The Saga of Tallia the Unwilling Ch. 02

After this fabulously horrendous display, about half of the Black Turban Gang (a group that henceforth would be called the survivors of the Black Turban Tavern Massacre) fled in a panic out the back of the bar. Some even dived into the filthy river Deng to escape the rampaging Amazon, which if you had a nose, you would know was a kind of bravery. The other half, a group still loyal to Monsu and eager for revenge, charged Tallia en masse working themselves into a howling frenzy. This proved a deadly mistake.

Tallia faced their charge with a smile. The Amazon danced among the reckless but ill-trained river thugs, her blade a divine messenger of death. She gutted one thug and slammed her shield into the face of another breaking bone and tooth. She hunched down into a defensive position, parrying aside several clumsy blows, and in a single sword stroke cut through three human legs. She lunged upward and pushed another river rat back, quickly severing both his arms with two quick swipes. He staggered about drunkenly spraying blood all over his ever dwindling supply of comrades. She leapt through the fountain of gore slashing her unstoppable blade through anyone stupid enough to still stand against her. In a few brief moments, the bar was transformed into a scene of gruesome carnage.

Hilarius popped up from behind the bar eager to aid his companion-at-arms, holding two knives at the ready. However, he discovered no living targets, only a very pissed off and gore-drenched Talia standing amidst a scene of human wreckage. Even the fellow with no arms finally collapsed with a horrid thud. Hilarius turned and looked slowly at the smiling head on the bar. This startled him for a second.

The little rogue was stunned by what he saw and, honestly, terrified by the power and deadliness of his companion. Tallus the Grim was scary enough in a fight, but this was some next level lethality. As the rogue considered all of this, this was when the bartender, who despite having two knives in his chest was still very much alive, sat up behind the bar and stabbed Hilarius in the back. He didn't use his spiky club which he had dropped. Instead, he thrust a long wicked knife deep into the rogue's lower abdomen, the point piercing all the way through him. Hilarius for a change did not scream, but instead turned and dispatched the badly wounded tusked barkeep with two expertly thrown knives, one in the throat and in the center of the forehead. Hilarius then collapsed, pumping out his lifeblood on the grimy floor of the Black Turban Tavern.

Tallia rushed over to the side of the dying rascal. "Hilarius!" she cried.

Hilarius smiled at her and, before his eyes closed said, "You are beautiful, goddess. Take care of Bradus..." And faded before her eyes.

"Take care of the horse? That's all you have to say?" Tallia was almost hysterical. "No, no, you are not going to die on me!" But even as she declared this, Hilarius was most definitely dying whether she willed it or no.

A regal voice echoed in Tallia's mind: "A glorious battle, great Celaeno! Truly you walk the..."

"Can you save him? Can you save my friend?" she cried to the cursed blade.

"Though I possess great and sundry magics, is not within my power to heal. I am a weapon of war, my beloved. Trouble yourself not, my sword-sister, mortals die but the twelve are forever."

"Shut up, you piece of devil-junk!"

She picked up the little rogue in both her arms and fled the gory tavern, leaving the magic sword lying discarded in a pool of Hilarius' blood.

***

Liandra of Amathus stomped through the mud along the banks of the river Deng, pushing aside the thick stalks of bamboo and trying to make the best of her difficult position. The mud was interminable, the insects were elephantine and the guide damnably stoic. And of course, there was also the possibility that Liandra was simply insane -- that all of this trekking through the muck and mud were only happening because she was in the middle of a complete and total mental breakdown. That too weighed upon her as much as the muck that threatened to entirely swallow her legs up to the knee with each laborious step. After all, she was only here because the fire in her faraway temple started talking to her.

"No, no, that's not crazy. Fires talk to lots of people!" she declared out loud but only to the bugs. Even the insects seemed unpersuaded and frankly, rather judgmental.

She remembered back so many months ago, before her journey had even began. The all too familiar voice of the fire had told her, "Seek far to the east the source of the river of blood and the nine hills. There you will find him. There you will gain vengeance and, at last, peace." She had travelled as far to the east as she could, all the way to the shores of a great ocean for which her people had no name. And there she had learned from a passing fisherman that the river Deng had seen much fighting and piracy and was sometime called the River of Blood in the local tongue. Near its source, was the village of Jiu Shan that meant roughly 'nine hills'. She had spent her last coin hiring a guide pushing deep into this wilderness to find this small, remote village. This all couldn't be simple coincidence -- the Lord and Lady of Love meant for her to be here!

But talking fires and almost certain madness aside, they must be getting close to their destination. They had been trekking for days through this seemingly endless sea of muck and mire. And then at last, they emerged from the muddy bamboo forest into a comparatively dry field of grass. There it was stretching out before her -- the nine terraces of the farming community of Jiu Shan. She almost cried at the picturesque beauty out before her. She could see the farmers tending their rice fields and driving their oxen. She saw thatched huts made of lashed bamboo. Here she would learn at last the truth.

"Thank the Lord and Lady! We're here!" she cried. "Truth comes from fire! Wisdom is born in flame!" The priestess danced in the mud in celebration of her discovery, twirling about in her mud-stained green robe.

Her only companion -- the guide, Lee Sang called the Silent -- leaned against a large field stone waiting for her charge to catch up and emerge from the bamboo. Sang could no longer say she was surprised by anything the crazy foreign woman did or said. But she had to admit -- this was the happiest that anyone had ever looked arriving in this remote and, if stories were to be believed, accursed place.

Liandra, for her part, stopped dancing and walked straight into the center of the village. She managed to convey cheerfully to a passing farmer that she was looking for the headman or indeed anyone in charge. She cleaned up a little at the local well and was soon taken to the village elder. There she was received well enough, being given both hot tea and an audience. Visitors after all were a rare commodity in Jiu Shan and the farmers here had enemies enough already to risk making another through coarse discourtesy.

In the hut of the headman, she pulled back her bright green hood and let her long curly blonde hair hang free. The villagers gasped at this for they had never seen golden hair before. She didn't let this amazement derail her purpose for travelling halfway around the world. She looked sternly at the elder and did not waste words.

"Your village suffers because of a three eyed man."

Sang who sat immediately behind the priestess, sipping her tea, let out a low breath. Yes, this was a good way to start their visit. Not with hello. Not with 'thank you for the tea'. Let us skip straight to crazy. She was expecting the village elder to answer this ridiculous statement with something like, 'Are you most high on dragon-leaf, strange traveler?' But what happened next, absolutely stunned the usually unflappable Sang.

The elder's eyes grew wide, his face obviously gripped with fear, and he nodded.

"This three eyed man -- he oft keeps his third eye closed, yes?"

The elder was again startled. "You know this? How can you know this? We are forbidden by his thugs to speak of him. I dare not say more."

The headman rung his hands in silent worry but then, at last, spoke again. "But what does it matter? Nothing we do earns his mercy or abates his cruelty. The three-eyed demon is a master of monsters who sends his vile servants to steal our crops and our children. He drives us to starvation and steals our joy. But as wicked as he is, as hated as he is, none can oppose the devil for when he opens his third eye..."

She interjected. "When he opens his third eye, all who see the eye become his slave!"

The elder was shaking with dread, but then again, nodded.

Liandra smiled. 'I found you, you son of a bitch!' She had done what no one thought possible. She had crossed half a world, sailed nameless seas and wide oceans and she had tracked down the elusive murdering bastard. She had found Arion Three-Eyes. And she had only accomplished this because the sacred fire had spoken to her alone at midnight in the Temple of Love. She wasn't crazy! And with that reassuring thought, she filled the headman's hut with her wild, mad laughter.

Liandra was invited, after speaking with the elder for some time, to spend the night at the village. The travelers were fed a meatless but hearty meal of short-grained rice, watery soup and a strange cabbage that had a fire to it. The priestess thanked them sincerely for the meal as food was obviously precious here and ate every offered bite for fear of being rude. She tried to repay their generosity with tales of her far away home and her travels to get here. These seemed to satisfy and entertain the local assembly that attended her meal. She was no great storyteller and no master of their tongue truth told but she did her best. Though they said little, she was immediately impressed by these polite, humble and resilient people.

Sang said nothing. She was not sure what to make of this unexpected turn. She had contemplated, once arriving in the village, to leave with the dawn. She had, after all, completed her business and had come to believe that the mad foreigner was probably now broke. But now that it seemed that her charge was, amazingly, not entirely crazy, she began to see opportunity -- the sort of opportunity that came only once in a lifetime. She took her rest in a quite side chamber provided by the headman, knowing that tomorrow was likely to be a long day.

That left Liandra alone and with a modicum of privacy (a rare commodity indeed in Jiu Shan). She contemplated her next move late into the night. She stared into the fire at the center of the headman's hut hoping maybe, once more, revelation would spring forth from the flame. But of course, this crude cooking fire was not the sacred flame at the center of great Temple of Love in far Amathus. It spoke not a word.

Her problem was obvious. Finding an evil wizard is quite a different thing from killing an evil wizard. Arion Three-Eyes, better known in these parts as San Yan Yao (which meant something like the Three-Eyed Demon), had built a hidden fortress in some ancient ruin in the remote wilderness and had resorted to banditry to supply his growing army of inhuman thugs. The local magistrates and authorities had better things to do than to die fighting against a demon-wizard and so they avoided his stronghold. The villagers of Jiu Shan may hate the wizard, but they were not warriors and had no gold to hire sell-swords to fight against this creature.

All of this she knew from the village elder of Jiu Shan, but still, it did nothing to dampen Liandra's spirits. She was close and, more importantly, she was right. They had scolded her at the Temple for undertaking this quest. They had called her mad, despondent and unhinged. Even after she left, every ship she had boarded, the crews all echoed their uniform disdain at her journey: "A woman traveling alone?! You must be mad!"

But now she saw the truth clearly. She was blessed! She was chosen! She was the hand of the Lord and Lady of Love! The Maiden and Master of a Million Loves guided her steps across this wide world towards a sacred purpose. She barely slept that night, her mind awhirl with possibility and dreams of what she would finally do when she at last came into the presence of the three-eyed wizard. Love was far from her mind.

In the morning she again spoke to the elder. "If I was going to hire sell-swords, where would I go?"

"It's impossible!" the elder declared. "The only town within reach is Denggang, downriver, but its overrun by pirates and bandit gangs scarcely any better than San Yan Yao himself."

"How can I get there?" Liandra simply asked, ever resolute.

"In three days, we'll take a shipment of spring rice down river by barge to trade. If you are truly an enemy of San Yan Yao, you may ride upon that barge to Denggang. But I must warn you, the river port is dangerous even for armed men. For you, a woman, I fear..."

She smiled. The elder was too polite to say any more, but she understood entirely. She had heard that same warning again and again from many who were less polite at every leg of her trip. These doubters had never stopped her before and they wouldn't stop her now. She was bound for Denggang and there, she would trust in the Lord and Lady and see what opportunities came her way. She was after all an agent of the sacred fire, bound to an errand of divine vengeance.

Arion Three-Eyes was as good as dead.

***

Tallia ran through the streets of Denggang, bearing her bleeding friend wrapped in a blood-soaked cloak, desperate to find a healer. She had heard that there was a temple at the edge of town and perhaps there, she could find help. But already, he had lost so much blood. She couldn't be sure he was even still alive. The blade of the now dead barkeep had completely pierced him all the way through his lower back and Talia knew the situation was dire and desperate. She had seen many a wounded man in her days in the arena as Tallus the Grim and she had never seen anyone survive this sort of injury. And here in this horrid little river town that she barely knew, what hope did she really have of finding help? But she had to try.

"Gods on high and in hell, help me," she whispered.

Then something happened that she did not expect. Striding out of the crowd as if he was walking straight towards her, she came eye to eye with a person who was utterly out of place in this dingy river port. He was taller than most in these parts, but considerably shorter than Tallia. He had an easy smile and tied curly blonde hair that marked him as a traveler from some far land. He was barbate, but his beard was fine and thin, and he seemed to Tallia like he must be a young man though definitely grown. He wore a well-made hooded robe of bright green tied with a simple leather belt. How he came to be in Denggang of all places, the Amazon could not even begin to guess. Tallia stopped in her tracks.

"Your friend is hurt," the stranger said.

Tallia only nodded.

"Come! Let's get him off the street," said the man without explanation. He lead Tallia and the dying Hilarius quickly several streets over to a warehouse that the people of Jiu Shan used to store their rice and conduct business. The bamboo and thatch building was not luxurious by any means, being cramped and full of stacked sacks of rice, but it did have a table that Tallia placed Hilarius gently upon.

"I will try to save your friend. Here, apply pressure to the wound so he does not bleed to death," said the stranger. "He is quite weak," said the stranger as he leaned over and listened to his breath, "but he is alive." The stranger quickly fetched a satchel full of bandages and other strange implements whose purpose Tallia could not guess.

The stranger inspected the injury carefully and then drew forth the knife from the wound, beginning to chant solemn praises to some god Tallia did not know. Hilarius remained unconsciousness but began to shutter as the stranger packed the wound with linen gauze. Even as he spoke, the flow of blood began to staunch and it seemed to Tallia she could see the wound close up before her very eyes. Soon, though, the wound was not visible at all being completely wrapped in bandages. Tallia watched it all in wide-eyed wonder. She had heard stories of the healing magics wielded by servants of the gods, but had never seen it in practice.

"How can this be?" said Tallia. "You're a sorcerer!"

"No, no sorcery. Your friend was lucky. The knife missed his vital junctions of life energy and I believe I have managed to stop any corruption or foul vapors from entering his blood. He is strong and has a mind to live I think. His heart beats quick and regular and his breath is even in tempo. His chances of recovery are good, but he will need much rest and time before he can be moved. He must also receive water and tomorrow I shall make for him a fine broth of healing herbs to hasten his mending. He will not be awake, so you must carefully feed it to him one spoonful at a time."

Tallia was still dazed by all of this and unsure what to say. So instead the smiling man continued, "My friend, my name is Liander of Amathus and I have been sent by the voice within the sacred fire on a mission of divine import. It is your destiny and mine that we should meet here! Hail to the Lord and Lady of Love, the fierce maiden of heaven, the prince of passions, that our meeting should come to pass! Tonight the moon of spring will be near full and shall brave the House of the Bear. That is a fine omen for your friend, yes?"

Tallia had no idea what most of that meant and became immediately sure that this individual was both touched by the gods and likely insane. But honestly, who was she to judge? In a crazy world, maybe this was what sanity looked like. "I... I am Tallia the Unwilling," she said with a bow, at last returning the introduction. "And my bleeding friend is Hilarius."

"You are most welcome here, Tallia."

Tallia had been thoughtful enough when grabbing Hilarius from the tavern to notice the bartender's till. She grabbed it and stuffed into her belt pouch, certain she'd need it to pay for a healer. She produced it now. "We have not yet discussed coin."

"Nor shall we," said Liander with a smile. "Please, stay with us tonight. We shall make a cot for your friend to rest and recover."

Tallia was taken aback. This priest, this healer did not want money? The Amazon was immediately suspicious. This must be some sort of trick. Trick or no, Tallia pocketed the heavy coin purse once more.

She removed her wounded friend to a quiet backroom of the warehouse careful not to reopen his bandaged wounds.

"Gods, Bradus!" she startled. The one thing her dying friend had asked of her and she'd forgotten about the damned horse. "I'll return," she assured the priest.

She rushed back to the tavern and was amazed that her horse was still there. She also recovered Hilarius' knives and even found more coin on Monsu's corpse. She decided the rest weren't worth searching and left them to the scavengers. On the whole, mass murder had proved quite profitable. And then she abandoned the Black Turban Tavern for good. There was by this time a growing crowd outside the tavern watching all this. Only the great mass of death inside had kept them at bay so long.

Tallia emerged from the tavern, still looking like a goddess of death adorned with blood. She lead her horse away from the abattoir. "Feel free to loot it. I'm done with the place," she announced over her shoulder. The throng quickly obliged her, but Tallia was beyond caring. She instead hastily returned to Hilarius' side.

***

Later that night after dark, Tallia had cleaned up, wiping away the horrid consequence of carnage. She had removed her armor, scrubbing it thoroughly with water drawn from the river dock at the back of the warehouse. She had even managed to clean the gore from her bear pelt cloak and now dried it near a small fire. She sat down finally, her errands done, at the small table where Liander and his guide, the silent Sang, were having tea. Only a few hours later, Hilarius had been bleeding upon that table. But now he was quietly resting and the table was cleansed. It sported now instead a small coal brazier that heated a terracotta tea kettle to boiling. Then they packed in strange look silver-tipped leaves unknown to Tallia into the kettle's top.