Part 5: Soul of the Wild

The rumors of war spread through Tilnabar, creeping like mist into the small Nazhaki community there. Aaron Connel lay in bed, wondering if this was what it must have been like back in Earth, before each of the terrible wars. He had listened to the descriptions of battles and massacres, trying to get a geography of the alien world. "Uxalan has conquered Old Shadur," people said. "Soon he'll claim all of Kei." And Aaron conjured images of Kei, the vast desert south of the savanna where Tilnabar was, robed soldiers on mares and camels, led by Uxalan, the mysterious wraith-god-king of a lost empire. He learned more about the world of Yothis. He learned the year: 488 as the savanna-folk reckoned it, but 2316 in Nazhaki calculation. He imagined those years would be remembered like 1939 or 1861 in his world.

Now he lay on his back in Porot-tiz-Magrad's house, recovering from the exertions of the past night, where he had fended off a demon sent by Uxalan's allies. He drifted into a fugue, not quite awake but not dreaming, and recalled the strange life he had led since being summoned to Yothis. He thought of the wizard (wizard? it felt silly to say) Turvis, who had grand plans for him. They had spoken after the fight: Turvis would help Aaron find Olivia, an Earth-girl who had come with him, but only so he could use them both to stop Uxalan.

Suddenly it was morning, and Aaron felt like he had slept all of fifteen minutes. The electric blue light of an evening moon had been replaced by the harsh yellow-white glare of the sun filtering through the gauzy curtains. He rose stiffly, washed himself in a simple basin (water was at a premium in the dry season), and looked outside to find a bundle of traveling equipment waiting for him. He stepped into the men's quarters where he saw Porot speaking with another Nazhaki. When he saw Aaron he nodded seriously.

"Is all this mine?" Aaron asked.

"It is," Porot said. "All we can spare, because you saved my daughter's life." The fat merchant grinned. "And because the wizard said so. No good saying no to a wizard."

Aaron smiled back and studied the pack. A dark blue silk tunic hung from it, trimmed with black. Aaron stripped out of his nightclothes and put it on, then fastened his sandals.

"The tunic is Hurik's work," Porot said. "He's a good lad."

The pack was very complete. He had a curved sword in a belt scabbard, a knife (a real "This is a knife" knife, not some little pencil-sharpener), a sharpening-stone he had no idea how to use, flint and tinder that he also didn't know how to use, a full water skin, needle and thread (something Aaron could use, though not well), a roll of clean bandages and a clay jar of healing-salve, and a length of thin silk rope. Food occupied most of the backpack: bundles of bread, jerky, and dried fruit. The food didn't look that bad, but Aaron imagined it would get tiresome after a while.

Finally, there was a bedroll, tightly wound, atop the backpack, and a long white silk cape for cold nights. Aaron nodded grimly, like a mighty warrior pleased with his gear.

"Good?" Porot asked.

"Amazing," Aaron said. "Thank you, Porot," he said. "You've done so much for me."

"It is our way," Porot said. "And you have repaid me. The wizard said that he will meet you beneath the old vahcha tree outside the eastern gate around mid-morning, so I'd hurry. I wish you luck on your... whatever the wizard wants you to do."

"Thanks again, Porot," Aaron said. "If I ever find a dragon's hoard, I'll set you and Wenet up with a nice little house with a view."

Aaron left to the merchant's echoing laughter and walked through the streets of Tilnabar. They were hot, and dusty, and loud, everything that a tranquil Earth suburb was not, and Aaron took in all the sights. Women in vibrant gowns pulled water from the village well, overseen by hard-eyed soldiers. An acrobat performed a one-man show, bouncing around on a sort of ladder-stick to the delight of a crowd. (He fell with a crash as Aaron walked by, then recovered with a brazen, "And look, no injuries!!") A fat man in a turban hawked melons from his cart; Aaron half-expected a chariot race to crash through the little scene, sending fruit everywhere. Two skinny, mangy dogs passed by, then yapped and rushed one-another, biting and growling; instantly a crowd formed, taking bets and waving silver coins.

The merchant district ended, replaced by quiet homes and businesses. The occasional cart rumbled by, throwing up dust. A few boys threw a rubber ball at a wall. The wall was painted in an intricate, abstract fresco with different targets. Aaron kept walking and disappeared around a corner before he could decipher the game, and in no time he passed the gates and was out of the city. The first of many Vahcha trees stood a few hundred paces away, a bent, gnarled old thing.

"Trying to sneak out?" a voice called from behind him. Aaron turned around and saw Wenet standing behind him, dressed in a flowing cream-colored robe.

"Wenet? What are you doing here?" Aaron asked. He smiled despite himself; he was happy to see her again.

"Seeing you off, of course," the girl said, walking up to him. "You saved me life. I couldn't just let you go."

"Thanks," Aaron said, grinning. "Let's walk to the tree where I'm supposed to meet Turvis. Where's Hurik?" he asked as they started to walk.

"Busy with his father making clothes," Wenet said.

They spoke of mundane things as they walked, until at last they stood beneath the bent old tree, which provided shade from the bright sun.

"Where is he?" Aaron asked, looking up and down the road. A wagon was rolling toward them, but from the wrong direction, probably a merchant heading toward the city.

"He said he needed to bring that girl home, Ninyel," Wenet said. Then she smiled. "Did you two..."

"I suppose we did," Aaron said. He fought the urge to feel embarrassed. "We were going to do it again, but, well, with the demon and all, things got complicated. Did you have a good time?" Aaron winked, and Wenet blushed at the insinuation, then nodded.

"It got a bit wild, actually. Since most girls don't, you know, suck dick, I had a couple of guys around me. It was really nice. I was sucking two of them, and there was another one inside me. I only wish Hurik was there too. He's very nice." Aaron instantly became the Man of Steel, which was embarrassingly noticeable under his tunic. But Wenet paid his dick no mind. "Thanks for everything," she said. "You saved my life. You helped my people settle in a new home. And now you're leaving. I'm really going to miss you."

Aaron felt the loss as well. Wenet was a sweet girl, and they had been through a lot. He fought back the urge to cry, his old street instincts kicking in. But Wenet was crying freely, and when she flung his arms around him, he felt tears sting his cheeks.

"I'm going to miss you," Aaron said. "You've been a great friend." He kissed her cheek, then leaned forward again and Wenet turned her head. They kissed, mouth-to-mouth, first a chaste, gentle kiss, then something more passionate until their tongues were entwined and Aaron ran his hands through the girl's soft hair.

"You're not leaving just yet," Wenet said, kissing Aaron's ear.

"Is that an offer?" Aaron asked, his libido kicking into overdrive. He kissed her on the lips, pressing her against the old tree.

Wenet smiled, then her expression darkened as she looked toward the city. A man with a long staff was wandering toward the gates: Turvis.

"Dammit," Wenet said. "I was hoping..."

"We still have time," Aaron said hopefully. "I'm young; I don't last." He winked.

Wenet giggled. "Then you're on," she said, and they hopped to the side of the road where the tall grass concealed them. Aaron dropped his backpack and undid his belt, dropping his sword to the floor. Wenet smiled and was on her knees in a second, pulling the boy's penis free. She licked quickly, wasting no time, tonguing the knob until Aaron moaned. He fucked her mouth slowly, pushing as deep as he could. His balls were already buzzing with come when a whim struck him.

"Wenet?" he said, or rather gasped.

"Mmf?" she said. She looked up at me, her large eyes shining. Her full breasts were visible below.

"Would you like to make love?" Aaron said. "I mean, I've never been inside you, and--"

"Mmf!" she said, and pulled herself off Aaron's dick, which slapped against his belly. She was smiling. "Really?"

"We'll need to be quick," Aaron said. "Think you're up for it?"

In answer, Wenet pushed him to the ground and tugged her robe open, exposing her large, full breasts and flat belly. Aaron raised his hard cock, which she carefully lowered herself onto, impaling herself inch by inch. Aaron moaned as she enveloped him. They lay there for a moment, Wenet's thighs twitching around Aaron's hips, then he pulled her down on top of her and began to fuck in earnest, thrusting hard and fast, knowing their time was short. Wenet moaned and cried out as Aaron thrust up into her, his arms around her waist to hold her steady. He slowed, pulling his cock almost entirely out of her, then thrusting hard back in, his dick slapping against her. She cried out. He did it again and again, maintaining a slow but relentless pace while kissing her soft lips.

Wenet rose up, sitting astride him, and drove herself down in time to Aaron's thrusts, her eyes glassy with lust. Aaron slid his hand down toward where they met, and with each deepest penetration, his thumb brushed her clit. Her down-thrusts grew uneven, though Aaron maintained a relentless pace, his own pleasure cresting dangerously. He fucked hard, needing to finish before the wizard arrived, and saw spots as Wenet grew tight. With one last brush of Aaron's thumb, Wenet came, her entire body stiffening. Aaron moved toward orgasm as well, but Wenet's tight pussy clamped down on his dick while she came. The boy saw stars as his cock struggled for release, growing almost frantic, as if he couldn't breathe. He made small whimpering noises beneath the girl, then suddenly exploded into her, and everything went hazy.

He rose back to full awareness with ringing ears. Wenet lay on top of him, kissing him softly. There were tears on her cheeks and a smile on her face. "That was very nice," she said. "Thank you."

"And thank you," Aaron said, a bit dizzy. He hugged her close. "I need to go."

Wenet stood up and wobbled a bit while Aaron fumbled with his clothing, his weapon, and his pack. They hugged one last time, then stepped apart.

"You should get back to the city," Aaron said. He paused and kicked his sandal against the ground, then said, "You're wonderful, Wenet. I think you're going to make Hurik very happy."

"Stay safe," Wenet said. She smiled one last time, then disappeared into the grass, taking a looping path back toward the gate. Aaron composed himself, wiped away a tear, and stepped onto the road.

Turvis waited, looking the same as ever. He squinted at Aaron, the top of his head shaded by his ugly, floppy hat. He wore a robe of brightly colored coarse silk shirt, all clashing grays and greens, and walked with a bent stick. He smiled idiotically and waved.

"Hello there, sport," he said. "Are you all set for our trip?"

Aaron blinked. He had been speaking Low Quist so often that the wizard's occasional sojourns into broken English always surprised him. If his dialect was to be believed, Turvis had last seen Earth some time in the 1920s. That earned him more respect in Aaron's eyes than his original captor, Zamphor, who didn't even learn the language except for summoning, and whose assistant spat thees and thous like were going out of style, unaware that they already had.

"All set," Aaron said. He rolled the English words around in his mouth before he said them. "At least I think. I have food, a weapon... I wish I had a horse. Actually, no, I don't; I can't ride the damn things."

"Sorry, no horse," Turvis said. "You'll have to make this trip on your own."

"What?" Aaron said. He had just started to walk forward, but the wizard's words brought him up short. He turned and looked back at the man. "Like, on my own on my own?"

"You heard that right," Turvis said. "I've got work to do, so I need to go."

"You're kidding," Aaron said. He tried to remember a good Spanish curse, but nothing came to mind, so he just kicked the dirt. "I thought you needed me to reach this 'Lord Ruby, ' talk with him about saving your sorry world from Uxalan. Don't you think it might be smart to, I don't know, keep an eye on me, so I don't wander off a cliff or eat some poisoned berry or insult the wrong witch?"

Turvis smiled, or smirked (the difference was never clear to Aaron), then his expression grew cold and he looked out toward the horizon. "Believe me, my man," he said, "I'd rather stay. But a wizard's work is never done, and forces moves beyond your sight--"

"Stop bullshitting me, old man," Aaron said. "Where are you going?"

"Fine, no bullshit," Turvis said. "You're not the only person I'm keeping an eye on. There are many who can stand against Uxalan, gree and alien both. I need to organize them all, or as many as I can keep alive. I can't tell you any more, though, in case you're captured and tortured for information. Is that what you need to know, O Demon of Order?"

Aaron swallowed at the reference to torture. "Yeah," he said. "I guess that's what I need to know. But..." He followed Turvis's gaze out to the eastern horizon. "How am I going to get where I need to go?"

Turvis reached into a belt pouch and pulled out a small carved stone. He tossed it to Aaron, who caught it and studied the pocketwatch-sized object. It was made of heavy stone and carved Celtic-like knots, centering on a face that looked like some Mesoamerican jaguar-god, square with sharp teeth and staring eyes.

"Min Shu will keep you safe from predators," Turvis said. "It's also a compass: just walk toward where his tongue points."

"Where's it lead?" Aaron asked. The tongue slid around when he turned the disc with the faint scrape of stone on stone.

"You'll find out," Turvis said. "Remember: torture. Oh, and take this. Something the Nazhaki don't have much of." He tossed Aaron a leather bag that the boy fumbled to catch, then picked up. It held several silver coins. "Five pajins will buy you a place to stay," the wizard said. "Don't get taken for a rube." Aaron counted the coins, which came in different sizes and denominations: he had about 100 pajins. When he looked up, Turvis was gone, and that was that.

Aaron looked right and left, then set off down the road. He passed merchants and travelers heading into the city and studied each as they went by. He marveled at how familiar their accoutrements appeared. Some items seemed common across the worlds, like swords (curved, Aaron knew from his sword-nut friend in school, to make them effectively sharper), armor of metal-over-leather that guards wore, and even backpacks and clothing, which had buckles, straps, and other predictable fastenings. But there was the occasional surprise. Animals were always just a bit different from earth. Yellow-furred things that were not cats or wolves skulked in the tall grass, and the favored mounts in Darquist were lumpy, two-toed creatures that were almost horses, but not quite. And Aaron's tunic fastened in a way that he had never seen before, folded carefully to remain in place; only tugging it in a particular way opened it.

Aaron traveled, admiring and fearing the world of Yothis. By nightfall there was a small town with a common house that cost Aaron eight pajins for food and lodging. He looked askance at his bag of food, then cheerfully ate a meal of spiced boiled carrots, lizard stew, and fruit yogurt. A rather well-proportioned girl with long black hair served his dinner, and though Aaron did his best to catch her eye (and check out her tanned legs beneath her short burgundy dress), he got nowhere and went to sleep alone and frustrated.

The next few days passed much like the first, though the villages grew smaller and took on a frontier quality, with rough sod walls around the adobe buildings and surly-looking guards in long blue capes. The road grew narrower, then became dirt instead of stone, and finally disappeared entirely until Aaron was left following Min Shu's stone tongue, wandering through the tall savanna grass among the lions, silver-furred deer, and butterfly-winged hawks.

Things watched Aaron at night, yellow eyes peering at him from the dark, strong claws wrapped around vahcha trees. Min Shu held them at bay, though one evening a starving jackal overcame its wards and attacked him, its diseased yellow tongue lolling. Aaron screamed and drove his curved sword into its chest, and it expired on top of him with a sick wheeze.

Despite his sore feet and his anxiety (for himself, for the world, whatever), Aaron felt good. For one thing, he had the best tan of his life, and his hair had grown out; that coupled with the sword and sandals made him feel like Conan (if a bit shorter and less mighty-thewed).

After almost a week of slow, frightening travel through the savanna, Aaron saw a cloud of dust on the horizon, a place where none of the wildebeest or other creatures approached, despite the presence of a river nearby. But Min Shu's tongue pointed in that direction, so the boy loosened his sword and approached, walking beside the clear river, keeping an eye on the crocodiles.

The dust parted suddenly to reveal a scene of carnage. Broken bodies lay in the dust, and the crocodiles ate hungrily in the river, tearing bodies apart and staining the water crimson. Aaron stared in sick horror at the bodies. Some were soldiers, wearing clothing like a bizarre cross of Roman legionnaire and Aztec warrior: beaten bronze helmets, long spears, and pale blue cloaks trimmed with feathers. Others were nearly naked, wearing only loincloths, and they clutched cruder weapons of obsidian, their pale hair stained with blood.

The fight was not over: several legionnaires staggered from the high glass, their oval shields raised to protect themselves. Aaron bit back a scream when he saw the thing that fought the legionnaires. At least seven feet tall, it walked upright, but there its resemblance to humanity (or gree) ended. Its face was a green-gray reptilian snout with gleaming yellow eyes, its body flexible and covered in scales, its hands great rending claws that even as Aaron watched, reached past a shield to tear out a man's throat. The crocodile-on-two-legs bled dark blood from many wounds, but he fought as if unwounded, his eyes aflame with hate.

As Aaron watched, another man crashed through the tall yellow grass. He wore a stylized winged helmet and a bronze breastplate decorated in turquoises and other precious stones, and he held a long, straight sword in both hands. The crocodile-man swung at him and he jumped back, then shouted, "Azha!"