CHAPTER SEVEN

*~~~**~~~*

Urman

*~~~**~~~*

15th of Decepter, 935 PC

Urman had just bent over to catch his breath when another streak of purple energy ripped through a nearby tree. The shadows of the forest combined with the purple blaze to illuminate his surroundings briefly. Just long enough to see splinters of wood and bark explode in all directions. Birds that had been asleep just moments before scattered into the night sky. Shit. If only I had my dagger I’d kill them all. The ambush had left him with no choice but to flee with the only thing that mattered now; the scroll tube he had worked so hard for. A moon spent with that insufferable Ezil. I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let ‘em lay a finger on me or this formula.

There was another explosion, much closer this time.

“Mmph!” He stumbled over the roots of the oak tree, slipping on the dew that covered the forest floor. There was a splitting pain in his arm. He grabbed at it as he began to move. Three hells. A slim piece of bark was buried in his upper arm. He stopped, keeled over, squeezed the scroll tube tight in his hand, and yanked on the wood in his shoulder with the other. Gritting his teeth and cursing the Lotus under his breath. The wood rustled the dry leaves at his bare feet when he dropped it and felt the fleshy hole in his arm. It’ll take more than that to kill Urman Gant. More blasts, wildly aimed, and non-threatening. At least, as non-threatening as a blast of deadly energy could be. Gotta move. They’ll do much worse than that to me if they catch me.

“Urman!” A voice yelled through the dark forest. Laspin. That son of a bitch. Should have killed him when I was with Ezil.

The crunch of the dead leaves made vanishing into the darkness unnoticed impossible. The Lotus were alerted immediately, yelling and throwing their magic like untrained buffoons. He stepped on a branch as he moved.

“Ouch!” Why did you have to take your boots off to fall asleep? You never take your boots off to sleep. It was an unusual choice. One he had only made because his boots had been soaked through. Turned into icy tombs for his suffering feet.

He ran as hard as he could, over branches, logs, bushes, and roots until he stopped behind another oak tree to see where the Lotus were. Three hells my feet are cold. I’ll be lucky not to get the Frost Mother’s Freeze. Whole reason I took the damn things off to begin with. He let a sliver of his eye peek around the tree. Dots of hazy purple energy were scattered through the trees in the not so far distance but he was putting ground himself and his pursuers. You have to make it to the heart of the emerald. They won’t go in there. He felt his wound with his fingers again instinctively, thick blood covered them.

He took off again.

“There!” a woman yelled when she heard the crunch of the leaves.

He barely heard Laspin tell his cohorts not to kill him. That the Lotus Queen wanted him alive. Mistake arsehole. You’ll never catch me alive.

A tree ripped apart a few feet away from him. He swerved and covered his head as he avoided the explosion. Another blast knocked him off his feet, his knee landed on a rock. He scrambled to his blistering cold feet instantly, limping for just a moment as he started to move again. Cursing to himself the entire time.

Crunching leaves sounded behind him.

“Come on Urman, make this easier on yourself!” Laspin’s raspy voice nearly made him blind with hatred. Turn around. Kill him. Kill them all. Laspin was even worse than Ezil. A grizzly barbarian of a man. Urman couldn’t deny he lacked tact himself, but Laspin was the type of man to do and say whatever he pleased because of the authority associated with his name. Too many times had the Lotus prick pushed Urman to his limits while they traveled together. Keep moving. I’ll return him to the Creator in pieces soon enough.

Urman hadn’t always had a reputation focused more on what he had done more than who he really was. Although, when a man’s done the things I’ve done, not many people want t’get to know the beauty between the scars. He wondered if there was any beauty left. He’d always been a fighter, but with fists and feet, teeth if he had to. Maybe a knife with only half-bad intentions if he was outnumbered. But that was a long time ago, since then he had fought real fights. The ones that end with men lying on the ground either looking at where they were going or where they wished they could go.

He pressed on, weaving through the trees as he ran. He glanced back, purple streaks were being cut off by trees, the sound of cracking and splitting of wood filled the forest. A few streaks hit the ground around him. Chunks of earth were thrust into the air like water being shot from a geyser. He didn’t stop. Which way is the heart? Think. I’ve been here plenty of times. He veered right in hopes that his instincts were true. They were. Like they always were.

Minutes later he was approaching the sound of flowing water. The forest thinned considerably around the gentle creek. There was a grassy slope on the other side of the water. He recognized it. The heart of the emerald is just over that hill. The Lotus seemed confused behind him, yelling to one another about where they had seen him last. Idiots. Frantically, he grabbed at the side pocket of his brown cloak and crouched behind a large rock near the edge of the creek. He panted hard as he fumbled with the lid of the flask. Most of the whiskey dumped onto his chest before his lips touched the metal. Goodbye old friend. He stared at the gift his brother had given him years before, remembered the day fondly, then threw it as far as he could. There were several clinks as the flask hit the rocky edge of the creek about a hundred feet away. There was a dunking sound as it fell into the water.

“Over here!” a woman yelled. The voice was still far enough away to make an escape. Thank you Harlow.

He took a short running start, jumped over the creek and was off, up the embankment, the dew chilling his feet. He dropped behind a tree, his hands and knees sliding across the cold, wet grass. Have I done it? Escaped? Again.

He took in his surroundings. The embankment continued upward a bit further before tumbling down toward his refuge. The brisk breeze ruffled the leaves that remained on the trees above him, blew the ones on the ground down the hill. The back of his neck coated his hand in cold sweat as he tried to calm himself. His hair was a wild mess, his beard unruly. Though, that had become something of a norm since traveling with Ezil. There was a moment to reflect. What have I gotten myself into this time? Who am I kidding? I been knee-deep in this shit for years. What’s a little more gonna do? Ruin my clothes..

He twisted his body and peered around the tree, down the slope. The large shadowy figure approaching the creek was unmistakable. Laspin. He could paint the man’s ugly face from memory. A curling mustache and a long beard to match. A scar beneath his eye that Ezil had apparently given him at some point. More terrifying though were Laspin’s muscles that could snap Urman in half if he ever got his grimy hands on him. You don’t live with a bounty on your head as long as I have by letting oafs like Laspin get their hands on ya.

Four other figures followed Laspin closely, dressed in the same light green gambeson as Laspin. Urman’s breathing was so loud he thought the Lotus may hear him. Calm down, these fools will never catch me. The Lotus stood near the place where the flask had landed. Laspin shoved a smaller Lotus that looked like a woman. The moonlight was unimpeded by the barren branches above but even had it not been he didn’t need light to see Laspin’s anger and the woman’s fear. Another woman, much taller and stronger looking, stepped between the two. Her hair was braided and hung to her hips. That braid. That’s the Yilan gal. He looked closer at the woman Laspin had shoved. And that’s old what's her name. The lazy one that ain’t got a lick of work ethic in her. Hurd, ain’t it?

Urman could just barely hear the argument. Laspin was waving his arms all around, pointing at the creek, then the woman he had shoved. There were words like worthless and pathetic, several more that Urman didn’t appreciate hearing a man call a woman. The Lotus Army is no more an army than I am a hero. Just a bunch of horrible people all flying around in the clouds together. Had he not felt bad for the helpless lass he may have laughed at the whole scene.

Suddenly, a hand squeezed his shoulder.

“Shh.” Shit. “It’s me,” the man whispered. I know that voice. Thank The Creator.

Urman turned slowly. It was his last friend in the empire. Kathar Queets. “What are you doing here?” His voice was barely audible but the relief was distinct.

The slim man standing over him smiled. “I know you well enough to know when you’re late, you’re in trouble.”

*~~~**~~~*

The sounds of the flying brigantine’s massive wings were the perfect companion for the hellacious downpour that started minutes after Urman met up with Kathar. Each flap sent the tops of the trees swaying and was loud enough to make Urman cover his ears from time to time. He screamed foul words at the ship when it finally drifted off toward clearer skies.

“Damn Lotus!” he yelled over the rain. “Won’t leave me to my own business!” Kathar grinned at him. He smiled back, knowing his friend knew damn well his kind of business tended to draw the attention of the powers that be. When Kathar turned to keep walking Urman grabbed his shoulder and spun the man toward himself. The deafening rain made saying anything out loud seem pointless so he simply pulled Kathar toward him and hugged him. In a world full of enemies, this is the one man I can trust. They withdrew, Kathar nodded appreciatively then flicked his head for Urman to follow.

Kathar made little sense to Urman. His mother had as much money as the royal families throughout the empire yet he chose to live in The Emerald Wood. For years, Urman had wondered why the man would make the choice to live with so little when the finest luxuries in the empire were at his fingertips. Then again, his simplicity was also what made him so charming and easy to be around. There was never a time that Kathar fussed over what he didn’t have, or the quality of what he did. He simply made the best of everything. And Urman couldn’t deny that with the world hunting him, with no place feeling safe, he appreciated the idea of escaping everything and disappearing into nature.

“Not much further!” Kathar eventually yelled. Urman’s eyes rose from the ground. He lifted his fist half-heartedly. Big, bulbous raindrops splattered on his hand.

Not much further turned out to be another half hour in Kathar’s mind. Luckily, the downpour had let up during that time, allowing the friends to hear one another more easily. Urman took full advantage of having company that he truly enjoyed for the first time in ages as they walked.

“How have you been?” he asked. And not in the way that one may ask the local merchant on their weekly trip to the market. He wanted to know if Kathar was struggling with life as much as he was.

Kathar shrugged. “I always get a bit nervous when I know you’re coming.” So, he’s doing well enough for me to disrupt. That’s good, I guess. Kathar continued. “Other than that, life’s been good. The Emerald’s been quiet for quite some time. At least until recently. Aurora seemed uneasy after coming back from the forgotten valleys a few days back.” His stare was accusatory. “Do you know anything about that?” Aurora was how the two men remained in contact while Urman ran around the empire making enemies. The falcon wore a necklace with a stone doused in alchemicals. Both Urman and Kathar kept their own sister rocks on their bodies at all times. Urman chose to wear his as a necklace, Kathar kept his in his pocket. A force drew the rocks together that could be used to call Aurora or send her to the other man. It was as simple as warming the appropriate side of the flat rock with hot breath.

“Course not,” said Urman. Both men knew it wasn’t true. “I’m sorry, I know I bring a lot of bad with me, but I needed somewhere to hide for a few days.”

Kathar was quiet for a moment as if contemplating just how much bad Urman had brought with him this time. “Don’t be sorry. I was glad to hear from you… to hear you were still alive.” Is it really like that? Have I gone as far as to make people wonder if I’m still breathing each morning? Urman had not communicated with Kathar at all while on his journey with Ezil despite being inside the same enormous forest. The very real notion that he could have easily been killed by the outfit of Lotus sent a reverberating sense of reality through him. Kathar would have no idea. Maybe he’d wander up on my rotting corpse someday or maybe my bones. Have no idea it was me. Have no idea if I was even alive. I can’t keep living like this.

Urman stopped. Kathar turned. More than enough moonlight crept through the branches above to show the scar on Kathar’s face. It started just above his ear and stretched to his left eye which was red and black, damaged beyond repair. “This time it’s not my fault. I didn’t create this trouble. It found me. Let the creator strike me down if I’m lying.” He pressed a knuckle to his lips and tapped his forehand before looking at the sky. When nothing happened he looked at his friend. “Sampson’s informants have me bent over a barrel. Spreading lies all across the empire, to the Lotus and Purists both. Three hells, commoners are trying to catch me for some kind of bounty Queen Nala has on my head. A queen, Kathar! You really think I’d get myself mixed up with that?!”

“I never know what to expect from you,” Kathar said with a grin but Urman knew there was more going on inside his friend’s mind. Kathar continued. “All I know is that we had an agreement… You visit when the water’s not boiling. I’d say a queen’s bounty on your head means the water’s right fuckin’ boiling, Urman.” Kathar shook his head.

“Urman tilted his head at the man and hesitated. “I know that… and I’m sorry… I didn’t know where else to go.” He looked at the ground and shook his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come here.”

There was silence but for the rustling branches.

“Don’t say that.” Kathar pulled him in for another hug. He spoke near Urman’s ear. “You make terrible choices, run with bad people, make the wrong kind of enemies.” He stepped away and smirked. “And then you bring your mistakes to me in hopes that I will toss away the dirt that is burying you alive.” Another silence. “It’s who we are… what we do.” He turned to walk away then stopped and looked back at Urman. “We’ll get you out of that grave one way or another.”

It’s nice to be back in good company.

*~~~**~~~*

The rest of their walk was spent telling stories from their past. Some they knew to be true, some they couldn’t remember if they had done or not. By the time they reached the edge of the heart of the emerald, Urman's cheeks hurt from smiling and laughing so much. Before they navigated the difficult terrain ahead he thanked The Creator for reconnecting him with his brother. Then begged her to do so again with his real one.

The only thing that could have made the night better would have been boots. Each step sent sharp pains through the bottom of his frozen feet. They walked atop roots, pushed through bushes, and climbed over piles of rocks until Kathar finally stopped and pointed down into a small bowl-shaped clearing that was covered in undergrowth, large bushes, and a handful of fallen trees.

“Here we are,” he said.

Anyone else would have thought Kathar a liar, a fool. But not Urman. He knew that beneath the undergrowth and fallen logs and all the other debris found in an unexplored part of nature, there sat a small cluster of rooms. Though, he would have never found the hidden hatch on his own. Kathar approached a patch of the undergrowth that gave no signs of anything suspicious whatsoever. He looked around. As if anyone would ever be foolish enough to wander this far into the emerald. Kathar moved a few sizable rocks to reveal a padlock he only used when venturing far from home. He unlocked it and lifted a trap door of sorts.

A ladder with six rungs led into a dimly lit cavity beneath the forest floor. Its walls and ceiling were lined with sturdy timbers. Four such pieces of wood were tied together in the middle of the room and acted as a large support beam. In the living space alone, there were a few chairs, stands, a square table, a small barrel full of arrows, and several knives and tools lying around that Kathar had used to build his small home and everything in it.

“You are absolutely masterful,” said Urman.

“Thank you.” Kathar stood proudly with his hands on his hips as he admired his own work. “Took ages, but it was absolutely worth it. I had some help, of course…” He moved around to a few of the box lanterns on his stands and lit them. The mastery of the room came to life. The intricacies of Kathar’s work had been hidden in the shadows but now Urman could see the decorative carvings on the walls, the perfection of the joints holding the structure together, and the sheer beauty of the work. Even better than before. If only I was blessed enough to settle down and live an ordinary life. Instead, I’ve spent my life building a reputation I neither want nor deserve.

“Yes. I can’t say I’ve done anything this impressive in my lifetime.”

“Nonsense. You still being alive is every bit as impressive as this,” said Kathar and patted Urman on the back. He couldn’t tell if his friend was joking or not.

Urman’s shoulders slumped slightly.

“Not much has changed since the last time you were here. Your chamber hasn’t moved.” Urman nodded appreciatively.

An old looking hound wandered into the room. Urman crouched with his hand out. “Hey Ember,” he said. The hound sniffed the air, then looked at Kathar who gave a nod of approval. Ember traipsed over to the man and sniffed his hand before licking it, then pushed himself between Urman’s knees as the man scratched his head.

“She’s getting old,” Kathar said. “Not sure how much longer she’s got.”

Urman spoke to the hound. “Don’t go dying while I’m here, pup. I don’t have it in me to see that.”

The dog nuzzled closer to Urman.

“Got any food?” Urman asked when the hound had had enough love and wandered toward the table to lay down. He grabbed at his shoulder. The bleeding had essentially stopped but the pain was still present. “And some bandages?”

“Look in the chest on the counter.” Kathar pointed to a door frame that led toward another room. “I’ll get the herbs and bandages.” His voice faded as he disappeared down a hall.

“Thanks!” Urman called after him.

The kitchen was even more spectacular than the living space. A gorgeous table sat to the left of the room, accompanied by two matching chairs and chandelier above it. A support beam like the one in the living space stood in the middle of the room. A row of rectangular boxes with swinging doors attached to them lined the wall opposite him. Kathar had once called them cabinets so Urman did too. Several planks of wood laid across the top of them to create a smooth top for cooking. A chest sat there, an abundance of dried meat awaited him inside it. It smelled delicious and tasted even better. I can’t remember the last time I didn’t have to hunt for my food while starving to death. Suddenly, the faces of the men and women he had killed or betrayed flashed in his mind. A guilt filled him. The same quilt that had been living in the back of his mind for half a decade or more. This is the life I want. Actually, anything but what I have now will do.

“Do you like it? The meat?” Kathar asked as he entered the kitchen. He had the herbs and bandages in his hand.

“Delicious,” Urman said as he pulled the scroll tube from his back and sat down at the table.

“I thought so too. It’s seasoned with a few new spices I thought I’d try,” Kathar replied as he joined him at the table.

Once the artisan had finished applying the bandages he stepped away from the table and moved across the kitchen. “Wine alright?”

“Course.”

“What’s in the tube?” Kathar asked nonchalantly. His curiosity is a given.

Urman took the tube in hand and examined it. Silver swirls flowed along the curves of the tube beautifully. “A secret.”

Kathar approached the table and sat a pewter cup in front of Urman. He remained standing. “What kind of secret?”

“The best kind,” said Urman.

“Which is?” Kathar sat his cup on the table and peered at Urman, silently willing him to provide more information.

“One that belongs to the Lotus Queen herself.”

Kathar rubbed his chin. “So this is what has put the queen's bounty on your head then.”

“Well, not exactly.”

Kathar reached for the tube and examined its metal exterior. “May I?” Urman approved.

A rolled piece of parchment fell into Kathar’s open hand. He laid the tube on the table gently and unrolled the scroll. Urman could see the tops of his eyes as he looked at the indecipherable message. There was a mixture of curiosity and confusion in them.

“Where did you get this?” he finally asked.

What am I supposed to tell him? That you slit a man’s throat when he wasn’t expecting it? “Let’s just say I came across it on my travels.”

Kathar rolled his eyes as Urman took the piece of parchment from him carefully. They stared at it in silence. A string of vines and leaves lined the borders of the parchment in black ink. Interwoven in the vines were small birds, their beaks shut tight. The script was elegant, written by a steady, fluid hand. There were three sentences written in a tongue Urman recognized but couldn’t speak or read.

“Rewanese.”

“The dead language. Can you read it?” Kathar asked.

“No.” Urman held it to the candles in the chandelier above them.

“How does someone like you end up with something like this?” Kathar continued his pursuit of sensitive information.

“I’ve learned even two people on the same side will work toward their own ambitions,” said Urman.

“Aye,” said Kathar as he took a sip of his wine. “What are you doing?” asked Kathar. Urman was still working the parchment into a perfect angle in front of the candles.

Urman ignored the question. Then said, “There! Look.” Kathar leaned across the table. The birds’ beaks had opened wide. “The real message is within the parchment.” The faint outline of letters could be seen hiding inside the parchment, as if written between two pieces. The message was written in the same ancient language they couldn’t translate.

“How did you know that?” Kathar asked.

“I guess you could say I helped make this. Long time ago.”