When he spoke next, it was from closer behind her, he’d drawn near to her back, his voice was low. “We both know you’re the better of us. You have a long life ahead of you. I’m just an old warrior. I always knew I’d die in battle anyway. I’d prefer that to wasting away in bed.”
The words stung, partially because of their harsh truth, partially because she knew how he really felt for her. She’d saved his life long ago, that’s why he’d dedicated himself to following her. But now it was even more than that. He loved her and was so very willing to repay that life debt.
She found tears in her eyes.
“Try not to die,” she said, hoping her emotion didn’t come through. She wanted to be strong for him.
He gave a breath of a laugh. “I always do. Just because I expect to die in battle doesn’t mean I plan on doing it today.”
She stepped to the side and paused for a moment, letting him catch up to her so she could give him a friendly kiss on the cheek, “Thank you.”
He beamed a white-toothed grin, setting off the dark contrast of his skin. “Today is a good day to beat the stuffing out of some ignorant villagers.”
She nodded then turned away from him and ran for Jais’ cottage.
Her legs were still sore from her run earlier that day, but being a drahksan, probably a lot less so than any human’s would be. She was able to sprint up the hills around the village toward Jais’ home.
Even before she got there, she knew there was trouble.
Smoke, too much to be just a cooking fire, was billowing in dark plumes before her. She picked up her pace.
15
Barami didn’t know what would happen, battle was always like that… unpredictable. You could be in a one on one fight with an untrained inexperienced fool, and he could still get lucky and stick you. The fact that he wasn’t trying to kill any of these men made it harder for him. He could bash and smash and hinder them, but unless they were knocked out completely they’d still be in the fight, still be trying to get him. He didn’t know if they thought he too was a drahksan, and if so whether that meant he needed to be killed on sight or saved for some formal public sham of a trial and execution. There were too many unknowns. So he stopped worrying about them and focused on keeping himself alive.
In his prime, fifteen or even ten years ago he would have relished a chance to prove himself against a mob like this. Now he was older and more experienced, but he also knew he was slower and would tire quicker. That run earlier today had nearly broken him. He did a range of exercises daily, but he needed to run more apparently.
The crowd closed in around him. He put away Oken-adi and drew his short sword. He didn’t want to use lethal force, but he might, if he was threatened. Otherwise he could use the flat of his blade to bash them, in addition to his shield.
There were some who had left, following after Caer, but they wouldn’t catch her, not until she stopped. At least he’d kept a good many of them here.
“I’m not drahksani,” he called out. He wasn’t sure anyone would believe him, but perhaps if they did, they might go easy on him.
“Even if that’s so, you were still the pet of a drahksan,” someone responded.
He was no one’s pet.
“What do you think you will prove with this?”
“You brought the krolls!” This from another man.
That was just crazy. What exactly did these people think drahksani were? They had spoken of demons earlier, were they silly enough to believe demons walked so openly with men? In his culture demons were great and powerful beings that towered over humans, dragging them away to darkness and torture.
“Were there not krolls attacking before we arrived?”
“So you could swoop in and act as heroes.”
Barami couldn’t quite understand how these people had come up with these ideas. All he and Caerwyn had done was help, and this was their reward.
“We don’t want your kind here!”
That seemed to unleash the torrent of emotions within the crowd who began shouting all manner of vitriol.
Barami just shook his head. Oddly he wondered, before the fight began in earnest, what was prompting all these krolls to attack the village. These villagers would find out soon enough once he and Caerwyn were gone that it had not been them inciting the creatures to attack.
Someone threw a stone, and he raised his shield to deflect it. Two or three others charged in at him with clubs and rough weapons. He blocked one, sidestepped the second, and batted the weapon out of the third man’s hands with his sword.
Then others charged in. He was quickly inundated by a wave of angry humanity attacking him en masse.
Alnia squirmed against the ropes that restrained her.
After having tried to help Jais, and with Erid’s condemnation that she’d been working with him, she’d been tied to a chair to keep her at the Ox and Axe while the others went to find Jais and… Gods she hoped it didn’t get that far.
To think that her brother had been a part of this, had helped to restrain her, a certain intent glee in his eyes… it was more than she could bear, given everything else that had happened.
She had shed her tears. Now she was intent on freeing herself, though all she seemed to be accomplishing was chafing herself against the ropes and wood.
She honestly couldn’t believe the town had turned on Jais so quickly. She didn’t have that much of an idea what a drahksan really was, but it couldn’t be that bad, could it? Jais and his family had only ever helped the town or kept to themselves. Even once Jais had become strong enough to fend off the beatings by Erid and the other boys he hadn’t ever tracked them down to start a fight. He was kind, a good man. Why couldn’t anyone else see that?
“This is just silly. Why are boys so stupid?” The voice, a woman, had come from Alnia’s left. She looked to see Esrine, the tavern keeper’s daughter approaching with a short knife. Esrine quickly sawed through the ropes restraining Alnia.
The other woman was younger than Alnia by a couple of year, but old enough to brave the rough seas of humanity as a serving girl. She was a waif of a woman, slender like a stick, though her legs and arms were filled out, not bony as some girls are. She had blond hair, kept long, but tied back in a braid at the moment. Her eyes were blue and fierce. It was probably that same gaze that got men worked up… and kept them at bay.
“Now you don’t be stupid either,” Esrine said, scolding while still holding the knife. “Don’t go after Jais, there is nothing you can do. He’ll either get away or he won’t. You’ll only hinder him or get in the way and cause more trouble.”
It was sage advice, and Alnia wondered how one still younger than she had come by such wits. Certainly she’d been thinking of going after Jais, but it was true… what could she do?
She knew what she couldn’t do… nothing.
“Give me that knife, Essy,” Alnia said holding out her hand.
Esrine’s shoulders slumped a little. She frowned, but she handed over the knife. “You’re going to do something stupid, aren’t you?”
Alnia felt the rough wood of the handle and looked down at the short blade. It was a knife for cutting vegetables, but it was still sharp enough. “Yes. I am.”
Esrine heaved a sigh and shook her head. “Why am I the only sane one here?”
Alnia’s answer was under her breath. “Because you haven’t found someone to be crazy for.”
Jais was shaking, his mind whirling, trying to make sense of the chaos that had been his day. That feeling of dread he’d felt while trying to tell Alnia what he was, had lingered with him. It spoke of disaster, and now he knew it hadn’t been lying.
Before him, the house he’d known all his life was nearly destroyed. The roof was smashed in on one side and the other, where the cooking fires had been, was smoking heavily, smoldering with the beginnings of a fire. He blinked but little comprehension came to him. All he could think was that somehow the villagers had gotten here before him and taken his a
unt then destroyed his home, but… that wasn’t possible. He was faster than any of them, and he’d seen the smoke soon after leaving the village. They couldn’t have done this, but then… who… and why?
Nothing made sense. He’d lost everything he knew in a matter of moments, and that still hadn’t fully sunk in. He’d needed to find his aunt and uncle, tell them, talk to them, get them to flee with him, but… they weren’t anywhere in sight.
He hadn’t ventured into the wreckage. He was, somehow, quite certain they hadn’t been in there when it collapsed.
But then… what had happened?
It came to him slowly as his mind began to work through what he saw around him. Footprints: very large footprints… which meant…
Krolls.
More than one? Yes, at least two. But given the timing… it would have to have been happening right around the time the others had been attacking the village.
He wasn’t able to fathom the depths of what this portended. He couldn’t make sense of it. Why were there so many of these Holn-spawned krolls? What did they want?
Nothing made any sense to him anymore. Too much had happened in too short a period. His life as he’d known it was gone, and he couldn’t accept that, not yet. So he stood there for several long moments just staring at his home, trying to wrap his mind around any of this.
Why?
Why did the villagers turn on him? Why did they hate drahksani so much? What had he done to deserve their wrath? Why were there so many krolls intent on destroying everything in this area?
As he asked that last one a new ‘knowing’ sprouted dark wings in his gut, cold and heavy. He wasn’t able to decipher it yet except to feel that there was far more going on here than he yet knew. Something bigger was at play, and he was caught up in that as well as everything else going on around him.
He needed to do something.
He forced his feet to move. He made his way around the house to the shed at the back, it too was damaged, but not as bad. He’d thought to retrieve Stout, their pony, but the animal was gone. He stood staring at the empty stable for a long time. Did this mean something?
“There he is! Get him!” The voice snapped him out of his dark thoughts. He turned to see a group led by Erid and Damick. They were armed, marching up the hill toward him. At a quick count there were eight of them.
Something snapped in him then. All of the confusion and frustration and destruction around him, all if it seeped into his soul and turned him hard.
Let them come.
He drew his sword.
Yes, let them come. They wanted him dead. That was obvious by their manner and the open weapons they carried.
He said nothing as they drew closer, did not taunt or goad. He didn’t even hear their exhortations. He was cold inside waiting for them to get close enough to strike.
They sensed this perhaps, for they halted a short ways from him, fanning out to surround him. He closed his eyes to slits and slowed his breathing. He was calm, yet with a core of fury. He smiled, only the barest hint, thinking that perhaps this was how Caerwyn felt going into battle.
He could sense the men behind him: hear their footfalls on the grasses and their heavy breaths, smell their heady, sweaty stink.
They had quieted, perhaps thinking he’d just give himself over to them, or uncertain what to do now that they had him.
“I’ll take him if none of you will!” It was Erid, of course. He had a sword in hand, a sturdy enough weapon, probably from his father’s forge. The large man fell into a battle stance, but even Jais with his limited training knew it was all wrong. He was standing like he expected a brawl, too exposed, too wide.
Erid stalked in toward Jais, and his action must have stirred others as Jais also heard movement behind him. He took a half-step back, turning so the two men coming at him were at his sides. Then he waited to see who would act first. He knew the men of his village… no, not his anymore… they were not fighters. Only a few had ever seen any real combat, guards from the capital who had retired up here, and none of those were in this group.
From the corner of his eye Jais caught Erid nodding to the man on the other side of him. A signal. That man would attack first, and when Jais turned to fight him, Erid would stick him in the back. A good enough plan.
The man to Jais’ right lunged in, a wild attack, swinging in a wide downward arc with his weapon, a heavy bladed broadsword. Jais raised his own blade to block, easily catching and stopping the attack, probably jarring the other man’s arms quite hard.
Erid was moving in. Jais stepped slightly back and toward the first man, with a quick flick of his blade he knocked the broad sword down. Still moving he lowered his sword as the man beside him lost his balance, over-extended. Jais drew his blade along the man’s side as he stepped behind him, it was a solid cut. That man would be out of the battle. The man clutched his side as Jais kicked him toward Erid, who was still charging in. The first man fell, his blade nicking Erid’s leg as Erid flailed wildly to avoid the man.
Another man was moving behind Jais, and he spun to face the man as a voice stopped them all.
“Stop and surrender, you have no chance!”
Jais couldn’t help but grin at Caerwyn’s confidence.
He hazarded a quick look in her direction, she looked winded, having just run here from the village it seemed. Her sword was drawn and ready. Davlas as always was in her other hand.
The men around Jais were startled and turned to see who the newcomer was. There was a sudden and cold realization which swept over the other men in a wave. They were facing two drahksani, one of which was a battle-hardened warrior… that and they had already lost one of their number. Jais was guessing that eight against one had seemed safe to them, but with seven on two… they were reconsidering.
Caerwyn drew closer, and Jais took advantage of the distraction to rush one of the men around him, knocking aside a hastily raised weapon and bowling the man over, running past him. Now outside of their circle he edged toward Caerwyn. The others regrouped. For a moment they were uncertain, which was good, because Jais wanted a few words with Caerwyn.
He made sure to keep his eyes on the others as he talked, not letting himself get distracted.
“Where’s Barami?”
There was something odd in Caerwyn’s voice when she responded. He wasn’t looking at her so he only had her tone and timbre to go by. She seemed upset. “He’s back at the village stalling the rest of the villagers so I could get here to help you before they did.” After a moment she added. “Before most of them, anyway.”
“I can handle this troop, but we have other issues.”
“Oh?”
“Krolls attacked my house. My aunt and uncle are missing. Something strange is happening. They must have attacked here the same time as the village. I can’t make sense of it.”
“The krolls are these folks’ problem now. We need to get your aunt and uncle and get far away from here.”
The cold dark sense in his gut churned. “I think… I think my aunt and uncle may have been taken by the krolls.”
“Oh.”
“I need to go after them.” Of that he was now certain. It seemed the only thing he was certain about.
“Well we can’t have these goons hunting you while you hunt for your family. I can take care of them.”
Jais didn’t want to leave Caerwyn behind, despite a strong certainty she’d be just fine against these brutes.
“I…”
“Go.” It was a command.
He sighed, his heart torn. But the choice had already been made. He had to go… now.
“I’ll see you soon,” he said softly.
“And I you.”
He hurried away keeping an eye on the group of men. Three broke off to come after him, Erid leading them.
“I’ll take care of them. Go!” Caerwyn was following along behind him.
Smart.
“Jais!”
He nearly toppled over his own feet
, missing his stride, stumbling but not falling. He knew that voice.
He turned to see Alnia riding up on the back of a long-striding filly, small and lean. The woman was riding bareback, clutching the neck and mane of the horse with her arms, her legs tight on the mount’s flanks. She was riding astride the beast, the skirts of her dress pushed up high revealing slender pale legs. Both horse and rider looked a little frantic.
What in the name of all the gods was she doing here?
Alnia drew up close and threw herself from the filly landing close to Jais. From a pocket of the apron of her dress she drew forth a small knife.
Her hair was a wind-swept tangle, her face blanched, eyes red from tears. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I came to try to make things right.”
“Get gone from here, woman,” Caerwyn commanded. “There is nothing you can do. You’re going to get yourself killed!” Caerwyn was adamant, and Jais had to agree.
But there was something in Alnia’s eyes, a wild devotion. Jais knew she wasn’t going anywhere. “Take my horse. Flee,” she said, taking Jais’ free hand and planting a quick kiss on his lips.
It wasn’t a bad idea, but leaving her here was.
“Go! They won’t hurt me.”
Jais wasn’t so sure of that. He glanced back at Erid. The man had halted his advance as stunned by this new arrival as everyone else. But there was hate in the man’s eyes, and it wasn’t solely directed at Jais.
“Come with me,” Jais said urgently.
She shook her head. “That horse will have a hard enough time carrying you, let alone both of us.” Jais could see the truth of that quick enough. The young mare was a fine mount indeed, but he was a big and heavy man, and it was still young and lean.
“I’ll only go if you get yourself gone from here now. Run back to your father.”
“No, I—”
“Go, or I won’t.”
She pressed her mouth shut and nodded, turning away from the fight and stalking back down the hill.
Jais glanced at Caerwyn who nodded. He mounted and felt the horse tremble at his weight. He kicked it forward, and it ran, though it must have been exhausted.
Soul Seeking Page 14
