The Tattooed Princess: Book Two-- Escape to the West

An Unexpected Encounter

As Zaria walked down the pathway, leading to the tented city below the palace, she had trepidation for what she might discover. It was always in her thoughts that if Tsudros escaped his captors he would have gone to Moshtok's former home to hide. For it was there that Branka and he, together with Moshtok and the young Amazon, Tomyris, had set out with Zaria for the West. Now a year later, things had turned out so differently, and Zaria had been separated from her love for too long.

If what Mila and the others had told her was correct, there were a number of prisoners, once loyal to Sharvur, kept alive and isolated in the tents which had become vacant after the insurgence to remove the cruel king. Either way, Zaria was prepared to begin her search there in the now vacant home of Moshtok. As she made her way in disguise to the very street where the large tent sat in a row with others, she thought briefly of her sister Branka, now still comfortably with her own lover Moshtok—safe and living a good life back in Walesha. The thought that Branka would now be in the middle of her pregnancy with Moshtok's child, and how it was a deserving gift for all her sister had endured with Sharvur, here in the Pazyryk kingdom. She tried to imagine how beautiful the new baby's features would be someday, parented by both her lovely friends.

Approaching the specific tent, she found it quiet as before, and with few people on the street. When the last of the veiled women passed by on their daily trek to the river, Zaria made her way up to the abode's entry. Strangely, the tent flaps were not tied securely, and she could see it would be easy to enter. Looking once more up and down the pathway to insure no one was watching, she pulled opened the leather flaps of the large home and went inside to the first room. It was dark there, and this entryway smelled musty from lack of use. Yet, there was distantly another familiar smell of human activity coming from somewhere inside. As she became more aware and intrigued by this scent, it propelled her on, cautiously to the next room.

Entering there, Zaria could see better, as the sunlight was coming down in a bar of light from an opening in the ceiling. This room she remembered well, as it had the same colorful rugs on the dirt floor, though now dusty and faded. There were some clay pots in the corner, once used for water and a pile of what looked to be discarded clothing. Zaria went to the pile of garments and picked up what appeared to be a man's tunic. She put it to her nose and instantly her heart began to beat wildly, for she could detect in the woven material the scent of her lover of what would now be three years—her Tsudros, the tattoo artist. It was a smell she could not erase from her memories. Indelible from their many embraces, their sharing of difficulties in the wilds, and their passionate episodes of love-making.

Zaria was quite sure from this clue that Tsudros had been at least once in this home, and most recently. It could be, as her hopes soared, that he might even be there now, as a prisoner of his captors. Cautiously, she listened for any movement or signs of life, deeper into the tent's other rooms. She remembered the home to have numerous sections off a central passage way. Clutching her dagger beneath her cloak firmly and ready for its use if necessary, she progressed ever-slowly, ever-quietly forward, into the dark recesses of the abandoned tent.

Moving into the next room by opening a flap, she allowed a sliver of light inside. There was a startling rustle in the darkness as a large rat charged the entry way and passed between her feet to escape. This event startled Zaria, but did not distract her ardor to remain quiet and controlled in her search. As she closed this room off, satisfied it was empty, she moved on to the next, slowly opening the leather flaps to allow her inside. Darker than the other rooms, she paused to allow her eyes to adjust to the lack of light. And once she had done this, she walked slowly in to the center of the room where she could barely see what appeared to be crates of woven vines, once used to store food.

Suddenly from behind, and lunging out from around the tent flap, a dark figure hit her forcibly on the back and shoulders, throwing her to the dirt floor. Zaria turned and looked up quickly, still managing to hold her large knife concealed. The voice of the hooded figure was unmistakable. A cruel sound she had heard on many occasions. And one that had ordered her to do unmentionable things in his presence. As her eyes adjusted more to the dim light, the figure stood over her threateningly. To her horror, she could see inside the hooded cloak that it was indeed the face of a thinner and gaunt-looking Sharvur!

"It seems, my princess, I was correct in my assumption . . . that you would eventually come here. To search for someone."

Zaria was speechless, only her own deep breathing could be heard in the quiet room.

"When I had taken your beloved . . . the tattoo-maker, captured while on his way to the kingdom. . . I could not be more pleased. For I knew. where he went . . . I would find you."

A wheezing laugh erupted from the now visibly aged king, as he looked down ever-dominantly at Zaria.

"What say you princess? Are you glad to see your former king . . . and ever-attentive bedmate?"

Another labored laugh erupted from the chest of Sharvur as he seemed to enjoy the torturous banter and compromising position he now had her in."

"Where is he?" Zaria asked, breathlessly. "What has become of Tsudros?" She appealed to him as calmly as she could.

"All in good time my princess. For there are some things we must discuss . . . explore? Things you never shared with me . . . or showed me  in the past."

Zaria gripped the dagger more tightly.

"I suppose you know what I was always curious to see, my beautiful one. It was an examination which I stupidly never carried out . . . but which I always knew would one day take place. And there is no better place than here . . . and now, my virgin princess."

Sharvur moved forward. Seemingly ready to throw himself upon her. Zaria lay still, positioning the sharp knife under her clothing, prepared to impale him with it should his body make contact with hers.

After several heart-stopping moments, her dreadful molester of the past suddenly reached down for her neck with both hands. Using her free hand, Zaria grabbed Sharvur's cloak and pulled him off balance onto her, allowing the Amazon's blade to catch him rigidly at midsection while he fell. The monstrous king screamed out as the dagger embedded itself to the hilt, center to his body, and lethally in, just below his ribs.

Holding the blade and twisting it in a final impassioned act of revenge, Zaria felt the warm spray of his blood cascade over her hand and begin to soak through onto her clothing. With her last explosion of strength, she pushed the limp and dying torturer off her body and rose to her feet. Sharvur was breathing his last breaths and clutching his stomach, when she stepped back into safety.

"That is for the horrors you caused . . . to me, Branka, Svetlana . . . and all else in your destructive life, old man."

The dying Sharvur tried to speak but the pain and expiration of his life force did not permit a word. Soon he lay still, silent, and unbreathing.

Zaria stood for several moments just being ultimately assured the king was dead. The pool of blood he now lay in attested to the condition that he would never victimize anyone again. Zaria disgustedly cleaned the knife blade on her already blood-soaked cloak, when she heard a faint sound coming from the next room.

Holding the dagger out, ready for any other threat, she opened the flap and peered inside.

To her surprise and sheer elation, there in the dim light was Tsudros—his mouth bound, his limbs tied, and lying on the floor. His expressive eyes called out to her in a message of relief and love.

Zaria ran to him and began to cut the ropes and remove the bindings from his mouth.

"My darling!" she cried out. "You are alive!  You are here!"

Tsudros, regaining his breath, and in his present weakness, whispered as best he could. "I knew you would come."

Zaria could see how emaciated he was from lack of food and water. The scars also, from where he had been mistreated. But nevertheless, her lover was alive and ever-conscious of her presence. The two embraced there in the semi-darkness for a very long time—both shedding silent tears of relief and gratefulness for their reunion.

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