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“The Satrap’s Mark” by Thomas “Faux” Steele (Part 2 of 2)
In the Achaemenid Empire, young aristocrat Pantea and her lover Shirin encounter a stranger in an abandoned temple. What could go wrong?
Today’s story is the first of two parts of “The Satrap’s Mark” by Thomas “Faux” Steele, offering a sample piece from the new anthology In the Light of the Dawn by the Furry Historical Fiction Society. More of his stories can be found at www.furaffinity.net/user/fauxhammer.
Last time, Pantea and Shirin entered the Temple of Reynosa, where they encountered the mysterious Hashmed, a servant of the old gods. We ended on a cliffhanger where our heroes were drugged unconscious by henbane-spiked liquor…
Read for you by Rob MacWolf — werewolf hitchhiker.
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https://thevoice.dog/episode/the-satraps-mark-by-thomas-faux-steele-part-2-of-2
Transcript
You’re listening to The Voice of Dog.
Speaker:This is Rob MacWolf, your fellow traveler,
Speaker:and Today’s story is the first of two parts of
Speaker:“The Satrap’s Mark”
Speaker:by Thomas “Faux” Steele,
Speaker:offering a sample piece
Speaker:from the new anthology
Speaker:In the Light of the Dawn
Speaker:by the Furry Historical Fiction Society.
Speaker:More of his stories can be found
Speaker:at www.furaffinity.net/user/fauxhammer.
Speaker:Last time, Pantea and Shirin
Speaker:entered the Temple of Reynosa,
Speaker:where they encountered the mysterious Hashmed, a servant of the old gods.
Speaker:We ended on a cliffhanger where our heroes were drugged unconscious by henbane-spiked liquor…
Speaker:Please enjoy “The Satrap’s Mark”
Speaker:by Thomas “Faux” Steele,
Speaker:Part 2 of 2 “Fuck,” Pantea
Speaker:muttered as she came to.
Speaker:A length of moist hemp cord bound the leopard’s paws firmly behind her back.
Speaker:Lifting her head caused her vision to gray out around the edges.
Speaker:“In the name of the Satrap,
Speaker:I command you to answer!
Speaker:Who really are you!?”
Speaker:she yelled into the crushing darkness around her.
Speaker:“I told you already.
Speaker:Do you think I fed you lies, young leopard?”
Speaker:A torch blazed to life, illuminating the cramped chamber.
Speaker:The red-cloaked figure bearing the light crawled forward,
Speaker:rich silver bangles on his wrists subtly glinting.
Speaker:Apple flesh loudly crunched as he tore a chunk out of a luscious red fruit.
Speaker:“I am Hashmed Fallingstar.
Speaker:It’s obvious to you what the sacrifice is now, isn’t it?”
Speaker:Pantea snarled, impotently thrashing about.
Speaker:The unyielding rope held her fast, binding her to a wooden stake secured in the stone
Speaker:with a corroded brass pin.
Speaker:She struggled against the rising claustrophobia in her core,
Speaker:the ceiling just a few inches above the tip of her ears.
Speaker:“I never should have trusted you!”
Speaker:“Obviously,” Hashmed replied, rolling his eyes.
Speaker:“I must admit that I hadn’t expected you two to be
Speaker:quite so naïve. Still…if you hadn’t accepted my hospitality,
Speaker:I would have had to employ less civilized means to bring you down here.
Speaker:Perhaps it was for the best
Speaker:then, hm?” “Die in a pit, grandson of a stinking jackal!”
Speaker:Shirin shouted as she regained consciousness.
Speaker:Keeling over from the henbane had chipped one of her incisors,
Speaker:leaving her grimace jagged and uneven.
Speaker:Gathering her strength, she hawked a chunk of blood-tinged phlegm at the lynx,
Speaker:missing his muzzle by the width of a wheat stalk.
Speaker:“Give me my shamshir back and I’ll show you just how naïve I am!”
Speaker:Rolling his eyes and snorting, Hashmed crawled to the opposite side of the room,
Speaker:his tail sweeping across the ground as if hunting for something.
Speaker:While Pantea continued to fight her bonds, he fastidiously examined the wall
Speaker:by scraping his claws across the mortar.
Speaker:After a few minutes of searching,
Speaker:his whiskers twitched with delight as
Speaker:he found a small lever
Speaker:concealed near the ceiling.
Speaker:“Do you know what this temple was used for?”
Speaker:“Sacrifice. Anhā sacrifice.”
Speaker:Pantea instinctually arched her back in anger,
Speaker:pupils dilating to let in more light.
Speaker:“That’s what these stakes are for, aren’t they?” “You’re
Speaker:absolutely correct.”
Speaker:Flicking the lever downward, Hashmed opened the sluice gate.
Speaker:A stone aqueduct brought frigid water from the river
Speaker:down into the temple,
Speaker:nearly sweeping the lynx onto his side as it rushed in.
Speaker:Grunting with effort, he locked his claws into ragged grooves worn by those beyond memory
Speaker:to keep himself rooted.
Speaker:“I think there’s time for a little history lesson before you breathe your last.”
Speaker:Pantea scanned across the ceiling,
Speaker:recognizing the outline of one of the old gods
Speaker:—Reynosa—carved into the stone.
Speaker:Trident firmly grasped in one hand, he gazed at fields of condemned Anhā
Speaker:staked along the banks of the Tigris River.
Speaker:“Good transpires for those who do righteous deeds for their own sake,
Speaker:not for the search of reward.
Speaker:Those who do evil for search of foul reward shall have divine justice
Speaker:brought down on them
Speaker:with three-fold intensity,”
Speaker:the leopard snarled. “Please,
Speaker:do not cite your
Speaker:imported faith to me.
Speaker:I do not fear Ahura Mazda’s justice,”
Speaker:Hashmed replied.
Speaker:“I have power even your highest priests lack.”
Speaker:“And yet here you are.”
Speaker:Cool water rolled across Pantea’s calves
Speaker:as a low-pitched grinding
Speaker:heralded the descent of a stone staircase from the ceiling.
Speaker:A small water wheel
Speaker:mounted above the sluice gate
Speaker:transferred power to a rotating shaft, each revolution lowering the steps a
Speaker:bit further. “Hiding in ruins and sacrificing teenagers to your petty god
Speaker:speaks volumes to your true power.”
Speaker:“Save your breath.”
Speaker:Once the grinding stopped,
Speaker:Hashmed dragged himself onto the first step,
Speaker:only inches above the swirling torrent.
Speaker:“The ancient blood sages knew of a sacred alchemy that granted everlasting life so long as the proper sacrifices were made.
Speaker:It was the highest and most
Speaker:beautiful work of blood magic.
Speaker:Then, your Satrap came and ruined everything!”
Speaker:“He knows the difference
Speaker:between necessary violence and self-indulgent brutality,”
Speaker:Pantea snarled, the drowning post’s splinters digging into her bare knuckles.
Speaker:Eyes fully adjusted to the dim light, she was overcome with horror
Speaker:as she realized the true extent
Speaker:of what had transpired in this place.
Speaker:Judging from the pictographs adorning the walls,
Speaker:thousands of Anhā
Speaker:were drowned in this very chamber.
Speaker:“I’m glad he put an end to it.
Speaker:So many lives snuffed out, and for what?”
Speaker:“I see now that you’ll never understand.”
Speaker:Hashmed laughed bitterly.
Speaker:“There is no afterlife for creatures like us.
Speaker:The gods care little
Speaker:for their mortal creations.
Speaker:All we can do is take a scrap of their power for ourselves while we still draw breath.”
Speaker:“It’s not too late to stop this!”
Speaker:Pantea could barely feel her fingers
Speaker:as the water rolled across her biceps.
Speaker:Fur puffed out along the crest of her
Speaker:spine as Shirin violently yowled while fighting to break free.
Speaker:“The Satrap is merciful.
Speaker:He will spare your life if you repent.”
Speaker:“A mortal life is no life at all.”
Speaker:Hashmed mockingly flicked his tongue over his lips.
Speaker:Contempt dripped from his burning eyes like rubber sap from scored bark.
Speaker:“Nothing will replace what was lost when the Satrap slew the blood sages,
Speaker:but your deaths will start
Speaker:to set things right.
Speaker:I advise you not to fight the water;
Speaker:just relax and take a deep breath. I’ll be going now…it
Speaker:always turns my stomach to watch.”
Speaker:As the pair thrashed about in the water,
Speaker:Hashmed ducked through the archway at the top of the stairwell.
Speaker:He left them alone in the pitch-black chamber, the raging torrent swirling all around them
Speaker:like the raw fury
Speaker:of Ardvi Sura Anahita.
Speaker:Pantea struggled to avoid giving into the panic
Speaker:rising in her chest.
Speaker:“Think! That’s always been your strong suit!”
Speaker:Shirin shouted. “Is there something
Speaker:Hashmed might have overlooked while tying us up?”
Speaker:“Can…can you reach my dagger?”
Speaker:Pantea asked in a moment of sudden clarity.
Speaker:“I think it’s still attached to my inner thigh.”
Speaker:“Working on it!” Shirin grunted.
Speaker:In better circumstances, the leopard might have enjoyed the feeling of her Sagaris’ paw pads stroking so close to her
Speaker:intimate areas. Right now, it only served to spike her almost overwhelming sense of dread as the caracal hunted for the scabbard.
Speaker:“I think I’ve got the scabbard but
Speaker:I can’t get the knot loose.
Speaker:I’m going to have to cut the dagger free instead!”
Speaker:Searing pain shot through Pantea’s thigh as one of Shirin’s claws tore through her flesh
Speaker:while severing the cord.
Speaker:A moment later, the caracal used the blade to saw through Pantea’s bindings.
Speaker:Once Shirin broke through, Pantea had to cling tightly to the drowning post to avoid being swept away.
Speaker:“I’m free. Now pass me the dagger and I’ll return the favor!”
Speaker:“Right,” Shirin grunted, panting with exertion.
Speaker:There was no time to
Speaker:try and maneuver the knife beneath the water—not that Pantea could see anything through the silt.
Speaker:Accidentally cutting her palm on the wicked-sharp edge, the leopard freed Shirin
Speaker:as freezing liquid
Speaker:touched the bottom of their muzzles.
Speaker:“Got it. Now let’s get out of here!”
Speaker:Shirin shouted. “You go first; I’m right behind you!”
Speaker:“Thanks! Though, if I had to choose to drown with anyone…I’d choose you,”
Speaker:Pantea gasped while struggling onto the staircase.
Speaker:She rolled onto her back as water trickled from her undercoat,
Speaker:chest rising and falling like the pumping of a bellows.
Speaker:“Let’s save the talk of a romantic death for after we escape, eh?”
Speaker:Shirin threw herself upward
Speaker:just as her foot claws lost traction.
Speaker:“Shit!” Grunting as the current gripped her thighs, Shirin’s paws fought for purchase on the slick stone.
Speaker:It took every ounce of muscle the Sagaris possessed just to tread water.
Speaker:The rough-hewn ceiling pressed against her back as the water level crested.
Speaker:A moment after her air pocket was extinguished,
Speaker:the leopard seized Shirin’s wrist
Speaker:and tugged her from the white-headed torrent.
Speaker:“Let me pull you from a watery grave this time around!”
Speaker:Pantea shouted. The caracal collapsed onto Pantea’s chest with a soft sigh.
Speaker:Amid the struggle, the sunlike warmth of her Sagaris’ body
Speaker:was like fresh-baked bread to a starving man.
Speaker:Soothed by the sensation of Shirin’s thundering heart,
Speaker:Pantea allowed her heavy eyelids to droop
Speaker:—just for a moment.
Speaker:“As much as I’d like to stay like this,
Speaker:we should move,” Shirin remarked,
Speaker:tenderly brushing a paw through the leopard’s headfur.
Speaker:She began discarding her waterlogged armor,
Speaker:leaving only her chest plate in place.
Speaker:“We’re not out of danger yet.”
Speaker:“There’s no one I’d rather face the danger with.”
Speaker:Pantea climbed to her feet,
Speaker:applying pressure to her bleeding paw.
Speaker:Though the cut was deep, she hadn’t severed any tendons.
Speaker:“You take point. I’m not the most able fighter in my condition.”
Speaker:“Don’t undersell yourself.
Speaker:An Athanatoi isn’t out of the fight until their burial shroud is pinned in place.” Unsheathing her claws, Shirin kept a few paces in front of the leopard.
Speaker:Tremors shot through her shoulders as every muscle in her body fought desperately to generate warmth.
Speaker:“We’re in this together, right?”
Speaker:“By Ahura Mazda we are,”
Speaker:Pantea replied. Halting at the top of the stairwell,
Speaker:Shirin blinked as a water droplet fell gracefully from the ceiling onto her brow.
Speaker:Like a capful of twinkling starlight,
Speaker:it streaked downward through her fur before coming to rest on the tip of her pink-black nose.
Speaker:“If we get out of this…maybe I can take you out for that barbequed fallow deer?”
Speaker:the caracal asked hesitantly.
Speaker:“I’d like that…I’d like that quite a lot, actually.”
Speaker:Pantea reached forward to affectionately caress her Sagaris’ shoulder.
Speaker:Her trembling fingers
Speaker:stroked through waterlogged fur
Speaker:as her cheeks suddenly felt sunbaked.
Speaker:“It’s a date.”
Speaker:“You…you weren’t supposed to survive that!”
Speaker:Hashmed shouted, leaping out from the shadows.
Speaker:“You were supposed
Speaker:to die!” Shirin barely registered the dull glint of Hashmed’s weathered dagger before
Speaker:it pierced the meat of her shoulder.
Speaker:Screeching with a mixture of rage and pain, she grappled Hashmed to the ground and began cuffing his muzzle.
Speaker:The dagger slid out of her thrashing flesh, skittering across the floor
Speaker:before coming to rest at Pantea’s feet.
Speaker:“Now I have to get my paws dirty!”
Speaker:Hashed growled, fighting to put Shirin in a chokehold.
Speaker:“You’re going to regret this, cur!”
Speaker:“A little help, please!”
Speaker:Shirin shouted, delivering a sharp elbow to the lynx’s groin.
Speaker:Hashmed let out an agonized screech,
Speaker:doubling down on his assault as he tore at her flesh wounds like a vicious oxpecker.
Speaker:Blood gushed through her fur as she returned the favor,
Speaker:claws slashing Hashmed’s chest like a five-tipped
Speaker:sword. “Ya gazma! May the gods take your soul!” “On it!” Before Pantea could sink her claws into the lynx’s shoulder,
Speaker:his heel slammed backward into the center of her chest.
Speaker:Ribs creaked ominously as she staggered backward.
Speaker:Gasping for air, she was left doubled-over as Hashmed cinched his forearm around Shirin’s throat.
Speaker:In that instant, all the leopard’s restraint vanished.
Speaker:Snarling like a feral animal, Pantea leveraged her righteous fury to force her body beyond its limits.
Speaker:She leapt on top of the lynx’s back and began brusquely hacking at him like a training dummy.
Speaker:Immersed in the bloodrage of a true Athanatoi, Pantea barely felt his retaliatory blows,
Speaker:each landing as though it were a padded sword in the training arena.
Speaker:“I won’t…let you…harm her!”
Speaker:Squirming out from beneath Hashmed’s weakened grip,
Speaker:Shirin went on the offensive.
Speaker:Blinded from the blood trickling from superficial wounds on her forehead, she brutally slashed at the lynx with her natural weapons
Speaker:as he tried to dislodge Pantea from his back.
Speaker:The distinctive thudding of leather armor from somewhere down the hallway signaled the approach of others,
Speaker:though it was impossible to tell if they were friend or foe.
Speaker:“Get away from my girlfriend!”
Speaker:Shirin screamed. Hashmed groaned as Shirin’s index claw caught an artery in his neck.
Speaker:Flopping backward to smash Pantea against the hard stone floor,
Speaker:he rose alone as the leopard sprawled out from exhaustion.
Speaker:Too weary to stand for more than a few moments, he reached the opposite wall and collapsed.
Speaker:The crimson hue of his cloak
Speaker:intensified as he futilely applied pressure
Speaker:to his wound. “This is at an end,”
Speaker:Shirin growled. “Let me help you. I’d prefer you live long enough to supply the Satrap with information.”
Speaker:“You will never…defeat us.
Speaker:We will have…your blood.”
Speaker:Hashmed gasped, light fading from his eyes like a falling star
Speaker:dipping beneath the horizon.
Speaker:His paw fell to his side,
Speaker:revealing a deep
Speaker:lightning-bolt gash
Speaker:across his throat.
Speaker:It was far too large for even the finest bloodmoss to seal.
Speaker:“The Satrap....will fall.
Speaker:fall.” As Shirin scanned the corridor for her pack,
Speaker:Hashmed gasped and went limp.
Speaker:Placing a finger against the side of the lynx’s neck, she sighed and shook her head.
Speaker:“Damn it. He’s gone.
Speaker:gone.” “Pantea…Shirin! Are you alright?”
Speaker:The pair gazed upward as flicking torchlight fell upon their slitted pupils.
Speaker:A golden jackal with a cloak the color of dried hay
Speaker:looked them over,
Speaker:bearing the leopard’s head sigil of the Satrap’s Guard on his pauldron. Pantea realized he must have been the goldcloak she’d caught a glimpse of outside the temple.
Speaker:“Thank the gods, you’re safe.”
Speaker:“Forgive my transgression, Commander
Speaker:Esmaeili,” Shirin bowed.
Speaker:“I did not mean to place Pantea in danger.”
Speaker:“There is nothing to forgive.”
Speaker:Escorted by two more golden jackals, the Satrap
Speaker:—a great leopard clad in armor of the finest bronze
Speaker:—stood clear and bright as the moon on a cloudless night.
Speaker:He seemed to radiate mystical power, his golden eyes subtly glowing like the gills of a jack-o’-lantern mushroom.
Speaker:“Commander Esmaeili alerted me as soon as you disappeared
Speaker:into the Temple of Reynosa.
Speaker:Fortunately, it seems our
Speaker:intervention was not needed.”
Speaker:“I was…unable to interrogate him before he passed,”
Speaker:Shirin said, glancing at the leopard beside her.
Speaker:“I was too focused on protecting Pantea.”
Speaker:“You fought valiantly,”
Speaker:the Satrap said, voice layered with fatherly warmth.
Speaker:“Let Commander Esmaeili tend to some of your wounds while I speak to your Immortal. It appears that she has earned her Mark.” “Yes, Satrap,” Shirin replied, slumping against the wall.
Speaker:“That sounds…wonderful.”
Speaker:“I must seal your Mark while the cut is fresh.”
Speaker:Towering over the teenage leopard, the Satrap had to squat down to brush his enameled claws across Pantea’s forearm.
Speaker:They came to rest on the wicked gash on her paw.
Speaker:“Earned in triumph,
Speaker:the scar from this wound shall mark you as one of the Athanatoi.
Speaker:Though this is not the challenge I prepared,
Speaker:it was a worthy test of your mettle.
Speaker:mettle.” “Thank you…Satrap.” Pantea struggled to remain upright.
Speaker:“I’m ready.” The Satrap drew a dagger lightly across his forearm.
Speaker:Murmuring a rich and melodic incantation in Farsi, he mixed his blood with a sacred blend of herbs
Speaker:and bloodmoss. The leopard spread it
Speaker:across Pantea’s laceration
Speaker:until it was completely covered with a sienna-brown paste.
Speaker:“Rise, blood of my blood and servant of the King of Kings.
Speaker:You fought valiantly
Speaker:against a foe I thought long vanquished.
Speaker:In doing so, you earned for yourself the status of an Immortal.
Speaker:Wear your Mark with pride, Pantea Zaman Immortalem.
Speaker:Immortalem.” Pantea basked in the glow of triumph as a rush of endorphins surged through her mind.
Speaker:Her eyes widened as the Satrap stripped the poultice away to reveal a gleaming scar across her palm. It was
Speaker:a Mark exactly like the one her mother bore. “T
Speaker:-thank you.” “If you would excuse my impertinence…who
Speaker:was he, really,
Speaker:Satrap?” Shirin—now covered in linen bandages—stood up and coughed.
Speaker:She threw her arm around Pantea for support
Speaker:as her left knee gave way.
Speaker:“He tried to kill Pantea. I need to know if she’s still in danger.”
Speaker:Readily bearing her weight,
Speaker:the leopard sighed as Shirin’s warm body pressed close against her side.
Speaker:“If you’re comfortable sharing your wisdom, Satrap,”
Speaker:Pantea respectfully added.
Speaker:“A great civilization existed here
Speaker:before the Empire. They were
Speaker:practitioners of a twisted form of blood magic.
Speaker:By drawing vitality from those they sacrificed to the gods, they believed they could bestow upon themselves unnaturally long lives.”
Speaker:The Satrap shook his head.
Speaker:“Though I have researched blood magic, whether advanced techniques were real or merely superstition,
Speaker:I cannot say…but this lynx obviously believed in the myths.”
Speaker:“So, using our blood—”
Speaker:Pantea gulped nervously.
Speaker:“He hoped that he would have enough power for a spell of substantial strength.
Speaker:Fortunately, he picked a capable Immortal and Sagaris.
Speaker:Many others in your place would have drowned in that
Speaker:chamber.” The Satrap gazed at the swirling waters,
Speaker:now even with the top step of the stairwell.
Speaker:“I will have this temple sealed, once Commander Esmaeili
Speaker:oversees a full search of its corridors.”
Speaker:“Let us leave our marks, then.”
Speaker:Picking Hashmed’s dagger up from the floor,
Speaker:Shirin roughly scratched their names into a patch of wall that had been worn smooth by the touch of thousands of worshippers.
Speaker:Once she was satisfied that the engraving would endure the ravages of time,
Speaker:she sheathed the blade
Speaker:and presented it to her Immortal as a war trophy.
Speaker:“There. Now a part of our triumph here will endure.”
Speaker:“As it should. Still…this
Speaker:is no place for you two to linger.”
Speaker:The leopard’s face brightened as he gave Shirin an approving nod.
Speaker:“You defended her well, Sagaris.
Speaker:I sense much fire in your heart.”
Speaker:“I was only doing my duty,”
Speaker:Shirin said, turning to meet Pantea’s eyes. The caracal traced over every detail of her delicate emerald-green irises for what seemed an eternity. Suddenly, Pantea felt like stripping off her waterlogged armor as her skin once again prickled with heat.
Speaker:“You have my word that I will give a full report
Speaker:to Commander Esmaeili once I escort Pantea home,
Speaker:Satrap.” “I will look over the cuneiform once it is prepared.
Speaker:Did this lynx say whether he conspired with others?”
Speaker:The Satrap shared a concerned look with one of
Speaker:his captains, a tall golden jackal
Speaker:with henna-dyed fur on his wrists.
Speaker:“Unfortunately not, Satrap.
Speaker:If there is a conspiracy afoot, he made no mention of it. I—” Shirin grunted as she suddenly keeled over.
Speaker:Only Pantea’s quick reaction
Speaker:prevented her from plunging onto the hard stone.
Speaker:Though she was freezing and exhausted,
Speaker:the Immortal somehow found strength enough to bear the caracal’s weight.
Speaker:“I need to help with the search.”
Speaker:“You need to rest,”
Speaker:the Satrap said, applying a little more of the poultice
Speaker:to the wound on Shirin’s shoulder
Speaker:as he met her gaze with stern eyes.
Speaker:“Let me take it from here. There’s
Speaker:nothing more for you to do but see the imperial healer.
Speaker:“Satrap, I—” Shirin grunted. The leopard turned to Pantea with stern eyes. “Please, escort Shirin there at once.
Speaker:I’ll have one of my goldcloaks meet you there to offer you his sword
Speaker:until Shirin’s injuries have fully mended.”
Speaker:“Thank you, Satrap. I think I can manage that.”
Speaker:Pantea lowered her head with an exhausted sigh.
Speaker:“Will there still be an official ceremony?
Speaker:“Yes. In a few weeks’ time, a clay tablet from Persepolis will arrive bearing your commission.
Speaker:From there, you will travel South.
Speaker:Word has reached my ear of darkness stirring somewhere beneath the desert sands.
Speaker:Perhaps it is related to what transpired here
Speaker:today.” “May I take Shirin with me?” Pantea asked, trying to conceal her excitement as Commander Esmaeili returned with Shirin’s battered pack. The Satrap tucked something inside before slinging it over the caracal’s back.
Speaker:“Please?” “I will recall her from the court guard. You will need one skilled in arms
Speaker:to escort you through such treacherous lands.”
Speaker:The Satrap held a small leather phial beneath the tip of Shirin’s muzzle.
Speaker:After taking a deep whiff of the vigor salts, the caracal groaned as she managed to stand under her own power.
Speaker:“Now, get going, while you still have strength.
Speaker:Do look after her, young Immortal.
Speaker:You two make for a fine partnership..”
Speaker:“Thank you, Satrap. I am ever
Speaker:your servant.”
Speaker:Blushing beneath her cheek ruffs as she slung Shirin’s arm over her shoulder,
Speaker:Pantea helped the caracal limp to the end of the hallway
Speaker:and into the warmth of the late afternoon sun.
Speaker:They collapsed together, back-to-back, against a date palm tree.
Speaker:“So…a journey to the South together, huh?”
Speaker:“Gaze at the stars while holding paws?”
Speaker:Shirin cocked an eyebrow as she examined her pack.
Speaker:Nestled at the top was a large leather pouch embossed
Speaker:with the Satrap’s seal,
Speaker:completely stuffed with barbequed fallow deer.
Speaker:She cocked an eyebrow before cracking it open.
Speaker:“I guess this counts as our date, right?
Speaker:I just wonder how he knew.
Speaker:knew.” “He is the Satrap, after all. His wisdom is legend.
Speaker:And just for the record…I
Speaker:think it counts.”
Speaker:Leaning in close, Pantea’s lips caressed the cheek of her Sagaris
Speaker:as her heart filled with the purest love of youth.
Speaker:Rich spice blossomed across her tongue as she popped a hunk of meat into her muzzle.
Speaker:“I can’t think of another way I’d rather have earned the Satrap’s Mark than fighting alongside you.”
Speaker:“The pleasure is all mine, my Immortal.
Speaker:Immortal.” Shirin leaned in close,
Speaker:and once more, Pantea’s lips met hers
Speaker:under the warm sun of the Persian Empire.
Speaker:This was the second and final part of “The Satrap’s Mark” by Thomas “Faux” Steele,
Speaker:read for you by READER,
Speaker:with CALLSIGN.
Speaker:As always, you can find more stories on the web at thevoice.dog,
Speaker:or find the show wherever you get your podcasts.
Speaker:Thank you for listening
Speaker:to The Voice of Dog.
