Chenga

The Meeting of the Three

Simarl heard a sound from the trail and was relieved to catch a glimpse of Nirgalen.

'Well... that's five less K'Vathin in the Wode.'  Simarl wiped his dagger off on the clothes of a body at his feet.  'Hey, whatdya know, this one's got good boots too!'

'Oh, you're not serious: filling dead man's shoes now?'

'Well, if the shoe fits.'  Simarl pulled the boots from the K'Vathin and squeezed them into place on his own feet.  Nirgalen looked at his friend's haggard face and saw the mask of the smile slip into place.

'Now, Kahu, remind me why I'm always the one that gets shot and the one that ends up as bait?'  Nirgalen spoke through clenched teeth, but tried to lighten the atmosphere of death that hung heavy around them.

'I guess you're just a lucky kinda guy.'  Simarl moved up to Nirgalen and patted his side where the arrow had struck.

'Arrrgh!'  Nirgalen cried out in pain and moved to stick Simarl with his dagger.

'Hey!  What happened here?'  A commanding voice cut the air and the two men spun round in surprise.  In front of them was a young girl, perhaps in her twenties, with deep brown eyes and long black hair cascading from her hooded woollen cloak.  A clasp in the shape of a black dragon held the cloak in place.  The girl was tall, well over six feet in height and moved with elegant grace.  Her lips were full and sensuous and there was something intriguing about her features.

'And you would be?'  Simarl was puzzled by the girl's sudden appearance.  He hadn't heard her at all.  'Gods, I must be slipping,' was the thought that shot through his head.

'Eylana Visharl: Muldoon is my stepfather.'  The young girl came nearer.  Both men realised that the girl made almost no sound on the iced road, as she moved towards them.  Nirgalen was worried; something about the girl wasn't right.  And now, Nirgalen sensed a seething hostility coming from the girl.

'You've come to take us to the old woman?'  Nirgalen looked into the girl's eyes.  He saw anger there, plain as day.

'I'll take you to her, but, I know who you are.'  The girl threw back her hood.  Her forehead had the ridges of the Peytahns and tattoos decorated her face.  Nirgalen glanced at Simarl.

'So, who are we then?'  Simarl moved closer to Nirgalen and his hand rested on the sword hilt of the scimitar he'd taken from the K'Vathin.

'Drug runners from Deneb: scum, with a price on your heads.'  The girl looked defiantly at them, as if expecting them to deny what she had said.  As she spoke, Nirgalen saw the enlarged canine teeth behind her full red lips.

'How d'ya get to know this?'  Nirgalen looked at the girl once more.

'Gamesh is my half-brother.  He sends a message with me: you go to the ruins, but the only way you'll leave Kimlar is in chains.  I'm to make sure you don't die before he hands you over to the Kula- Mar.'

Simarl groaned and Nirgalen shook his head.  And the day had started out with such promise.

'Well, are you any good at fixing wounds?'  asked Simarl.  'My friend here got this little scratch from the K'Vathin, who just happened to set up an ambush for us... if you please.'

The girl moved towards Nirgalen with a look of pure hatred on her face.  She laid her hands on the wound at his side.

'Broken ribs, nasty gash.  Hold still, human.'  The girl's hand disappeared inside her cloak and came back with a padded rag and a small glass vial.  She quickly dabbed some liquid from the bottle on the pad and pressed it to Nirgalen's open wound.  He looked down at her hands and surveyed the long, sharp fingernails... almost like claws.  Now that she was close she had an amazing scent, too: hypnotic, alluring, a scent that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.  A shiver ran down his spine.