Death Be Not Proud

by ShinigamiDad

Yunada

Luna lay on her back in a hollow, between Bitch and Gerrar’s resting dalzi, absently rubbing her mount’s ear. She listened to a distant bird and squinted at the sun through patchy clouds, gauging its height in the sky relative to Larg. She chewed slowly on a bit of dried fruit and began to doze lightly.

She suddenly realized it was pitch dark, and sat up quickly, looking about for the now-missing dalzi. Then she glanced up to see Larg hanging above her, dappled with the distinctive “Mare-in-the-Moon” pattern she knew well.

She smiled and nodded: “Where are you?”

A jet-black dalzi emerged from behind a rock outcropping: “He is late.”

“Maybe. It was never really made clear exactly how long it would take him to meet Yunada then leave. And he may be delayed on his way here.”

The dalzi shrugged: “Yes, and it may take him some time to find you in this glen. But it may be something more, as well.”

“I sincerely hope not. This mission is teetering on a knife’s edge as it is. I genuinely do not know what will happen if the timing of the final battle is thrown off.”

The dalzi shook her head, her silver horn glinting in the moonlight: “Who knows? Your--our--presence has already altered the dynamics. What would altering the time or order of death change?”

Luna chewed her lip: “And more to the point, what if something untoward has happened to Reaper? Even leaving aside the question of timing, if he has fallen afoul of Yunada--”

“Quite possible, given our reading of his memories…”

“Yes, so what if? Do I attempt to retrieve him? Do I confront Yunada?”

“I do not see a choice. You cannot simply sit in this dell forever, and you cannot return to the portal. You will have to present yourself to Yunada and force a conclusion, if you are unable to find Reaper.”

Luna closed her eyes: “I am afraid. Even Gerrar blocked out much of his final encounters with Yunada. He is a grotesque man, given to cruelty I can scarce imagine.”

“I can.”

“I know, but it is even worse, given the fact his Number Two, Nai’a will be there.”

“Yes, but you will not be alone. I will be with you.”

“I am not sure I find that comforting.”

The dalzi smiled: “I understand, but you should. I seek the same thing you do, True Sister--I want to see this situation successfully resolved.”

Luna furrowed her brow: “Why?”

The dalzi took a deep breath: “I was with Reaper and his ‘parzaile’ last night.”

“And?”

“Reaper was trying to gain a small measure of redemption for his final days as Gerrar. I know I can never redeem my centuries of malevolence, but maybe I can make a difference, and conclude this affair in a way that might make you think a little better of me in days to come.”

Luna smiled wistfully: “You have been a part of me for so long--two sides of the same coin, really--that to think of you as a separate spirit, as one who would seek my empathy, is hard for me to grasp.”

The dalzi nodded: “It is unsettling for me as well. I am not accustomed to seeking...clemency? Mercy? These all strike me as pity, which I will not take, or absolution, which I do not deserve.”

Luna’s eyes clouded: “I have been shown all those things, and have struggled to accept them, so I empathize with your unease. Nevertheless, you, too may be worthy of some measure of forgiveness. It is up to you to earn and accept it.”

The dalzi nodded: “In which case, the time is short--both for my crumb of redemption and your mission’s conclusion.”

Luna sighed, opened her eyes and sat up: “I fear you are correct. It will take a bit of time to get from here to the river crossing Reaper pointed out. Perhaps we will cross paths along the way.”

The dark dalzi furrowed its brow: “Perhaps, but I have the sense that things have gone awry.”

Luna stood and took up Gerrar’s dalzi’s reins, guiding it to its feet. She walked out of the shallow dell and peered to the south. She saw a thin spire of smoke rising from a fenced-in farm in the distance.

She secured the dalzi’s lead in a knot behind its neck and leaned-in to whisper softly in its ear: “g'izan segra.” The animal’s ears twitched and its tail flicked as it turned its head to peer into Luna’s eyes.

She stepped back from the dalzi and swatted it on the rump: “Go now! Be safe in your new home!” The dalzi trotted away down the slope, its tail rippling in the breeze.

Luna returned to Bitch and tightened her tack before swinging up on the dalzi’s back and settling into her saddle.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath: “Alright, Bitch--the time has come to put an end to this one way or another. Go!”

Luna snapped the reins, and Bitch cantered to the northern edge of the dell, giving Luna a clear look across the plain to the crossing. The dark dalzi glanced up at Larg and Arro and faded out silently.

Luna came upon the west-bank guard and ferry some fifteen minutes later, riding warily out of a small copse to the south of the crossing. Two guards looked up from their fire and grabbed their spears, but made no move to advance on the tall, dark, hooded figure riding high with a naked sword in its hand.

They stepped back as their short, heavy-set superior shouldered his way between them: “Hey! Halt! That’s close enough!”

Luna pulled back her hood, and reined-in Bitch: “I come at the Tunzal Gerrar’s behest, seeking an audience with your Lord, Yunada.”

The guard boss frowned and spit out a plug of zaka: “Who are you? How do ‘ya know the Tunzal?”

“I have been traveling with him for the last several weeks. He came this way earlier this morning, if I am not mistaken.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know you…”

“I had business of my own away to the south. That is now concluded, and I need you to ferry me to your Lord’s headquarters.”

She reached into her cloak and pulled out three coins: “In addition I will compensate you for your trouble with a bit of gold.”

A tall, scarred soldier in an ill-fitting brown jacket grinned, exposing stained, gapped teeth as he grabbed his crotch: “Oh, I thinks we c’n ‘compensate’ ourselves, dearie!”

His companion chuckled and took a swig from a cracked jug: “I ain’t been ‘compensated’ fer a couple of weeks!”

Luna shifted in her saddle, tipped her head down and regarded the men cooly: “You can either accede to my request and take this gold as your reward, or I can hand you your balls in its stead. Choose wisely.”

The guard with the jug bristled and shifted his grip on his spear: “It’d be three-to-one, bitch!”

Luna suddenly swung her blade in a tight arc, its tip ending inches from the guard’s face: “And in a moment it would be two-on-one. I repeat--choose wisely.”

The guard’s eyes went wide as he stumbled back, sputtering. His companion fell into a defensive stance.

Luna laid her sword back in her lap: “Besides, I strongly suspect you do not wish to be the men who have to explain to your Lord why you failed to deliver me to his presence. He will know of me by now through Gerrar.”

Her eyes went wide, as though with sudden awareness: “In fact, I feel certain you would have to answer to the Tunzal before Yunada ever had the chance to investigate.”

The boss blenched and put up a hand: “Hey, no need for that now, m’Lady--”

“T’zesa.”

“What?”

“I am a T’zesa. You will address me as such. Let us go now--I am in haste.”

The boss swallowed hard and gestured to the guard with the jug: “C’mon--let’s get the ferry loose and get her across. I don’t wanna have anything to do with that Tunzal!”

Luna smiled lightly as she dismounted: “That is wise.”

The boss untied the ferry and called across the river to the other landing as his underlings guided Bitch aboard the barge and poled it away from the shore while holding tension against the guide ropes. The ferry moved slowly to the east.

Luna screened her eyes and peered across the river looking for signs of heavy troop movement or battle. She turned to the brown-jacketed guard on her right: “What do you hear of battle? Do you expect to engage soon?”

He picked his teeth with a short dagger and shrugged: “They don’t tell us nuthin’. I know lots of troops have moved in lately, but I dunno why.”

Luna nodded absently as she scanned the approaching bank for evidence of Reaper or Colt. The ropes creaked as the boatmen strained against the rigging and poled into the icy, swirling water. Bitch nickered nervously as the ferry bumped into the pilings and men cursed and scurried to secure ropes before the current pulled the shallow barge away.

Luna picked her way across the uneven planks connecting the makeshift pier to the ferry, guiding Bitch as her two guards jumped off on either side of her, scrambling up the loose gravel embankment, using their spears for support. A knot of soldiers stared as Luna passed by, her dark cloak billowing in the cold wind.

She remounted Bitch and began working her way toward the gap in the earthwork as her two escorts walked briskly alongside. She looked to her right and spied a larger group of men and dalzi a couple of hundred yards away.

She pointed with her sword: “Is that a cavalry unit? Outriders?”

The man with the jug squinted to the north: “Nah, that’s just a reserve pool and dalzi paddock. Usually guys just wasting time, drinking, gambling an’ tryin’ to avoid getting attached to a unit!”

His companion chuckled: “Yeah, and it’s likely to get ‘em killed when Nai’a stumbles over lookin’ for ‘volunteers!’”

Luna sheathed her sword and hopped down off Bitch’s back. She turned to her escorts and held out her hand, dropping three bits in an outstretched palm: “I am glad we did not come to blows. I will inform your superiors of my satisfaction.”

The brown-jacketed guard grinned and closed his fist around the coins: “I’m glad we dinna ‘come to blows’ neither! I don’t think we’d’ve come out on top!”

A cold smile crossed Luna’s lips as she took up Bitch’s lead and turned toward the gap: “I am certain of it.”

She passed through the earthworks and furrowed her brow as she saw Yunada’s pavilion and the twisted, still-smoldering corpse curled-up inside the nearby sut’ka. She rode the final sixty yards to the tent slowly, eyes darting back and forth, taking account of the various soldiers, workers and slaves hurrying past, many of whom were openly gawking at the tall, dark, cloaked figure in their midst.

Luna halted Bitch in front of Yunada’s tent and tied her off to a nearby weapon stand, staring icily at a pair of soldiers who drifted too close. She pulled her hood back on and strode quickly to the pavilion’s entrance where she was stopped by a tall, pale, red-and-green-clad soldier standing guard with his hands resting atop the pommel of his bastard sword.

“I seek an audience with your Lord. I come at the behest of the Tunzal Gerrar, and would appreciate it greatly if you would announce me, since he is not here to properly present me.”

The guard looked Luna over, top to bottom, slowly. He sucked at a plug of zaka and spat: “So Gerrar sent you, huh?”

Luna nodded: “He requested I join him here.”

“Uh, huh. I think you must have the worst luck in the world, m’Lady.”

Luna furrowed her brow: “Is he not here, then?”

The guard grinned and pulled back the tent flap: “Oh, you’ll see! I don’t think you’ll like it, but you’ll see…”

Luna ducked under a supporting crossmember and caught sight of two robed figures talking in the dimly-lit interior: “...he was right about one thing, however--his intelligence regarding Gindu’s disposition matches other rumors and reports we’ve received over the last few days.”

The guard stepped in behind Luna and cleared his throat as Luna drew back her hood. Nai’a turned around: “Fuck me! His bitch did come for him, just like he said! Did he forget to pay you?”

Luna raised an eyebrow: “My grasp of your language is still imperfect, but I believe I know an insult when I hear one. Is this how you usually greet guests, Lord Yunada?”

Yunada smiled: “My lieutenant is given to crude outbursts. You are Luna, I assume?”

Luna nodded: “Yes. I had rather hoped to connect with Gerrar prior to meeting you, but I was detained a bit south of here for a day. Has he not yet arrived?”

Nai’a picked up his wine cup and laughed: “Oh, he’s arrived alright! I’m pretty sure he wishes he hadn’t, though!”

Luna regarded Nai’a cooly: “I take it he is no longer here?”

Yunada stepped around the table and moved closer: “Well, not here, exactly. He is still in camp…”

Nai’a took a noisy swig: “Cocksucker’s locked up in the prisoners’ stockade.”

Yunada nodded: “Yes, unfortunately I have come to regard him as too dangerous to leave at liberty any longer. His fantastical tale regarding you being a principal reason.”

Luna tipped her chin up slightly: “And having now met me, can I assume he will be free to join us?”

Nai’a chuckled: “Not fucking likely! Nobody gets out of lockup because his trumped-up galdu walks into camp. We get a lot of whores in this camp!”

Luna glared and let her hand settle on her sword’s hilt: “I am a T’zesa of Zaldun, and suggest you curb your tongue.”

Yunada looked back and forth and grinned: “Gerrar did warn you of her reaction!”

“Yeah, but who in Belzul is ‘Gerrar?’ We don’t even know who that traitor was! He sure acted like our old, familiar, stuck-up prick, but who was he really?”

Yunada nodded: “True--” he turned back toward Luna: “And that’s the other primary reason for his detention: I’m no longer certain he really is Gerrar--at least, not anymore.”

Nai’a grinned wickedly: “Only one way to find out, yeah?”

Yunada shook his head: “It will have to wait ‘til after the battle, and it will be bittersweet--he has served me for years. Before him, a ‘Tunzal’ was little more than an errand-boy. He remade the role into one of respect and fear and power.”

“Yeah--a little too much of the last one, don’t you think?”

Yunada sighed: “It seems so. I have known, of course, of his unease with my fervent embrace of the Goddess. But I never suspected his loyalty.”

“Well he’s had three years to get over his fucking ‘unease!’ Shit--he was the one who introduced you to Surjain’kos and the Fire Rites!”

A soldier in grey and green, bearing a golden baton stuck his head in through the tent flap: “My Lord! The assault machines are ready!”

Yunada turned away from Luna and glanced at the map: “Very good, Captain. Begin the assault on the side gate while bringing up the fire casting troop before the main gates. I want those gates in full flame by tonight.”

The Captain nodded briskly: “Yes, my Lord! The trenches are complete, and the slaves in position!”

He withdrew from the opening, and Luna shifted nervously, catching Yunada’s attention: “It is quite close and warm in here. Let me take your cloak. Of course you may keep your sword if you feel more comfortable.”

Luna frowned slightly, but took off her cloak and handed it to Yunada. He draped it across the back of Nai’a’s chair, picked up his chalice and turned back to Luna with a furrowed brow: “Do you believe in magic, Luna?”

Luna bit her lip for a moment: “Yes. Kur was once a world of magic, by all accounts, and I believe there are traces still to be found.”

“I sense power in your bearing and presence. Do you believe you possess magic?”

Luna furrowed her brow and took a deep breath: “Perhaps…”

Yunada smiled and removed his robe, standing before Luna clad only in a loincloth, his scores of scars exposed to her full view. She took in a sharp breath and fell back a step.

“Do you think you could heal even one of these scars? Erase the evidence of even one burn?”

Luna licked her lips nervously: “Would that not displease your Goddess? I presume these were inflicted in her honor.”

Nai’a smiled wickedly: “Nice try!”

Yunada glanced down at his chest: “Many of these are but assays in the craft. I would not regret the removal of just one.”

Luna stared at the patches of glossy, inflamed skin, the white streaks, the mutilated tattoos, criss-crossed with gashes and ropy beads of scar tissue. A bead of sweat ran down the side of her face. She locked eyes momentarily with Yunada.

He smiled slightly, then turned away and waved the guard over to his side: “I presume you have seen the effects of fire on a body, yes? The blackened skin, the withered flesh, the burnt bone.”

“Yes.”

Yunada began walking toward the back of the pavilion, toward a screened-off area. The guard hurried ahead of him and stood beside the screen. Yunada stopped the guard with a raised hand.

“The old sculptures and paintings of Surjain’kos show her most often in the form of a fiery, twisted pillar of fire, akin to a flaming whirlwind. She is streaked with pink and red and white and black. These scars on my body are a crude and pale imitation of that.”

He turned around, exposing his back, showing off numerous scars that wrapped around from the front of his torso: “I have long been fascinated by fire, but it was Gerrar who brought me the two gifts I most cherish.”

Yunada pointed to a dark, hide-bound volume on a nearby stand: “He brought me the Goddess, and he showed me how fire could be art. I have always respected and loved fire as a tool, a weapon, a comfort and a powerful inducer of fear. But Gerrar has a talent for teasing unexpected results out of heat and flame and oils and metal.”

The guard reached for the screen as Yunada stretched out his arms: “Here are flesh and fire taken to their highest forms!”

The guard pulled back the screen, revealing a low, red-and-green-draped, cushion-covered dais. A livid, fleshy mass sat atop a thick mat, propped in-place by bolsters and pillows.

Luna tipped her head sideways and squinted at the vaguely-human-shaped object, with its rippling, welt-covered folds, and open, red sores. It heaved and wobbled suddenly.

Luna’s eyes went wide with horror, and bile rose in the back of her throat, reducing her voice to a choked whisper: “By the moon and stars--it lives!”

Yunada put his foot up on the dais and looked down at the thing on the mat: “Gerrar taught me the techniques of using white-hot metal to slough away flesh--fingers, noses, manhood, what have you--as though they were made of ice.”

Luna trembled and fought down the urge to vomit.

“And one day, almost three years ago, while watching the end result of an interrogation, he noticed that skin and flesh, under the right conditions, briefly became soft and pliable, almost like hot wax.”

Yunada put his hand on the melted man, which made a sort of high-pitched moan: “He showed me the methods--the compounds and oils, the heat, the timings--and I have spent the much of last three years attempting to perfect it. None have lived as long as this one.”

Luna retched into her mouth and swallowed hard: “You’re a monster!”

Yunada smiled indulgently: “I seek to create a living tribute to the Goddess. I myself cannot be that tribute--not at this time, anyway--so I will craft another into Her divine image.”

“Wh-why?!”

Yunada crossed in front of the dais and stood beside a glowing, charcoal-filled brazier, containing a variety of tongs, blades, brands and iron rods. He picked up a red-hot poker and rolled its grip in his hands.

“I was born far to the south, and have spent my life in one battle or another, working my way up through the various petty warlords of the south, then into the north.”

He pushed the poker back into the brazier: “And year by year, battle by battle, I won more than I lost, but was never really able to consolidate my power.”

Nai’a crossed the room behind Luna and refilled his wine goblet, and retrieved Yunada’s as well. Yunada took the chalice and drained it.

“This likely would have continued for several more years until some other petty warlord, like Gindu, or city-state like Degia got lucky and took me down.”

Yunada set his chalice on a low, short bench near the dais: “Then Gerrar brought me the first of the scrolls describing the Goddess and her messages of unity and purification.”

Luna shifted nervously and turned away from the ruined man atop his mat, focusing on various banners and hangings depicting Surjain’kos and her rites.

Yunada glanced at Luna then up at the tapestries: “Yes, some of the story is there: how the Goddess cleanses sin, purifies, anneals, strengthens by driving out dross. How her holy fire welds disparate peoples together, how she was driven out by the forces of Darkness before the fall of the Lost Gods.”

“H-how do you know she was not also lost? Perhaps you are defiling others in a vain attempt to please a myth!”

Nai’a growled, but Yunada put up his hand: “Interesting you should ask. It’s just the sort of thing Gerrar would say.”

“And how would you reply?”

“I have been fascinated by fire since my youth, but it was not until Gerrar brought the scrolls that I saw it as anything more than a tool, or even weapon. It was my reading of the old stories and scriptures I realized that fire could be holy as well.”

Yunada lifted a long, thin blade out of the brazier: “I began to long for that fire, her fire, the holy fire. I began to long for something greater than mere fleeting conquest.”

Luna winced as Yunada dragged the red-hot blade tip across his right hip, leaving an oozing, smoking cut and welt: “I embraced the clarity fire brings, and realized that I could bring that same illuminating, welding, purifying fire to my domains.”

He drove the dagger back into the heart of the charcoal: “And for my devotion, the Goddess has aided me to ever-greater conquests, more-sweeping victories!”

Luna took a tentative step backwards, her eyes darting.

Yunada glanced back at the map table: “And tonight, when Torlek’s gates lie in flaming ruin and I have captured or slain Gindu, my grip on much of the North will be unassailable. And it will all be to the glory of the Goddess!”

He turned back to Nai’a: “I will lead the assault troops myself. Captain Az’i should be able to keep Gindu’s small contingent occupied along the side gate long enough for the fire casting troops and slaves to fully engage the main gates. They should be ready to fall by the middle of the night.”

Nai’a shrugged and pointed at Luna: “As you wish. What are we going to do with her? Lock her up? Kill her now?”

Luna furrowed her brow and put her hand on her sword.

Yunada chewed his lip and regarded Luna for a few moments: “I am certain she is no Princess, but her air of power, her bearing, her intelligence, her real origins (whatever they may be), her time with Gerrar, are all too enticing to throw away.”

He walked back to the dais and adjusted several irons and blades in the brazier as Nai’a went back to his chair for the wine jug. Yunada nodded to himself: “Yes, too enticing...too valuable. She has been sent to me by the Goddess, fittingly through Gerrar’s agency--one last gift! And I will make good use of this gift very soon.”

Luna tightened her grip on her sword: “I assume you mean to make use of me in your bed!”

Nai’a chuckled: “Well, it’s what we do with whores, after all…”

Luna glared as Yunada put up a hand: “It’s more than that, of course. I mean, naturally, you will share my bed, but all who dwell in my domains know that at any time, for any reason, I can demand they give their blood, gold, lives, bodies. There is not a man, woman or child I could not have in my bed, or on the battlefield on a moment’s notice.”

Luna gritted her teeth: “Perhaps none have dared defy you before!”

Nai’a laughed loudly: “Ha! Not anymore, they don’t!”

Yunada smiled lightly: “True. Those who live under my rule know better than to defy me…”

“Making them little better than sheep! I am no sheep!”

Yunada furrowed his brow: “I don’t know this word, ‘sheep.'"

“Arku--I am no arku!”

Yunada’s eyebrows jumped: “Ah, no--you don’t strike me as an arku. You are too spirited and stiff-necked for that.”

He pushed an iron deeper into the brazier and began to walk toward Luna: “But even the most spirited dalzi can be broken, given enough attention and time.”

Luna backed away another pace, her eyes shifting, peering into dark corners.

Yunada stepped to the map table and picked up Gerrar’s sheathed sword: “And once broken, the dalzi--or person--can be molded into a useful tool, fit for my service.”

Nai’a stepped up behind his chair and began fingering the trim on Luna’s cloak: “Maybe, but what service beyond galdu?”

Yunada tipped his head slightly: “No--there’s far more to her than that! With her bearing, wits and power--properly harnessed, of course--she might make an excellent Tunzal! That would be most fitting, wouldn’t it--to have her take Gerrar’s place? My first woman Tunzal!”

“Ha! Make sure to tell him that when you go for your ‘final audience!’”

Yunada nodded: “Actually, he might find it appropriate…”

Luna glared and bared her teeth: “I will die before you defile me or press me into your service!”

Nai’a pointed angrily at her: “Careful what you wish for, bitch!”

Yunada set Gerrar’s sword down and took another step closer to Luna: “It may well come to that, but I hope not.”

He looked over his shoulder at the ruined, melted man behind him at the back of the pavilion: “I know what you fear, Luna; I have seen it in your eyes. One way or another, you will be ‘molded!’”

Luna shuddered and pivoted suddenly on her left foot, sweeping past the table, bolting for the tent’s opening with Yunada on her heels.

The red-and-green-clad guard stepped in from the entrance, blocking her way; she lowered her shoulder and slammed into him, bowling him over, knocking them both to the ground.

Luna shouted in rage and scrambled over the guard who clutched at her legs, as Yunada jumped lithely over the pair and yanked Luna up by her hair, pulling her backwards into the pavilion.

Nai’a wrapped his large arms around Luna’s waist as the guard scurried aside, and the three dragged her back, kicking and screaming, into the hot, dark, stifling interior.