05-The Sea of Grass

Kaya came upon more Tribesmen in the early evening.

Since the blood was spilled crossing their lines, her travel had been ever so swift, uneventful, and her faithful mount Fred had never faltered. But their good fortune would not last, she knew. She’d been bound to encounter them again sooner or later while traversing their lands.

She saw them in the distance, heard the hooves pounding on the earth. They noticed her too, and her heart sank when she saw their direction change, the riders moving toward her, on a clear collision course. In the past she may have considered flight, but not anymore. She would not falter. She’d slayed them already, and knew she could do so again.

Although this time, she was even more outnumbered—there were three of them.

Her heart sank further as the distance between them shrank and she saw them clearly, for their shaved heads and tattoos left no doubt as to their allegiance. Even worse were the smirks they wore. It was clear this was entertaining for them, to happen upon a woman travelling alone.

“And where does the maiden go, in such haste?” one of them asked, with a devilish grin.

Her true destination was the Mountains of Kull, of course; specifically, whatever dark, blasted hole the dragon had made its nest. But that wasn’t for these men to know, particularly if they had any connection to Balako and the army that had threatened her home.

She had a different answer for them, for there was a town she had yet to come across, one last way station at the far edge of the Sea of Grass, where the land began to ascend at the very base of the Mountains of Kull. The town was called Fillmore, and it was a place she’d never been, for neither she—nor anyone she knew—had ever fully traversed the Sea of Grass.

“I go to Fillmore,” she said.

There were three of them, and they each asked a question, one after another, their grins always devilish, their intentions clear—and foul.

“And where did you depart from?”

“Why do you travel alone?”

“What business have you in Fillmore?”

She could have used one response to answer all three of their questions: my business is my own. But Kaya never made it that far. She noticed how they had begun to circle her, moving almost casually, but nevertheless their movements were unmistakable as clear entrapment. The man directly before her still wore the impure grin, and it never left his face even as his eyeball disappeared completely in place of her arrow, its point deep within the man’s head, its feathers kissing the air. A dead grin still on his face, his body slipped off the horse and fell to the ground.

The other men cursed in surprise as one of them readied his bow, and the other charged forward with a spear held forward, ready to strike. Kaya steered Fred deftly aside, to avoid his charge.

She knew she should already be dead, if the third man had had any skill whatsoever. Instead, his arrow had whistled past her head harmlessly, and Kaya knew she was very, very lucky. But luck had been factored in to her plan—she knew she’d need it to survive even a single day of this journey. This time it was with her.

As his arrow had whistled past her, Kaya nocked another one of her own, turned, and shot it into his throat. He remained atop his mount, a lifeless husk.

The final rider turned and came back for her, with his spear held forward as though to joust. She dispatched him with her hatchet, a humming blur across the grass that struck and ravaged his neck, nearly taking off his head altogether. It hung grossly amidst a gurgling red stream as his body tumbled off the horse.

Two of their horses began to walk away slowly. The third horse still carried the dead rider with her arrow in his throat, his shirt awash in crimson. Kaya approached him and pushed his body until it fell off the horse.

She reclaimed her hatchet and began to again clean it in the grass, wondering why she was still alive. But then she froze, with wide, astonished eyes. Kaya felt a disturbance as the wind gusted and made the tall grass sing all around her. Her skin prickled as she peered up at the sky.

Save for the distant mountains to the east, the horizon in all directions was flat, and the sky was as massive as it could be. The array of clouds painted across this celestial canvas were scattered wisps in the foreground, set ablaze by the sunken red sun, and behind them was a backdrop of salmon-colored scales. Beyond even that, she saw pockets of blackness, like windows into the heavens.

Someone had arrived, she knew. It was a seemingly ridiculous notion, but Kaya trusted her intuition more than anything else, and it spoke to her clearly. Kaya looked quickly away from the sky, and scanned the plains all around her. He was near. Very near.

Squinting, she could see him in the distance, a lone figure walking in the tall grass. She watched him while gathering her thoughts. His progress on foot was painfully slow, almost nil. She knew she could easily go around him and avoid him altogether if she wished.

She couldn’t though. His presence was like a vortex, and it would draw her in. She could already feel strange knowledge flowing into her, things she shouldn’t know, things that didn’t necessarily make any sense. But it was abundantly clear that she was supposed to go see him, and perhaps even interact with him. She didn’t know why, not exactly, and she also didn’t know how much of a distraction he’d ultimately prove to be.

Or, daresay his presence would be beneficial? That was a surreal concept.

She wouldn’t count on anything, though. Kaya counted on only three things—her wits, her hatchet, and her horse. Everything else was a wild card, as far as she was concerned, and most wild cards were erratic and dangerous.

The three dead men lay on the grass, and Kaya Cruz crept forward atop her horse, moving hesitantly, her expression perturbed.

But, she was ready.