Chapter 21

November 14th, 2020

Uthar. It was on the opposite side of the Barrens. Damn it all. If he hadn't...He stopped in his tracks. The Woman! How in Gorgoth's Maw had it slipped his mind? She's the entire reason he went on this god forsaken journey in the first place, now standing in the weather warn ruins of an old fort on the front lines of a war that had started before he was even born. He quickly hurried up to the nearest Dustman, grabbing her sleeve. She started moving as though to attack him or defend herself.

“No no no! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you.” Zechariah said backing away and releasing her arm. “I'm so terribly sorry. I just have a very important question to ask you, if you might be able to help me out?”

She eyed him from under the folds of her head wrappings, then nodded and in broken tongue said “Yes. Ask you can.”

Considering the head wraps that the Ghabar Rijali wore daily, he wondered if he would have any luck at all finding a red haired woman in their midst. “I am looking for a woman. She's smallish in stature, and has bright red hair, like that of a rose or a flame. Have you seen her before? She should have come to your people on the last caravan two ports ago.”

The lady shook her head slowly. “No. No red hair. Black. All black.” She said gesturing vaguely around other Dustmen. He wasn't sure if she had fully understood him. Damn it all. Bowing politely he thanked her for her time, and hurried on. Perhaps one of Khayrat's squad would now? He didn't particularly want to talk to Khayrat right now, and he hoped that any wrath Khayrat had for him, would cause his squad to also despise him. He began to ask for Khayrat's squad, any member of them, and was directed towards the training grounds. He didn't know what training grounds were suppose to look like, but this empty dusty yard was not what he had anticipated. He had thought there would be tools or equipment of some sort but instead, surrounded by more old buildings was a large yard where hundreds of men and woman spared and trained. It looked more like what had once been a market rather than anything military, but he supposed that it didn't really matter what it was. What mattered was what it had become. A large bell tower at the Edgeward side of the yard caught his attention, as the sun glinted off the dusty and old metal of a large bell which, to his surprise, still hung supported not by rope but by chain.

“Hey! You there!” someone shouted in his direction. Looking around he met the eyes of a man in armor. “You're not one of them. What are you doing in their robes?” Zechariah looked down at what he was wearing, confused. Flustered and caught completely unprepared he tried to stammer out an explanation, but the man just continued to yell at him. “Don't play stupid with me boy! You're not going to get away with slacking on my watch. Where's your sword? Why don't you have your armor on?” He was marching towards him angrily now. Zechariah wasn't sure if he should try to explain something or run away. The man didn't seem particularly amiable. Glancing around quickly, trying to find make a plan of some sort, his eyes fell on a woman who was not wearing normal Dustmen attire, nor that of the Umarian soldiers. She wore a simple loose shirt tucked into linen breeches that fit her petite and athletic form well. She was leaning upon a water barrel, ladle in hand and panting hard, apparently having just finished some exercise.

Meeting the Dustman's eyes he waved and shouted. “Iffit! Shammy!? I'm a friend of Nawfa!” The soldier who was stalking towards him paused as he was so completely ignored, putting him on edge. Was this strange young man just a disobedient soldier, or was he someone important that he didn't know about? He didn't have enough information. Turning behind him, he saw a small woman in scandalous clothing jogging up to them.

“You're...You're Zechariah?” She said panting, chest heaving in front of him.

“Yes. Zechariah Feldman.” He bowed slightly in greeting, not failing to notice that this lowered his eyes to her small breasts. Straightening back up he continued. “I was hoping to find one of Kharyat's squad, I have some questions and I thought one of you might be able to help me.”

“Excuse me.” The soldier said with a glare. “Who are you and what's going on here? Why aren't you in uniform and training with the rest?”

“I just arrived. I was informed by Sirpa that my training doesn't start till tomorrow.” Zechariah said truthfully, hoping that it would get the man off his back.

“Is that so?” The soldier growled as he flicked his thumbnail against the hilt of his sword thoughtfully. “You're name's Zechariah Feldman?”

“Yes sir.”

“That doesn't sound like any ordinary Umarian name. I'm thinking you're a little too suspicious for my liking.” He said narrowing his eyes. He looked like he was going to say more, or step forward or something, but Dustman stepped in.

“He is a friend of mine and of the Ghabar Rijali, and he brings news of others that I must hear. Discuss it with Sirpa later, and if he has lied, then I to will take part in the punishment for his deceit. Does that satisfy you?” She spoke with a soft quiet voice, but one that carried a tone of much confidence. The soldier eyed Zechariah then her, then back to Zechariah again.

“Fine. But if I find out that you've pulled wool over my eyes, I'll lash you both.” He turned and looked for another poor individual to shout angrily at, as he stomped off into the training grounds.

“Isn't he just a song on midsummer's night?” Zechariah said flatly.

The Dustman looked up at him, being shorter than he, and smiled a sparkling smile. “I like this. I do not know what it means but it sounds pleasant.”

“Oh, it's...actually kind of an insult. Because...he isn't that nice.” Zechariah tried to explain awkwardly.

“Come Zechariah. Come.” She said, leading him away from the training grounds, and down a few alleys. They came to a wall which she deftly lept upon to perch gracefully, putting them at roughly eye level with each other. “My name is Sham'a. Not Shammy.”

Zechariah flushed an apology. “I am sorry. I had not meant to offend. I only met you that one time and I wasn't sure which one you were.”

“This is okay Zehcariah. I am not offended. I know your name only because Nawfa spoke of you often.” She said dismissing his apology.

“She did?” Zechariah asked. Mudaris had said a similar thing.

“Yes. You two have sex?” Sham'a asked grinning mischeviously.

Zechariah blushed harder. “I...Excuse me? I don't see how that's your business.”

Her grin just widened further. “You better keep your back to the Edge.” She said laughing softly. “Khayrat will cut you limb from limb.”

Zechariah swallowed hard, the blush suddenly turning somewhat pale. “Will...will he really?” He asked nervously.

She nodded. “I've seen him do it. And worse to. Khayrat does not like to share what is precious to him.” Then her mockery softened a bit as she saw Zechariah's fear. “Perhaps it is not all that bad. She was worth it no?”

“Worth dying over?” Zechariah asked incredulously. Then, shrugged his shoulders and nodded. “I suppose she was. Most incredible night of my life.”

“You do not regret it?”

“Not at all.”

“Good. Then at least, if you die at Khayrat's hand, you will not live long enough to see it become a mistake!” She laughed again at her own grim humor. This woman was dark. She looked so petite and, dare he say, cute? But the way she laughed in his face about a potential impending death put him on edge.

“Right, I suppose that's Aleen's gift then isn't it?” Zechariah said dryly.

“Who is Aleen? Another woman you fuck?” Sham'a asked both innocently and rudely at the same time.

“No! That's not...”

“Oh...a woman you want to fuck then.”

“Never mind. Look, can we change the subject from my sex life to something more productive?” Zechariah asked beginning to get more than a little frustrated.

She gave him a calculating look as she nodded wisely. “Hmm...Yes. Your sex life is not very productive is it?” She laughed heartily as he covered his face in annoyance.

“Please?” He asked trying to move on.

“If you ask that way, no woman will say yes!” She began to laugh hysterically at her own jokes, giggling rather cutely with a high pitch inhalation at the end of each series of giggles. Zechariah's mouth twisted into a reluctant half smile as he couldn't help but acknowledge her wit, despite how frustrated he was. Beginning to wipe tears out of her eyes she waved to him. “Yes, yes. Ask your questions. I...I will listen.” She said as her giggling fit began to fade.

Sighing, Zechariah began. “Okay. I...Why was Nawfa talking about me?” Zechariah asked. He had other questions but...this one kept popping up and nagging at him. At asking it though, Sham'a sobered up somewhat and became serious once more, her laughter still on her lips but a sadness entered her eyes.

“That my friend, is a question you should ask her. Nawfa has seen much in her life. Survived more than one Jundar attack.” Sham'a said with an appreciative nod of the head an a well suited tone of awe. “But why she does and says some things, those are her stories. Not mine.”

Zechariah pondered this, his brow furrowed in thought before he continued. “Very well. I will respect that. Then I suppose is the real reason I sought you out. I'm looking for a woman. No...” Zechariah said flatly as he saw a smile begin to crawl across her lips once more, “Not like that. It's...never mind. Those are my stories. But it's important that I find her. She's shorter, a little taller than you I believe, with bright red hair. Have you seen her? She should have arrived at the Ghabar Rijali with a caravan a few ports before Nawfa returned to you. If you saw her hair, you couldn't miss it.” He asked earnestly, but to no avail.

“I am sorry Zechariah. This woman is not known to me. I have not seen red hair. But, you won't find her here.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because here, we are Ghabar Rijali warriors. Only those of us who fight are here.” she explained simply.

“Wait, there are more of you?” Zechariah asked dumbly.

She frowned at him and cocked her head to the side in a way that was oddly feline. “You think that all of our people are here? In Sumud? No! Only us warriors. The rest of our people, much larger than just us, are still in the Barrens They will continue life, and send supplies to us. If your red hair is with the Ghabar Rijali, she will be there, not here. But it is just as likely that she has already moved on. Caravans do not stay long.” She said looking at him and his disappointment. “Still, it is worth going to see no?”

“I can't. You heard Mr. Hugs back there. I'm being pressed into service. I can't leave Sumud.” Zechariah said as he rain his hands through his hair.

“Well...” She said in a mischievous sort of way, “If you leave before you are registered, perhaps they will not see that you are missing?” She shrugged her shoulders. “Besides, why do they want a farmer? To throw seeds at the Draconians?” She barked another laugh.

“It'd be more effective than having a sword in my hand that's for sure. I got soundly beaten the last Draconian I fought. Was barely more than a new born pup nipping at the hooves of the Wildr Father.” Zechariah said frustrated.

Sham'a cocked her again in that curious way of hers. “Wildr Father?” She inquired. “I do not know this thing.”

“Oh, I...I actually don't know what it is either. Some kind of legend about the spirit of the wilderness I think? It's just a saying we use in Hyran.” Zechariah explained.

“You are very strange people.” She said matter of factly.

Zechariah shrugged in acquiescence, “I suppose to everyone, everyone else must seem strange.” That simply got a confused look on her face. “Anyway, thank you for your help, both in the questions and with Mr. Hugs.”

“Mr. Hugs. I think he will not like this name.” Sham'a easily smiled again, laughing softly. “You are welcome Zechariah. May Al'harrabu bring justice to you.” As gracefully as she had lept upon the wall, she lept off it. Bowing in a masculine way, she turned and jogged back to the training grounds.