As we traveled with the witchers, my eyes saw the purest waters, mountains of sand, forests as far as my eyes could see and even strange creatures that lurked about with curiosity. None of which I'd ever seen before.
For some, there was a resemblance to the animals of the surface. Tiger-like creatures hovered near the tree line of the jungle and looked for a moment. Yet they left us be, either from a primal understanding that they would be bested or from a pure lack of interest. At times, I could see what appeared to be fish zipping from the ocean water and splashing back in moments later. But I also saw things that frightened me. Creatures much to large to be considered normal sea life back on the surface.
During our short time in passing the sand dunes, I spotted a very strange creature that could best be described as a mixed breed of scorpion and giant crab. Even the witchers became nervous - I could sense it on them. I also believe that it's the reason we left the sight of dunes shortly after, as sand stretched the length of the horizon.
These witchers were very strange men indeed, but I also found them to be a fair people. Much more so than the ape men had been. They shared equal portions of food and water with us. Indeed, during times of rest, the witchers would build a large fire and have us sit with them. For many days, none of us had the courage to speak. We listened to them speak amongst themselves in our language, though they never spoke of us.
"What is to become of us?" I asked.
The bright orange light of flame licked our faces and I believe the rest of the slaves felt afraid for me. I had likely sealed my own doom by speaking.
Still, I needed to know.
"I think that much would be obvious by now." one of them replied.
For the witchers, my question brought smiles, but I continued to look to them with a long, determined face.
"You're to become one of us," a witcher finally added. Sipping momentarily from a steel cup filled with campfire coffee. "Look around you. At one time we were all slaves, too. I doubt the apes fear us, but they respect us enough to barter. You will be trained in the arts of war and survival. Once that happens, you will help our people do what we can to free more slaves and grow our race."
"Why?" I asked. Both shocked and relieved.
"Because we don't have the means to free them all at once," the strange man replied. "If we had our way, we'd overrun the ape men and free everyone. But in doing so, we'd spark a war that we could not win. Not yet, anyway. But our numbers grow."
"We left friends back there," I said. Having grown a bit more courage. "I didn't want to choose, but I honestly didn't know what the Gorgum intended to do to her," I glance to Tara. "I can only imagine what our other friends must think of me."
"Making hard choices is the mark of a leader," the witcher said. "We've all had to make them. Many of us had to leave family members behind in hopes of one day returning to free them."
"I heard them call you witchers-"
"Yea," he grinned. "And you think we're witches?"
I looked at them with blank eyes. One of the witchers, the largest by far, began bellowing out with heavy laughter. His head was as slick-shaven as a well used penny and his skin tone was nearly the same.
"It's because we fight like there's magic involved, kid."
I nodded. That much made sense.
"The Gorgum think we're magic and we let them believe it. We even play the part with this armor," the thin one said. Holding his winged helmet up for a moment. "It helps us negotiate better deals and free more slaves. We have names, too; but they are irrelevant among friends. We simply call one another brothers."
I was appreciative of everything they had done for us, and I believe my face showed it. Still, I tipped my head for a moment with gratitude.
"You all need to get some rest. At the end of our next hike, we'll arrive at the city of Toma. You will find plenty of our kind there, but not all of them will be as hospitable as we have been. You are to stay close and say little."
"Understood." I said.
"And rub some damn dirt on your faces," the larger witcher said. Much to the enjoyment of the group, which began laughing. "You're too clean. The men of Toma will try to take you all as their lovers."
That was a thought that didn't sit well with me. To each his own, but I had no plans of being another man's lover. Not now - not ever. I lay onto my side and did what I could to swatch dirt into my hand and brush it across my face. Doing everything in my power to look anything but presentable.
Quickly, the mouth of a hand ax bit into the ground beside me. Scaring the hell out of me in the process.
"I've nothing better to offer you," the thin witcher said. "But should a fight ensue, we'll need every able body we have. The code of a witcher is to fight. No matter the odds. Is that understood?"
"It is." I replied.
I could hear several more weapons digging into the soil, one for each of the freed slaves. As I glanced to Tara, who also lay resting, I could see the fear in her eyes beneath the bastard blue glow above, that kept most sleepy men awake.
I worried for her. She was as beautiful as a woman could possibly be, yet Tara was no warrior. I would need to fight hard enough for the both of us.
And I planned to.
Chapter 5
Toma was nothing like I had expected.
I had imagined a very small community or, at best, a thriving village. Instead what it became before my very eyes was a spectacle to behold. A towering castle, at least thirty stories high, surrounded by a small city - a city!
Toma had been crafted with crude materials, rather than seamless steel and fancy glass, as it would have been on the surface; not that I cared. My eyes nearly started watering as we approached the city, which was marked with several plumes of smoke. I could smell the keen satisfaction of fine meat being grilled and I could hear the chatter of human voices. In fact, much to my approval, a majority of the faces I saw inside of Toma were human. There were, on occasion, other beings that were completely foreign to me, but I dared not ask about it. I was just happy to be alive.
I also thought of my friend Hunter, who'd been killed soon after arriving. What would he think right now, at this very moment? A castle towered above me as finely crafted as any historic church back on the surface. It was very pale black in color and the tips of its towers looked like the heads of spears.
The city of Toma was bustling. We were freed slaves and certainly new faces among the crowd, yet no one seemed to notice us. No one seemed to care. Everyone had their own affairs to tend to. For some, that means bartering for things to eat or garments to wear. Weapons dealers had tables filled with swords, pikes, knives of all varieties and even a few bows; hailing anyone they could with carny-type pitches.
I saw no other witchers.
It was at that points that I realized the witchers were a very small group. A mere fish among the sea of civilization known as Toma.
"Is Toma the largest city?" I asked.
The thinner of the group's leaders turned to me.
"Toma is the largest of our area, yes," he replied. "But much smaller than Destin or Calamar. I've also heard stories of cities across the water, but my own eyes have not seen them. I suspect they are real enough. Weapons from these far away lands make their way to Toma from time to time."
I nodded.
For me, this was incredible news. I was not alone in being human and our small group was not alone. Humanity was flourishing, even in a world of very strange creatures. Every human face improved my chances of living and I needed to live in order to find my way back to the surface. There had to be a way.
I had come to the conclusion that these so called feared were part of the Nazi regime, at least to some capacity. Though the citizens of the savage land were none the wiser. In my mind, it made sense. I also knew that if my grandfather had seen them, which he most certainly had, in order to track them back to the mysterious tree which had led me there, then the feared had a way of getting back and forth. But how?
If these feared had a way of returning to the surface, it wasn't to be found inside of the elevator. We'd only seen one button - down. I could only conclude that the tree had been designed as an entry-only station and there were likely many of them spread across the land, but damned if I knew where.
I dared not ask the witchers about the feared. While I trusted them to keep us alive, I preferred to keep it that way. Bringing up the feared may have sparked suspicion upon me and, God forbid, they may have thought me to be one of the feared.
I had no real plan. I would train enough to stay alive and learn about this savage land in the process. When I was deemed ready, I would then return to free my friends and set off in search of the feared and ultimately, the surface. This would take me a lot longer than simply running away in search of my way to the surface, but doing the latter would be a fool's errand. It would be suicide, in a world of many dangers. At least I had a chance of survival by taking it slow and awaiting the perfect opportunity.
I would speak of the surface to no one. How could I? They would deem me insane and either make a fool out of me or kill me outright! The surface, the place I had lived my entire life, would remain a secret for now. Locked inside of my own head.
"Why did you choose me?" Tara asked.
She'd said very little since the witchers had taken us and had said nothing to me. Her words took me by surprise.
"Huh?"
"Why me over your friend?"
"I didn't know how the Gorgum would treat you," I said. "I thought it would be better to have your near."
"Further away from my protector?" she questioned.
"I can fill that role now."
"You?" she asked. With both surprise and shame. "You can't protect yourself. Even now you carry your ax too far up the handle."
I said nothing. Easing my hand down on the handle a bit.
"I do not mean to offend you-"
"I care for you, that's why." I replied.
It's the only defense I had. Obviously I was no fighter. Even a captured princess had seen that I held my weapon incorrectly.
"I see." she replied.
There was no thoughtful response to follow, which frightened me. Had I said something to offend her in some way?
"You see?" I asked. "You've nothing else to say?"
"In the custom of my people, a woman will have a protector one of two ways. First, her father can deem someone a protector, which was the case with Lenzu. He was one of the finest soldiers my father had-"
"And the other way?"
"If you aim to protect a woman and her father has not chosen it, you must prove yourself worthy."
"How?" I asked.
"Normally, you would face a soldier of my father's choosing. But we are slaves. Return me to my father and I should think that would be test enough."
"Then I will return you to your father."
For the first time, Tara smiled wide.
"Then you need to learn how to hold your ax," reaching over, she helped me with my grip. "Lower your hand near the bottom, but not completely. It will give you a better swing, which in turn brings more bite."
I felt like a fool. A fool in love.
"I'm more of a sword man." I lied.
?
Over the course of the next few weeks, I would come to know the witchers much better; though only the two who spoke directly to us. The rest seemed uninterested in us as freed slaves or people - preoccupied with themselves. Everyone had struggles.
The biggest of the witchers, known as Stubbs, had proven himself to be the best fighter of the group. There wasn't a man he wouldn't go sword-to-sword with, and in some cases, multiple men at once. He was as ferocious as a lion during the fight, but for everything he possessed, Stubbs lacked the temperament.
The thinner witcher, known as Clary, was also an incredible warrior. But he and Stubbs differed greatly in their approach. Stubbs' frame was packed out with muscle, as it should have been. The copper skinned brute ate like a team of starved horses. He generally charged in and clobbered his opponents with a sense of strength that could not be matched. Clary, who became the leader of the small group, though it was never officially spoken as such, was equally as good in a fight. He was a thinker first. Clary would measure his opponent and then counterstrike accordingly.
Toma was filled with fresh faces, many of which I believed to be either wanted men or fugitives in some fashion. You could always tell a wanted man by his actions in public. They tended to keep one hand on their weapon and fully expected the other shoe to fall at any time. A wanted man searched the faces of those around him, and most people I had encountered in the city of Toma had done just that.
The mighty castle had been proven off-limits, even to the witchers. While I did see a few men come and go from its gates, they were clad in official armor and cared nothing for the lot of us, as long as we moved from their path.
I had taken to this city and the man I once was...he was slowly being lost along the way. I couldn't even remember the food I once enjoyed. Sure, I remembered the name lasagna, but my memory could no longer remember what it tasted like. The rules of football, a sport that I had once been captivated by, now escaped me entirely. I couldn't have explained it to another person if my life depended on it.
Moreover, I no longer cared.
I had accepted my place among the witchers in this savage land of medieval living. Up until a moment that would forever change my standing among these people. We were to be given the official armor of the witchers and in accepting it, we were to unclothe completely as they looked on.
It was a fact that did not sit too well with me. I could not bear the idea of Tara standing nude in front of them and suspected that Stubbs had waited a very long time to see her without clothes. She wasn't mine in a traditional sense of speaking, but I had to do something. Protecting her had become my responsibility.
"Tara will change in private." I said.
It was bold, considering these people had rescued us from a life of slavery and been nothing but kind to us.
"She'll do what's asked of her," Stubbs began laughing in mocking fashion. "And I, for one, will thoroughly enjoy it."
"She'll do no such thing." I concluded.
More importantly, I sunk a good deal of my blade into the soil near my feet. I had seen the witchers do this on occasion. It was their way of showing utmost seriousness. And, as foolish as it may have been...I was serious.
"You'll want to pick that sword of yours up. Now." Stubbs warned.
What was I to do? The entire group of witchers now stood close and watched on. Tara had seen me defend her honor, and she'd smiled during the whole event. Likewise, Stubbs could have killed me without breaking a sweat. He knew it. I knew it. Hell, a half-blind bird flying a thousand feet in the air would have known it. But if I backed down now, the witchers would never accept me as a warrior.
"I mean no disrespect," I said. Standing my ground. "But I speak for Tara. As a warrior and perhaps one day as a lover."
"I could snap you like a half-grown string of beans." he boasted.
"I know." I replied. Refusing to back down.
"Back off, Stubbs." Clary said.
It was at that very moment that I knew for certain that he was the group's leader. It was in his voice.
"He pulled his weapon on-"
"He is new to our ways. You know this."
"You know our code." Stubbs blasted.
"Yes, but he does not. He defends the girl in the same fashion that I'm prepared to defend him." he threatened.
Stubbs was filled with fury, I could see it. But even he was smart enough to know that Clary had at least a decent chance of winning.
"We are going to let it go this time. And we're going to turn our backs to the girl while she dresses herself in armor. Is that clear?"
Stubbs' expression did not falter.
"The next time he pulls his weapon, I will follow our code. And I'll fight through anyone who stands in my way, includi
ng you."
"Fair enough." Clary said.
Slowly, each of the men began to turn their backs to Tara in order to give her a smidgen of privacy. I turned as well, though I did so slowly. I honestly believe she wanted me to watch her and I was torn between my lust for her and the chivalry inside of my heart. Just as she removed her clothes, I joined the other witchers in facing away.
"Where I come from, boy," Stubbs said. "We enjoy the sight of those we speak for in the nude."
I listened, but didn't respond. It wasn't my place. Already, I had done something incredibly stupid and nearly paid the ultimate price for it. Plus, I could see Clary glancing into my direction. I wanted to remain on his good side.
I realized that earning my freedom from shackles had been pure luck.
I would not be as lucky when it came to earning the witchers' respect.
But today had been my first step toward achieving that. I had stood up to the largest warrior they had and lived to tell the story.
Chapter 6
"A sword is the most perfect weapon you could ask for." Clary said.
I nodded.
"An ax is capable, yet heavy," he said. "Bows require more than one piece. Spears can miss. Hammers, and other blunt weapons can leave an opponent wounded, yet alive. But a sword is steel crafted to perfection. The right sword is light enough to swing, while heavy enough to cut an enemy down. It is but a single piece that should become one with your mind. Your sword should work as an extra limb of your body."
For several days, he had worked with me on my skills with a sword. Skills that were seriously lacking in me. Wearing the armor of a witcher would bring the respect of many whom we crossed paths with, but there would always be the exceptions to that rule. Men who prided themselves with being killers. Gorgum or the lizard men of Banshi, who Clary reminded me were not so far away. Even the predatory animals of the savage land who knew not of respect, only blood.
He swung quickly. I found myself barely able to hoist my own sword up in time, blocking his attack as two the two trunks of steel clanged.
"Good." Clary said.
I could feel the numbness of impact throughout my arms. Still, we parried back and forth before Clary finally nodded his approval - placing his sword back into its sheath.