Lore of the Underlings: Episode 6 ~ Meeting Minyon Page 3

  Minyon cleared his throat.

  “No firebird rising, born again…”

  He looked off as if keeping a deeper pain or something darker to himself.

  “It was just at dusk’s dawn that we set out for home, we three, the last of my family line. And as nightfall stole the remains of the day, I felt a familiar old feeling return — the curse of being a Fell-Behind, left lost in the dark for twenty-some years, abandoned for thousands of suns…”

  Minyon suddenly stopped himself and took on a lighter near cheery look. “But enough of the past, let’s leave that for the future — it’s high time to get to the present tents!” Then he shifted his stance setting course for the entrance.

  “Wait!” wailed a whey woman.

  “Elderman Minyon…”

  “What of your prophecies?”

  “And those omens?!”

  “Ah yes,” Minyon mused, “I guess I can share them… Though judgment hour is all but here. I’ll have to foretell in a nutshell.”

  Just then from the settlement hill tolled a hellish warning bell.

  Minyon Myne pressed on nonetheless. “It was the brute’s distempered blood, cold to the touch and sour to taste, that told me first to test the heart. That organ showed signs of a fabled animal — mighty, brave but gravely ill, as if wounded by a hound of hell or perhaps a creature more feline…”

  “Ooo!”

  “Amazing!”

  “On the nose.”

  “So, so sad to say but so…”

  “Whoa is the great vell Arrowborne.”

  “The brother Treasuror’s very own…”

  The congregation seemed poised to sing the praises of the graceful steed. Until Minyon interrupted them.

  “And speaking of that woeful one,” he said in a plush and velvet tone, “I spied troubled times ahead for our dear and fearless leader. A season of wither, storm clouds coming, in the murk of the bared bull’s phlegm…”

  “Thank heavens you’re back to warn him!”

  “Is there hope for a savior?”

  “Some higher power?”

  “Lord willing,” smiled the elderman.

  “And what about strangers?” asked Teely Tynn. “Were there any portents of them?”

  The augur thought and stroked his chin. “Yes, now that you mention it. Deep down in the belly of the beast, I found food enough for a three-day feast — vermin and varmints of all shapes and sizes — provisions as if for an epic quest. To me these were symbols of wayfarers, three, from distant lands on a mission of mercy. Emissaries bearing gifts, envoys with long tales in hand.

  “And…”

  Minyon hesitated a moment, pondering, then went on.

  “I sensed something else, next door in the liver… Not always trustworthy but I’ll tell…

  “The smell of its bile foreshadowed a leaver, one drenched in the stench of the Wild’s vast swamps through which he’d tried to run and hide. A young fool making a fateful mistake. An error of Eros. A futile trial. And then in the end an unspeakable sentence, bloodless but fatal — or so it seemed — judging by the spleen.”

  Again Mrs. Tynn was keen to chime in. “Word is the leaver’s a son of Yin and a prodigal one if you know what I mean. Thank God that they’re not my bloody kin. No Yin is even a neighbor of mine. And those strangers? Just his lawyers. Yes, fancy ones from a bench or bar in the court of public opinion…”

  No one could get a word in edgewise. Even Minyon. She droned on.

  “Either that or they’re tourists on vacation who took a really wrong turn…”

  But then a hubbub from the mob up ahead finally squelched the woman’s spiel. Minyon squinted to catch the cause but his vision was screened by the groundswell of people.

  “Hmmm, it seems I did not foresee…”

  He enjoined his young crusaders again, a calm but curious look on his face.

  “Go my children. Investigate…”

  The daughter answered by grabbing her spear, the son by unsheathing his jagged dagger. Then Axon and Eela plowed through the crowd to scout out the source of all the commotion.

  They seemed not to see the folk in their way, so driven were they by basic instinct — a distinctively animal passion. It turned their walk into stalking again, just as in Minyon’s unspun yarn. And they spoke in a tongue of growls and grunting, the primal language of preying, hunting…

  Well, up until they broke into the open. For that’s when they first laid eyes on him, John Cap the hunky anchored man.

  “Who?!” They froze in unison, waving their weapons in his direction.

  This visitor was news to them, these cloistered two, the spawn of Minyon. A stranger in shackles, still lady-killer. Some young man in manacles knocking ‘em dead.

  “They called him Captain,” someone answered.

  “You don’t know jack — it was Johnny Cat.”

  “As you please, but I’d say he’s some big cheese.”

  “So sharp!”

  “And cut…”

  “With a rank like that.”

  Axon spat while Eela watched the dude do battle with his bonds. A fine fettered play-boy, rebuffed and cuffed. An ironic ironman cast in irons.

  “Grrr,” she purred. “I’d call him mine.”

  Axon sneered and bared his blade. “Do you see what I see my sister?”

  “Only if you see a godsend, brother.” Her pouty, red lips rounded into an ‘O’. She gripped her spear’s shaft even tighter.

  Axon gave her an angry glare. “Oh, don’t get any ideas now girl. I know that hunger in your eye. Gaming to make him your own plaything — something the oddcat just dragged in.”

  Eela hissed, her face aflush and looking hotter than ever. Yet the brother dared stand astride her pathway to the stranger.

  “You don’t want any part of him, wild thing.”

  “It’s not any part that I want — step aside.”

  Each sibling flung back a long, carmine mane and stared the other down. The pair seemed destined to come to blows when there came a welcome distraction… A carnival stunt. An impromptu sideshow. Courtesy of the captive.

  It all unfolded in slow motion, reflected in Eela’s sultry glow. Like a scene played back from her wildest dreams, the steamy final fantasy of ensnaring her very own superman and revealing his secret identity… For at last with a marvelous, manly scream, this sun-baked beefcake burst at the seams, snapping the ropes around his chest but leaving himself half dressed. There, nearly naked for all to observe. A rock-hard body to rival her brother’s.

  Eela’s dark eyes lit up bright, black-hot, fully ignited. She shoved her big brother out of the way and blew by him before he could fight it.

  “Now, here’s some real man-fruit, all picked and peeled! No more plucking your Treasured boys, girls — prickberries all of them by comparison, and a pear short of this juicy guy. Oh, I’d need a score to make a pie or fill a little tart.” She laughed. “Jelly and jam, the whole puny bunch. They can’t even hold his poms!”

  Her laugh turned into an impish grin. “Just as well — that pleasure will be all mine…”

  Her voice tailed off in a musky growl, the sound of a bloodlust she did not hide. It worked on men like jungle fever, filling their heads with crimson tide.

  Cold sweat. Wet heat. Red red liquid madness.

  John Cap looked infected too, her blood-orange fire in his eyes.

  Tauntingly, the huntress continued. “Who’d like to help strip the rest of his rind and see what he’s got for seeds inside?”

  Of course no lass or lassie stepped forward. None dared challenge her raw appeal. For they were all too timid by nurture — church mice in contrast to that hellcat, this feline force of nature.

  Yes they were tempted yet also afraid of the stranger and what was unknown about him. No wonder their bark lacked bite in the end. All talk, lips locked, but for questions.

  “Wh-wh-where is the tall woman who was with him?”

  “That blond beauty seen by last ni
ght’s moon…”

  “She might be a witch.”

  “Or his mistress.”

  “Or both!”

  “Just itching to turn some hearts to stone…”

  “And how ‘bout the case of the orphan black?”

  “You mean that muddy little Mox?”

  “Didn’t his alien crew just abduct her?”

  “That’s what I heard.”

  “Those are the facts.”

  “Maybe so, but I’m still more fearful of Fyryx.”

  “True, brother Treasuror’s never pleased…”

  “To hear of any foreign consorting.”

  “Believe me, you’d be tried by morning!”

  “Judged like a leaver.”

  “On your knees…”

  Naturally, Eela knew none of these worries — a wild, full woman against mere girls. She neared the new man hips in motion, sneering seductively, breathing hard. Her wide eyes flashed, her nostrils flared, with each and every step.

  John Cap seemed bewitched as he watched her approach, possessed as much as roped and tied. And he no longer tried to get unwrapped, accepting his fate as a gift for her. To be fresh meat for this man-eater…

  Eela examined him head to toe like a lioness sizing her prey. She noticed the dried pit mud at his feet and the scars on his back where the shirt tore away.

  Then she smirked and her lips formed the shape of a kiss as she prodded his chest with the tip of her spear.

  “We must get you out of those rags, my dear.”

  The Guard, who’d been waiting off in the wings, suddenly seemed concerned.

  “Please have a care there Miss Myne!” warned Moon-syr.

  “That one’s a handful,” the other chimed in.

  Eela smiled and reached in a pouch, producing a ripe red pom. “So, is it alright to feed him then?”

  “Just watch your fingers.”

  “Look sharp!”

  “He might bite.”

  Her eyes opened wider. “Mmm, that’s what I’m hoping…”

  Meanwhile, John Cap’s heart all but beat through his rib cage as Eela moved closer and closer to him. Now he could feel her body’s heat and smell the scent of her salty skin.

  She pressed the fruit against his lips. He willingly bit deep into it.

  “Come with me boyfriend,” she beckoned him, whispering in his ear. “Let’s mark this date with more than a taste and far away from here.” Her sweet breath blew like desert wind that filled his mind with storms of sand, scenes of a land made of mirages… blurry… bizarre… daydreams bathed in half-light.

  “Soon you’ll be begging to be my sole mate.”

  John Cap swallowed the pom’s cool nectar then looked up as if wanting more.

  “Intoxicating, isn’t it?” Eela took a long, slow bite and licked her lips to watch him wait. Then she dropped the rest in the dirt, crushing the core beneath her feet.

  The stranger gazed at her longingly as if ready to vow his all right now…

  Until the voice of Axon Myne broke his sister’s spell.

  “Eela! End it! Cool the heat. And save that mating dance for your kind.”

  She swung her spear at him. “Mind your own groin!”

  But he caught it and cast it to the ground, all with the might of his meaty free hand. The other still held his talon blade, which he leveled at John Cap’s open neck — an easy target, naked and thick.

  He squinted, looking the stranger over.

  “I see this one’s had run-ins before… By the marks that score his back, a dungeoner or former convict — no stranger to the whip and lash. Sister, those scars are not badges of honor, but signs of thieves and galley slaves…”

  “Sounds like just my flavor of man — an inmate who’s not out for good behavior.” Eela spat in Axon’s face. “Bad boys make the best toys, brother.”

  John Cap, for his part, still seemed dazed, fogbound despite the sunny day. The love-struck stranger stared back punch-drunk at the red-haired pair.

  “Where am I?”

  Axon, reeling from Eela’s attack, did not seem to hear him.

  “Right in the eye this time. Trying to blind me? Lucky for you you’re blood, you serpent, but keep your venom to yourself.”

  He reached for the bear fur slung over his shoulder and wiped his swoon-worthy face with it. The singlet he wore opened wide as he did, to the delight of the gathered girls — and the approval of their mothers…

  “Make hay ladies!”

  “Looks like rain…”

  “Another storm trooper just dropped in!”

  “Send in the clouds.”

  “Then a husband monsoon.”

  “My kind of weather.”

  “Ah men!”

  Axon, unimpressed by their forecast, focused his black eyes on John Cap again. In fact he’d barely raised his fist when one more squall rolled in from the west.

  “Don’t look now, Boxbo.”

  “I see it, Ixit.”

  “Could this be?”

  “Finally?”

  “Yup.”

  “It’s…”

  “The suspect!”

  An unkempt band of swarthy plainsmen paraded a teenage boy toward the tent. The youth, their prisoner, was slight of stature, light as a feather the wind might take and fly off into the warm summer air. An easily bent and bowed little twig with a girlish mop of hair.

  But so tightly did they surround him that it was hard to tell more than that.

  “Looks greener than your usual leaver.”

  “More of a sapling I believe.”

  “What’s his name, his family tree?”

  “Something shady, I’m guessing.”

  All of a sudden the band branched off and took a detour, a sneakier route. Heading not to but around the huge tent, they made for its dark side, a place few went, and whisked the kid away from view so he could be “readied” for trial.

  Quick as he’d neared he’d disappeared. At least for now. Until judgment time.

  A voice from behind surprised the Mynes and seemed to snap John Cap to life.

  “Thank you, children! That will do.”

  Minyon sidestepped Eela’s spear and waved off Axon and his knife.

  “Let’s give our guest some breathing room.”

  John Cap exhaled with a wince, shaking the cobwebs from his brain. He mumbled a few words to himself while trying and failing to wipe his face.

  “Did anyone catch the truck that just hit me?”

  He acted more hung-over now than tipsy.

  Eela seemed to enjoy his state, the wake of her wicked handiwork — though before her father she’d turned demure and stepped a good six paces back.

  Her brother was another story. Axon was known for picking fights and this time and place was no exception. Indeed, he stood taller and thrust his chest out, as if this new rival bothered him even more than the fodder the Keep had to offer, the usual Treasured fare.

  Perhaps with his sire and so many onlookers there to compare the two of them…

  “So, you must be one of the foreign wayfarers whom I've fore-heard so much about. Welcome, welcome, my newfound friend. Please allow me to introduce myself. I am elderman Minyon Myne, a humble servant of this Keep and its simple but Treasured folk.”

  He lowered his gaze in a gracious way and offered his soft hand to the stranger.

  The young man seemed nonplussed by the gesture, a kindness he had not experienced here. He took it in like a breath of fresh air, the elixir he needed to sober up.

  “John Cap. Happy to know you.” He tried to reach for the priestly palm but could not extend his hampered arm. “Anyway — I’m real glad to meet someone who isn’t after my aching head.”

  Minyon replied with mild bemusement and a twinkle in his eye. “No doubt it’s best kept on your neck, to keep yourself from losing it…”

  Then he turned dead serious.

  “And I have a sense you’ll be needing its wits in the dark trials and tests that you fa
ce ahead.”

  John Cap did a double-take. “Yes… I guess. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  An awkward silence followed until Eela faked a little cough.

  “Ah, introductions! I’ve been remiss…” And with that the elder Myne blushed a bit, but pale as if feigning embarrassment. “Thank the Lord for my miss informer. I’m not a man for formalities.”

  He sent his youngest a telling wink.

  “But I think that you may be acquainted by now with these two, my only worldly treasures…” Proudly, he nodded toward his twain. “Dear daughter Eela. My son, first-born Axon.”

  John Cap eyed them sideways. “Yeah, we’ve met.”

  Minyon smiled and moved much closer, taking more of the stranger in. Then he reached for the young man’s arm and pressed it familiarly, skin to skin.

  “I, for one, am grateful you’ve come — that you’ve found this oasis within our Wild…” His eyes flashed bright, prophet-like, with the aura of a seer.

  “And I know why you’re here.”

  John Cap looked stunned by the revelation, a touch disbelieving if not plain suspicious. “Who have you been talking to?”

  Minyon did not answer head-on but deftly turned the conversation. “You must know that I am not alone. Other voices there are, my son, silent ones who would hear you out.”

  Those words were music to John Cap’s ears. “Honest? That’s all we’re asking for.” The prisoner seemed to lower his guard.

  Minyon Myne ministered on. “And yet you were bound to end up here not by brotherhood but fear. Bile is the life’s blood of this Keep, the reign that keeps its people sheep. A flock herded hard and taught to be guarded, under a cold-eyed shepherd and staff…”

  “Sure, well that Hurx fella had us flocked and rounded up in some stinking pen. Then his guard nearly sheared us to death.” John Cap gazed out at the crowd. “And these folks, they’re looking at me like a lamb chop. The last thing they all seem to want is a guest.”

  Minyon motioned toward the tent. “Such is the will of our would-be warlord, the man you mentioned, Fyryx Hurx. He and his men police this Keep, keeping the peace with an ironwood fist and the tip of a sharpened battle pike. And for what? The sake of a prime directive from the tongue of a king long passed. That Semperor’s goal was no doubt noble — the preservation of his race. Yet here and now in this time and place, even he might question the price… the cost of keeping a purebred beast that feeds on its own people’s flesh and blood.”