mean ‘to die for.’” Rondel mused.

“That’s not funny.”

“Sorry.” He hid a grin. “Did you talk to your father about the match?”

“Yes. He apologized but dismissed me all the same.”

“That doesn’t sound like the Horus I knew.”

“My father is dealing with a lot. Besides all the nonsense that the Cult of Sutek has returned, there are rumors that the surrounding kings of Iget are looking to make a grab at some of my father’s more questionable holdings since the Emperor doesn’t seem to care what his kings are doing right now. King Menetnashte in the north is the one my father is most concerned with.”

Rondel’s brows furrowed. “I know I’ve been out of touch but I don’t recall Kafele being in control of a great army. I’m not sure how he would help your father in a confrontation against Menetnashte.”

“Kafele may not have a great army, but he does have money thanks to his iron mines. Jahi thinks that father will use that money and hire out mercenaries to fill his ranks.”

“Jahi? Your little brother?”

Gods’ it has been a long time.
He suddenly felt much older.

“Yes. He’s much sharper than people give him credit for.”

He thought on what Dendera said. Horus was as close to a good man as he had ever met in the backstabbing world of nobility. It still pained him to hear of the man’s troubles.

“Out of curiosity, what does your mother say about all of this? She was a strong woman.”

Dendera’s voice fell. “She passed away years ago.”

“Oh.” He cleared his throat. “My condolences.”

Rondel considered everything again and found himself growing annoyed. “I don’t understand. All this upheaval in your father’s life and your solution was to run away?”

“You make it seem like I’m a selfish brat.”

“No. You do that job on your own. I was growing sympathetic for a moment, but now I see a girl unwilling to do her duty to her father.”

“Easy for you to say. You won’t be the one expected to fulfill your spousal duties with Kafele.”

“As old as he is, you probably won’t have to suffer through it more than a few times before he dies or loses interest. He might not even be able to fulfill
his
duties. The whole thing could work out in your favor. He’ll die while you’re still young. Then you’ll inherit all his wealth and lands. At that point, you can get yourself half a dozen young, virile, male slaves to wait on you hand and foot.” Rondel caught sight of his damaged hand at the reins. “Trust me, there are far worse things to deal with than what you’re so frightened of. You almost had to suffer through some of them before we found you.”

Dendera said nothing.

For a moment, Rondel thought she had realized the wisdom of his words. But a quick glance showed him a face reddened with anger.

By the time she learns anything it will be after she’s hurt herself.

Dendera’s voice was tight with frustration when she finally spoke. “I ran away from people like you. People who think they are good at judging others after just a few brief words together when they can’t even decide for themselves who to be. You know nothing of me. You know nothing of the life I’ve lived.” She squeezed the horn of her saddle until her knuckles went white. “Perhaps you should stop worrying about others and concern yourself with doing a better job of hiding the fact you’re nothing more than a crippled minstrel pretending to be something he’s not.”

Dendera looked away, retreating into herself.

Rondel wanted to respond with a quick retort, but her words took his fight away.

* * *

They made camp that evening just off the road in a copse of sycamore trees, interspersed with the occasional fig.

Rondel came in from his afternoon run. He had decided to get it over with early before he had time for the dread to grow. The strategy seemed to do him good.

He re-entered camp quietly, walking up to Dendera from behind when he noticed her arms pumping away near her feet as she sat hunched near the fire.

He grew suspicious and hurried over. She looked over her shoulder and in a panic seemed to hide something beneath her dress. Beads of sweat ran down her brow.

“What were you doing?” he asked.

“I was just trying to start a fire. I figured I’d practice while you were gone. It might come in handy.”

Dendera’s face was expressionless. She held a rock in one hand and a piece of flint in the other. A small clump of dried grass and leaves rested at her feet in the shape of a nest. A pile of twigs sat beside that. She had everything needed to start a fire.

A perfect alibi. Too perfect and too out of character.

He shoved her backward and lifted her dress.

“What is the matter with you? Touch me and I’ll scream. Wait until my father hears of—”

“Be quiet.” After her harsh comment toward him on the road, he had no patience for her.

He straightened her legs as she tried to curl them. The tip of a broken saw blade protruded from the middle of her thighs, a few inches above the knee.

“I’ve heard of a chastity belt, but never something like this,” said Rondel. He spread her knees apart so the blade fell. He snatched it from the dirt, noticing its rust.

“Give it back! I found it,” she said, fixing her dress.

Rondel looked around the well-used camp site. The place would be rife with junk from previous visitors.

“You can have it once you’re in your father’s home.”

He examined the rope at her wrists. As he figured, the girl had managed to wiggle away a few strands near the inside of her binds. He yanked at the ropes to make sure that they were still strong. The blade had been too dull to do much more than offer the girl hope. Still, Rondel had no idea what else she might be hiding.

He looped another rope around her ankle and tied it off at a nearby tree. The knot did not look as good as Andrasta’s, but it would at least provide one more safeguard against Dendera’s attempts at escape.

He walked away, letting the girl stew as he went in search of his partner.

Rondel found Andrasta with half her armor off, standing still as a statue in thigh-deep water. Tall papyrus plants surrounded the small river, their thin stalks rising some five feet above the water’s surface. A large willow tree cast a huge shadow over the scene, its branches drooping to the ground.

Andrasta held a make-shift spear overhead with point down. Her eyes flicked up from the water for the briefest of moments. Rondel got the message. He froze and said nothing.

The spear darted down, striking like a snake. Andrasta’s arms recoiled upward just as swiftly, splashing water. A large perch, impaled through the middle, flapped at the end of the spear. She waded toward shore with her catch. Rondel noticed two other fish of similar size laying on the riverbank near the rest of her clothes.

“I haven’t had fish in a while. It’ll be nice for a change.”

She began to re-dress. “Do you know how to clean them?”

“Well . . .”

“I didn’t think so.”

She sounded disappointed. It wasn’t necessarily his fault that he had few outdoor skills. True, he had traveled perpetually as a minstrel, but he always did so in groups. Rondel had relied on others to handle things like hunting and cooking while he earned his keep by providing hours of entertainment to pass the time. He had sung countless songs, recited numerous poems, and even told hundreds of the raunchiest jokes imaginable depending on the company he rode with.

He tried those things early on while traveling with Andrasta, but the woman would have none of it.

“I want actions, not words.”

Rondel changed subjects. “I caught Dendera trying to escape.” Andrasta’s head shot up. “Don’t worry. I stopped her. She found an old blade and was sawing at the ropes. Didn’t get very far. I tied her ankle to the tree as an added precaution before I came over here.”

Andrasta grunted in what Rondel thought might be approval. However, the woman had so many inarticulate noises, it some effort to keep track of what each sound meant.

She strapped on her last shin guard. “I don’t know what that dumb girl thinks she’s going to do. She’ll have more to worry about than running into bandits. She’s been sheltered so long she’ll likely die from eating the wrong berry. At least you know that much.”

“Thanks.”
I think.

Rondel’s old life had gained him a general understanding of many subjects most people would never have the opportunity to learn. He once spent three months traveling with a well-respected herbalist. He borrowed from those experiences shortly after he and Andrasta had escaped prison when a hive of hornets attacked them on the road. Being able to ease Andrasta’s swelling had been one of the few times she showed him appreciation.

“She’s still young,” he continued. “She’ll learn as she gets older.”

“I doubt it.” Andrasta picked up the perch, ducked around the willow, and started back to camp. “I overheard you two talking today. Being married off can be awful when it’s something your father does to get rid of you. But Horus does not sound like that sort of man. You had the right of it when you told her about being selfish. She could repay her father and still live the good life.” She lowered her voice. “Almost makes me wish we never saved her.”

Rondel stopped. “Seriously?”

Andrasta paused and looked back. “That’d be the lesson she needs.”

Rondel noticed the tenseness in Andrasta’s shoulders and the way the air whistled through her nose as she seethed.

“Is there something you want to talk about?”

Andrasta relaxed, but only for a breath. She caught herself before anything personal slipped out. “No. Let’s get dinner started.”

A high scream ripped through the air.

The echo seemed to bounce off every tree around them. Andrasta dropped the fish, drew her sword, and sprinted toward camp. He followed in the woman’s wake, regretting his decision of an early run.

Rondel reached the clearing, three steps behind Andrasta.

He froze, not out of fear, at least at first, but out of shock.

A large animal with the body of a lion and head of a wolf, had its snout buried deep in the open cavity of a downed horse. Their other two mounts were nowhere to be seen.

He had sung countless songs about strange creatures such as the one before him, but never did he expect to see one up close. As he watched the thing casually rip off the horse’s hind leg, he had no desire to see one again.

Standing dumbfounded, the incessant high-pitched screams continued to fill his ears from a tree where Dendera stood on a low limb. Should the wulfron lose interest in the horse, it would have little difficulty reaching her. However, because of the rope he had left around her ankle she could go no higher.

He felt a twinge of guilt.
How was I supposed to know this would happen?

“What is that thing?” asked Andrasta.

“A wulfron.”

“A what?”

“Basically, it’s one of the abominations created during and leftover from the Sorcerer Wars thousands of years ago. The more powerful sorcerers created legendary creatures like dragons, and unicorns to fight for them. None of those survived the wars though and in fact, many would have believed they never existed if not for creatures like the wulfron. The lesser sorcerers without the skill to create their own beasts of war simply mashed together animals already at their disposal. They had hoped to gain the advantages of each one’s strength and dampen the respective weaknesses.”

The wulfron looked up from its meal long enough to raise its head and issue a howl so guttural it shook Rondel’s bowels.

“It’s signaling the rest of its pack.”

“Wait. They run in packs?” asked Andrasta.

“Yes. Large packs. Not like a small pride of lions. And when the pack arrives, it won’t be content with just one horse to share. So, what do we do?” asked Rondel.

“Kill it.”

“Just like that, huh?”

“A wulfron doesn’t exactly seem like the type of animal you can domesticate.”

Rondel blinked. “Did you just make a joke?”

Andrasta ignored him. “Since it doesn’t seem to be paying us much mind yet, I’ll enter the woods and try to come at it from behind. You circle around the left and keep it distracted. Attack after I make my move.”

“So, I’m bait.”

“Someone has to be.” Andrasta sprinted off into the trees.

Rondel swore. He crouched low and took a wide berth of the creature, closing in along the left side as Andrasta suggested. He flicked his eyes to Dendera. The girl had finally stopped screaming. However, the pale face and panicked expression told him that she could start again at any moment.

Which the pack would only hone in on.

The beast had yet to acknowledge him but he felt the
thump
of his heart in his throat.

Swallow it, Rondel.

“Hey!”

Nothing.

He cursed at it, calling it every filthy name in the book. “. . . and your mother slept with a wildebeest.”

The wulfron paused in its meal, looking up briefly at Rondel, snout bloodied up to its neck. Strips of muscle and entrails hung from its lower jaw. It chewed slowly while its yellow eyes seemed filled with hate.

He swallowed hard, concentrating not to relax his suddenly full bladder.