A Tale of Two Mercenaries

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None of the bandits sit well with her, but she deals with their jabs in silence. How can she interrupt Arean's words of protection against the attacks she hears? Illness or not, Arean still has the heart of an honorable knight, even if he bears no armor or weapons. She eats in utter silence, if her picking at food could be called eating. She's grateful when Arean chooses to leave, and it sets them on the path to recovery.

After a week passes, Zaira notices incredible changes coming from Arean. He's able to combat the sickness with his growing strength, and he begins to eat more. He interacts with the world far more than he had been, and there is a new found power in his arms as he holds her tight each night. She helps him with everything, even if it means forcing medicine down his throat with subtle (or not so subtle) advances, or threats. A temporary caretaker she may be for him, but she's not above spewing threats should he deny her advances.

His voice jars her from her thoughts, and her shirt is halfway up her waist when she pauses. "I... don't know," she answers, unable to give a real response to the question. She wants to leave as soon as possible, something Arean knows, but she cannot help him recover if they travel. That only worked once, and she hadn't really helped so much as dragged him to Cerin. "We need to make sure you're completely better. I can't have you weakening on the road." She pauses again to pull her shirt over her head. Only one candle lights the tent in a dim glow, and Zaira's almost positive that Arean's eyesight is still recovering, so she doesn't need to worry about him seeing something he shouldn't. Her right side is turned toward the light, and she can easily make out her own scars. The dragon's claws left five marks on her: three long, horizontal scars around her arm, one on the side of her waist, and the last grazing her hip. Only a few splotches of lightly burned skin remain, as the dragon's fire never completely reached her. The main burn rests on her left palm, a reminder that magic should never touch the hands of those who cannot wield it. No bruises mar her torso as they had before, and the small scratches lining her face are nothing more than white specks on her cheek.

"Besides, we don't even know where he's going. We know him, so we know that he doesn't give any hints about his real plans," she continues, digging through one of her bags to find another suitable shirt. She has long since moved her things into Arean's tent, despite the grumblings of the bandits who saw her. She's made it clear to everyone that she is Arean's caretaker and no one else. The message goes to even Dessan, someone who she has seen little of. For her sake, Zaira thinks, it's likely better.

"When he was... hurting you," she tries not to focus on the image, "he never said anything about what he wanted to do, right?" She finally finds the dark, long sleeved shirt she was searching for. The bandits don't know of her scars, even though she's expressed her participation in the fight against the dragon. They all seem to believe Arean won in a duel with the beast with no outside help, and she has given up convincing them. Zaira throws the shirt over her head, shifting the sleeves so they fall correctly.
 
"Of course not," Arean agrees immediately, trying to lure his eyesight away from her silhouette that lies at the other end of the tent. "I did not mean now, how could I have? I am grateful to have you by my side for that's the only way..." He takes a breath, "it's the only way that I could have recovered. The only way my recovery could have come this far was having you here." He knows how corny that might sound, telling her that she is the reason for him healing. But it was true and Aarias does not care how he sounds. He knows that his magic is helping him, beating strong now that he knows, for certain, him and Zaria can and will be together until date separates them on their deathbeds. Ranir shall not kill him nor her. Nothing can destroy them.

"I know nothing about Ranir's plans, Zaria. If I knew, I would have told you the moment you arrived. The moment I could. But first I had to let you know that I love you for everything that you are. You do not understand how long I have wanted to tell you," he chooses not to focus on Ranir even though he himself was the one to bring it all up, "that your affections have always been returned. No matter what I may have said to turn you otherwise." Looking back over at her, he sees that she has dawned another shirt and he can't help but chuckle to himself. Internally he had hoped for her to keep that shirt off so that at night his hands might roam and feel that battle ridden skin of hers. He does not care that the dragon had added his marks along with many others. Each scar makes her unique and he would never ask for anything else.

Reaching out for her, he waits for her to sit or to lie down beside him. "You and I shall defeat him for all the wrongs he has done to us and what he will do to the world if we don't stop. The only way for us to know is if we travel back and try to talk to people in a well populated town. Travelers will come in and out and they'll be able to share with us, willing or not, if anything strange has started to happen. All we need to do is stay at a few bars each night and ask around with a hidden purpose. Then, and only then I fear, shall we find him ."
 
Zaira had never known how much time had been spent by him worrying for her, her safety, and more importantly, her heart. He had suffered as she had, believing that they did not return the other's affection, even as they had admitted love. She perches on the bed beside him, allowing his arms to encompass her in a warm embrace. However, she cannot bring herself to lay beside him just yet. She has been rolling the idea around in her head to tell Loril that she's leaving and that Arean is to leave with her. He seems to be an integral part of their training, but Zaira would never leave him in the hands of bandits.

Zaira twiddles her thumbs in her lap before one hand rubs along his arm. "Perhaps he'll come to us. Once he discovers that you're alive and well and I'm with you, he'll want you. Both of us. Though I'm sure he only wants me to kill me or hold me over your head." She has to admit, the prospect of being used as leverage doesn't sit well with her. If Ranir takes a hold of her, Arean would have to make a choice, and Zaira fears that he would make the wrong choice.

Her hand has absently drifted to his head to stroke his hair. Ever since their reunion, Zaira finds the simple motion calms her and soothes her tumultuous thoughts. "Either way, he's going to die," she says, though a sigh follows her words and she settles back onto the bed beside Arean. Wiggling to push herself into a comfortable spot on the not-so-comfortable mattress, Zaira rubs her face with her free hand, the other having gone to rub his arm again. No man has ever made her feel her heart swell with affection or twist her emotions in all directions as Arean has. Love is a scary but beautiful thing indeed.

"Rest now. We can do... things in the morning." Without really mentioning what those things are, Zaira turns on her side, dragging Arean's arm with her to hold against her chest. It seems as though his limb is now her cuddling tool, for within minutes, she's fast asleep. Her breath is warm as it curls around her fingers, but unlike her nightmare-filled sleep, she breathes evenly and her body doesn't twitch in fear.
 
"I am certain that Ranir will pay for his crimes, Zaria. You'll single handedly make sure of just that," Arean reflects with a gentle chuckle, remembering all the times that she told him just how close she was, with words and actions, to killing that man. "But do not worry yourself about that, Zaria. You're right about Ranir I am sure. He will not be pleased to know I have survived. For all we know, he could be on his way this very moment." The thought makes Arean's heart sink inside his chest, that same dense worry reaching his heart for the huntress next to him. She tells him to rest, assuring him with the position of her body that she will not have any more of this conversation. Without so much as a grumble in complaint, Arean allows her to take his arm as her dreamcatcher. Bringing his body close to hers, he rests his chest against her back and falls asleep to the sound of her heavy breathing.

What he didn't expect is to wake up to the sound of the tent flap being pulled aside and voices calling his name. The heavy fabric lets in the early morning sunlight so that it may warm his face that had been nuzzled in Zaria's hair. Through heavy eyes, Arean only turns his head towards them, unable to move his arm from Zaria's grip. Loril and Dessan enter, side by side, both their eyes moving from the knight to the huntress. The leaders' eyes are blank of emotion but Dessan's quick moves to the ground at such an obvious position decelerating their status together. Arean looks back to Zaria, leaning in to kiss her head before pulling his arm out from hers.

"Good morning, ladies," Arean greets in a sleepy voice as he rubs one eye again, "what may I do for you on this warm morning?"

Loril's eyes move to Dessan, a hand pressing against her back to silently tell her to speak. The other woman's saddened eyes stay on the ground until Loril's hand pats her shoulder and she clears her throat. "Arean," she tells him, her words talking slow, "we would appreciate it very much if you would," she eyes Zaria's sleeping figure, "you and her," she corrects gently, "would accompany our camp when we shift our position come the new moon. You've proven yourself day after day of recovery that you are a swordsman that should be written in texts and remembered. You alone could aid our cause in so many ways, I… I can't even begin to."

"You're asking us to come with you?" Arean clarifies and they nod. Looking back to Zaria's figure next to him, he places a hand on her arm and shakes his head gently. "I apologize to both of you, Loril and especially you Dessan. I am afraid that my commitments are engaged elsewhere. The man who tortured me, I am sure you will understand, cannot live for much longer. Zaria nor myself will allow it to be so. He has hurt us. Who knows how many more people he has hurt and will continue to kill in order to further his own ideas. I am grateful to have been under your care, Loril. But I'll be recovered completely within the next phase of the moon. Then we will be gone and on our way." Without so much as another word, the two bandits bow their heads and leave the tent without any more words. That, Arean is sure, will come later after they try and convince him yet again to stay.
 
Zaira's fingers tighten slightly around Arean's wrist, but his arm escapes her grip. The pressure on her head is enough to wake her. In that moment, she almost opens her eyes, but she keeps her body still as she hears Arean greet ladies. They're clearly not courtesans, given that she lies in his bed with him, so she can only assume the two newcomers are Loril and Dessan. She might have furrowed her eyebrows at Dessan's approach, but she has to maintain appearances. If she lets any one of them know she's awake, they may not share their information. So she remains lax against Arean as he's prompted an offer. Zaira is almost not included in the offer and she's hard pressed not to stand and ask Dessan to remove herself from the presence of the huntress. However, she has no need to, for Arean, the far gentler of the two, already declines their offer. Zaira listens to their footsteps recede before her eyes blink open.

In a clear voice, she says, "Glad she caught herself before I wasn't included in that little deal of hers." She sits up, arms stretching over her head. "Yes, I heard them. And yes, I'm glad you said no. We should leave sooner rather than later." She didn't say that she wanted to leave so she could be away from Dessan. Her looks to Arean had not gone unnoticed by Zaira, but she has so far refrained from saying anything to Arean. They've just been reunited, and Zaira does not want to break the trust they have in one another so quickly.

She untangles herself from Arean, though her actions are slow, as if she's not sure if she really wants to move or not. Finally, she's standing and pulling her shirt away from her skin where it has suctioned to her neck and arms. The air is already warm, but Zaira only rolls the sleeves past her elbows. There are only so many females in the camp, and Arean isn't around to stop all of the eying by the other males. She pushes her bow onto her shoulder and straps her main quiver to her body. She appears to be the old Zaira now, the one who is never without a weapon or a dark expression. But even as she turns to Arean, her brown eyes soften. "How are you feeling today? If you're good enough, I may not force you to take your medicine."
 
"Leave to find Ranir?" Arean questions, already pulling himself from her side so that he may plant his feet on the ground. "I feel as though I can take on the world, let alone ride from here with you to wherever you desire." The knight doesn't stand yet though, his mind re-communicating with the rest of his body. It might be nice to sleep next to Zaria, finally, but the only downside is in the summertime. The hot air, even at night, is too humid. At least in the parts they'e in. Their bodies, as shown by Zaria's shirt and the trickle of sweat in the crevasses of Arean's definition of muscles, hate the heat they bring each other. Its not like the mountains where such warmth was gladly welcomed. This is a different place. A different season. "Then lets pack our things and move."

When his things are packed, really just his armor on his body and a sack of provisions his friends have given him, Arean is greeted once again by the two ladies. The procession of people have come and gone as they packed their steeds, ate their breakfast, and, at least Arean, mingled with a few for the last time. They, on the other hand, were not present. While Zaria was inside the tent again, offer him another opportunity to be a part of "something great" as they called it. Once again, Arean has to smile, place a hand on each of their shoulders, and assure them that his mind is made up. Loril has an easy enough time walking away. Its Dessan that Zaria has to worry about. The girl's gaze stays on the ground for most of the conversation, anywhere but at the man she thought she had a chance with. Even to Arean its heart breaking so he has an idea.

"Dessan?" Arean questions when she still doesn't move from her spot. He takes a step closer, hand still on her shoulder. A man like him isn't looking to make anyone jealous but rather fix what he had done. This might have never happened if he hadn't been so careless with his tongue. When Zaria was gone, he spoke, confided in, and trusted this rogue. Something only a few years ago he wouldn't have dreamed of doing. Maybe it was her smile or the way she laughed, something reminding him of Zaria and therefore his subconscious linking the two together. "I never wanted to hurt you. Don't deny it," he lifts a hand when her mouth opens. "Just know that you deserve a better man and one who will love you with his entire heart. Keep searching because a girl like you will find someone." Its the best he has to offer her, a quick hug exchanged before he and Zaria get back on their horses and start to ride from the camp.

"So now where do we head, Zaria?" He questions as they start their way on the tree lined path from the camp to inside the forest.
 
It's a grand answer that he gives her, one that she suspects is to make sure she doesn't trickle the horrible medicine down his throat. She keeps her jokes to herself and nods, gathering her gear. She leaves Arean to discover the location of her horse. Though the bandits might have treated her poorly, she is pleased to see that Legs has been brushed and his saddle has been removed. He appears happy, as happy as a horse can look, she supposes. A quick search shows that her items have not been stolen or disturbed in any way, just as she ordered her captors not to do. She throws the saddle over the back of the horse, watching as he snorts. "Yes, we're leaving. You're restless, I know." He looks as restless as she feels. There have been many times during the night that she wished to take Arean away in secret, but he had not been well enough for the trip. Now that he's finally standing and moving on his own, she's too eager to leave.

As she moves back into the tent, she notices something she doesn't like. Loril and Dessan are again trying to convince Arean to stick with their company. Her eyes narrow and she walks to Arean's side, watching Dessan closely. The poor girl cannot make eye contact with Arean while Zaira is around, and the huntress finds herself smug at the thought. Arean is hers, but she knows that if she had never taken the job to hunt down Loril, she never would have found him. The thought sobers her and she moves away to allow Arean to speak to Dessan alone. She has no fear that he'll leave to stay with the bandit woman, and it's enough to keep her away until he walks to his own horse. It's a different horse than the one he started their adventure with, and she doesn't want to think about what had happened to his old horse.

She's snapped out of her thoughts, noticing that she automatically threw herself into the saddle and was allowing Legs to follow Arean. "Well...," she pauses to think before pulling the map out of one of her saddle bags, "he's likely to go for the most heavily populated areas. If he's looking for us, I don't believe he'd expect to look for us with bandits. Had we not been here, a large city with people would be the smartest place to hide in. Balvis is the closest, and it does hold a lot of people. We should try there first."
 
One of the things that Arean could always admire about Zaria had always been her ability to be prepared. Even if she wasn't always clean or tidy all the time, when frankly neither is he along with three-fourths of the population, at least she has her dedication to her job. When something has to be done, she puts everything on the line to get it to that end. That's why Arean can't stop smiling at her, a small one from the corners of his lips, until she answers his question from before. His mind zips back from the caverns of his memories and comes back into realities light.

"I'm not too sure," he answers quickly, chewing a little at the inside of his lower lip, "Ranir doesn't strike me as the type of person who would spare the lives of others to get what he wants. If we go to a city," Arean starts to say, leading his horse at least from the bandit camp since they don't have a plan as of yet, "I am certain that Ranir will not spare the lives of all those innocents as he tares everything up trying to find us." His body shifts in the saddle from the movement of his horse. "I suppose," he places his hand on his chin, "we can still go to the city but how would you feel if we made camp on the outskirts? That way we can travel around in the daylight and then go back to our campsite when evening comes. That is… if we aren't hiding from him."

Arean is never a man to flee from a situation. Ever since he was a child, he would stand up for the words that he loved. Nothing could stand in his way. That confidence of his has dwindled over the years, his duty to his city and kingdom had forced him to follow orders that he did not like nor want to do. But it was what he wanted to do. Its what the gods wanted him to do. So the two ride off, heading towards Balvis, steering towards the mountains and downwards until they reach that familiar place. But like everything else, it takes time for them to arrive. The first night was filled with kisses and Arean holding Zaria all night as they took turns being on watch. The second night, however, had more conversation. By the fire again, the two are settled close to one another, their lips only stealing small kisses here and there.

"What made you want to become a huntress?" Arean questions as they take bites from the loaf of bread the bandits gave them for the road. Despite their obvious displeasure in having Zaria around, they all felt that both the man and the woman should have some provisions. "You must have been training for millennia," grinning, Arean chuckles at his own joke before turning a little more serious, "I mean, you do know how to fire that bow with such skill, you must have had the training to do so."
 
Zaira has never realized how much she enjoys kissing and touching someone until the first night she sits beside Arean. While she knows they have to be alert, she finds that she doesn't mind Arean's lips brushing her neck or his arms encircling her as she scans their surroundings. She catches a few hours of sleep during that night, trusting Arean now more than ever to protect her. The next night is less about the two of them and more about the conversation. And eating, of course. If they're going to face Ranir soon, she didn't want to be hungry during the fight.

As Arean speaks, she has to think on the subject. She picks at the bread, her thoughts swirling in her brain. "If I had trained for so long, I'd be a faster shot." Despite her serious response, she smiles just a little. She pops a few pieces of bread into her mouth and takes another moment to continue her story. "After the bandit raid on my home and my mother's death, I decided that I didn't want anyone to suffer the same fate. No one deserved to have raiders destroy their homes and take away whatever they had. I wasn't very old, but I knew what I wanted to do. I wandered around doing what I could to get by when an old doctor took me in. He directed me to the cities and gave me gold to give to someone so they would teach me combat skills. Since there was really no guard anywhere, anyone who wanted protection had to do it themselves. Some of the smarter people started to teach others and charged them to learn. I learned how to shoot in Itaine and that very same man that taught me, I slept with him to get that bow. By that time I was old enough to know what I was doing, but I did it anyway."

She pauses, looking down at the fire. She shifts her feet and crosses her legs, the dark brown eyes flickering with the flames. "I worked hard on my own after that, taking jobs wherever I could, no matter the pay. It was all up to the person who put out the bounty, because if they didn't like me, they wouldn't give me the bounty. All of those denied were from men." She twirls the strands of her long hair around her finger. "You can see where it went from there. And... well, now I'm here with you. If I had denied Ranir's offer, I would likely be hunting someone right now."
 
Arean stays quiet, calm, and listens. Sure, his mouth opens here and there to try and speak but no words come out. He knows that its Zaria's time to speak and he will have plenty of other moments to ask questions. For now, he simply lets her talk and he tries to feel her emotions through her story. The shock and fear she must have felt when the raiders came then the boiling anger that must have settled in her once her parents died. He smiles gently when she talks about the doctor but he can only imagine what doctors look like from his city. They had strange hats back then and stalls lining the streets with all sorts of vials and boxes to help aid what ails their people.

"You have to give yourself more credit, Zaria," Arean tells her quietly when she pauses to look to the fire. The flames shine and illuminate her face, creating both light and shadow on her complexion. He can't help but grin and chuckle when she finishes talking. Its not that he means to be rude but the knight is simply letting his memories flash in his head of their first few weeks together. "And for the life of you, you would have never thought that saying yes to Ranir's offer would have brought you this close to a man. By gods, you hated me when we first met. Or at least you made enough of an impression to let me know to stay away." Before, Arean would have hesitated bringing his hand up to her face but now he freely presses his palm to her cheek, fingers grazing and moving over her ear. His body shifts, armor still on his frame, so that she can rest against him if she would like.

A quick peck of a kiss is planted on her temple, his hand slipping from her cheek so that he may wrap his arm around her shoulder. "Well you know enough about bows and how to use them, I dare say." Another kiss is given to her, this time his lips hold themselves to her skin as if he never wants to let go. "Because you defeated a dragon, Zaria. I have seen you take down hoards of men," he knows that might not be true but at least it makes her feel something, "and you never needed a bow to do that sort of thing. All you need is those striking, stealthy, eyes of yours and you'll have anyone submit to your whim." If its possible, he scoots closer. They're days are numbered. They'll either find Ranir or he will find them and it worries Arean, a worry that is only seen from the corners of his eyes, that Ranir might win this time.

"But when we're done here, Zaria. I want you to live with me. I want you to sleep next to me every single night so that I can feel your breath be weighed down by sleep. We can adventure, we can be a mercenary team… we can set up a life in some city if you want. But only if you want. All I want is to be with you. Yeah, yeah," he waves his hand, "it sounds like a load of bullshit to your ears," he chuckles gently, "but its true. We're going to kill Ranir. No. You're going to kill him. I know you will. That will be payback for everything. No man should lessen your status in this world and if they do, oh boy I know they're asking for it."
 
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