The Sah'niir

by Kim Wedlock

  The corpse must only have been a few days old; there was little sign of decomposition, but the blood that stained the shirt collar and chest had long since dried up, and there was far less than there should have been around the shafts of the dozen arrows that pinned the torso to the tree. Its jaw was agape, lightless eyes stared at the ground, head and shoulders weighted by snow, and not a weapon for defence in sight.

  "His throat was cut first," Garon said from beside her, his tone soft but clinical. He looked around the dense woods and grunted. "The silver mines are nearby."

  "Bandits looking for easy pickings, then," she replied disdainfully, turning and pulling her distressed horse away. "Somehow I doubt wildlings would use arrows."

  It wasn't long before another body was found, hanging by the neck in the growing darkness, and another slumped at the foot of a tree. With each corpse discovered, the group's guard rose higher, and though their eyes darted anxiously through the compacted, twilight landscape, they found no route of escape from the vale. They dismounted and led their horses, choosing not to risk being carried into a low branch or another ditch by a panicked mount should they be ambushed, and swords were quietly drawn. But despite their efforts, despite the eerily muffled silence, despite the tell-tale crunch of snow underfoot, when the ambush inevitably came, they were still caught by surprise.

  Garon and Petra's blades flashed and sang against the formidable weapons of the nine attackers. The previously controlled short temper that had plagued Anthis since the morning drove him dagger-first into their backs while they were occupied, and Eyila threw aside those who threatened to overwhelm them. Horses roared and reared in alarm, adding to the confusion, and Aria was bundled back into Rathen's keeping while he resorted to watching helplessly, warring internally with himself while his fingers itched to move.

  The skirmish wasn't over quickly. The tight space seemed to work in the bandits' favour and they played off of one another like a choreographed dance. When one seemed defeated, another jumped in before the killing blow could occur, wearing the trapped defender down. Eyila managed to finish two of them off with blasts of energy that propelled them backwards into solid tree trunks, but the rest were too fast and too close to her companions to strike without clipping them at the same time. And so she was soon as helpless as Rathen.

  When three suddenly broke away, Petra immediately gave chase.

  "Leave them!" Garon roared after her, but she didn't even glance back.

  "They'll only come after us later, maybe even with reinforcements!"

  Garon growled as she disappeared, and quickly blocked a powerful strike from a wildly grinning man. "Anthis, go after her!"

  The historian delivered his opponent a final brutal slash across the face before obeying. Eyila seized the opportunity to dive back in to the remaining skirmish, and Rathen restrained Aria who seemed to have roused from fear into foolishness now that the numbers had thinned, and declared with wooden sword in hand that she had to help. There were tears in her eyes, and Rathen was suddenly struck with the imagined memory of his own father's death at her feet.

  Petra had already forced them to a stop when Anthis caught up with her; one marauder lay still on the ground, entangled in bolas beside a fallen tree, his head at an awkward angle from his body, while another was rising quickly to his feet after having tripped over his fallen comrade. But the third, a woman, had turned and pinned her beneath an assault of strikes far too quick and precise from her short sword.

  Anthis rushed forwards to prevent the rising man from outnumbering her, but he didn't bare his back, and whirled on him instead with daggers of his own. Anthis didn't retreat. He grinned like a beast and allowed the bloodlust that promised a satisfying offering to Vokaad to take over. Theirs was not a quick fight, and with each jump his opponent made for distance, Anthis threw a look back towards Petra.

  She and her adversary had appeared frightfully well-matched at first, but after a minute or so, Petra's face had become twisted by concentration and her movements were growing slower. Her clothes and skin were nicked, small red stains soaked into her blouse, and she was shifting further onto the defensive; she blocked and parried, but her ripostes were fewer, and she began falling for feints. She was rewarded for one with a solid kick to her gut, and dropped to the ground and through another patch of overgrowth only a few feet deep.

  Despite having downed and weakened her, the bandit did not turn her attention onto Anthis. She stepped back and gave Petra the room to rise, swinging her sword about insolently. When Petra managed to pull herself back out, the woman dove right back upon her, twisting her blade to strike with the hilt instead. She struck a combination to her side, hip and ribs so quickly she almost crumpled on the spot.

  Anthis's anger erupted in a bellow, and with a single, calculated thrust, he shut down his own struggling opponent. But as he turned to kick aside Petra's would-be killer, he saw something suddenly glint in the duelist's hazel eyes. In an instant, all fatigue evaporated.

  Faster than he thought possible, her sword swung around, her grip tightened, she pushed off of her back foot and her steel flashed clean into the woman's shoulder. The short sword dropped from a limp hand. Before it could hit the ground, Petra snatched her own blade free and drove it swiftly and precisely through her chest.

  Silence hung for a long moment until a startled gasp confirmed Petra's victory. Curtly, she withdrew her sword, and the bandit dropped to her knees, collapsing as the life finally left her.

  Anthis looked quickly back up at her and watched a mild and honest weariness descend. He turned and knelt beside his own rousing victim. "A trick?" He asked as he retrieved the ornate knife from beneath his shirt.

  "She was too quick for me," she replied with a steadying breath, and turned away herself to look back up the path while the bandit behind her began to whimper. The others' fight also seemed to be coming to an end. "It's worked for me before." She steeled at the elated sigh.

  "Clever," he replied in a weakened voice, "but you could have been killed."

  "I knew what I was doing."

  When the others rushed around the corner a moment later, Garon was far less understanding.

  Chapter 55

  What chill the forest's wild magic had restrained seemed to strike in full force at the first brush of moonlight. The group had ridden as hard as the terrain would allow them to, and were finally just about satisfied that the bandits' camp, the mine and any lingering marauders were far enough behind them to stop safely for the night. Finding a suitable spot, however, was proving another challenge.

  But, while sleep tugged at the others as the horses trudged just as wearily through the snow, Aria, shivering beneath her blankets, continued to scribble ardently into a notebook. Finally, she looked up and broke the silence with chattering teeth. "H-how do you spell 's-sahrot'?"

  "S-A-H-R-O-T."

  "'T'?"

  "It's silent." Rathen frowned down at her as she huddled back over the pages. "What are you doing?"

  "I'm writing a diary."

  "A diary? Why?"

  "Bec-cause if no one else is going t-to write about our adv-venture, I will."

  "Whatever for?"

  "Bec-cause I think it's v-very important." She looked up and around in the saddle, then, and fixed her father with a thoughtful pout. "You were h-happy in the Order, w-weren't y-you?"

  He looked back in surprise as he pulled her small, shaking form closer against himself. "Happy?"

  "Some k-kind of happy, yes. Those p-people showed you a l-lot of respect."

  He grunted and looked forwards again. His expression darkened while the others turned careful glances his way. "Yes. Strange."

  "Why d-did-d they?"

  "You heard what Caiden said. That's all."

  "No, your father earned it well beyond chasing off Qenra."

  The look he fired Garon was acidic enough to melt his skin, but it didn't seem to discourage him.

  "He co-ordinated on battlefields, led cri
tical attacks, and both located and countered extremely violent spells. But the most notable--"

  "Enough, Garon."

  "No, Rathen," he replied shortly, "given everything ahead of us, I think she needs to hear it. In fact, I'm rather surprised she doesn't know already." The ease with which he broke the mage's iron stare left Rathen slightly stunned, and he looked instead towards Aria, attempting to soften the severity in his own eyes. "Fourteen years ago, we were in the middle of another war with Skilan. They were trying to cross our borders, but we'd blocked off every route south of the Pavise Mountains. They continued to try to break through, and we continued to hold them off, but losses eventually forced their general to turn his eye to the north, to enter through Kalokh instead. The widest pass in the northern mountains was too narrow for a full army, so he sent men in smaller groups to try to sneak by and trickle into Turunda instead, but with orders to avoid the most obvious pass. We kept eyes on it all the same, but spread ourselves over the others while the main body continued fighting them off at the south. But the Arana's eyes were deceived."

  "Salus was d-d-deceived, you mean?"

  "No, Salus wasn't in power yet; it was his predecessor. A single Skee mage managed to sneak along that widest pass the others had been ordered away from, toppled the largest watch post and its ranks, and Skilan quickly and quietly overran it to control the whole pass, keeping just a few bodies to maintain it and avoid drawing attention - no platoons, no banners, no carousing. It was to appear as business as usual. They would have had no problem moving troops through that funnel and out into the country, they'd have become much harder to track or stop. But they made one mistake: they thought they'd left no one alive and that their small victory had gone unnoticed, but one Aranan watcher remained to report the matter.

  "It would take time to move so many through, so we had the opportunity to stop them - but, to keep the element of surprise, the matter was kept a secret and the military remained engaged at the south. Only a small number were sent to remedy it. That included your father, as Sahrot.

  "The Arana had sent triple the number of agents this time to ensure the information they gathered was correct, and under their intel, his orders along with those of the military captains beside him were to retake the site, with a secondary goal of discovering what they were planning and compensating for the blindness.

  "They remained hidden for as long as they could while the mages probed for and countered spells, and the soldiers prepared to pour in through a known weakness maintained for just this kind of occasion. The Skee mage hadn't used it, so it was a safe assumption that they were unaware of it."

  "And they weren't?"

  "No, they were. They were then to attack, capture what few maintained it and preserve the location. But, though the agents' intel was correct, there was one single detail which had been very carefully hidden: one of the few Skee mages present was Ake Sjorend - a hero of his people and renowned across borders for being quick, clever and extremely powerful. He far outranked your father. The pass was vital to Skilan's success, so they'd sent him to reinforce it. A prudent move we should have expected. While Rathen's mages removed the wards Skilan's had set in place, Sjorend had laid one more right beneath them. It was missed, and the soldiers ran right into it. They were frozen in place, their critical first charge was compromised, and the enemy had been alerted to their presence and moved in to defend.

  "It was Rathen who detected that hidden ward, though a moment too late; the other spells had just been countered and the soldiers had moved immediately. Only a handful were caught, but they blocked the way for the others. Rathen was the only mage strong enough to counter the spell, so it was left down to him while the others felt out for Sjorend and the soldiers formed up to attack. The only advantage they had at this point was that, though the triggered spell had told the enemy where they were, the Skees still didn't know about the weakness in the lower wall, nor how to get there quickly, so they were able to spill in and salvage some of the surprise. Mages on both sides attacked and defended while trying to give their soldiers the advantage, and the soldiers themselves clashed and fought to force Skilan into a position of surrender.

  "Sjorend soon saw his own advantage start to slip and began breaking the place apart. Skilan only needed to blind Turunda to the pass, so destroying the watch post would serve that purpose, as well as keeping any intel from leaking out. Rathen remained the only one remotely capable of standing against him, and so he fought to counter-spell, keep the place together, prevent others from being crushed in the collapse and stop Sjorend from escaping."

  Aria's eyes glowed up in awe at her father, who stared forwards with retiring indifference, deaf to the story as he watched the route unfold through the snow-laden trees ahead of them.

  "And he managed it," Petra picked up before Garon could continue. "He kept the place up, saved the lives of soldiers and mages, and distracted Sjorend with a feign attack to take him out at his own cost. As I understand it, he cast a fire spell, but adjusted it just before release so that it exploded just in front of himself rather than at Sjorend. He leapt through it and captured him while he was preoccupied with trying to cast a redundant counter-spell."

  "He leapt through the fire?" Aria asked in a wonder usually reserved for characters in her books, and turned her awe back upon him. "Didn't it hurt?"

  "He was burned," Garon replied, nodding, "but the exposure was brief. He bound him and those that tried to free him, rallied his own forces, and with one final push, they retook the northern pass with only three losses on his side."

  "Three too many," Rathen said bitterly.

  "Sahrot Koraaz..." Anthis shook his head while Eyila stared at him from beneath a growing cloud of intimidation. "I didn't realise...that was you..."

  "It doesn't mean anything. Not any more."

  "It doesn't mean anything? Daddy, you ended the war!"

  "I didn't."

  "No, but he confounded the opposition enough that they ended up losing very quickly afterwards."

  Rathen grunted irritably. They rode on in a silence torn between astonishment and oppression that made his skin crawl. Fortunately, the aching dirge of a kvistdjur soon snatched away their attention, and their focus remained fixed to their surroundings until they finally happened upon a patch of sheltered ground just level enough and bare enough to sleep upon.

  "We're near a ruin," Anthis declared as they pegged their tents to the frozen ground and Eyila silently started a fire. "Quite a significant one, actu--"

  "We're not going near it," Rathen replied absolutely, sorting some food and ignoring the young man's frustrated bluster. "I can't do anything about the magic, so it's best just to leave it."

  "But it's a site known for creationism--" He stopped short at the mage's warning look and almost visibly paled. "Okay, sorry, you're right."

  Rathen turned away and collected the pickings of meagre vegetables and bread, suppressing his disappointment at the young man's intimidation. It was far from unusual, but streaked now by something wholly irrelevant that propelled him back into his hounded days at the Order. 'You were happy in the Order' - had Aria actually come with them, or had he taken along some other curly-headed, round-faced little girl by mistake? She could be perceptive at times, but at others, she could be downright ridiculous.

  Anthis hurried over to Petra as she adjusted her sword and turned to head out on a sorely-needed patrol. She looked at him curiously while he watched Rathen with slightly unsettled eyes as he began to prepare a stew, and shook her head to herself. "He hasn't changed from yesterday, you know."

  "No, well, he was formidable then, too." He dragged himself away and turned almost accusingly towards her. "How did you know about Rathen's past?"

  "I eventually placed his name and asked Garon about it. And my sister is a soldier, remember."

  "Oh, of course... I'm sorry you didn't get to see her."

  "Yeah..." She smiled meekly, her hand rising absently to the chain about her neck. "I s
uppose I should have expected--" Her eyes flashed suddenly wide, sending a jolt of panic through Anthis's bones. "Where's...?"

  "What? What is it?"

  "My locket - it's gone!"

  "Gone?" He frowned, glancing over her neck for himself. "How could it be gone?"

  "I don't know, I didn't--" Realisation dulled the wildness of her eyes and stilled her frantic hands. "Earlier - the fight. It could have broken off..." She spun around and the two stared back along their darkened path. Her shoulders slumped beneath the force of her exhalation. "It's gone, then..."

  "No, no, we can find it--"

  "Anthis, it's dark, and it would take hours even if that thicket was right around the corner!"

  But he'd already turned away, and within minutes the whole camp was up and searching the area, inside bags, her horse's mane and tack, and retracing their steps along the path. No one complained that it was a waste of time, not even Garon, which Rathen found curious, and before long, Anthis spotted something glinting in the snow beneath the small and rickety bridge they'd crossed just half an hour before.

  Skidding down into the creek, he lifted the small silver chain from the snow, complete with the circular Craitic talisman and unadorned oval. Aside from the unlikeliness of it belonging to anyone else, he'd seen her fiddle with it often enough to recognise it. It had probably come loose during the fight after all, but hadn't slipped off until they'd dismounted to reduce the strain on the bridge.

  He turned and hurried immediately back towards camp, slowing to catch his breath only when he heard Petra approaching. He opened his palm as an after-thought to check for damage, and realised then that the locked was slightly ajar. His heart shuddered at the thought of returning water-stained pictures, and flicked it open to check - though he was unsure what he could do if they were. Fortunately, he needn't discover a solution.

  He moved on slowly, lingering for a moment on the image of her sister. The resemblance was uncanny - and she looked far too kind to be a soldier. But Petra, too, when she laughed or smiled, was free of a fighter's edge.