The Curse of the Winged Scorpion
Strange humans falling out of bushes

Shewas herded out of the cellblock, through the dented steel door, and up a narrowflight of stairs. The Dha-hali kept his gun pressed against the small of herback the entire time, chasing her heels, so close his hot breath scalded theback of her shoulders as she climbed ahead of him. The stairway was narrowenough that two people could not cross on the stairs. The featureless stonewalls closed in around her, the air thick and damp, the coolness of thecellblock replaced with a moist heat that made the walls sweat. Above her heada dim red light beckoned – the lockpad to another mechanised door – that singlemournful eye was the only illumination as she climbed.

Oncethey reached the top the Dha-hali made her kneel on the floor facing back downthe dark stairway as he retrieved a phantasma key stone from somewhere on hisperson and unlocked the door. She thought about grabbing his leg as he fiddledwith the lock. It would be easy to yank his foot out from under him and causethe man to topple back down the stairs. Then she could search his body for thekey stone, run back into the cells, disable the frightened youth, and take theother women with her as she made her escape. Yet some instinct, almost like awhisper of foresight, told her to be patient. The voice whispered that rashaction would be fatal but if she waited just a little longer then a chance tofree herself would come her way. Fantel recognised the voice of destiny, thevoice of her innermost self – the same voice that had kept her alive in thosefirst hideous months of exile. Then the voice had told her that the Echo ofAldlis ringing through the jungle was not the only voice she might hear, ifonly she could learn to listen and think for herself. That voice had spokenblasphemy then and set her on a course that had led her here to this fate – yetshe could not deny that the voice had also set her free. Perhaps it would do soagain?

“Up,”The Dha-hali grabbed her arm hauling her to her feet. He pushed her through thenow open doorway. Sunlight blinded her. Fantel staggered back, half raising hershackled hands to shield her eyes. Her head reeled, reacting to the sudden waveof sound and scent and taste that hit her like a physical weight. The assaulton her senses was dizzying. She heard the cawing of birds in trees, the tasteand scent of a hot breeze, the faint, tantalising aroma of spices and rain.Dropping her arms she blinked a few times. All she could see through narrowedeyes was a sea of vibrant green.

Graduallyas her eyes adjusted to the light that green haze resolved into distinctshapes; she was standing in a grassy clearing edged by thick forest. Heavyropes of moss hung from the low hanging branches of the trees, trailing in ahot, humid breeze that swept over the unkempt grass. The door she had steppedout of was set into a sheer cliff. Fantel turned and looked up at the cliffface only to realise that what she was looking at was not a natural cliff atall. The rock was too smooth, tapering toward the tip into a rounded peak.There was something about the way the massive tower of rock stood perfectlyerect and straight that did not seem quite right. It looked like a giantpillar, something carved and sculpted. It was too perfect to be natural. Fantelturned her head, looking over the tops of the trees. In the distance she couldsee a high ridge of mountains. The top of the range was uneven – eachindividual peak had a curved, rounded top. The peaks rose in ascending order ina series of rounded humps, the shortest on the far side and the tallest in themiddle, before tapering off again sharply. There was a deep depression in thecentre of the ridge, giving the impression of two uneven arches comingtogether. Fantel frowned. The unusual formation itched at her brain, almost asthough she was looking at an optical illusion. She felt that she should knowwhat it was that troubled her about the mountains but her brain just could notdecipher the clues. The strange range of mountains cast a long shadow over thetreetops, but to the left and right the sky crashed down so sharply that Fantelrealised that wherever she was she must be at some altitude; even the air feltthinner now that she had had time to adjust. It was strange, but she couldalmost believe that this entire valley was somehow floating on empty air, lightand free as a cloud.

“Ahead,Chimera, make for the tree line.” The Dha-hali prodded her with the barrel ofhis gun once again and Fantel started moving. She took a deep breath of aironce they reached the trees, nostrils flaring. The rich dark loam of the woodsand the comforting presence of the trees was a balm to her soul. She wisheddearly that she could lay hands upon the gnarled trunk of one of the Bloodwoodtrees lining the path. She was sure that the trees would tell her much aboutthis place, if she could only greet them properly, but instead she had to makedo with the faint echo of welcome resonating through the soles of her feet –the Pulse of life was strong here. She could sense the depths the tree rootstraversed, and the weight of history hidden under the thick forest canopy; somany secrets, so much power hidden within the language of shivering leaves andswaying boughs -a language no human could hope to understand. The ground slopednoticeably, the path through the woods made treacherous by the uneven groundand exposed roots perfectly placed to snag the feet of the unwary, which is howFantel and her ‘escort’ came to realise they were not alone.

“Bugger,”the soft curse came from the left, floating over a thicket of brambles. Fantelheard the scuff of heavy feet stumbling through the undergrowth only feet awayand then through a gap in the trees she caught a flash of sky blue fabric. Thegreen haired Dha-hali glared at her in warning before turning toward the figurehalf obscured by brush. He hired a shot through the gap in the trees. The shotbit into the bark of a particularly old bloodwood and Fantel winced. She couldfeel the rumble of the tree’s pain through the roots webbing the ground underher feet. A male voice yelped and a moment later a young human stumbled out ofthe trees, looking as startled as a grouse flushed out of the brush by a cleverhunter.

Fantelstudied the interloper curiously. He was human, young, and of good height andlean build. He wore a voluminous great coat of startling blue with wide lapelsfestooned with a double row of glittering silver buttons. A windblown thatch ofblack hair was messily cropped close to his head. The youth blinked dark eyesin surprise as he looked from Fantel to the Dha-hali holding a gun on him.

“Careful,”the youth said, holding his hands out in surrender, “you could have hit me.” Hespoke the Imperial tongue with the crystal cut diction and lazy drawl of anAdran aristocrat and he was most definitely notDha-hali.

“Whoare you?” Her Dha-hali captor demanded, in Bhuvanti, finger poised on thetrigger. “Who gave you permission to walk these woods?”

Thestrange youth grimaced, eyeing the man’s gun with distaste more than fear. “Ah,so sorry, but I -ah -don’t actually speak your lingo, could you repeat thatperhaps?” He managed a vague, affably baffled smile. Fantel narrowed her eyes.The sunlight slanting through the canopy fell across the palm of the youth’supraised left hand catching the dull silver glint of metal tracing over hispalm and down past his wrist. A technomancer’s glove; only that particularstripe of magic worker took to mutilating their flesh in such a way. Fantel,born with a natural and innate connection to Aldlis, the font of all Anima andmagic, found such practice both perverse and perversely fascinating. She couldjust about make out a thumb sized gem stone – fossilised Phantasma, maybe – setinto the flesh of his palm; the interwoven web of fine metal fibres runningunder his skin sprang from the centre of his palm, striking out from that stonelike the spokes of a wheel. She was not the only one to notice. The Dha-hali’seyes narrowed dangerously.

“Isaid who are you?” He growled in Standard Imperial, the language of the AdranEmpire and the most dominant tongue on the continent.

“Oh,”The youth smiled, bright and quick, still blithely unconcerned about hispredicament. “I’m Rashari.” He blinked innocently. “I’m part of the Veridreeparty?”

Fantelhad no idea what the Veridree party was (wasn’t Veridree in Dushkuland? Whywould an Adran have anything to do with a Dushkui party?) but clearly theDha-hali did. He grunted, lowering the gun fractionally. He did not look happy.“You are not permitted to be out here.” He growled. “All guests are supposed tostay in the house until after the auction.”

“Really?”The youth –Rashari - once again contrived to look genuinely surprised andabashed. Fantel wondered if he knew that his attempt at sincerity was somewhatlacking in any actual sincerity. “Begging your pardon then. It’s just that –well – all that dreamsmoke starts to get to a man’s head after awhile, youunderstand? Not to speak out against your Dagoman; this is definitely the mostlavish and entertaining slave market I’ve even been to, but I’ve never been overlyfond of drugged stupors.” The youth flashed his teeth in another bladed smile.Deliberately he turned toward Fantel, studying her keenly. “Ah, so this is thefamous Chimera I’ve heard so much about? No wonder ol’ Bashi’s ready to forkover fifteen thousand Orlen for you, sight unseen. Clearly the Dagoman has notoversold your charms.” He spoke with a knowing smile curling his lips and didnot fear to meet her eyes. Fantel frowned but said nothing in response; she hadthe peculiar feeling that this youth knew that she had no intention of beingsold to anyone.

“Leaveboy,” The Dha-hali growled. “I do not care who your master is, nor do I care ifyou serve the Dushku raider king. You are trespassing. Leave now and I will notbe forced to kill you for laying eyes on my Dagoman’s prime lot.”

“Now,now, no need to be rude.” Rashari smiled, cheerful and insultingly blasé. “LikeI said I only came out here for a bit of fresh air.” The youth dropped hishands and adjusted the sleeve cuffs of his coat. He gave Fantel an odd, curtnod. “I will see you at the auction, Madame Chimera.” Then he turned on hisheel with military precision, deftly jumped up onto the slight rise he’dstumbled down before and disappeared soundlessly through the brush. In momentshe was lost in the dense wood, his footfalls making no sound – a markedcontrast to his arrival.

Fantelcocked her head and pondered the empty space he had previously occupied. Whathad he meant by his strange farewell? Obviously if he was attending the slaveauction then he would indeed see her – should fate be cruel and force her ontothe auction block – but still, it almost seemed to Fantel as if he had beensaying something else. There had been a strange gleam in his dark eyes,something secret. He had addressed her not like a slave, or an object to behaggled over, but instead as if she was more important than her warden. Yes,that was it. All the while Rashari had been speaking Fantel had sensed that hewas almost laughing at her Dha-hali guard. He certainly hadn’t shown any hintof fear during their brief exchange, but instead had smiled as if he knewsomething the Dha-hali didn’t. Fantel realised that she would not mind seeinghim again, if only to replace out what his secret was.

“Keepmoving Chimera,” her guard once more shoved her forward with the gun. Fantelstarted walking, trying to prime her senses for any hint of the youth’sfootfalls; the trees hummed to her and the leaves rattled, whispering thatRashari was still in the woods – travelling in the direction of thecliff-pillar and the secret entrance to the slave cell. She kept this insightto herself however.

Soonthe trees became sparse, causing the canopy to thin and allowing pools ofsunlight to gather along the path. The murmur of the trees changed; it wasfractious now, speaking of an uneasy truce between the forest and the humanswho had made a home for themselves ahead. So it was that Fantel knew theyneared their destination long before they broke free of the quietude of theforest and into the shadow of an imposing mansion. The building before her waslarge, almost palatial. Carved from a rose coloured stone, minarets poked upinto the sky at each of the four corners of the wide wall running around theproperty; the mansion’s huge domed roof poked over the top of the wall like abudding blossom not yet in full bloom. The entire estate sat in the shadow ofthe strange double humped mountain range and Fantel had to walk up a slightincline to reach the elaborate gates, carved into the visage of a snarlingserpent, fang teeth dripping venom. Two Dha-hali stood atop the wall above thegates, leaning out from a rickety look-out booth. Her green-haired guardstepped forward, gripping her firmly by the arm and poking the butt of his guninto her ribs before addressing himself to the two gatekeepers.

“Mishmanpraise and preserve you brother Alum. I bring the Chimera as the Dagomancommanded; let us through.”

“Mishmangrant you favour brother Tomah,” one of the guards at the gate replied, tappinghis chest over his chest in the traditional Bhuvam greeting. He nodded for hispartner to go back into the booth and flip the switch to open the gates. “Enterand know His grace, my brother.”

Tomahnodded but did not immediately move to drag her through the opening gates. “Mybrother, did you allow one of the Veridree party to enter our woods?”

“What?No.” The gatekeeper, his form thrown into silhouette by the sun at his back,appeared to shake his head. “None of the Dagoman’s guests are to leave themansion grounds; those were the orders. I swear by Mishman and his eternalfavour that I have seen no one wandering the woods.”

Tomahfrowned, his expression dark. “Then you are remiss in your duties because Imyself saw a man in the woods. He said he was part of the Veridree party. Heshould have arrived back here ahead of us.” Tomah looked around, as ifstraining to catch a glimpse of a bright blue coat in the dense woods at theirback. Reflexively his grip on Fantel’s forearm tightened, his thick fingerspinching.

“Wewill replace him brother.” The second guard, silent up until now, spoke up.

“Youhad better,” Tomah snapped, still looking disturbed. “Our Dagoman’s wrath willbe great indeed should he discover this breach in security.”

“Wewill serve our Dagoman until our deaths.” The two gatekeepers snapped a sharpsalute, the hollow echo of fists striking light chainmail ringing loudly in thetense silence.

“Itmay yet come to that,” Tomah muttered almost inaudibly before pulling herthrough the now open gates and into the courtyard of the mansion.