Part Nine
by
“You’re
sure of this, boy?” Arris leaned forward and looked down at the grubby,
dirt and snow covered messenger that had been rushed into the courtroom
only moments before.
“Yes,
your highness.I have it from the
mayor of Ynnych’s lips.There be
demons in the forests!” the boy proclaimed, his voice only cracking slightly.
Mutters
of “What?” and “Impossible!” rippled through the gallery.
“I
guess the bitch wasn’t as thorough as father thought she was,” Arris commented
mildly and then waved the boy away.“You
may go now.Tell the mayor that as
soon as he’s able, I’d like to have the honor of his company for dinner.”
“Right
away, your majesty!”The boy bowed
low and then raced out of the room.
“Derkus,
call up the master-at-arms and tell him to come to my chambers,” the king
ordered and then looked out at his court.The
couriers were now whispering fearfully among each other.If
the demons had come, that meant the northern border was dreadfully unprotected
and all those towns – the towns where most of their families lived, where
their money came from – were in serious danger.Good.That
would keep them busy, and when they heard his plans, they wouldn’t try
to interfere.It would be glorious.He
would be a hero, and then no one would ever again doubt his gods given
right to rule.
The
king smiled in contented satisfaction and stood up.“Good
day everyone.I must go and see to
the defense of the land.”
Everyone
stood as he descended the steps to the floor and then watched as he and
his honor guard exited the throne room.
Porthyros
was by his side as soon as the doors closed.He
held out a cup of perfectly warmed tea and waited while the young man drank
down its contents greedily.
“Thank
you, old friend.You always know
exactly what I need.Now, what do
you think of the glorious opportunity that today’s news has brought us?”
asked Arris as he removed his crown and haphazardly dropped it onto a waiting
cushion.Together, they walked toward
the royal chambers.
“I
think, my liege, that properly considered, it will prove to be your greatest
accomplishment.”The old scholar
phrased his statement carefully, already having some idea of where the
brash young man’s mind had gone, but not yet knowing what direction his
true masters wanted it to go.
The
king frowned and stopped just outside of his door.“What’s
there to consider?I’ll raise the
army and go north and smash them all!It
will be magnificent!The bards will
sing of my heroics for years, and the people will love me more than even
my sainted father!”
Blinking
at the vehemence in Arris’ tone, Porthyros cried out, “My king!Surely
you can’t mean to risk yourself against the demons?”
Arris
grabbed the diminutive man, threw him against the door and growled, “Are
you saying that I’m not capable of warfare?That
I’m some kind of pathetic little weakling that needs to hide behind castle
walls while real warriors go out and die for the glory of Y’dan?”
“No,
of course not, your majesty,” Porthyros croaked breathlessly.“All
know of your skill with the blade and the bards will sing of your bravery.I
swear it!”
Suddenly,
the anger seemed to drain from Arris, along with his strength.He
dropped his mentor and sighed heavily.“You
are right, old man.Go now, and instruct
the kitchens to send my lunch.I’m
tired and hungry and my temper is fit for no man, and especially not our
good master-at-arms!”
The
older man nodded and scuttled off to do his lord’s bidding.
%%%
“So
the pup wants to go to war, eh?Well,
let him.Encourage him to wait until
next winter, though.All will be
in place by then, and this little bonus will seal things nicely.Who
needs a puppet king, anyway?”Kesryn
laughed, watching as Porthyros greedily counted the bright golden coins
that were scattered on the ground.Pitching
out another coin, he smirked when the scholar’s eyes automatically followed
its arc.
They
had met in an abandoned home near the edge of Y’dannyv and Kesryn had been
pleased with his minion’s report.
“Any
word on that piece of whore’s dung that calls herself a Warleader?” he
asked as Porthyros returned to his visual coin counting.
“Not
so far, my lord, but my spies may be hampered by the weather.”A
freak snowstorm had come blowing down from the mountains, blanketing the
city in white one last time before the spring thaw.
“No
matter, I will find her, and when I do, I will send her screaming down
into the pits of hell.Now, go back
to Arris.Coax, cajole, bribe, beg
or whatever it is you have to do, but get him to put off his little escapade
up north, until next winter.I’ve
got it!Hire an oracle to babble
some nonsense about destiny and prophecies.He’ll
enjoy that.”With that last order,
he threw out the rest of the pouch and faded into the shadows, content
to watch the scholar scuttle around the room, accurately retrieving each
and every one of the gold pieces that were scattered about.
When
the wretched little man had left, Kesryn pulled out a pouch and hurriedly
drew a protective circle on the floor around him.When
it was done, he began chanting a string of harsh syllables.Immediately,
he felt his limbs stiffen as his body was taken over by the being he called
“Master”.
“Your
efforts please me, toy.You are a
worthy vessel.”His
lips moved but the sound that came out was not any earthly voice.The
sound seemed to swirl around the circle, echoing upon itself and making
Kesryn’s ears ring.
“I
will instruct my children to return to their nests, and breed.They
have done their work well.Soon,
my slave.The day grows nearer when
I will walk among you and you will feel my love first hand.The
barrier grows thinner every day.Begin
the sacrifices soon, my slave.Harvest
the power of their deaths.With it,
you will forge the key that will unlock the gates that have held me from
this world.”
Feeling
the strength of his vessel wane, the dark god gave one final order.
“You
must find the child of Rhu’len.Give
her to me, and the power I shall bestow upon you will make what you control
now seem like parlor tricks.Your
vengeance is my vengeance, Darkchilde, for I too long to savor the screams
of the Scion of DaCoure.She and
all others who have laid a hand against my children, shall taste my wrath!”With
that, he was gone.
Already,
Kesryn was making plans.A list of
names formed in his mind.Men and
women he would contact and then bring to Y’dannyv to begin gathering the
power necessary to raise Ecarthus from the depths of hell.The
mage knew of several empty warehouses that would serve well as new temples
to Ecarthus: eater of souls.Keeping
the sacrifices quiet might be a problem, but if he started with the unsavory
types – drifters, thieves, and other common criminals, no one would notice.Only
when the supply of undesirables fell short, would he start on the innocent.The
sorcerer felt his face tighten into a malicious grin.Arris
should thank him.He was about to
make Y’dannyv the most crime-free city in all of the kingdoms!
His
mind still ringing with the words of his demonic master, Kesryn collapsed
in a heap.
The
mage’s blood hummed with the new powers that the contact had granted him,
and with a flick of his wrist, he conjured up a cup of restorative wine.After
drinking the restorative draught, he crushed the cheap tin vessel and threw
it into the empty hearth.It was
time to call in a few markers.
%%%
Peering
into the darkened doorway of one of the city’s many run-down hovels, Arris
used a soaking wet handkerchief to mop rainwater from his face.The
king sighed unhappily and whined, “I still don’t understand why you’ve
dragged me out to meet this crazy old witch, Porthyros!Why
couldn’t she just come to the castle and see me in the throne room like
any civilized person?”
“Madam
Koresky would have gladly come to the castle my liege, but her magic is
strongest here.Her home is filled
with objects of wondrous powers, and she draws upon them for greater insight,”
the scholar explained softly.
The
door to the ramshackle house opened, revealing a stooped older woman.Silently,
she waved them in, shooing away one of a dozen cats that swirled around
her ankles.
“On
your head it be, if this place falls down around my ears,” Arris growled
as he hurried to follow the woman.
The
home was far more comfortable inside than it appeared to be.The
walls were buried behind layers of old tapestries and the floors well carpeted
by rushes and tattered rugs.A cheerful
fire blazed in a large hearth, casting odd shadows that danced around the
room, partially illuminating the oddest collection of items Arris had ever
seen gathered in one place.Stuffed
owls huddled side by side with seashells and balls of oddly colored fur.Permeating
everything was a musty odor, thick with dust and age, which made the young
king sneeze furiously.
“Welcome
to my home, my king,” the old woman said, curtseying as low as her aged
bones would allow.Shuffling over
to a large chair placed near the fire, she asked, “Will you permit an old
woman to warm her bones?”
Arris
gathered every shred of courtly training he had and added a good dollop
of common sense.Madam Koresky was
reputed to be a very powerful witch.Angering
her would undoubtedly be less than the smartest thing he had ever done
in his short life.Besides, she had
something for him - something Porthyros claimed was terribly important.
“Please,
m’lady, ease the chill and take your rest,” the king said graciously, waiting
until the old woman had fully seated herself before snagging a nearby seat.Porthyros
scurried up to stand behind him; one hand perched, claw-like, on the back
of the chair.
“Thank
you, your majesty,” the witch said, giving the young king a wide, toothless
smile.She gestured, and a table
appeared from nowhere, along with a bottle of wine and two glasses.“A
drink, your highness?It is a good
vintage, I assure you.”
Porthyros
darted out from behind the chair and hastily poured two goblets, taking
a quick sip before nodding and handing it to Arris.After
the wine had been properly appreciated, the old woman waved her hand again,
and a deck of fortune cards appeared on the table.
Shuffling
the deck several times, Madam Koresky then held it out to the king.In
a ritual as old as the kingdoms, Arris leaned forward and tapped the deck
with his left hand, thinking only of his future.The
witch shuffled the deck once more and then began laying out the cards.
As soon as the pattern was spread on
the table, she shuddered, her ancient form trembling under the grip of
some greater power.Her eyes slid
shut and her body fell lax in its chair.From
her mouth an unearthly, hollow voice began to speak.
“Hear
me well, young king, and heed the wisdom of the ages:Three
times shall ye reach for the heavens, three times shall ye fail, lest ye
learn the rules of patience.Glory
ye seek, glory ye shall have threefold if thou dost take arms against those
who foul the night.Winter’s cover
shall be your shield, spring’s lamb your feast and summer’s field your
harvest.If thou dost heed these
words, all that ye seek shall be thine.”
The
old woman’s head flopped back against the chair and a line of thick drool
slipped free of her mouth to puddle on the stained robes she wore.
Arris
looked up at Porthyros, an uncontrollably gleeful smile stretching across
his mouth and said, “Did you hear that?It’ll
be mine, all mine!All the glory
I ever wanted, there, waiting for me to snatch it from the bodies of the
ice demons.”
“Yes,
my king, I heard.I also heard her
say that you should wait until winter to seek that glory,” Porthyros agreed
softly, moving to pull the chair out from under the king as he anxiously
stood and began to pace around the room.
“Yes,
yes, of course, of course.It makes
perfect sense!How else could I kill
the demons, if not during winter when they will be most plentiful?Oh,
Porthyros, my old teacher, it shall be such fun!I
shall raise the largest army this kingdom has ever seen and I shall lead
it to the edge of the world and I shall grind the demon’s bones deep into
the mountains.Those foul beasts
shall never again rise and seek to turn Y’dan into their personal buffet!The
High King will surely make me his heir!I
will rule all the kingdoms someday.I
can feel it!”A feverish gleam had
risen in the king’s eyes as he spoke and strands of spittle shot out of
his mouth as he boasted of his coming glories.
Porthyros
silently listened, nodding his head and agreeing monosyllabically with
the young man, until Arris calmed down enough to take a long draught of
wine.
“Will
she wake up soon?Is she dead?” the
young king demanded when he looked at the old witch and saw that she was
still unconscious.
“I’m
afraid Madam Koresky’s advanced age leaves her little choice but to sleep
for many candlemarks after a reading,” Porthyros explained sadly.
“Ah,
well then, leave the woman a few tokens of our appreciation and let us
return to the castle.There is much
to plan, old teacher.So much to
plan!”
~Chapter Eighteen~
“You
are one hundred percent all better now,” Kyrian pronounced as she came
out of her healing trance.
Thomas
laughed.“My thanks, stardancer.”He
stood up and stretched, groaning in delight as several vertebrae snapped
into place.“I was getting plain
tired of lying around like an Y’skani pleasure servant.”
“Oh
you loved every minute of it, you old faker,” Syrah said as she slid her
leather tunic on, grimacing when the straps had to be tightened.“Looks
like I’ll have to start taking seconds of those wonderful meals you make,
Kyrian.My clothes don’t fit anymore!”
Kyrian
laughed as she stood and said, “Thank you for the complement, however backhanded.”
“My
pleasure,” Syrah said, bowing low and winking lasciviously at the young
stardancer.
“You
better watch her,” Thomas said to Elisira, who had just arrived at the
top of the stairs, “or Syrah’s going to charm the robes right off young
Kyrian here.”The stardancer immediately
blushed a scarlet that matched her robes.
Chuckling, Elisira said, “Azhani’s ready
for you downstairs, guys.Try not
to get too bruised up.”
Instantly,
the mirth in the room dissipated as the reality of sparring with one of
the greatest fighters in Y’myran hit the two warriors square in the gut.Soberly,
they trooped down the stairs and out into the chill of the morning.
“That
was evil,” Kyrian commented as she cleaned up her things.
“They
deserved it.After all, they’re the
ones who were acting like a couple of raw recruits,” Elisira replied, gathering
a pile of dirty rags.“How are you
this morning?Do your ribs still
hurt?”
Sparring
with Azhani the day before, Kyrian zigged when she should have zagged.Without
meaning to, the warrior’s blow had landed, leaving a long, quickly purpling
bruise along the stardancer’s side.
Kyrian
took a deep breath, exhaled and let out a slight whimper of pain.“Stiff,
achy and still feeling like a tyro on her first day at the temple.”
“That’ll
pass.It was a lucky shot,” Elisira
said reassuringly.The other woman
was right; she’d seen Azhani and Kyrian spar enough in the last three weeks
to know that the stardancer was a master at her art.As
good as she was with the sword, Azhani was no match for Kyrian when it
came to the Goddess’ Dance.
Kyrian
shrugged noncommittally.“I should
have been paying attention,” she muttered, hefting her share of the laundry
and carrying it downstairs.
Outside,
Padreg watched as Azhani put his warriors through their paces.The
king was highly impressed by the warleader’s efficient methods, stepping
in to quickly correct a wrong movement and always ready to offer a word
of praise when something was done properly.
Thomas
and Aden had squared off while Syrah worked a makeshift pell.Padreg
himself had gone several rounds with the battle-hardened warrior and was
taking a well-deserved rest.The
Y’Noran king took a deep breath and smiled at the hint of spring that scented
the air.It was the smell of green
things, of grass and sun and of the promise of home.
They
would be heading out in the morning.The
last of the snowstorms had been a week ago and Azhani had said that they
could leave as soon as the creek began to melt.Early
that morning, Padreg had gone out with a fishing pole and had spent a fruitless
morning poking among the slushy water, hoping for some luck.All
he had gotten was muddy boots and a handful of partially frozen bait.It
was enough, though, to convince the warrior that it was time for their
party to leave the safety of the homestead.
“Left
and lift, Syrah, your foot is slipping,” Azhani counseled softly, slipping
behind the other woman to put her hands on her hips and walk her through
the pivot.“Like this.”
Syrah
nodded in comprehension.“I got it,
like this,” and then she executed the pivot and slash perfectly.
“Exactly!Excellent.Now,
drop-slash-thrust, double time, twenty count.”The
warrior barked out the orders as if they were on a battlefield.“Aden,
watch his chest, not his hips.His
actions are telegraphed here,” she tapped her breastbone in demonstration.“You’re
only getting half the story if you look down.”
Aden
sketched a quick salute and called out, “Aye, warleader!”Padreg’s
armsmen had taken to calling Azhani by the title.The
general consensus was that though Arris had stripped her of the rank, she
was still the warleader.
He
turned to face Thomas again, and this time, kept his eyes planted on the
taller man’s chest.When he saw the
muscles shift just before the bigger man’s sword arm made a full arc, he
easily blocked the blow, stepped inside of Thomas’ longer reach, and scored
a solid blow against his adversary.
The
sparring began in earnest, with each circling the other warily, trading
soft jabs and blows.Happy to be
an observer, Padreg rested against a barrel near the door of the cottage.Elisira
slipped outside and joined him, worming her way against his side and sliding
an arm around his waist.
“The
boys look serious,” she said, by way of greeting.
“Nay,
milady, they’re just playing, like Syrah, only taking advantage of having
a moving pell to strike,” Padreg said, draping an arm over Elisira’s shoulder.The
plainsman breathed deeply of the noblewoman’s scent, enjoying the spiciness
that it added to the fragrance of the day.
“Mmm,
well, Azhi’s having more fun than a cat in a pigeon coop,” Elisira observed
knowingly.She watched as Syrah was
moved from the pell to a clearing in the yard where the warleader squared
off against her.
“Is
she now,” Padreg drawled, as he turned to give his lady his full attention.“Think
she’s having more fun chasing young Syrah than she did with me?”
Elisira
laughed lightly, patting Padreg’s armor-clad stomach.“No,
but I warrant Syrah wishes she had your mail coat right about now.”
The
king turned to see the young warrior rubbing her shoulder where a blow
from Azhani’s practice sword had landed heavily.“I’m
sure she does,” he agreed readily.“And
if Azhani hadn’t already told me that I wasn’t done being pounded on, I’d
gladly be a gentleman and offer to let the lass wear it.”
The
lady smiled affectionately and pushed Padreg out toward where Syrah and
Azhani were sparring.“Then at least
be gentlemanly enough to perform a rescue, before your armswoman drops
from exhaustion!I’ll warrant that
she won’t quit before Azhani, and Azhani never quits.”
Grumbling
good-naturedly, the plainsman eased away from the comfort of Elisira’s
embrace to amble out into the yard.
“Hey
there you big bad bully, how about picking on someone your own size?” he
called out tauntingly as he approached the two sparring women.
Smiling
wickedly, Azhani looked the approaching plainsman up and down.Gamely,
she shrugged and said, “Well, you’re a little runty for me, but you’ll
have to do.Syrah, stand down and
take a rest.Thomas you too, and
Elisira, since you’re out here, you can go get that bow of yours and try
to kill a few hay bales.”The words
tumbled out of the warleader’s mouth easily; clearly, she was used to giving
instruction and having it followed.
Without
looking to see if her orders were carried out, Azhani smoothly turned away
from Syrah, and attacked Padreg.The
Y’Noran chieftain easily blocked the blow, and returned one of his own.Effortlessly,
they slipped into the rhythm of strike, thrust and parry.
Syrah
and Thomas wandered over to sit on the porch, each grabbing and taking
long drinks from waiting waterskins.Elisira
sighed and pushed away from the railing and headed over to where Azhani
had set up a makeshift target and picked up her bow and arrows.Soon,
Aden joined her and began quietly assisting her.The
noblewoman wasn’t a bad shot; she just hadn’t had as much practice with
the bow as with the saber.Shrugging
her shoulders, Elisira focused on her task of sending arrow after arrow
toward the man-shaped straw figures.
Inside
the cottage, Kyrian and Devon worked to clean and prepare the group’s gear
for the upcoming journey.The horses
had been groomed and inspected until they nearly quivered with excitement.They
knew that they would soon be out and about, and moving forward instead
of standing still, cramped together in a space that was better suited to
inanimate objects like carts and barrels.
Or
maybe it was just Kyrian’s imagination.After
all, she was the one who,
like the more visibly twitching Azhani, was just about ready to rip the
lips off of anyone who asked, “Is it snowing again?”The
Rhu’len family home was nice enough, but very close quarters for the small
group.
Kyrian reached under a bed and swept
out a pile of clothing and dirt.A
particularly fragrant brown tunic found its way into her hands.Wrinkling
her nose, Kyrian threw the offending bit of clothing into the pile she
had mentally marked, “wash today.”The
chill of winter had made it difficult to bathe regularly, because heating
enough water for the entire group had been impractical.
Another
tunic, one not nearly so offensive to the nose, found itself tossed into
the stardancer’s pack.Kyrian looked
down, smiling at the jumble of faded royal blue fabric.Tall,
dark and broody won’t miss this.As
she pushed the tunic into the bag, she chuckled to herself.Actually,
broody doesn’t really fit her anymore - not since early winter, at least.Having
Eli and the guys here has really helped her come out of her shell.Shrugging,
Kyrian moved on to the next item of clothing.At
least I get a new sleep shirt out of all this clean up.It’s
my favorite color too...A
yell of frustration startled the stardancer out of her reverie and sent
her to the window to see what was amiss.
Outside,
Elisira was rubbing her forearm where the bowstring had been painfully
tenderizing the flesh for the last candlemark.Looking
down at the weapon in her hand, she briefly considered snapping it in half.Instead,
she took a deep, calming breath and handed the bow to Aden.
“That’s
it.I can’t do this anymore today.Would
you be so kind as to take this and stick it someplace I don’t have to look
at it for at least a week, please?Because
if you don’t,” the lady said with forced politeness, “I’m going to shove
it somewhere very uncomfortable in our esteemed warleader’s body.”
“My
lady...” Aden said in a tone meant to calm, but was interrupted by a hand
on his shoulder.
“Well,
well, what have we here?Throwing
a tantrum all proper and lady-like, now, Eli?Think
that just because I’m all the way across the yard smacking the pants off
of your beau that you can get out of target practice, hmm?” Azhani’s amused
voice caused Elisira to roll her eyes and sigh.
Turning,
the noblewoman gave her old friend a long look of severe irritation before
putting her hands on her hips.A
stray hair drifted down into her face, and exasperatedly, she blew at it.Sighing
once more, she said, “Well, Warleader, if
you would deign to instruct me on how to fill that,” she nodded toward
the straw target, “with blunted arrows without turning my arm into meatloaf,
I’d be ever so grateful.”A
syrupy smile ended her statement.
“Tcha,
you’ve been sharpening your tongue when you should have been honing your
aim, my friend,” Azhani replied, casually taking the bow from Aden and
silently nodding the man off to go wash up.“Now,
let’s see what we can do about that meatloaf problem, hmm?”
Kyrian
watched as Azhani handed the bow back to Elisira and then wrapped her arms
around the lady.A sharp jab of jealousy
cut through the stardancer and she angrily pushed it aside.
Stop
that!You’ve got no right to be feeling
the way you do, knowing how she felt about Ylera.The
seldom spoken of, but often felt presence of Azhani’s lost lover was palpable
even to someone as sense blind as Aden.Once,
when Elisira had made the mistake of asking about that particular subject, everyone
had felt the anguish that bled out of Azhani’s eyes.Even
though her answer had been curt, they had all gotten the message that the
subject was to be forgotten.
Yet,
the priest inside of the stardancer knew that some day, more than likely
very soon, Azhani would have to come to terms with losing her lover.Otherwise
the anger that smoldered just under the surface would explode, possibly
with horrible consequences.Which
was one of the many reasons Kyrian secretly swore she would stay by the
warrior’s side, even after they had escorted Padreg safely home.Azhani
would need a friend.That’s
right, a friend, Kyr, and don’t you forget it.Closing
her eyes, she willed the unwanted emotions into a ball and then stuffed
that ball in a strongly locked mental box.When
she opened her eyes once more, Azhani had stepped away from Elisira and
was quietly encouraging her to fire the bow.
The
snap of the bowstring was audible across the yard, and so was the cheer
of joy that Elisira let out when her arrow not only hit the target, but
also did it without smacking the bruises on her arm.
Kyrian
smiled at her friend’s victory and pushed away from the window, heading
for her medical bag.She had just
the right thing for that nasty bruise and if her memory proved true, she
would also soon have something to prevent future injuries.
%%%
“Kyrian,
you are a goddess!” Elisira groaned as the stardancer liberally applied
a salve to the sorest parts of her arm.
Chuckling
at the praise, Kyrian said, “No, but I serve one.I’m
glad it’s helping.”
Elisira
stretched, and groaned when several joints cracked noisily.“I
sound like some decrepit old war hound,” the lady complained softly, arching
her back once more and wincing as her spine popped.
“You
sound like someone who has been at practice all morning, nothing more,
my lady,” Kyrian assured her as she put away her medicines.
Sighing
as she settled back into her chair, Elisira said, “I don’t know, Kyrian.Maybe
Father was right.Maybe I should
have just stuck to needlework.Sore
fingers and dry eyes are nothing compared to what I feel right now.”
“I
think you may revise your opinion about that, should you ever bear children,
my lady.You’ll be glad of strong
muscles then.”The stardancer looked
over at Padreg, who was staring at Elisira, with affection written plainly
on his bearded face.
Elisira
noticed the direction of Kyrian’s gaze and smiled shyly.“If
Astariu is kind, stardancer, I will indeed agree with you.Until
then, I think I shall sit here and dream wistfully of a large, hot bath
and the soothing hands of my handmaidens.”
“Add
a tub for me, and I’ll leave you to dream in peace, my lady,” Kyrian said,
grinning widely.
The
other woman snorted and then looked at Kyrian as she turned to head over
to Thomas and Syrah, both of whom had several minor cuts and bruises.“You
got it.Oh, and Kyrian, call me Eli.It’s
what my friends call me, and I’d like to consider you a friend.”
Kyrian
nodded and said, “All right, but you must call me Kyr, in return.”
“Deal.Now,
go doctor our mighty warriors.They’ve
had a rough morning and might decide to kidnap the nearest stardancer and
cart her off into the wilderness.Oh,
and don’t let Azhi fool you – she’s probably got a bruise or two of her
own that could use a bit of that miracle salve.”
%%%
Dawning
clear, cool and blessedly snow free, the morning of their departure was
everything the warrior could have hoped.Loaded
and ready to travel, waiting just beyond the end of the walkway, the horses
stamped their feet and snorted, eager to be on their way.Even
the two horses hitched to the cart snorted and pawed at the ground, pulling
lightly on the reins that Syrah casually held.
Azhani stood outside the door to the
cottage and placed her fingers against the worn wood and whispered, “I’ll
make you proud, papa.I’ll make this
land whole again, I swear.”Resolutely,
she turned away from the building that had sheltered her for the winter.
Kushyra
sidled nervously as she approached, but Azhani easily grabbed her mare’s
reins and whispered soothingly.Gray
ears twitched at hearing a familiar voice.This
one was the one that her friend had given her to; this one was the one
who would be her new friend.
Laying
a gentle hand against the mare’s flank, Azhani continued to speak softly,
her tone slowly calming the horse.“That’s
it, girl.You remember me, right?Yes,
you do.”A bright smile rippled across
the warrior’s face as the horse pushed into her stroking hands.“Hey,
how about a treat?I’ve got an apple
for you.”From her haversack, Azhani
retrieved a wrinkled, but still edible yellow apple.“Here,
girl, nibble on this.”
She
fed the fruit to Kushyra, who greedily chewed it up.Slowly,
Azhani put her foot in the stirrup and pulled herself into the saddle,
speaking softly and scratching the short, stiff hair continuously.The
horse seemed content to carry her rider now, so Azhani deftly guided her
toward the gate. Leaning forward,
she whispered, “Come on, Kushyra, let’s show ‘em what we can do!”Using
her knees and legs to signal the warhorse, she directed her up and over
the fence in a smooth jump.
Looking
back at the others who were watching their antics with amusement, she said,
“Well, shall we?It’s not getting
any warmer out here.”
Devon
was the first of the group to join the warleader, guiding his smaller gelding
to the gate and leaning down to open it.He
smiled shyly at Azhani, who grinned in return.
“Good
to see you’ve got some of your father’s spirit, Dev,” she said, moving
her mount aside so that the others could join them.
He
shrugged and said, “Well, Da always said that a man could only eat three
feet of sword once before he learned how to get out of the way.I
never quite understood him, but I always took it to mean that you had to
be prepared to take chances.”
Azhani
nodded sagely.“That’s as good an
interpretation as I would give, lad.So
tell me, how go your studies?”
Having
spent most of his winter either burying his nose in a book or learning
herb lore with Kyrian, Devon had needed considerable prodding to take up
weapons practice.The call of magic
was stronger in his blood than the call of the blade, but the boy strove
to impress all of his teachers.
“Eh,
well, I still can’t seem to twist my sword the way Aden wants me to; Syrah
thinks I’ll never be a decent wrestler; Thomas says I could burn water
and milord Padreg thinks my horsemanship to be passable.”
Azhani
eyed the boy’s slight form, noting the way he held himself in the saddle.“You’ll
do better once you’ve gotten your growth spurt.As
for Aden’s instruction – tell him to try you on the rapier instead of the
broadsword.Your strength will lie
in your speed, and the rapier can be as deadly as the claymore in the hands
of a skilled fencer.”
“Okay,”
the boy said, clearly relieved that the warleader wasn’t going to give
him a lecture about his priorities.Shyly,
he said, “The lady Elisira did say that my needlework was some of the best
she’s seen.”
“Good,”
Azhani said, nodding approvingly.“Now,
tell me what Kyrian says about your progress.”
He
grinned and launched into how pleased the stardancer was with how quickly
he was picking up the herbalist’s skills.
%%%
Three
days worth of travel found the group entering a radically changed Barton.The
once thriving trade town was now nearly empty.Circling
the town, the shell of a wall could be seen being erected by those who
had survived the winter.The hastily
built barrier around the inn and the other “safe houses” was slowly being
demolished and few children played in the streets.
Everywhere
they looked, people worked hard, racing to rebuild what the demons had
destroyed.Azhani’s group was stopping
for the day, to trade what would not travel for what the townsfolk could
spare.As they rode in, they could
see the tracks of trappers and miners who had lived through the winter.
Down
a side street, they could see some of the trappers set up in stalls, selling
cured hides and jerked meats.Kyrian
and Elisira split away from the group, heading for the booths.Padreg
and Aden went to see the hostler, hoping the man would have some spare
oats for the horses.
After
their trades were done, the group met in the center of the village and
talked over where they would camp that night.A
familiar face caught Padreg’s eye and he shouted out, “Jalen, it’s good
to see you, my friend!”
After
introductions had been made, Brother Jalen explained how he had come to
Barton.“’Twas a dream from Astariu
herself, Paddy.She said go, so I
went.I’ve been here a week so far
and I haven’t regretted it yet.”
“Well,
it’s good to see you finally slipping away from that stuffy old library
of yours,” the Y’Noran king said jovially.
“When
the goddess calls, I can only but answer,” Jalen said, shrugging noncommittally.“I
would be a poor servant of Hers indeed if I did not heed Her requests.Isn’t
that right, young Kyrian?”The priest
turned his attention on the red-robed stardancer.
“Of
course, Brother Jalen.Everyone knows
how selflessly you devote yourself to servitude.Why,
who could forget how you tirelessly shared the good Abbot’s wine with the
novitiate?I assure you, the memories
of the next morning linger on and on.”Kyrian
said, causing the good brother to laugh.
“Ah,
Kyr, how did I ever let you go?You
always know exactly what to say to take the wind out of my sails.”
“I
had a lot of practice,” the stardancer replied cheekily, which just made
the older priest laugh even harder.
“Ah
Padreg, my old friend, leave it to you to find the one person in the kingdoms
who can carve strips from my hide faster than an Y’droran tanner.”Brother
Jalen thumped Padreg on the back heartily.“So,
what brings you so far north?I seem
to recall that you and yours were hightailing it out of Y’dannyv.I
figured you’d be back on the plains by now.”
“Plans
have a way of shifting like grass in the wind, old friend.After
we ran into that patrol, my men and I separated so that we would all have
a better chance of getting home safely.Some
of those who accompanied me, will only return in spirit, goddess bless
them.”His eyes glistened as he spoke.
“Are
you headed back to Y’Nor now?” the priest asked.
Padreg
carefully considered his answer.Even
though he trusted Brother Jalen with his life, there were many ears in
the open market where they had run into the priest.“Eventually.My
lady and I – we decided to enjoy the mountains.”
Jalen’s
eyebrows shot up in surprise.“Your
lady?Are congratulations in order,
my friend?”
Elisira
interrupted then.“Not quite yet,
good Brother, but goddess willing, and my lord’s courage providing, I’ll
soon call Y’Nor home.”
Jalen’s
booming laugh once again filled the space around the small group.
“Brother
Jae! Brother Jae!Come quick!Toby’s
stuck in the tree again!” a small child shouted as she ran up to the group.
“Oh
dear, that is a problem isn’t it?” the priest said, excusing himself and
racing to follow the tow-headed child who scampered down the road.
Padreg
looked at Azhani, who was watching the priest’s progress.“Should
we lend a hand?A child in trouble
is never good.”
Azhani
shook her head.“No, I think he can
handle it.Toby’s a cat – probably
gets himself into trouble once a day.I’m
sure Jalen’s got a system all worked out.Besides,
it’s getting late.We should go if
we want to make it to the cave before nightfall.”
“Then
let us be on our way,” the Y’Noran said, easily mounting his horse and
heading for the other side of town.
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The story and characters of Banshee's Honor are copyright
to the author, 2002.