Tales of Erogenia: Book 1 - Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Oasis

She opened her eyes to a delicious coolness and the unmistakable tinkle of running water. She was on her back lying under a blanket, her bow, sword, and clothing lying within easy reach. I must be dreaming, she thought. Where am I?

"Welcome back, princess."

She jerked her head in the direction of Tren's voice and instantly regretted the action as a wave of nausea swept over her.

"Go easy, princess. There is still a trace of the poison in you, and you've been asleep for two days. You need food and water before you try anything vigorous."

Zenaria let herself fall back. She did feel weak, and for once she was more than happy to follow Tren's advice without arguing. "Where are we?" From her prone position she could see that she was in some sort of cave, but where the cave was she had no idea.

"Uhra Don," Tren replied. "Or rather the hidden entrance to Uhra Don. We are safe here. It will give you time to finish healing." He handed her a small cup of steaming brew. "Careful," he warned, "it might be a little hot."

Zenaria was parched and starving, but she sniffed at the cup suspiciously. It smelled delectable, but she had no idea what it was. "What is it?" she asked.

"Just a bit of fish broth. It was the best I could do without leaving you and heading in to the oasis proper."

Zenaria sipped the brew, to her surprise it was delicious, flavoured with just the right combination of salt and spices. "Where did you get fish?" she asked, emptying the bowl and holding it out for more. Then she realized what Tren had said earlier. "You watched me for two days?" She glanced down at the light blanket covering her.

"Watched over you, barbarian," Tren corrected. "Most of the time you were completely delirious and babbling nonsense."

"Nonsense?" Zenaria asked, accepting another small bowl of fish broth. She wondered exactly how much of her private thoughts she had given away.

"Something about Trolls. And you kept calling for someone called 'Jaree.'"

"Ahh," Zenaria said. "Well Jaree's a friend. And as for the trolls I'd rather not talk about it."

"As you wish," Tren replied. "From the way you were raving it doesn't sound like I would like to meet them in any case. And this Jaree, he was your lover?"

Zenaria blushed. She was glad of her dimly lit surroundings. "I have no lover. Did I not make that clear?"

"Enlighten me," Tren answered. "I thought it natural that any adult Erogenian would...

"I am sworn to let no man touch me," Zenaria interrupted.

"Ahh," Tren replied slowly. "To dedicate oneself to the gods is noble indeed. Perhaps that is the reason..." Tren left the sentence unfinished and changed the subject. "Finish the rest of the broth; then I will leave you to attend to any personal duties you may wish to perform."

"Wait," Zenaria protested, partly rising from her bed, but Tren was gone, slipping out of the cave.

Muttering to herself, Zenaria fell back. Now Tren thought she had taken some sort of vow of celibacy. And what did he mean by his unfinished comment? What would that possible explain?

She noted that the blanket covering her had slipped to her waist. Annoyed she caste it aside. Tren had had two days to gaze on her nude body while she slept. What did she care if he saw it now? She finished the broth and then took his suggestion. There were personal things she had to take care of.

She found the part of the cave where Tren had prepared a slit trench, and then finished with her bodily functions she headed back to the campsite. She felt indescribably grimy. Erogenians bathed frequently, but her desert journey had so far made this impossible. However, from outside the cave entrance her keen sense of smell detected the scent of water. Without bothering to cover herself she headed for the light.

She entered into a wonderland. Before her was a small rocky beach that led down to a deep pool confined by canyon walls that soared so high above her that they seemed to come together at the top, leaving just a thin sliver of sky. She stopped dead, a shiver running down her spine. It couldn't be, but it was. The multihued iridescent walls were unmistakable. It was her dream become reality. But if that was so then Tren...

He emerged from the pool, water dripping from his dark-skinned well-muscled body. In the subdued light of the canyon his skin gleamed like that of some Erogenian god, highlighting the twin dragon tattoos that encircled his arms and ended on either of his shoulders.

"This can't be," Zenaria muttered. And then Tren's lower half emerged from the pool. "Oh..."

Zenaria was strangely distracted during her swim. She kept thinking of Tren and more importantly that portion of his anatomy he had hitherto kept hidden. In spite of the luxurious feel of the cool water on her skin, however, she kept her swim short. The effects of the poison still lingered and she found she tired easily. She emerged from the water and entered the cave, the sudden change from the desert heat of the pool causing her nipples to harden and raising goose bumps on her skin. She shivered and without waiting for her body to dry hastily pulled on her desert robes.

Tren was farther back in the cave, sorting through the last of their food. He too had dressed. He looked up as she approached. "Enough for two days," he said. It is a good thing we are made it to the oasis. We can go into the city tomorrow."

"I do not understand," Zenaria said as she twisted her hair into a thick braid. "Are you not afraid of discovery?"

"There is always that danger," Tren replied, "but I speak the language and am dressed like the average Sandakar. I doubt anyone will notice me."

Zenaria was puzzled. It was hard for her to conceive of an enemy walking into a Snow Leopard camp and not being seen. "What about me?" she asked.

"I leave that to you. You are safe here, but if you wish to accompany me you may, provided you follow orders."

"I..."

"I know," Tren interrupted. "You take orders from no man. It is amazing you have survived so long with such an attitude. Hasn't it gotten you into enough trouble?"

Zenaria growled an unintelligible reply and Tren continued. "You speak Sandak with an atrocious accent and know nothing of the local customs, however, if you keep yourself covered and take a few simple precautions you should pass casual inspection."

This time Zenaria made no objection. "What precautions?" she asked.

"You will have to hide that meat cleaver. No Sandakar carries a blade like that. And you will have to learn to walk without swinging your hips."

"The sword was my father's," Zenaria replied hotly. "And it is no meat cleaver. As for swinging my hips..."

Tren sighed and demonstrated. "You walk like this," he said swinging his hips in an exaggerated manner.

Zenaria glowered at him. "I was not aware that you watched me so closely."

There was a moment of silence and then Tren replied. "I am an assassin. It is important that I observe all things."

Zenaria sighed. "Is there anything else?"

"Your height is a problem, but nothing can be done about that. Try to remain as inconspicuous as possible and do not speak unless absolutely necessary."

Zenaria sighed and nodded her agreement. She watched as Tren moved off ahead of her and tried to copy the way he moved. It had not occurred to her that men and women moved differently, but she could now clearly see that there was something different about the way Tren moved his body. To her surprise he was not walking toward the entrance to the cave, but instead was moving deeper into its recesses.

"We'll take the camel," Tren said. "You ride. It will make your height a little less obvious." Zenaria suddenly found herself standing in what appeared to be a stable built out of rock.

"What is this?" she asked.

"My way into the city," Tren replied as he began to saddle the camel. "It is much more convenient than attempting to pass through the main gate."

"Come," he said, taking the reins and pulling the camel forward.

Zenaria followed as Tren led the camel down a long dark tunnel. As they moved farther along she began to hear the sound of voices and a faint glimmer of light appeared ahead. Tren suddenly stopped and Zenaria had to dig in her heels to keep from slamming into the rear end of the camel.

"Wait," Tren said, without any other explanation.

---

Zenaria saw that they had come to a halt before what appeared to be a solid wall constructed of well-sawn boards. Tren moved up to the wall and appeared to be listening. After a few seconds he nodded and gripping a lever tugged open the wall. What was revealed was the inside of a conventional stable. One that was conveniently empty at the moment. After carefully closing the 'wall' behind him Tren led the camel through the stable and out into the street.

What seemed like a wall of sound hit Zenaria before she was even out of the stables. Raised in a village less than than five hundred souls she had never seen more than a few hundred people in one place before. They emerged into a street that was crowded with dark-robed people for as far as she could see. The street was lined with shops and the noise of animated bartering could be heard on every side. Tren led her out into the thick of the crowd and waited while she clambered into the camel's saddle. "Remember: say nothing," Tren cautioned. He took the reins and led the camel down the street.

Disconcerted by the noise and commotion, Zenaria could only stare, but she had enough presence of mind to keep the cowl of her hood well forward, shielding her light skin from the crowd. The street they were in seemed to be an area of the city devoted to the sale of camels and horses as well as their stabling, as a result no one so much as gave Zenaria and her mount a second glance.

Slowly Tren wove his way through the crowd, moving steadily toward what Zenaria supposed was the centre of Uhra Don. She stared in astonishment as they moved from the livestock area into what she supposed was the central market. It was like nothing she had ever seen or imagined. The market square was an area larger than her entire village and bordered on all four sides with whitewashed buildings several stories in height. Hundreds of stalls filled the open area and the sights, sounds, and smells almost overwhelmed her. Her senses were assailed with the scent of spices and perfumes, and her eyes feasted on a riot of colours and clothing styles. For the first time the monotonous black of Sandakar robes was broken by the exotic dress of dozens of different tribes and nations.

She wanted to call out to Tren to ask the names of some of the peoples and goods that were all around her, but he had forbidden her to speak and from her perch on top of the camel she doubted that he would have heard her anyway and so she just stared until eventually curiosity got the better of her. She slid from the saddle almost snagging her sword, which she now wore tucked into a dark sash around her waist. As a result she landed awkwardly and stumbled into a stand selling some sort of yellow fruit.

"Imbecile! Clumsy bullock!" the vendor cried as the fruit spilled into the street, much to the delight of passers by who stopped to take in the drama. "You will pay for that fruit. It is ruined."

"Peace friend," Tren interjected before Zenaria could reply. She was halfway between taking out her knife to remove the impertinent vendor's tongue and picking up the globular yellow fruits and shoving them somewhere interesting.

The vendor glanced at Tren's twin swords and took a step backward. "I doubt that your lemons are much harmed," Tren said, "but I will buy a few to make you happy."

"Ah, perhaps I could also interest you in a few limes and oranges as well," the vendor replied, suddenly all smiles. He was a stout man and Zenaria took an unreasonable and immediate dislike to him. However, mindful of the fact that she was surrounded by the members of the race that had sought to enslave her, she willingly let Tren handle the situation. Fortunately, the fruit vendor seemed pleased by Tren's modest purchase; either that or he was intimidated by the weapons she and Tren carried.

As they walked away from the scene of her latest blunder Tren tossed Zenaria one of the yellow fruits he had bought to appease the vendor. "You made me buy this. You may as well try it."

Zenaria regarded the fruit dubiously. Although it looked appetizing enough, it seemed to have a very thick skin. "What is it called?" she asked.

"It is called a lemon. It is very good for preventing your gums from rotting on long trips away from sources of fresh fruit and vegetables"

"Now you sound like my mother," Zenaria said. Actually she was stretching the truth somewhat. Queen Cirilia was hardly the sort of mother who tucked her children in at night or dispensed maternal advice. Although she had been known to correct Zenaria's handling of her sword,

"Here, Tren," said, taking out his knife and neatly removing the thick yellow skin. Inside was a yellow segmented fruit with a most enticing ordour. She broke off a segment and bit it in half.

"Haa!" Tren laughed. It was the first time Zenaria had ever seen him break his controlled composure, however, she was too busy trying to stop her mouth from puckering to fully appreciate the moment.

"Wolverine!" she spat. "You tricked me!" However, her face spit in a grin as large as Tren's. She couldn't help thinking that he was immensely handsome when he smiled.

"I apologize," Ten said, although he sounded anything but. He took out one of the other fruits he had purchased, this one bright orange in colour. "Try this instead." In a show of good faith he peeled this fruit as well and breaking off a segment popped it into his mouth.

Zenaria took a cautious bite. "Mmmm," she murmured. "What is this called?"

"An orange," Tren answered, taking another segment.

Zenaria took another segment from Tren and raised it to her lips and then stopped with her mouth open. She was looking at the most amazing thing she had ever seen. "What is that," she asked, unable to keep the awe out of her voice.

They had rounded a corner of the market and entered a wide street lined with permanent shops as opposed to the temporary market stalls. But it was not the shops that took Zenaria's breath away. The street ran straight and true with the obvious intent of impressing anyone who entered it with the grandeur of the building at the far end. Gleaming white in the desert sun was a magnificent domed structure large enough to have contained a score of villages the size of the one she called home. Massive pillars lined the street for several hundred feet before the building, each pillar rising in height until the first step of the building was reached. Then there was a rise of a hundred steps to the base of the building and a further rise of arched windows and doorways and finally the gigantic onion-shaped dome. It was too much for anyone to encompass all at once, much less a barbarian warrior who had never imagined such architectural splendour.

"Behold the palace of the High Thuski, ruler of Uhra Don, a city built on the enslavement and suffering of thousands." Tren spoke quietly, as well he might. His words were tinged with bitterness.

Zenaria gazed open-mouthed. She did not even try to pretend that she was not awe-struck. "What do the Sandakar need with Erogenian slaves when they have such magnificence?"

As Tren opened his mouth to reply a hideous shriek split the air. At once Zenaria saw the people around them falling to their knees. Her hand moved toward her sword and her eyes searched for the source of the sound. "Down," Tren said quietly. His hand touched her shoulder pushing her toward the ground. Zenaria suddenly realized that none of those falling to their knees seemed the least bit concerned. It even seemed rehearsed as a number of them had spread small rugs on the ground before they knelt.

"What was that scream?" Zenaria asked and then got her answer as the sound was repeated. This time she recognized it for what it was, some sort of call to prayer.

"The Sandakar pray to their god five times a day and expect all among them to do the same whether they believe or not. Just keep your head down and say nothing and you will not be noticed."

Out of the corner of her eye, Zenaria spotted something she had not noticed before, although no doubt Tren had. Walking down the wide street were a dozen black-robed men with gold embroidery decorating their costume. Each carried in his right hand an elegant gold staff fitted with a spear point at the top. In their left was a seven-tailed whip. Zenaria's keen eyes noted that each of the flails was fitted with fitted with gold studs.

"Servants of Aroo," Tren whispered. "They punish any who do not appear to be praying fervently enough."

"They must be mad," Zenaria thought, bowing her head low. "What kind of god needs to force its worshipers to pray?"

All around her she could hear the sounds of praying; it rose in volume as the Servants of Aroo approached. "By the Moon Goddess," she muttered. "I don't know the words." She had no interest in conforming to the Sandak religion, but she felt she owed it to Tren to not give him away. Besides they were surrounded by enemies and she had no desire to fight the entire Sandakar Empire.

Around her the strange chanting of the Sandakar faithful became increasingly fervent as the Servants of Aroo moved ever closer. "You there! I can't hear you!" The voice came from directly behind her.

Zenaria held her breath and remained absolutely still. Maybe the remark was not directed at her. "Damn," she thought. "I don't even dare put my hand on my sword."

"I am speaking to you, camel dung!" There was a whistling sound and a terrible stinging pain across her back.

She reacted instantly, rolling away from the whip. Her motion brought her up against a praying man next to her, but she managed to scramble to her feet, drawing her sword as she did so.

"What is this?" exclaimed the man who had whipped her. "Have we a heretic?" His voice and Zenaria's motion alerted the others. Almost as one they moved toward her, their spear-like staffs directed toward her.

Zenaria did not wait for them to surround her; her nature was hardly defensive in any case. Gripping her blade with both hands she charged into the Servants of Aroo, her blade describing a wicked arc that cut off the hand of the man who had dared to flog her, cut through the staff of a second Servant, and ripped open the belly of a third. Instantly the street dissolved into pandemonium, filled with the shrieks of wounded men, cries of fear, and the shouts of alarm of the Servants of Aroo and the innocent citizens of Uhra Don who fled her wrath.

Her attack, so unexpected and devastating, caught the Servants of Aroo completely off guard. Used only to brutalizing defenceless members of the public who dared not fight back, they reacted in terror, almost falling over themselves to get away from her. They fled shouting in terror - all except the man Zenaria had disembowelled. He writhed on the ground, shrieking in agony, his hands making futile efforts to stuff his guts back into her abdominal cavity. Zenaria gave him a mercy stroke, taking his head off cleanly and ending his suffering.

For the moment, the once crowded street was almost deserted, except for the backs of fleeing citizenry. Tren stood beside her, carefully returning his swords to their sheaths. His expression was unreadable and for a second he said nothing; then he spoke. "I think we had better leave."

Zenaria looked back the way they had come, but Tren stopped her. "Not that way; the market will soon be swarming with guards." He turned to look toward the palace. "And we can't go that way either. No doubt the Servants of Aroo will return with reinforcements."

Zenaria didn't see that there were many choices left to them. There were no side streets that she could see, but Tren surprised her. "Quickly," he said, moving to the side of one of the shops. "Before anyone thinks to look in our direction again."

Zenaria joined him, glad that he had not scolded her for so carelessly exposing them. "Boost me up," Tren ordered, looking toward the roof of the building."

Like most of the ordinary buildings in Uhra Don it stood about ten feet high and was built of whitewashed mud brick with a flat roof. Zenaria linked her fingers together and offered them to Tren. Then she boosted him over her head. He easily caught the edge of the roof. "Quickly," he ordered, his body hanging straight down. "Use me as a ladder and then pull me up."

Zenaria obeyed immediately, clambering up Tren's body and then standing on his shoulders to gain the roof. She turned, and offering her hand, helped him to the rooftop. "This way," Tren said as soon as he stood beside her. "There is no time to lose. It will not take them long to figure out where we have gone." He ran toward the back of the building, Zenaria following. Reaching the edge of the roof he launched himself across the small space separating the building from the next and continued at top speed toward the next building.

Space was at a premium in Uhra Don and the alleyways separating the buildings were never more than a body's length wide. The only difficulty they ran into was when the building they were jumping to was somewhat higher than the one they were on. Interestingly, Tren seemed to know exactly where he was going and from the convoluted route he took across the rooftops she guessed that he had probably travelled this way before.

They finally came to a building that was too high for them to reach by jumping, however, Tren did not hesitate for even a second. Swinging over the edge he dropped nimbly into the alley and waited for Zenaria to join him. Although caught off guard by this sudden change in routine, Zenaria quickly swung over the edge and dropped beside him. "The next part of the trip will not be quite as pleasant. We have probably thrown off pursuit for now, but we still need to do a little shopping before there is a city-wide alert for us. The Sandakar do not take kindly to having the Servants of Aroo hacked down in the street."

Tren ducked down a staircase that was set against the base of the taller building and Zenaria followed. At the bottom there was an iron grill secured by a heavy iron padlock. It took Tren less than ten seconds to have the lock off and with a great creaking of rusty iron hinges he threw the door back.

Beyond the door was complete darkness, but Tren ushered her in and then coming in behind her slammed the iron grill shut and reattached the padlock. Zenaria stood in the darkness, her nostrils assailed by an unmistakable stench. "What is this place?" she asked, hardly daring to breathe.

"The sewers," Tren answered. "It will not be pleasant, but few come this way other than criminals. Be on your guard for them. From now on there will be no more talking. Touch me on the shoulder if you wish to communicate, and stay close. We will use no lights."

"What are sewers?" Zenaria wondered. But Tren had told her not to talk, so she couldn't ask. But it took her only a very short time to figure it out for herself. "By the Moon," she muttered, "this place is full of s...mmpphh!"

Tren clamped his hand over her mouth. Zenaria had a wild urge to bite him, but stopped dead when she heard the sound of voices speaking in Sandak.

"You sure you heard the grill open?"

"As sure as Aroo provides virgins to the righteous."

"Don't blaspheme. You will anger the one true god."

"Since when did you become so devout? We're rapists and murderers."

"That doesn't mean Aroo doesn't love us. Well... actually maybe it does. Now shut up. I want to catch the little gutter rat that came in through the grill."

It was pitch black, but Zenaria could hear the sound of footsteps coming toward her. She tensed her muscles getting ready for the kill, when Tren suddenly took his hand away.

"Come on," said the voice. "I know you're there. You can't hide from me. Come out and I won't skin you alive."

Zenaria eased her sword out. The man speaking was no more than ten or fifteen feet away and how he could see her she had no idea, but she suspected he was bluffing. She also knew from the movement of feet that there were more than just the two men who had spoken. Several others were out there and they were edging their way around to her left.

Tren was gone. She could no longer sense his presence anywhere near her and guessed that he was on his own little hunting expedition. That thought was confirmed a moment later when there was a muffled scream about ten feet directly in front of her.

"What in the name of the Prophet?" The exclamation came from the same direction as the footsteps had come from. Zenaria stepped toward them, swinging her sword through the darkness. There was a gruesome "thunk" as her blade made contact, not once but twice, followed by a horrible scream.

The scream was followed by a considerable number of appeals to Aroo and then the sound of feet dashing off into the darkness. It seemed to Zenaria that in spite of the numerous appeals of the Sandaks to their god he didn't pay them much attention. Zenaria listened, but the only sound she could hear was that of her own muted breathing. Tren's voice floated down to her from barely six feet away. "That was well done, barbarian. But try not to let anyone know we're down here next time."

"It wasn't me," Zenaria hissed back, "it was you opening the grill."

There was a long sigh. "Were you this much trouble to your father?"

"In the Leopard Tribe, women rule. I never knew my father."

"That explains things," Tren whispered. "Now come on and try to move without speaking this time."

Continued in Chapter 10

---