The Crimson Lions (fantasy)

The Crimson Lions

Lothar was certain he was going to die any moment now. The desert sun had reddened the Unserlynder’s once white skin and baked him so that sweat soaked his auburn hair. Although he still had thick musculature, weeks of hunger had burned out almost all of his body fat, making his ribs visible through his hide. His stomach rumbled, his flesh ached, and his throat was drier than the dust on which he staggered.

All that kept him going were memories of his homeland, but they felt incredibly distant. No doubt a major reason why was that these scorching, barren deserts of Ishmael were as far removed from the cool, humid forests of Unserlynd as one could get. Never again would Lothar smell the fresh scents of pine and flowers or hear the chorus of birds and crickets. Never again would he see his village of wooden houses with thatched roofs, nor would he see the familiar faces of the people for whom he had forged iron tools and weapons. But worst of all was that he would never again see Eadgifu, with her flaxen hair and river-blue eyes…at least not until he joined her in Hel.

The Unserlynder collapsed. The hot sand burned his chest and forced an anguished roar from him. At first he scrambled to get up, but wandering through the wastes for so long had sapped him of the strength he needed. Eventually he surrendered and just lay there motionless. If he was destined to die, it might as well be now. All he could do is let his mind drift back to the memories…

“Are you all right?” a male voice said in the Ishmaelite language.

A hand tapped Lothar’s shoulder. He could only groan.

“You’re barely alive!” the voice said. “Let me help you up.”

Someone propped the Unserlynder off his chest and helped him back onto his feet. Lothar saw that his helper was a turbaned Ishmaelite with an olive-skinned, black-bearded face. His first reaction was to bare his teeth aggressively, for he vividly recalled what Ishmaelites had done to him before.

“Calm down, I don’t mean to hurt you,” the Ishmaelite said. “Now I see you have some nasty welts on your back. I presume you are an escaped slave?”

Lothar nodded.

“Then I know just the place you need. Come with me.”

The Ishmaelite jumped onto one of those humped deer that Lothar had learned were called camels, helped the Unserlynder onto its back with him, and then rode off. Lothar’s mind was scrambled by confusion, for he wondered why an Ishmaelite of all people would help him, but he was too exhausted to say or do anything.

***

After a short ride across the barrens, the Ishmaelite arrived at an oasis around which a cluster of goat-hair tents had been set up. The other people in the camp, mostly Ishmaelite men, stared curiously at the strange red-haired man who had been brought into their midst. Lothar was then dragged off the camel and into the largest of the tents.

“I found this northerner all by himself out in the wilds,” Lothar’s rescuer announced. “What shall we do with him, chief?”

The Unserlynder looked up to see another Ishmaelite, this one dressed in red with a bronze breastplate. This man, who had to be the camp’s chief, stroked his gray-shot beard thoughtfully and grinned.

“He looks like he could be strong if nursed back to full health,” the chief said. “We could use him. Nefrusobek, see if you can divulge anything about this stranger.”

That was when Lothar noticed the slender young woman standing next to the Ishmaelite chief. Her dark mahogany complexion and dreadlocked black hair indicated that she was a Cushite rather than an Ishmaelite, which added to the Unserlynder’s confusion. Symbols that Lothar had never seen before had been scarred into her bare torso, but beside these inflictions, he had to admit that she was actually quite attractive for someone outside of his race. But that was not what really stunned him about her…

The Cushite’s dark eyes aligned with Lothar’s green ones, and for some reason he felt something vibrating inside his head. What in Wodan’s name was this woman doing to him?

“His name is Lothar,” Nefrusobek said to the Ishmaelite.

Lothar’s eyes widened with shock. How had she learned his name without him saying anything?

“He comes from Unserlynd to the far northwest,” Nefrusobek continued, “But he was captured by raiders from a rival tribe and sold into slavery. He was then shipped across the Medimundian to Yerusalaam and bought by a noble named Noam, but he escaped into the desert when he could no longer tolerate his master’s cruelty, and he has wandered by himself ever since.”

Now Lothar’s back chilled. This woman was able to read his mind!

“Thank you,” the Ishmaelite chief said and then turned to face Lothar. “So you are an escaped slave, are you? Then welcome to the Crimson Lions. I am Melek, your new chief, and this is my witch Nefrusobek.”

“What are you going to do to me?” the northerner asked.

“For the time being we’ll let you stay so you can restore your health. Once that passes, we’ll…test you to see if you’re as strong as you appear.”

Lothar raised an eyebrow in suspicion. “What are you people up to, anyway?”

“We’ll tell you later. Now you need food, water, and rest.”

The Unserlynder, grateful as he was for the Crimson Lions’ hospitality, knew that he had a lot of questions he was going to ask once he had rested.

Interesting thus far! :)

Nice to see this place is getting some new blood :2thumbsup:

Thnx for sharing your stories, Kahotep (and keep them coming!).

In case you didn't know, there will be a writing contest in the Mead Hall in the near future; I hope you will participate :bow:

***

Lothar had not drunk anything in days, so he savored the feeling of cool oasis water sliding down his parched gullet. He devoured the loaf of bread Melek had given him as ravenously as a rabid wolf would devour a carcass. A woolen blanket around him provided comfort for his rest. So much time had passed since the Unserlynder had been treated so kindly that he was almost incredulous at his situation.

He noticed that Nefrusobek was smiling at him with her eyes half-closed, giving her a seductive look.

“For someone as starved as you are, you are quite handsome,” she said.

Lothar was tempted to reply with a compliment of his own, but then a tragic memory of his past life came forth and depressed him. Beautiful as Nefrusobek may have been, it didn’t seem right for him to leave the one he once had for her. His mind vibrated again.

“You miss someone,” Nefrusobek said. “Her name was Eadgifu, and she was your wife back in Unserlynd. She was killed by the raiders who enslaved you.”

“Yes,” Lothar responded. “I promised her that I would always hold her in my heart.”

The Cushite witch gently laid her hand on his shoulder. “I understand. At least you married someone you really loved. If only I had the same fortune…”

“What do you mean?”

“A few years ago, when I still lived in Cush, my parents arranged a wedding between me and a rich scribe named Remmao, but he was a controlling and temperamental man who would never let me leave the house. I grew so fed up with that tyrant that I turned him into a rat. Alas, one of our servants caught me in the act and reported me to the town guard. I was lucky I managed to escape before they could arrest me, and I have lived beyond the frontier of civilization ever since.”

“So that’s how you have come to live among Ishmaelites. Now how did you become a witch?”

“My mother was a witch, and her mother before her---it runs in our family.”

Nefrusobek dug her hands into a leather sack and pulled out some glowing green crystals which seized Lothar’s attention. She put the crystals into her mouth and began to crunch on them.

“What in Wodan’s name are you eating?” Lothar asked.

“Heka crystals, the source of every magician’s power. They taste terrible, but I must consume them every so often.”

“Where do you find these crystals?”

“They’re quite rare except in a few parts of the world, but you can buy them at certain bazaars if you have enough shekels.”

“And how do you earn those shekels?”

“I suppose now’s the time to tell you what the Crimson Lions do,” Melek interjected. “Many caravans cross this desert. Suffice to say that we make most of our living off them…”

Lothar’s face turned a deeper red and he clenched his fists. “I know who you people are. You’re a bunch of thieving bandits!”

“In the words of civilized men, yes. But the merchants are not necessarily any better, for many of them are cheats. For that matter, many ‘law-abiding’ wealthy people get their riches from extorting or plundering other people, except they call those taxes and conquest respectively. If anything, we’re more honest than any king, noble, or trader, for at least we don’t pretend to be anything other than thieves.”

“But you are still thieves! I want nothing to do with you!”

Mekel leaned closer to Lothar with a menacing glare. “Would you rather I return you to Yerusalaam, where you were a slave? It would be very profitable for me…”

The northerner said nothing, but his once fierce expression had melted into one full of dread.

“I thought not,” the bandit chief resumed. “Besides, by joining us, you can have your revenge on civilization, the very institution responsible for all your suffering. What say you to that, northerner?”

Lothar pondered what Mekel had just told him. The chief was right; the Unserlynder had no reason to assimilate into Ishmaelite civilization and every reason to spite it. The Ishmaelites’ demand for slaves had been the force that destroyed his village, killed his wife, and brought him in chains to be sold and whipped. What sweeter revenge could he have than plundering them?

He said with a grin, “I accept your offer, chief.”

“Good. But as I said earlier, we must test your strength first, and that should be in a few days when you’ve recuperated.”

“And how will you test me?”

“Don’t worry about that for the moment. You need your rest. Good night.”

On Mekel’s command, Lothar lay down, but he did not fall asleep immediately. He gazed at Nefrusobek and felt a stirring in his loins. As much as he had loved Eadgifu, he now wondered whether it was worth mourning a dead woman for the rest of his life. Perhaps he could have a second chance at love, and if so, he would protect his new mate as fiercely as he had tried to protect his past one.

Very good! Entertaining too! :)