They also cared nothing for Thershon’s most valuable resource: Its people.
Some of the conquered were taken as slaves, mostly women and girls of birthing age. But the old women, and all of the men and boys, were killed and left as a way of terrorizing any who dared to resist. In the Toden River Valley, they built small hills made of corpses piled to heights many times the size of a man. This was done outside most villages and towns Yenia saw, and most of the crossroads and river crossings. The river town of Axelhead was among the largest strongholds in the valley and the Alisters struggled mightily to defend it. When the battle was over, the city streets were littered with the bodies of the deceased.
After the main body of Iatan infantry marched on toward Korsiren, the occupying units left behind mustered gangs of prisoners to accomplish a direct task. They gathered up the bodies and tossed them into the Toden River. When they were done, the prisoners were killed and thrown in as well.
The reasoning behind this was clear. The Alister soldiers defending Korsiren knew what happened at Axelhead. Many thousands of their brethren fought to defend the river town and the Iatan destroyed them. Now the last remnants of the valley defenders stood on the battlements of the fortress, preparing for their final stand. They knew what was coming, and could do nothing to stop it. All they could do was wait for the siege to begin.
All they could do was wait. And watch the bodies float by.
The Toden River flowed directly past the Fortress at Korsiren and for an entire day, the defenders of Korsiren were forced to watch the remains of thousands of their countrymen float by in some macabre review. The bodies were hacked and bludgeoned and stabbed, bloated and stinking in the sun, a silent river of death floating westward toward the Sea of God’s Eyes. This awful display was a reminder of what the Iatan had done, and a reminder of what the Iatan were prepared to do. But it also provided cover for Yenia’s escape from the valley.
Thousands of bodies drifted westward down the Toden River. Would the Iatan notice two more? Yenia was hoping they wouldn’t, and it had worked thus far. She spent all morning, and most of afternoondark, floating down the river among her dead countrymen. And though she floated past more Iatan soldiers than she could count, none of them took notice.
Yenia managed to find a semicircle of wooden planks, the remains of a broken wagon wheel that proved sufficiently buoyant. She laid this in the water, then placed her brother’s comatose body upon it. Then she shoved off, floating on her back beneath the planks and holding onto Theel by the shoulders.
She guessed it would take a full day to travel the length of the Iatan camp on foot, but she was able to cut this time in half by drifting on the swift currents of the Toden River. And thankfully, it was considerably less physical work. The plan seemed to be working, but though she was moving more quickly, the trip was no less dangerous. And no less revolting.
Yenia was in the water with some horrific things. Few of the corpses that joined her in her trip down the river were fresh. Many of them spent hours baking in the sun before being tossed into the water. Yenia was floating in much more than blood and remains. Fluids of all colors and smells were produced by the decomposing bodies. Some of it mixed, and some of it congealed, and Yenia was spending hours soaking in this chunky soup of liquid putrefaction. She thought she would grow accustomed to it, but her stomach was constantly twisting. It was a never-ending struggle to keep from vomiting, and there were times when she failed to make her stomach obey. Thankfully, none of the Iatan on the riverbanks seemed to notice when this happened.
The hours passed. The sun moved from the eastern sky to the western horizon. And Yenia still floated along, holding onto her brother, and guiding the broken wagon wheel to keep Theel’s face and chest out of the fetid water. She also did her best to appear just as dead as those around her. Once in a while she cracked an eyelid, just to see if there was a landmark she recognized, to gauge her progress down the river. But she’d never spent significant time in the valley before and knew little of its geography. She floated under a number of bridges and past many villages and towns. But one thing was constant: the tents and soldiers. She saw the Iatan everywhere she looked. They even stood on the bridges as she floated beneath.
Then she saw the Fortress at Korsiren.
Yenia had never seen the famous home to House Alister with her own eyes, but she’d seen artist impressions in ink and oils. Now, like then, Yenia thought the fortress looked like a large, fat, bald man with a mug of beer on his stomach, carved out of gray stone and dropped onto the mountainside. Some thought Korsiren was beautiful. Yenia did not. But no one argued that the walls were tall, thick, and nearly impossible to breach.
The great mountain fastness and home to the Alisters had stood for a thousand years, surviving countless battles and dozens of sieges. It had never been taken by an enemy force; not even when King Brougit sued for peace in the War of the Black Diamond, surrendering rule of the Eastern Kingdoms to Jermalin the Kinslayer. The Alisters did not surrender Korsiren then, and it was clear they would not surrender it now.
The banners of nearly all the noble houses loyal to the River Lords hung from the walls of Korsiren. They might have lost many of their men and most of their lands to the invaders, but they were still strong in number, and strong in defiance. Nearly all the valley’s remaining defenders were holed up within the walls of Korsiren and were prepared to defend the fortress until every last drop of blood was spilled on the gray stone.
Korsiren was the reason the Iatan had stopped in their march westward. Which meant it was the reason Yenia was going to escape the valley with her life and the life of her brother intact. Yenia mouthed a silent thank you to the old, gray man with the mug on his stomach. Then she said a prayer for the men inside, asking that they successfully defend their castle and survive to see their families again.
It was impossible not to think of all the horses inside that castle, locked up in stables where they did her no good. If only she could have found a good, strong steed to carry her and her brother across the valley. Then she would be dry and clean instead of filthy and sick, and soaked in death. The war had robbed the valley of every creature with four legs—mules, pigs, oxen, and of course, horses. She would have taken any of these creatures, from the grandest thoroughbred to the most sway-backed nag, as long as it was sturdy; anything that would allow her to travel faster to transport her brother to a safe place away from this war.
She would have accepted anything, but she imagined herself on the muscled back of a white charger. She found herself daydreaming of riding in tournament, in both speed and distance competitions, then jumping for height and length, and finally the joust. She could feel the great beast between her knees, muscles rippling as she took her lance in hand.
Yenia was still daydreaming when she heard a splash in the water to her right.
She was going to ignore the sound, thinking it was a fish upset at what the humans had done to its home. But then she heard faint laughter and cheering. The sounds came from down river, the direction she was floating. She tipped her head back and opened one eye to see an arching stone bridge lined with soldiers.
There was another splash. This was followed by more laughter. It was difficult to understand what was happening. She was unsure if the splashes were related to the men on the bridge. She couldn’t see them clearly. The orange sun glared at their backs, transforming their bodies into nothing more than blurry silhouettes to her eyes.
She saw them moving around but couldn’t be certain what they were doing. Then she saw a motion she recognized. One of the men reared back and punched his arm up into the air. It looked as if he threw something. Then Yenia saw it; a long and thin object, sailing in a tall arc through the twilight air. She briefly lost sight of it, but heard it when it landed. It whistled loudly as it fell, thudding into a body nearby. Yenia looked and saw an iron tip protruding from the body and a polished wooden shaft sticking straight up.
It was a spear.
&
nbsp; Yenia heard bowstrings. One arrow splashed into the river above her head while another slammed into a body floating near her feet. Yenia heard more laughter and boasting, and the sound made her heart fall down into her stomach. They were throwing spears and firing arrows into the corpses, probably gambling on which bodies they would target.
Another arrow fell into the water to Yenia’s left, this one close enough to splash water on her face. The fear within her grew. She was now close enough that could see the Iatan laughing and pointing, pushing, shoving, and slapping each other on the back. They were taking turns with the bows and spears, and with what appeared to be a bottle they passed back and forth. Yenia couldn’t tell which of the bodies they were targeting, but their attacks were falling far too close. And there was nothing she could do about it.
She kept her eyes shut, floating on her back, fervently praying for protection as sharpened iron fell all around her. Now she could hear them above, heard each of their voices clearly, though she didn’t understand a word they said. She was about to pass beneath them, and hoped this would grant a reprieve. Perhaps they would stop and pick a new target farther upriver. But just before the current pulled her beneath the bridge, Yenia briefly looked up and saw one of the soldiers throw something. Wood splinters hit Yenia in the face as a spear thunked into the wood of the wagon wheel, inches from her brother’s head.
Her heart froze. Were they targeting Theel?
The top of the stone bridge erupted in shouting, a mixture of jeers and laughter. There were hundreds of bodies floating beneath that bridge. The Iatan could have picked any of them. Yenia had no idea if they were targeting Theel, herself, or one of the dozens of corpses surrounding them. But she did know she and Theel were in serious danger.
Now the siblings were safe beneath the bridge but the current was strong, and would soon pull them out the other side. Yenia only had a few seconds to think, but that was not enough time, so instead of thinking, she acted.
Her desire to protect her brother overrode all thoughts of self preservation. Instead of keeping herself safe by staying in the water, she heaved herself up onto the wagon wheel. Her added weight almost caused it to capsize, but she was quick to center herself. The wagon wheel quickly stabilized, sinking deeper into the water, but it held steady.
Yenia barely managed it, but in the brief few moments they were under the bridge, she positioned herself so she covered Theel, protecting her brother’s body with her own. She didn’t know if this would fool the Iatan or not, but she lay still and played dead anyway. At the very least, the spears and arrows would strike her instead of Theel.
They were out from under the bridge, floating swiftly westward, and open to more attacks. But the attacks didn’t come. Yenia heard no more shouting and laughter, or splashing of projectiles hitting the surface of the river. Hopefully the Iatan had tired of their sport, or picked a new target. Once again, Yenia prayed.
“Thank you, Lord, for preserving us throughout this trial thus far. Thank you, Lord, for keeping the flight of their spears and arrows errant. Please, Lord, tire their spirits. Please make them weary of this exercise. Please direct their attention to different targets who have already seen their end and can be harmed no further.”
Then she heard the unmistakable whistle of iron slicing the air. She knew what it was, but she continued to pray.
“Please, Lord, make their aim false.”
It slammed into the back of her thigh with force enough to cause the wagon wheel to rock in the water. Her first reaction was confusion that it didn’t hurt more. But then the signals hit her brain, and she couldn’t keep a groan from hissing between her teeth.
Thankfully, that was her only reaction. She managed to lie still through supreme force of will, even with the bolts of pain shooting throughout her body.
A dead body didn’t feel pain. It didn’t react, so neither could Yenia. She couldn’t cry out. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t allow the soldiers on the bridge or among the tents on the riverbanks to realize she was alive and suffering this pain.
“Please, Lord. Keep me from moving. I must lie still. Please.”
She could hear more whistling as another spear descended upon her. This one was going to be very close.
“Please. Please. Please, God. Spare me.”
The spear tip buzzed like an angry hornet as it fell upon her. It slammed into the wood just beneath her elbow. The wheel rocked in the water as Yenia hissed her frustration through clenched teeth. Her brain screamed to react, to defend herself, to cover up somehow. Her instincts were trying to seize control of her body and get away from the pain in her leg, and to shield herself from the attacks she knew were still coming. But she knew she must not move. She couldn’t abandon Theel. If she didn’t sacrifice her body to the spears and arrows, her brother would be hit instead. And Yenia couldn’t allow that. She would take a hundred arrows for her brother.
“Please, Lord. Please.”
Another bolt splashed into the water. A second thudded into a corpse farther away. A third was so far off, it almost hit the riverbank. The siblings had traveled far from the bridge. Perhaps the Iatan were nearing the limits of arrow range. The poor aim of the soldiers seemed to support this possibility.
Yenia began to rejoice inside. The siblings were already past Korsiren and on their way to the Sea of God’s Eyes. They were going to make it out of the valley. Once again, she began to pray, but this time she gave thanks.
“Thank you, Lord. Thank you for the guidance, the strength, and protection you so mercifully give—”
She silenced herself when she heard whistling again. This one was loosed from a great distance. It was probably the last one. It might hit her. It might not. But it was going to be very close. Yenia closed her eyes and gritted her teeth.
“Your will be done.”
The arrow slammed into the center of her back and once again, the wagon wheel rocked wildly. This time, she didn’t have to force herself to lie still because she quickly lost all feeling in her body. She barely had a moment to realize what happened, but then she was bathed in pain, completely submerged, then suffocated by it. If agony was a river, she was dragged to the bottom in only seconds, where she drowned in it.
Everything went black.
To be continued in
Warrior Baptism
Chapter 3
Theel arrives at the fishing village of Dockhaven, but finds it abandoned. He is too hurt and weak to go on alone. Help arrives in an unlikely form.
A preview of Chapter 3…
The Robbers
Theel awoke to hot sun on his face and wet sand on his back. He heard waves rolling up on a shoreline and felt the coolness lapping against his sides. He’d somehow made it to land. But where? How far was he from Dockhaven? And where was Yenia? Then he heard something else. Hushed voices.
“We got dandy fools, for certain.”
“Maybe so.”
“Could be lords.”
“So? Shut up and help me strip this one.”
Theel still lay under a heavy blanket of sleepiness, but the more of this conversation he heard, the more he fought his way back to consciousness.
“Could be a rich lord. Could be coin in helping him.”
“Why don’t you bow to him, then, and ask for his coin?”
“He might be happy we helped. Pay us some reward.”
“We don’t ask for a reward. We just take it.”
Theel fought to peel his eyes open, and finally succeeded. The light of day seared his eyes and cut into his brain but he ignored the pain, fighting to sit up, eventually making it to his hands and knees. It was laborious, and agonizing. And he could barely see, so foggy was his eyesight.
“What do we do with them? Put them back in their boat and let them drift?”
“No, wool-head. We steal their coin and leave them to die.”
“We can’t just leave them like this.”
“Yes we can. It’s better if they die, so they can’t t
ell anyone what we done.”
Theel’s chest throbbed, and fresh blood dripped down his stomach. Theel was dimly aware that the Life Sign had done its job. It kept him alive, but only for a few more hours. He was far from recovered. The waves of pain that emanated from his chest wound reminded him of that.
“Wait now. This one is a girl.”
“Oh, and she’s a pretty one, too.”
Theel put one foot on the ground then leaned on his knee, pushing with all his strength. He eventually made it to his feet but on knees so weak, he wasn’t sure how long he could stay upright. But he kept his feet, and as his awareness returned, he realized he was cold, his wet skin chilled by the breezes coming off the lake. He was shirtless, and shoeless, his bare feet pressing into the sticky sand. Also…no sword belts.
“We should love her quick.”
“Don’t touch her. She’s just a maid.”
“All the better. No one’s loved her before us.”
Theel rubbed his eyes and smeared his hair back, looking around. Everything was where it belonged; the gray waves splashing beneath a cloudy sky, mountains to the north, and a beach of pebbles and coarse sand stretching to his left and right. His head swiveled as he searched for his little sister.
Two dozen paces away, Yenia lay on her side, the surf licking at her legs. She was faced away, her shirt was pulled up over her head, exposing the tattoos on her back and the bandages he’d wrapped around her chest. This was done, Theel guessed, by the two men who knelt over her, arguing with one another. By their look, these two were pieces of human sea dreck, shirtless, sunbaked, filthy. And toothless, by the sound of their slithery, clipped speech.
“There isn’t time for raping. You said so.”
Warrior Baptism Chapter 2 Page 6
