Art by Clea Harris

Chapter 8

Diplomacy

FORESTS OF WEST ÆSHORENTH

Æshorenth, Vol’Tyr

The lizardfolk shouted in that same language Caliz couldn’t parse, but as he did, he noticed Faelana perk up. She turned to him.

That’s Old Kilio.

Yeah. Alara couldn’t quite understand it.

I can.

She hopped down and opened her arms, speaking in something similar to their language. They responded, and she motioned to Caliz and Osa. Figuring the jig was up, they dropped out of the trees. The lizard shouted again, and Faelana responded quietly, and was met with the flat of the enormous bronze sword to the chest, sending her careening into a nearby tree.

They shouted, and Caliz drew a weapon.

“Looks like diplomacy failed.”

“Yeh. Killed men.”

“Well, yeah, we did kill a lot of their men. Folk. Whatever. It’s fair.”

The monstrous lizard screamed and flew at Caliz, who ducked out of the way and slid under the sword, hearing the whine of metal cutting through air above him. Before he could focus, the lizard had pivoted on a claw and bashed him with the back of the sword.

Caliz flew back and slumped against a tree, coughing, feeling something rattling around in his torso. Gods, that can’t be good.

He stared on as Osa charged at them, drawing her own broadsword and started carving into them. They blocked with the tower shield and, as Osa paused, they ground into the dirt and shield slammed her. She staggered back, slithering in a daze, and they hauled the sword around and caught her below the torso.

She screamed and flung herself at him with the sword overhead, slicing at his chest with a flurry, and was met with a kick to her belly. She wheezed, and the sword came across again, hitting her in the ribs. Caliz closed his eyes and breathed.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Okay.

He breathed in hard, braced himself against the tree, and launched at the lizard as Osa cried out. Caliz slid behind him and carved his knife up into the underside of their tail. The lizard yelped as he drove the blade into their ankle and, as the lizard turned to face him, Osa flew at him, clawing at their side.

They hauled back a shield bash and got Osa in the face, dazing her, and Caliz managed to get in a knife on their wrist. With another cry, the lizard turned to face him and, Caliz danced low around them, winding around the body and, as they turned back Osa’s way to find him, Caliz popped up and got a hard carve into the shield arm, breaking the strap.

He jumped back fast, and the shield flopped down. The lizard, staring at it, ripped the other straps from their arms and flung it aside, grabbing the blade with both hands. They growled something in Old Kilio, and charged him. Osa flung her tail his way to trip him, but he caught himself, braced, and dug his claws into her tail while swinging the blade at Caliz.

He leapt back again, moving into the trees, and the lizard’s eyes turned to Osa as her blade flew at him. Caliz closed his eyes again as he heard blades ring out. As he paused to focus, his ribs burst into pain. He pressed down a moan and gritted his teeth.

Focus. Focus. Push it down. Gods damn it, I can do this.

His left hand flexed tentatively. Fuck, I can’t trust it. I’m gonna fuck up the hit if I try to slice with my left hand. Just use it for balance. Dance around the battlefield. Osa’s got him distracted, wait for the opportunity, and jump in, get a blade in his spine. Maybe if I climb a tree, I can get a neck shot. Fuck gods damn this fucking hurts.

Breathe deep. He smelled hot iron. Blood. His own blood. Not now. I can do this. She’ll lock with him, and I can jump in and—

The trance was broken by a squelch and a cut cry. His eyes shot open in time to see the lizard’s sword wrench out of Osa’s neck. Blood spurt and she slumped.

No. No no no no no no no

He flew at them, blade ready, but the lizard saw him coming. Caliz would later realize his reckless behavior and forgive himself an emotional reaction. The lizard parried the blade with ease and, with their off hand, grabbed Caliz by the throat, raising him into the air. He struggled, flailed, his off-hand grabbing at his throat, his knife desperately carving at their arm.

The lizard said something Caliz was sure was a very clever line, and threw him off the cliff.

As he tumbled through the air, watching the lizard grow further from him, he suddenly became aware of his predicament. The edge was rapidly approaching. Knife in hand, he tucked, tried to angle himself down, and, just close enough, drove his dagger into the dirt.

The blade carved through the grass, the dirt, the rock, and stopped in time for his body to fall off the edge. He slammed into the rock wall with a thud, and, his hand still holding desperately onto the dagger with white knuckles, he felt his wrist snap.

Caliz screamed and, in a moment of clarity, drew his other knife and buried it in the rock. It took a couple tries, but he drove it into a cleft right as his right hand gave out. His body flung to the side and rocked dangerously, and his left arm screamed in pain. Fire rushed through his veins, and he let out a long, steady yell to try to get it out of his system.

Pain coursing through him, Caliz started to swing himself on his damaged arm, and managed to hook his right arm enough to grab the ledge. He screamed again as his wrist snapped again, and pushed through it. In a short eternity, he got a grip enough to dislodge his off dagger, haul it up, and drive it into the dirt above.

His eyes began to spin, and his head felt dizzy. The world began to lose its color, and he wavered. He closed his eyes. Breathe. Breathe. Come on.

He pulled. Hard. He struggled up, and managed to get a grip. He kept pulling, kept hauling on his own body, pushing through his busted wrist, and got an elbow up, then the other. With a tiny burst of energy, he pulled the daggers out of the dirt one at a time and drove them further out from the ledge.

As the lodged into the dirt and rock, his arms relaxed. He slumped as close to the rock as he could, corner of the ledge in his armpits, and held onto the knives as tight as he could. Everything was spinning and his stomach churned. No, I’ve got this. Come on. Come on. Come on.

A ringing pierced his ears, and he suddenly realized that it wasn’t tinnitus. It was steel. He breathed tight, and tried to steady his vision and watched the leather-clad Nojern woman leaping through the air in mad combat with the lizard. Osa was struggling to rise, her arms shaking, one clasping her neck, the other desperately trying to steady her.

His attention turned back to Faelana as she kicked off their blade, flipped over their head, and dragged her hatchets down their back. With a shriek, they whipped around. She jumped, but slipped on the wet grass, and the sword drove into her hips, slamming her back into the small rock face beside the secret door.

As they pulled the sword from her, she fell to a knee.

Caliz breathed tight, feeling everything burning inside him, and crawled up with the knives like he was climbing ice, bit by bit, making his way up. After what felt like a lifetime to him, he felt his thighs scrape past the stone and collapse onto grass, and he rolled onto his back and breathed.

Steadying himself to stand, he watched an apparently recovered Faelana back in combat with the lizard, ducking swings and getting in swipes at their legs. As he rose, daggers in hand, he watched the lizard sneak a backhand in, catching her face by surprise and felling her. A spray of stars flew from her head as the scales of their hand tore her face open, and she fell to the side. A foreign starry night bled out into the grass.

Caliz swallowed hard and shouted “Oy!” The lizard turned, surprised, and stared him down. Caliz flipped the daggers in his hand and stared back. “You don’t put down the Shadow of Mok Caliz that easily!”

The lizard stared back at him with a glint of curiosity in his eye. Slowly, in a deeply accented voice, they responded “Mok Caliz?”

“Yeah. Yeah, you know them? Yeah. I’m a fucking gift. To the fucking world. From Mok Fucking Caliz. I’m the chosen one, bitch.”

The lizard growled and stepped back, grabbing Faelana by the throat. As Caliz shouted something at them, they threw her at the ledge, and Caliz jumped to intercept, tackling her body to the ground as another burst of acid-like pain shot through his body, wracking him. He grunted, rising to his feet again, and the lizard stared him down, sword resting on their shoulder, breathing hard and ignoring several wounds. Blood dripped down their torso, arms, and legs, and it stained their sword and kilt.

They said something in Old Kilio, and somewhere in the sentence included the name “Mok Caliz,” but context told Caliz nothing.

“Look, you scaley motherfucker. Just leave. Just fucking leave. We’re done. You’re done. We’re matched. Just let us go.”

They responded in Old Kilio again, and Faelana rose to her feet, drawing hatches from her boots. Caliz turned to see Osa risen again, a hand still on her neck, but the other with knife in hand staring him down with rage in her eyes.

“Faelana.”

“That’s—” She grunted, and as he turned to look, her left shoulder and chest looked like her skin, blood coating the leather. Her face must have been shredded. “That’s ma’am to you, newbie.”

He sighed out a light laugh, and turned back to the lizard. “Ma’am. You speak its language. Tell it we’re matched, and we just want to leave.”

She spoke to them in their language, and they responded. The tone of voice softened after several sentences, and eventually, the lizard nodded, staring each of them down before turning to the door. Before they made it, they pointed the sword at the party and said one last thing in Old Kilio, then walked through and shut the doors. Caliz heard a bolt slide, and he breathed out, falling to a knee.

Faelana stumbled sideways and leaned against the rock face beside the door, and Osa slumped down into her coil, barely upright.

“Light damn it. What were they? What did you say?”

Faelana breathed carefully and spoke slowly with a slur. “His name… is Renca. He’s… the leader of the Clan of Heavy Scale. Turns out… the mead folk… well… they tunneled like we saw, and… and they hit a pocket… Turned out… it was part of their… their home. Their complex. The Heavy Scale, well… they had heard it a while. But they ignored it. A… A tentative peace, I guess. When miners crawled in and poked around? That… That was their final straw. They approached, the miners reacted… violently, and the lizards fought back. Hard.”

“It was self defense?”

“More like retaliation. But Renca promised… He promised the Heavy Scale would leave the meadery if those tunnels were collapsed. If they didn’t dig any more. Guess expansion’s gonna have to go up. Or out into the field. But… As long as those tunnels fall, we’re good.”

“Oh thank the light.”

Faelana chuckled, then coughed. “The light? Shit, newbie. Aatua?”

“Yeah.”

“The embodiment of night? Follows the light?”

“It’s a long story.”

“The Chosen One of Mok Caliz?”

“Look, that was—”

“No, no, it’s fine. It’s good. It’s just…” She laughed, and coughed more. “It’s amusing is all. Viaxy. You… You good?”

“No,” she said in the smallest voice he’d ever heard from her. It was tiny, wounded, sick, and scared. “Neck. Blood.”

“Move,” Caliz rushed to her, grabbing his pack and hauling his herb kit out. Remember. Remember. Goddamn it, remember. Itzel. What did Itzel say?

Alcohol to clean an open wound, coreogon for healing it. Sealing the wound. Sealing the wound. Fucking… Icha grass! Icha grass to seal wounds. Sanguine lovage to kill the pain. Arro root to get her moving. We have to get to camp, get to town.

He set to it, grinding herbs. He yanked a bottle from his kit, and told her to move her hand. She obliged, and he poured it on gently. The liquid bubbled and Osa moaned in pain, but he left it, careful then to grab another liquid, pouring it on afterward. The herbs went on, he carefully pressed the mash on, then wrapped in the last of his bandages. Not quite enough, but he got it close.

“Eat this,” he handed her a pickled root, and she carefully ate it, dragging against her back-sloped needle-like teeth to shred it in careful amounts. He gave her water between swallows to keep her hydrated, and by the time she ate half the root, the color started to return to her face.

But not enough. She’s bad. We have to get her to town.

He turned to Faelana. “I think I bought her enough time to get to camp, but not much further. We have to get her to a healer.”

“Let’s start hiking down, then. Viaxy, can you move?”

“Yes… ma’am.”

“Well come on, let’s move. We’ve got a ways to go.”