by Tracy Falbe
~
In his heart, Shan knew that Onja had summoned the Tatatook for some grim errand, but he dare not waste time using his magic to see what mischief she created. He hoped to return to the Keep in time to interrupt whatever Onja was doing.
At the gates of the Keep waited a squad of Jingten soldiers.
“What is this?” Shan demanded impatiently.
Taf Ila, who was Captain of the Jingten Guard, stepped forward and answered, “By order of the Queen, that human is banished and to depart immediately.” He pointed at Dreibrand dramatically.
“Let us through. This man has the right to collect his belongings,” Shan insisted.
“The Queen commanded me to execute this order immediately. What he has in the Keep is now forsaken,” Taf Ila said.
Shan’s temper ran out. It was not his habit to bicker with Keep guards. “This man is my guest, under my protection. Stop him from entering and you stop me. If Onja wants her order enforced, let her do it herself,” he said imperiously.
The Captain considered Shan’s words. The power and skill of Shan were no secret, and no rys, except for Onja, dared hinder his activities. Indecisively, Taf Ila glanced at Dreibrand, torn between his Queen’s orders and the knowledge that Shan could easily prevent all of them from doing their duty.
“What is happening?” demanded Dreibrand, who anxiously wanted to know what the rys were arguing about.
“They don’t want to let you in,” Shan answered hastily. “Stay close, my friend.”
He had grown tired of the dispute and it was time to remind his fellow rys that he was not to be defied. Raising a hand, Shan cast a spell with the force of his mind. The iron bird gates of the Keep banged open and Shan’s magic shook the squad of soldiers like the rising wind of a storm through dry leaves.
Taf Ila glowered at Shan, but he stepped aside. This submission to Shan’s will impressed Dreibrand, who hurried inside.
“I have to go to Miranda,” Dreibrand said urgently.
“Yes, but we have to stay together. Onja has ordered you banished, and I fear she might order you killed next,” Shan explained.
“Why am I banished? What about Miranda?” Dreibrand said.
“I do not know,” Shan muttered as his eyes roved the Keep. Inside he could not find everything he wanted to find.
They jumped off their horses near the stable, and Shan yelled for the horses that belonged to the humans to be saddled. The stablemaster hurried to comply.
Desperate with worry, Dreibrand dashed into the Keep. He did not really know his way in the huge structure, and he hollered for Shan to tell him the way. The rys ran to catch up to his friend, giving as many warnings as directions.
Twice guards opposed Dreibrand, but they would fall back as soon as Shan caught up. Dreibrand found the hall where Miranda’s suite was, and it disturbed him that guards were no longer present. He reached the door, and finding that it was locked, he pounded on it with his fist and shouted for Miranda.
“Stay away from the door!” Shan warned from down the hall, but Dreibrand did not react in time.
The door was jerked open from inside by a rys soldier who leveled a spear at Dreibrand’s chest. He dodged the spear as it sailed through the door and clanged against the opposite wall. Dreibrand drew his sword, but Shan had reached him and grabbed his arm. The rys pulled him back and tried to get Dreibrand to stand behind him.
More soldiers poured into the hall, and they were followed by Queen Onja. The suite door slammed behind her.
“Engage them and you will die,” Shan hissed, and finally stepped in front of the human.
Dreibrand had no desire to hide behind Shan, and he yelled to Onja, “Where is Miranda?”
“She does not want to see you. Leave now or die,” Onja replied in Miranda’s language.
On the other side of the wall Shan could sense the human children, but Miranda was not there.
“Let the children go, Onja,” Shan said. “They do not belong to you.”
“All humans belong to me!” Onja snapped.
“Then where have you put Miranda?” Shan asked.
His bold questions angered the Queen. “Forget her. And forget him,” she said, turning a blazing gaze on Dreibrand.
Blue light consumed the Queen’s eyes, and Dreibrand felt her power sizzle across his skin. A flash filled the corridor, and he staggered back shielding his eyes. His skin tingled, and he smelled the distinct odor of singed hair. When his vision cleared, he saw that Shan was still in front of him, separated from Onja by a wall of blue light. Through the pulsing blue light, Dreibrand could see Onja’s face, which was twisted with strain and rage.
After a final snarl Onja relented her attack and Shan gasped with relief. The fierce swirling energy disappeared between them, but Onja’s eyes still glowed with her magic power.
“If his life means so much to you, then banish yourself with him,” Onja hissed.
Blue fire filled Shan’s eyes as well, and he burned with desire to fight his enemy. He and Onja had not sparred so flagrantly since his first challenge, and it excited him to block her magic. Over the past four centuries Onja had sensed his maturing powers, but until that moment she had not realized how strong he had become, and it had startled her. Shan watched the seed of fear germinate inside her, and it gratified him, but he cautioned himself not to gain too much confidence from the success. The spell had not been meant for him.
I am a fool to try now. My magic has a better use at this time, he thought.
“I will leave,” Shan announced.
“Leave at once. Or you will spend a century in stone with birds shitting on your head!” Onja threatened.
Shan’s nostrils flared, hinting at the hate he restrained. He wanted to hurl insults at her, but now was not the time to toy with her. Turning to Dreibrand, Shan put a restraining hand on the man’s chest.
“We must retreat to my tower,” Shan whispered.
“What is going on?” Dreibrand growled.
“Onja just tried to kill you. We must go. Trust me,” Shan begged, pushing him down the hall.
“Go live with your human friends, Shan. Die in shame at the foot of the Rysamand,” Onja yelled.
Although Dreibrand could not understand the words, the wrath of the Queen of Jingten made him shudder. He feared her power, but he could not just leave as Shan wanted.
“I must have Miranda and the children,” he protested.
“You must have your life,” Shan countered and dragged him farther down the hall.
Dreibrand looked at the Queen and believed his life was in danger. Reluctantly he yielded to Shan’s will, but he loathed his lack of control.
When they reached Shan’s tower, the rys bolted the main entrance then leaned against the doors. Dreibrand watched him wipe perspiration from his forehead and realized even Shan could be intimidated.
But Shan composed himself quickly and stepped away from the doors.
“What is happening?” Dreibrand demanded again. “Did you challenge her and fail?”
“I did not challenge her in the sense that we discussed earlier, but I did save your life. Her attack spell was meant to kill you. I had to get you out of there,” Shan explained.
“But we have to get to Miranda,” Dreibrand said.
“She is not there!” Shan cried. “That is why we had to retreat. I could not waste time fighting with Onja when I have a chance to find Miranda.”
“Find her! Where is she?” Dreibrand exclaimed.
“The Tatatook probably took her somewhere. I must meditate to find her,” Shan said.
“And the children?” Dreibrand asked.
“They are in the suite. They are unhurt,” Shan replied. “Trust me Dreibrand, and do not leave this tower without me. I should be able to find her quickly. Just hope that it is quick enough and that she is still alive.”
“Alive?” Dreibrand choked, thinking of the flying monster hurting Miranda.
Such thoughts
devastated him, and dark rage boiled inside him, urging him to rush through the Keep killing wantonly until he reached Onja. Luckily his anger stopped short of suicide. Such a rampage would be a useless folly. One sho dart and he would be defeated.
Shan rushed upstairs to a private chamber, and he sat down cross-legged in the center of the room. Dreibrand followed but stayed back to watch from a distance. Shan seemed already to be in a trance, and blue light filled his eyes.
In his mind, Shan remembered Miranda. He remembered her face and he remembered the individual force of her soul. Seeking her energy, he released his mind over the land. The features of the Jingten Valley passed beneath his inner vision as if he flew in the sky like the Tatatook. He scanned the woodlands and streams, looking up and down the mountains.
Shan looked once and then twice, finally becoming desperate. He did not sense Miranda, which meant she could be dead. It could take him quite a long time to find a cold dead body.
Then his mind was drawn to a mountain. He could see the powdery snow blowing from the frozen peak where summer could never reach. Shan recognized the disdainful profile of Mount L’cha. It was the view from the Galnuvet Glacier.
A dim lifeforce abandoned on the glacier beckoned his mind. Focusing his perception, Shan looked down on the frozen giant that carved valleys out of mountains and found Miranda. She was sprawled among jutting chunks of ice. Shan gently lowered his mind over her body and rejoiced in the beating of her heart. But her eyes were closed and she was unmoving, and Shan knew that she only lingered in this world.
With less that prudent haste, Shan recalled his mind to his body. Disregarding the strain on his system, he sprang to his feet. Dreibrand stopped his crazy pacing, expecting an answer from the rys. Shan looked beyond his friend and out a window. The lowering sun reflected redly on the snowy mountains, reminding Shan of Miranda’s bloody face.
He informed Dreibrand that Miranda lived but had been thrown onto a glacier to perish. Rushing to another room, Shan rummaged in a chest and began tossing out his mountain climbing gear.
“Here, take these,” he told Dreibrand.
Shan handed him a large coil of rope that he draped across his shoulder. Most of the other gear was unfamiliar to Dreibrand as Shan gave him ice axes and hammers and hooks and spiked gear to strap onto his boots.
“You will need all of this to climb the glacier and save her. Now we must hurry. I will talk more on the road,” Shan explained.
“But I cannot leave Elendra and Esseldan,” Dreibrand declared.
Painfully aware of Miranda’s suffering, Shan looked hard at Dreibrand. “Dreibrand, you must choose. If we stay here and fight for the children, you might die, but Miranda will surely die. The children do not appear to be in any danger, but Miranda is dying. We must go help her right now. If you must have the children now, then I will help you fight for them, but in that time Miranda will die.”
Dreibrand struggled with the dilemma. He did not want to leave the children, but he owed Miranda his life. In the end he only had one decision within him.
“I must go to her,” he said.
Shan set a friendly hand on Dreibrand’s shoulder. “I am sorry this happened. I did not know she was in such immediate danger, or I would not have left the city.”
Dreibrand appreciated the apology because part of him wanted to blame Shan for what was happening.
“Quickly now,” Shan instructed and they left the tower.
When they rode out of the Keep, Shan turned his horse to face the ancient fortress.
Shaking his fist, Shan cried, “A new age and a new king are coming to Jingten, Onja! Enjoy your last days, rotten queen.”
The nearby rys who heard his words stared at Shan with shock. Very little revolutionary spirit stirred in anyone’s heart. Shan had failed before when he challenged the Queen, and most citizens of Jingten wondered why he wasted his powers on such hopeless ideas.
High inside the Keep, Queen Onja heard his words echo through her mind but she disregarded them. She had banished him and if he dared to come back, she would destroy him.
She petted Elendra’s black hair as the girl cried in her lap. The news of Miranda’s abandonment had devastated the little girl, who now found comfort in the bosom of her Queen.
A well maintained road ran west from Jingten and Shan and Dreibrand galloped down it. Jingten disappeared behind them and the night gathered over the Rysamand.
Shan halted.
“Why do you stop?” Dreibrand asked, his voice anxious.
Shan answered, “Dreibrand, you must go on without me. I have to cast a spell of heat over Miranda or she will freeze in the night.”
This was too much for Dreibrand. He barely had a grasp of the day’s events and now Shan seemed to be ditching him.
“Now you just want me to leave?” he shouted. “I don’t even know where to go. You trick me, Shan. You have tricked me all day. You lured me out of Jingten so Onja could hurt Miranda.”
“I would have no need to lure you anywhere. If I am against you, why did I let you out of the dungeon?” Shan countered calmly. He understood that Dreibrand had to be bewildered by Jingten and especially Onja’s random cruelty.
Dreibrand did not respond and he felt some regret for accusing Shan of such duplicity. The Queen’s power was fresh in his mind, and Dreibrand admitted that Shan was right. Onja would have no need to lure him away with some elaborate trick.
“Listen to me, Dreibrand. The time you spend doubting me adds to Miranda’s suffering. I cannot cast this spell while I ride. It must be precise. I do not want to melt the ice around her and make her wet, and I do not want to burn her. But I can keep her warm through the night, if I sit and meditate. You must go on ahead to save time. It is a long ride, and I want you ready to rescue her in the morning,” Shan said. The rys dismounted and started packing the climbing gear onto his horse. He laid a hand on the white horse’s head and concentrated a moment. The horse stomped its hoof as if confirming the receipt of message.
“Take my horse and it will guide you to this year’s best spot to mount the glacier. Pick a place on the ice wall that gets the least sunlight so the ice will be strong. Strap the crampons on your boots and use the pick axes to climb,” Shan explained.
“But you are the climber,” Dreibrand interrupted with dismay. “I need your help.”
“You can do it,” Shan encouraged instantly. “You only need to be strong and careful. You will learn at the bottom and know at the top.”
Dreibrand wanted to say that he did not know how to climb a glacier, especially if it was the behemoth of ice he had seen from across the valley that afternoon. But he had to try. Miranda could have kept running from the fenthakrabi and left him to die, but she had taken the perilous moment to cut him free.
Shan continued, “Oh! Cut a couple saplings before you start. When you get on top, use them to probe the glacier surface for weaknesses and hold them under your armpits the rest of the time. If you break through a hidden crevasse, they might catch your fall. Once you are up there, use your warding crystal to find her. I will use it to guide you.”
Dreibrand took in the flurry of information, trying to process it. Determined not to fail, he swung onto Shan’s horse, and the climbing gear jingled as he landed in the saddle.
“With the first light of dawn get started and I will catch up with you tomorrow,” Shan said.
“I am going to climb as soon as I get there, light or no,” Dreibrand declared.
“No,” Shan cried. “The night is our enemy. Do not go up there in the dark. This is a treacherous time of year to be on the ice. Without light you will step into a crevasse for certain. You will understand when you see. Now go. I promise I will keep Miranda from freezing, but you must get to her.”
Dreibrand nodded.
“Good luck,” Shan said sincerely.
Given a free rein, the white horse sped away bearing Dreibrand toward the icebound heights. He did not understand why he trusted
Shan. Maybe he was so hopelessly lost that he had no choice but to do as Shan said. His chest tightened with sorrow thinking of Miranda alone in the freezing dark. If the rys did keep Miranda alive and guided him to her, Dreibrand would no longer doubt Shan’s magic or his good character.
17 ~ Blood on the Ice ~
Shan is a good friend and I am fortunate for that. But I know he visits me so much because he cannot bear to be in Jingten and not be the king—Chendoaser, Nuram ruler, year 1850 of the Age of Onja.
The ice axe sank into the glacier and Dreibrand tested his weight on it. The grass and trees of the Jingten Valley were far below him as he toiled in the land of gravel, mountains, and ice. Jagged cliffs loomed to his left, shading a fringe of the ice sheet he scaled. Even so, the softer days of summer had weakened the ice’s outer shell, and every swing of the axe had to bite deep to bear his weight.
The morning light had revealed to Dreibrand the high craggy face of the ice sheet that sprawled between mountains like a half asleep dragon. The glacier emanated an elemental presence, resenting the frigid plateau that trapped it so far from the living sea.
After climbing halfway up, Dreibrand gained some confidence. His muscles strained and shook from the exertion, but he was capable of the task. He had to be certain of the grip of his equipment each time before committing his weight, and the boulders and gravel heaped below motivated him not to fail.
Reluctantly heeding Shan’s advice, he had waited below for the night to end, tormented by the knowledge that Miranda was trapped above. In his anguish, he had even called to her, hoping to hear her reply from the darkness. But only the pitiless whine of the wind on ice and stone had answered him.
At last he could take action, and his rage and frustration translated into strength as he hauled himself on top of the Galnuvet Glacier. The clear morning sun reflected a million ways on the dazzling glacier, making tears start from his squinting eyes.
As Shan had instructed, Dreibrand had brought two sapling poles and placed them under his arms. Next he removed his warding crystal and examined its light to get a bearing. The magic orb indicated he search in the center of the ice field and this tangible sign that Shan led him gave him hope.
The crampons strapped to his boots aided him tremendously on the ice, but Dreibrand often needed one of the poles to keep his balance in the rough areas. It did not take long for him to discover the perils of the glacier. He heard a frightening crack beneath his forward foot and quickly jumped back, just in time to watch a chunk of ice drop into a hidden channel of rushing water. The water tunneled below the surface, and to get caught in it meant certain death.
Dreibrand continued, begrudging the slowness demanded by increased caution. The sun climbed toward its zenith, and he saw nothing in the glaring whiteness. The glacier became rougher and broken with great slabs of ice jutting upward at conflicting angles. Increasingly he saw places where the torn ice plunged into deep crevasses. These cold hungry traps he gave a wide berth. In this treacherous broken place he checked his crystal, and the blue light flared, sending waves of excitement through his body. He called to Miranda but no reply came.
Dreibrand scrambled up and down slabs of ice, searching on every side, but trying not to be reckless in his urgency. Finally, after he had despaired that Shan had sent him to a foolish death as some inhuman rys joke, he saw her motionless body lying past the next slab of ice. A streak of blood painted the slope of the ice toward her body, as if she had struck the slab and slid down to the bottom.
Dreibrand jumped down beside Miranda and gathered her in his arms. Blood had dried around her mouth and nose and it was caked in her hair along a cut on her scalp. Unable to contemplate the possible results, Dreibrand put his fingers to her neck. He could feel his own heart beating wildly as he waited for a sign of life. After what seemed like a hopeless eternity, a weak pulse revealed itself.
Shaking with gratitude, Dreibrand examined her injuries. She did not appear to have any frostbite. Apparently, Shan’s magic had protected her through the night. He discovered that her right arm was broken and the cut on her head had bled heavily before clotting. Although she lived, Dreibrand knew she was in serious trouble.
He could not rouse her from her unconscious state.
“Miranda, don’t die,” he begged, hugging her close. “Don’t die.”
Steadying his emotions, Dreibrand temporarily removed the coil of rope so he could take off his wolf hide. Tenderly he wrapped Miranda in the protective black fur and lifted her over his shoulder. He replaced the rope over his other shoulder and tucked the saplings under the same armpit. With the added weight, he had to use his ice axes to haul himself over jutting ridges of ice.
Miranda moaned faintly and he rejoiced that she made a sound.
“You are going to make it, Miranda. I am here now, and we are getting you to safety. Everything is all right.” He continued to babble comforting words as he clambered across the glacier, hoping she could hear him and find strength.
Adrenaline and determination kept him strong under his burden as he carried Miranda across the rough ice. The extra weight demanded additional caution on the summer weakened surface. Dreibrand tested every step twice as he plodded toward the edge.
Despite his care, he broke through into a hidden crevasse anyway. The crust of ice and snow bore his weight deceptively before he crashed through into nothingness. The saplings slammed into his armpit painfully, and he cried out in terror and pain, but the poles stopped his descent. Miranda’s body also helped to stop the fall by wedging him into the crack in the glacier.
The emptiness below was a terrible sensation, and Dreibrand struggled to grip the sides of the crevasse with his spiked feet. After getting himself somewhat stabilized, he eased Miranda off his shoulder and laid her back on the solid ice so that only her legs remained in the gap. He grasped an ice axe that was dangling from his wrist by its strap while the saplings sagged with failing reliability. Trying not to disturb his precarious support, he gave the axe a long swing and sank it into the ice as far as he could extend his arm. Holding tight to Miranda, he hoisted them out of the crevasse.
He panted against the cold blue ice that felt so good and solid beneath him. Although the saplings were almost broken, he kept them anyway and blessed Shan for the good advice. Dreibrand did not look back into the crevasse.
Finally he reached the edge of the glacier and immediately started pounding screws to secure the rope without pausing to rest. Shan’s equipment was marvelous and a lot of research had obviously gone into the construction of the gear. The ice screws had sturdy rings to put the rope through, and Dreibrand regretted that they would have to be left behind.
He decided to lower Miranda first instead of risking their combined weight against the rope stakes. The rope was long enough for him to lower her and have enough left for himself. Dreibrand took great care while devising a harness around her body. He did not want to hurt her, but the harness had to stay in place. When he was satisfied that the harness would not slip or strangle her, he set a hand on her cheek and told her to stay strong.
Gathering his courage he planted his feet firmly and eased her over the edge. Her head lolled and the constant wind tugged at her hair. Dreibrand focused on her battered face framed by the warm green valley beyond the glacial waste. The rope had been threaded through two rings, and Dreibrand had decent control as he lowered her down the wall of ice. His overworked muscles screamed painfully for the oxygen rationed by the thin air, but he commanded his body to function.
Miranda arrived at the bottom with remarkably few bangs and bumps, and Dreibrand was proud as he set her carefully on the gravel. So far below she looked small and lifeless, which made him anxious to get down to her.
Shaking out his strained arms, Dreibrand took a few invigorating breaths before rapelling the glacial cliff. In the middle of a drop, a screw pulled out and the sudden slack sent him briefly out of control, and he slammed into the ice. The ringed screw slid dow
n the rope to dangle before his eyes and deliver the message to panic. Very quickly, he continued, repelling recklessly. He was very close to the bottom and feeling better when the other screw gave way. As he flew backward away from the ice wall, he had a crazy view of the rope falling lazily toward him.
His back struck the gravel hill at the base of the glacier, and Dreibrand skidded down the slope. With his wind knocked out, Dreibrand rolled to a stop and did not move for a long minute. Eventually he drew a ragged breath, which was followed by several masochistic gasps to renew his lungs. Then he moved his limbs, and was rather surprised to find them responsive.
Trying to ignore his own pain, he lurched upright and dragged himself over to Miranda. He untied the rope from her body. Miranda groaned weakly and he hoped it was a sign that she would regain consciousness soon.
“I got you away from the glacier,” he whispered.
A great cracking sound interrupted his encouraging report. It was like a thousand trees about to fall, and the horrendous crack made his throbbing spine tingle. Instinct immediately informed Dreibrand to flee. Grabbing Miranda, he ran as a huge section of the glacier slipped down to crash on the ground. Ice and snow smacked his back as he escaped the crushing flow of the great calving.
Once Dreibrand was clear of the danger, he collapsed with Miranda in his arms. He looked back at the grumbling ice and felt warned not to come back.
Shan’s horse approached them, picking its way across the coarse rubble and snow banks above the alpine meadows. Dreibrand draped Miranda over the saddle and set out for the lower and friendlier land.
Upon returning to the fragrant pine forests, where bees buzzed in the sunny flowered places, Dreibrand built a fire. A blanket and shaggy fleece had been packed on Shan’s horse, and Dreibrand used these to wrap Miranda. Placing her close to the fire, he began to clean the blood from her face and hair, remembering fondly how she had once helped him.
Dreibrand assumed Shan would simply find their camp. He decided to wait for the rys before setting Miranda’s arm. After battles Dreibrand had often aided his wounded men, but confronted now with straightening Miranda’s arm, he felt nervous about his amateur skill.
She deserves the best, he thought.
Late in the day, Shan arrived riding Starfield and leading Freedom.
“You are an ice climber after all,” Shan said cheerfully.
Dreibrand rose wearily, almost too battered to stand, and greeted his friend, but his mood was not light. “Shan, Miranda is not doing well. I cannot wake her.”
Kneeling next to Miranda, Shan laid a gentle hand on her bruised head. His awareness traveled inside her body and he saw her injuries. He saw the shadow of torture that Onja had inflicted on the woman’s flesh and he shivered.
“There is much hope,” he determined, but the neutral statement only increased Dreibrand’s worry.
“Her arm is broken,” Dreibrand said.
“I know. I will set it while she is still unconscious to spare her the pain,” Shan said.
“Do you know how to do such things? Or can we take her to a healer?” Dreibrand asked.
“I am competent to set a bone. My magic allows me to see that it is set just right,” Shan replied.
They prepared a split and bandages. Dreibrand held Miranda in case the pain made her thrash about even in an unconscious state. Shan held her arm tentatively then abruptly snapped the bone back into alignment. A weak gasp escaped Miranda and she moved her head. The rys’s eyes began to glow, and he sent energy into her body, nourishing damaged flesh and soothing tortured nerves. Shan knew he could not completely undo the wicked torment Onja had imposed on Miranda, but he could help.
Dreibrand watched Shan treat Miranda with magic, but it did not alarm him. He knew the rys was not hurting her.
“She felt some pain when I set the arm. That is a pity, but it is also a good sign that she is responsive,” Shan announced when he released her from his power.
Next, they carefully bound her splint and bandaged her head.
Shan suggested, “You rest with her now. I will see to our dinner.”
Dreibrand did not dispute the idea and stretched out next to Miranda. The fire and covers had warmed her, but her face remained pale. Dreibrand hated to see her struggle for life after she had been so hot and vital in his arms just two nights ago.
“Stay with me, Miranda,” he whispered as his exhaustion overtook him.
Sometime later Dreibrand sat up with a start. Night had long since fallen, and the fire blazed happily on fresh fuel.
“Just me,” Shan said reassuringly. Two skinned rabbits roasted on a spit in front of him. “I warn you, I am not the best cook.”
Some fat sizzled in the fire and the aroma made Dreibrand realize he was ravenous.
“Not a problem,” he said, eyeing the dinner and wondering how much longer it needed to cook.
Taking his hungry eyes from the roasting rabbits, he checked on Miranda and was shocked to see her looking back at him.
“Miranda!” he cried, leaning over her. “Talk to me.”
Her cracked lips parted and she struggled briefly to find the breath to speak. Quietly in a confused voice, she said, “I am alive.”
“Yes,” Dreibrand laughed with joy. “You are alive.”
Wincing with pain, Miranda whispered, “I don’t feel good.”
Holding her good hand, Dreibrand explained, “You are hurt, but you are going to get better.”
Because she could not sit up, Dreibrand carefully poured a few drops of water from the canteen into her dry mouth. Her exposure had made her very thirsty and Dreibrand continued giving her water for some time.
When she was somewhat rehydrated, Miranda smiled to him weakly and commented, “I smell food.”
Dreibrand laughed again, filled with hope by her interest in eating. Although he took joy in her awakening, the bad news could not wait. With serious regret, he said, “I had to leave Elendra and Esseldan in Jingten. I had no choice. There was no time. I had to come to you. Miranda, I am so sorry…” He hung his head in shame.
With her good hand, Miranda touched his cheek soothingly. “I know,” she spoke painfully. “I fought. You would have only ended up like me. Onja stole my children and said I was her slave. I would not be her slave, and I paid the price. I thought I would die with my grief, but now I will live with it. Do not blame yourself, Dreibrand. Onja had control and we never had a chance.” Miranda coughed and added miserably, “Elendra wanted to stay in Jingten anyway.”
“Miranda, we will get them back,” Dreibrand promised.
“Yes,” she agreed but then a fit of coughing consumed her. In obvious pain, Miranda rolled over, shaken by her heaving lungs, and expectorated some blood. She lay back with a gurgling breath and shut her eyes. Dreibrand wiped the bloody drool from her lips.
Shyly, Shan moved closer and waited until Miranda opened her eyes again. When she saw him, her sad face brightened with a serene expression that washed away her pain.
“Shan,” she smiled.
“Yes, I am here,” he greeted.
“I saw you in the night,” Miranda whispered.
“I was there, watching over you. My magic let me keep you warm from far away. I wish I could have done more for you,” Shan said.
Miranda did not feel dissatisfied. The rys no longer seemed alien to her. Despite being unconscious, she remembered him vividly. He had been more real than a dream. Shan had been there with her, helping her live, in her time of greatest need.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“I apologize for the Queen of Jingten. She is a monster, and rys are not like her. When I can, I will try to set things right for you, Miranda,” Shan said.
“I know,” Miranda said. She would never doubt a word he said.
Later that night, Shan watched Dreibrand carefully feed Miranda bits of food. The tenderness between the humans intrigued Shan, and he was reminded of his loneliness.
Four
days passed before Miranda could stand. Her health was willing to return, but the absence of her children made her sullen. She did not blame Dreibrand, but she privately blamed herself. She would be in Jingten right now with her children, if she had been willing to be Onja’s slave. It hurt to recognize her selfishness.
She walked slowly around their camp, with Dreibrand at her elbow in case she fell.
Holding her broken arm, she said, “When can we go to Jingten?”
Dreibrand had no answer for her, and he turned to Shan who reclined on a large boulder and stared at the sky.
The rys sat up, and his eyes strayed in the direction of Jingten.
Then he stood to answer Miranda directly. “You want me to say that I will go right now and get your children?” he said.
“I will go with you,” Miranda stated.
Her lack of hesitation even after Onja’s torture impressed Shan, and he took her bravery as a lesson.
“Onja will not give your children back. I have already demanded that she do so, and she became hostile,” Shan explained.
“That is clear,” Miranda said.
“Shan,” Dreibrand interjected. “You have made clear your intention to challenge her. Then do it now.”
The bold suggestion startled Shan, but his shock turned to pleasure.
How refreshing this human from the east who has not been raised with the power of Jingten weighing on his mind, Shan thought. He wanted to accept Dreibrand’s suggestion. Even as he thought of the challenge, Shan yearned to be the King of Jingten. He should listen to Dreibrand. How long did he intend to wait before challenging Onja again? Another hundred years? It had already been over four hundred.
But Shan growled with frustration and shook his head. “It is not an easy thing,” he muttered.
“But on the mountain you said you wanted Onja’s throne,” Dreibrand urged.
“And that is true,” Shan agreed.
“Is it that you do not want to kill her and break your law?” Dreibrand asked.
Shan paused, trying to hide his inner turmoil. “It is not that. But…killing and killing Onja are two different things. To face Onja I must practice,” he said.
“Practice what?” Miranda asked.
“Killing,” Shan confessed. “I have great power, but I have never used it to kill—not human or rys.”
Miranda cast her eyes down sadly. It was horrible to think of Shan’s magic that had kept her alive with warmth and kindness being turned in harmful directions.
“How will you practice?” Dreibrand inquired quietly.
With a determined sigh, Shan said, “I will make war. As I have never done before, I will ride on the battlefield with my friend Taischek. And as my power grows, I will turn Onja’s subjects against her, and then I will make war on Jingten.”
“Why must you do this?” Miranda cried.
“Because when I challenged Onja the first time, I was inadequate. Onja is thousands of years older than me. She fought in the Great War with Nufal. She won the Great War. The magic of an entire race failed against her. I have not had such a life to forge my skills,” Shan explained.
“Then what makes you think you can win?” Dreibrand asked, thinking of his commitment to serve Shan.
“Because my power is waxing and hers is waning. Dreibrand, Miranda, you must believe me,” Shan insisted. He clenched his fists in frustration. He believed, but he needed them to believe.
Dreibrand and Miranda accepted the vague answer because Shan was their only hope of getting near the children.
“Shan, this is not right. Do not make this war,” Miranda protested.
The rys appreciated her concern for people she did not even know, but his strategy was the least part of his guilt. He should feel guiltier for taking so long to implement it. “Miranda, I have tried to avoid this ugly path but I cannot seem to undo Onja’s evil by doing right.”
“When will you bring the war to Jingten?” Dreibrand asked.
Shan would not commit to a time. “I have too many things to consider before I can say for sure, but I will start the process as soon as we head west,” he said.
“West? But my children,” Miranda moaned.
“You need shelter and rest. I will take you to stay with my friends,” Shan said.
Realizing her children would be left behind indefinitely, Miranda became upset, but in her weak state, she fell back against Dreibrand. Supporting her, he took her to her bedding and laid her down. One drop of blood seeped from a nostril, and Dreibrand gave her a rag to hold to her nose.
“You need a safe place to get better,” he gently explained.
Aware of her aching body, Miranda could not argue. Tears dripped down her cheeks.
Dreibrand saw her desolation. Desperate to comfort her, he said, “If I thought I had any chance, I would go to Jingten right now and take Elendra and Esseldan back. But I have seen Onja’s power. She almost killed me. We need to give Shan a chance to help us. You know he wants to.”
“You are right,” Miranda whispered and drifted into sleep.
The next day Dreibrand left to hunt. He was restless and wanted to sort his thoughts out in solitude.
Shan stayed in camp with Miranda, and occupied himself by knapping an arrowhead from a piece of stone. Each strike from his working stone dropped a precise flake from the arrowhead. Absorbed by his work, he constantly examined the new edge with his sensitive fingers. Shan was an obvious master of the ancient art and he finished a perfectly symmetrical arrowhead.
While Miranda had quietly watched him make the stone point, Shan knew she wanted to speak. Setting down his new arrowhead, he regarded her with encouraging dark eyes.
“Shan, as you saw me on the glacier, can you look at my children? Can you see if they are all right? If I knew how they were, maybe I could bear to leave them,” she said.
“Yes, and I can do more. I will show you,” Shan replied. He reached inside his suede jacket and removed a warding crystal.
The sight of the magic orb still made Miranda uneasy.
“Shan, what are those exactly?” she asked.
“Powerful rys can make warding crystals. Our magic can be focused through them, and they create a protective bubble of magic. The warding crystal prevented the Deamedron from killing you, but they can protect you from less evil things. Only the most powerful rys can cast a spell through a warding,” Shan said, holding one out to her. “You keep this one.”
Miranda frowned with hesitation, but Shan urged, “I made this one. It has none of Onja’s magic in it. Dreibrand has one.”
She took the smooth orb in her hand. Even though Shan said it was of his making, it contained the same blue light that had frightened her weeks before in the eyes of the wolf.
“Now hold the crystal in front of you. Get comfortable and close your eyes,” Shan instructed.
Miranda did so, but sometimes she would peek at Shan. The rys sat in front of her in unblinking meditation. Blue fire consumed his eyes, and Miranda was fairly certain he could not see her.
Shan’s awareness flew the familiar path to Jingten. The timeless blue stone city of the rys came into sight, and he briefly felt the sting of his exile. Looking upon the ancient capital of his race, Shan finally realized that the next time he entered the city he must become the King.
Swift as a swallow, his mind dropped into the Keep, seeking the human children. Onja had numerous wardings in place around her vast private apartments, but they had ceased to confound his mind long ago. The children were there, alive and safe. He focused the images into the crystal Miranda held in her hand.
She gasped when the images hit her mind, then relaxed. Suddenly, Miranda saw Elendra. Her daughter sat at a table with the female rys who served as her nanny. An open book lay in front of Elendra, and the nanny appeared to be teaching her from the book. Elendra’s hair was neatly combed and she wore nice clothing.
Seeing her daughter well treated relieved Miranda. The rys were even schooling her—an op
portunity Miranda had never dreamed any child of hers would receive.
The scene of Elendra with her nanny shifted, as Shan guided Miranda’s perception elsewhere. He showed her Esseldan napping peacefully in a crib. His round face had a healthy glow, and the boy did not cough or sniffle. Miranda missed her baby painfully, and it disturbed her that Esseldan had no human to hold him. She wished she could touch her children. They seemed so real and close.
Too soon for Miranda, the images began to fade. Opening her eyes, she reoriented herself.
“Was it real?” she finally gasped.
Shan nodded.
“I could watch them all day,” Miranda said.
“I wanted to let you watch longer, but Onja noticed me. We are still in the Jingten Valley, and she can attack us here. It is best that I not arouse her anger,” Shan said.
Reminded that Onja’s power kept her from her children, Miranda collapsed against Shan’s chest and started sobbing. She had been hiding her grief from Dreibrand because she knew he blamed himself, but she had to release her feelings somehow.
An emotional woman in his arms perplexed Shan. “Onja will pay for her crimes,” he said, patting her awkwardly.
After a little more weeping, Miranda wiped her tears and apologized, “I am sorry. Do not tell Dreibrand I acted like this. He is upset as it is, and I do not want him to feel any worse.”
Shan nodded.
“Why did Onja take my children?” Miranda moaned.
“I think perhaps because she loves young things. Onja is very old. I think she wants to surround herself with young things. When I was young, she liked me close to her, but human children are SO young. Humans live shorter lives, and children are so vital and intense that they are a pleasure to be near,” Shan said.
Miranda listened to his theory, but it made little sense to her.
Miserably she muttered, “I could never provide a good life. Maybe they are better off in Jingten.”
“Do not put such hard thoughts on yourself,” Shan advised. “You suffer enough.”
Miranda forced herself to agree with his wisdom because it made her feel better. Looking up to his mysterious face, she said, “Dreibrand told me he has pledged to serve you in your war against Onja. I wish to do the same.”
“Good,” Shan accepted. “I believe you will be a great enemy of the Queen.”
“Then I do not want to hold back your plans anymore. We should start tomorrow,” Miranda decided.
Worry creased Shan’s face as he warned, “Do not be hasty. I know how Onja hurt you. You will not heal quickly.”
“I know how to live with pain,” she retorted. “Let us waste no more time. I can ride.”
Shan sighed helplessly. The human female confused him by crying with grief and then abruptly giving orders.
When Dreibrand returned, Miranda immediately informed him of their departure in the morning. Of course out of concern for her health, he protested, but Miranda made her stubborn wishes clear. Dreibrand had traveled with her long enough to know her temperament and conceded. To his mind, the sooner she had proper shelter the better.
Shan gazed sternly at Dreibrand, indicating his dissatisfaction with the man’s minimal arguments against riding the next day. “Tell her no. She will listen to you,” Shan whispered.
“I am listening right now,” Miranda snapped. “I will be fine.”
Dreibrand chuckled as Shan lost his first encounter with Miranda’s temper.
Miranda understood her companions cared for her, and she knew her recovery was far from complete, but if Shan’s war against Onja was the only way she could get back into Jingten, then she would not delay him. Miranda could face leaving her children behind now that she saw they were still treated well. The sooner she left, the sooner she could reclaim them, she reasoned.
18 ~ The Domain of the Temu Tribe ~
Shan had no concerns about traveling openly when he returned to the road that ran west out of Jingten. Onja had exiled him, but as long as he was actually leaving the valley, he did not expect trouble.
To pass the time Shan began to instruct his human friends in the common language that was used by the various tribes of the west. Dreibrand possessed a great aptitude for language and readily expanded his vocabulary. Miranda found learning a new language difficult, which frustrated her. She was glad she would have Dreibrand to rely upon.
Miranda’s stamina would last most of the day, but when evening arrived her weariness consumed her and she could not take a watch at night. Her head and chest often hurt, but she did not complain, and the whole nights of rest did her much good.
They kept a slow pace, but by the third day the road began to rise into the western pass, where banks of snow reached down from the great mountains. Shan explained that the Jingten Road was the only road through the Rysamand.
The rys recounted his explorations among the treacherous peaks. He had an obvious passion for mountain climbing and mentioned that when he had topped his first peak and looked down on the world, he had realized the potency of the magic inside him. This exceptional power had fostered ambition in his heart.
Dreibrand and Miranda had no shortage of questions about the new land they found themselves in, and Shan answered them patiently. Shan also sought from them descriptions of the eastern world. Miranda had only a small view to offer, but Dreibrand had many stories about different kingdoms and of course Atrophane, which were just as intriguing to Miranda as they were to Shan.
“With your mind, have you ever looked as far as my homeland?” Dreibrand inquired.
Shan admitted that he had not even tried. “But…that land is very far away. It would take a lot.”
“Could you do it?” Dreibrand pressed.
“Yes,” Shan answered in a slow voice.
“Has Onja done it?” Dreibrand said, and a twinge of concern stirred in his chest.
“If she has, I do not know of it. Onja does not tell me many things,” Shan said with some resentment.
Dreibrand brooded on the possibilities.
Shan added, “But I know Onja well, and I would judge that she does not concern herself with anything beyond the Wilderness.”
“How well do you know Onja?” Miranda asked.
“She raised me,” Shan said.
“She did? Then how are you her kin?” Dreibrand said.
“I am not her kin,” Shan insisted. “My mother died while giving birth to me, and my father gave me to the Queen to raise. I am told he was an elderly rys, beyond the usual age that one would father a rysling, and he thought I would be best with the Queen. He died when I was very young.”
“Why would he think you would be best with the Queen?” Miranda wondered.
“Good question,” Shan said. “Onja told me he recognized that I was much more powerful than the other rys, and gave me to her to train.”
As a rysling Shan had accepted these explanations, but in later years he had sought confirmation of Onja’s story from other rys. Although Shan had never learned anything different about his parents, he had remained suspicious.
“Apparently Onja did not deserve the usual maternal loyalty,” Dreibrand observed.
“In the beginning, I loved her as my mother, and she adored me. But as the decades passed, and I matured, I began to doubt my feelings for her. She raised me to see her evils as normal, but I could not,” Shan said.
“Did she train you?” Dreibrand asked.
Shan nodded. “But only in some things. She keeps much knowledge from me. Onja would not want to compromise her power.”
They reached the top of the pass, and Shan stopped to look back at the green folds of the Jingten Valley. The road had climbed above the tree line, and the Rysamand ringed the green valley in a rocky fortress. He always paused to look back at his home before entering the human realm. He never quite felt the same in the outer regions of Rystavalla, beyond the mountains of his birth.
While waiting to move on, Miranda put her fingers to her nose and fel
t warm blood. It started to drip and she rummaged a rag out of a saddlebag.
“It is nothing,” she said dismissively when Dreibrand voiced his concern.
Shan realized the thin air did not help Miranda’s healing and he stopped pondering his home.
After cleaning the blood away, Miranda smiled reassuringly to Dreibrand. Although he worried about her, he had to admit that the glow was returning to her cheeks and her green eyes sparkled with life.
“I feel good today,” she added.
“Do you?” Dreibrand whispered playfully and allowed his eyes to wander her body suggestively.
The wind picked up through the pass and they hurried on, wishing to camp in the lower warmer elevations. The Rysamand gave way gradually to a lush lowland, hazy with warmth in the distance, but they had many switchbacks to travel before leaving the cold heights. A cloud sprawled against the face of the mountain on their left, covering it with mist down to the tips of the treetops in the forest below.
The slow progress in the rugged land grew tedious, but the Jingten Road was good and well maintained. After so long in the open Wilderness, Dreibrand and Miranda appreciated the road.
At dusk they reached the foothills, and the occasional broadleaf tree now ventured to live among the pines. After making their small camp, Shan declared that he would rest that night. The rys had been up for days and he promptly descended into a deep sleep.
Dreibrand and Miranda sat up together, watching the stars bejewel the sky. In the peaceful night Dreibrand’s watch degraded into a very close watch of only Miranda. They kissed deeply, and their hands caressed eagerly.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Dreibrand whispered.
“You won’t,” Miranda said, and he lessened his restraint.
With their activities on the verge of becoming noisy, they grabbed a blanket and slipped off into the trees to ensure their privacy. Their naked bodies warmed each other in the cool night, and Miranda was thankful for the joy of love Dreibrand brought to her.
Fearful of aggravating her injuries, he made love to her gently, but still reveled in her flesh. Almost losing Miranda to death had made Dreibrand appreciate her more. While nuzzling her neck, he decided he no longer regretted giving up his life in Atrophane. He had often missed his command and loyal troops, but he did not miss Lieutenant Sandin, and he did not miss his censured status in Atrophane society. Miranda needed him more than Lord Kwan, and being the first Atrophane to see the mysteries of the west satisfied him greatly.
Kissing lazily, the lovers were inclined to arouse each other again, but a nagging sense of responsibility made Dreibrand sit up. If a soldier under his command had behaved so improperly on a watch, he would have deserved a beating.
“We should go back,” he said guiltily. “We left Shan alone.”
Miranda chuckled. “Yes. You wear me out anyway. I need my rest.”
As Dreibrand drew on his pants, he heard the horses knicker in the distance and he had a sinking suspicion.
“I will slip ahead and check on things. I have a bad feeling,” he whispered while drawing his sword. Picking up his boots in the other hand, he padded off barefoot toward the camp.
A waxing moon lent a little light to the night, and Dreibrand sensed something definitely amiss as he approached the camp through the pines. A few coals glowed from the campfire, and he could see Shan rolled up in his blanket. Dreibrand discerned two dark figures leading the horses away and he decided the odds were decent.
Leaping out of the black cover of the trees, Dreibrand gave a war cry that startled the horses enough to make them unruly. He swung his sword at the nearest thief, who blocked the blow with a wooden staff that snapped under the sharp blade. The second thief sprang to his accomplice’s aid, and Dreibrand hurled his boots at him. The thief grunted with pain as one leathery missile slammed across his face. The other boot landed on Shan.
The first thief dove at Dreibrand who reacted by stopping his approaching skull with the hilt of his sword. The thief fell to his knees from the stunning pain. The staff of the second intruder caught Dreibrand on his shirtless back, and he gritted his teeth with pain. But his sword swung in automatic retaliation, and the point bit flesh. Another swipe of the blade tore the staff from the thief’s hand, and he fell back crying out in surrender.
Putting the tip of his sword under the thief’s chin, Dreibrand commanded, “Get by your friend. Stay on your knees!”
Clutching his side, the man scooted over to his companion, who held his own bleeding head. Even in the gloom, Dreibrand could see they were young and scrawny. By now Shan had gotten up, and he stomped over to Dreibrand with a very un-rys-like heaviness and flung the boot at Dreibrand’s bare feet.
“Do the Atrophane throw clothes at their enemies?” Shan shouted with irritation.
Embarrassed by his lack of apparel, Dreibrand offered no explanation.
“What is happening?” Shan demanded.
“I stopped these horse thieves,” Dreibrand explained.
Glancing at the freely roaming horses, Shan looked upon Dreibrand quizzically and said, “It looks like you gave them a head start.”
“They did not have much of a chance,” Dreibrand joked weakly.
“He saved the horses,” Miranda interjected as she returned.
With a frown Shan turned to her. “I suggest you not distract Dreibrand from his watch,” he scolded.
“You are grumpy,” she retorted.
Shan did not reply. When rys did sleep, they slept heavily and did not like being awakened suddenly. Rubbing his neck, Shan accepted that the rude booted awakening had bothered his temper.
“I will not be so careless again,” Dreibrand offered sincerely.
With an improving mood, Shan said, “Miranda is right. No harm came to us. Now let us see who our visitors are.”
Shan leaned over the kneeling men. The prisoners were obviously fearful of the scrutiny of the rys, and Shan allowed a little hint of blue to flash in his dark eyes just to intimidate them.
“Who is it that would steal property from a citizen of Jingten?” Shan inquired imperiously.
“I am Ka-Kala,” stammered the thief with the split head. “This is Venton. Please, Lord, we did not know—”
Shan cut him off. “Do you not recognize a rys horse?”
Kala knew his guilt was evident but tried to explain anyway. “In the dark we did not see. Lord, we would never—”
“Shut up,” Shan snapped. “You knew what you did. You are lucky my friend did not kill you amateurs. Now, Venton is it? How are you Venton? Did the sword cut deep?”
“Not too deep, Lord,” Venton replied painfully.
“Good. Now let that be a lesson for you Venton. You should earn an honest living or at least become a better thief,” Shan advised. Becoming more serious, the rys asked, “Do either of you know where King Taischek is currently making his summer visit?”
“I heard Fata Nor,” Kala answered with uncharacteristic sincerity.
“Fata Nor,” Shan considered. “Yes, that is probably right. Thank you gentlemen. Now off with you.”
“You are going to let them go?” Dreibrand asked with surprise.
“Do you want to bring them along?” Shan countered.
Dreibrand shrugged with acceptance, seeing his point. The knaves will have to go lick their wounds, he reasoned.
“Get! Before I change my mind,” Shan ordered.
Without hesitation the thieves sprang to their feet and scrambled away.
“If I see you again, I will turn you into skunks!” Shan called after them and laughed.
Quietly Dreibrand inquired, “Can you really change people into animals?”
Conspiratorially, Shan answered, “No. But it does not hurt to cultivate a few rumors.”
Dreibrand appreciated the joke now that he considered the power of reputation.
Miranda gathered the horses and tethered them again. She petted Freedom’s neck and was glad the horses had not been
successfully stolen. The night had grown late and she returned to her bedroll with sleep in mind this time. Shan and Dreibrand sat around the rekindled fire, talking.
“I should have mentioned the possibility of thieves,” Shan said. “Any traffic going to Jingten is usually wealthy. And at summer’s end, every tribe will send a tribute caravan to Onja. The thieves will be thickest then.”
“What is this Fata Nor they spoke of?” Dreibrand asked.
“It is a Temu town. In the summer Taischek visits every part of his domain, and he is there,” Shan explained.
“How far is that?” Dreibrand said.
“Two days. More like a day and a half,” Shan answered. “You will like King Taischek. He has a wonderful sense of humor.” Shan smiled, thinking fondly of his friend.
“And he will help us?” Dreibrand said.
Confidently, Shan replied, “Yes. Taischek does not love paying his tribute to Jingten and believes Onja is an evil sorceress and not a Goddess. Do not worry, Dreibrand. You will meet him soon and see for yourself. Now get some rest. I will watch the rest of the night. You knocked the sleep out of me.”
Sheepishly, Dreibrand apologized again and he was glad Shan had a sense of humor about it.
The next day the Jingten Road split into three roads, and they took the middle road. Leaving the rougher foothills behind, they entered a fertile land. They saw the occasional farmstead carved out of the forest, and people began to pass them on the road. The three travelers received stares ranging from fascination to apprehension. Shan was shown deference on the roadway because no one wished to offend a rys, but Dreibrand and Miranda presented a curiosity to the local people. The humans west of the Rysamand were racially different with darker skin and eyes and black hair. When the local people saw Dreibrand and Miranda, it showed on their faces that they had never seen people with such light features. Most of the passersby were clearly astounded.
Shan inquired about King Taischek from a couple more sources to confirm the thief’s report. As far as anyone knew the Temu King was still in Fata Nor.
“Why do you ask for Taischek when you could just find him with your magic?” Miranda said curiously.
Shan chuckled. “It is easier to ask. Magic is not always the best way to accomplish something.”
Miranda nodded.
On the next afternoon a large village clutching the side of hill came into view. Wooden buildings, some plain some brightly painted, looked out over fields and pastures. One round stone building with a slate roof rose in the center of the village, and Shan explained that it was a typical example of a temple to Onja.
Before they reached the outlying fields of Fata Nor, four riders galloped down the road to meet them. The riders wore vests of shining chain mail or leather jackets, and many semi precious stones dangled decoratively all over their gear. The four men had chin length black hair kept in numerous tight braids bound with red and gold thread. Swords and daggers hung from their waists, and two riders carried bows.
Dreibrand watched their approach warily, instantly recognizing them as respectable warriors. Although he had faith in Shan’s influence, Dreibrand automatically prepared his mind for a conflict as a precaution.
His worry soon proved unnecessary as the warriors halted their steeds, and the lead rider smiled broadly. He lacked his two front teeth, which made his smile appear all the wider.
In the common tongue the man shouted happily, “Lord Shan honors the Temu with his visit!”
Shan and the Temu warrior brought their horses alongside each other and grasped hands in friendship.
“It is about time you came out to receive me, General Xander,” Shan greeted with obvious humor.
Xander rolled his eyes at Shan’s scolding and said, “The talk of your strange companions delayed me.” His attention shifted to Dreibrand and Miranda and his eyes did not hide his astonishment. “Are they humans or is this some rys thing?”
Dreibrand held his tongue patiently despite his irritation at the question. He understood a meeting between differing peoples could be both delicate and volatile.
“They are as human as any Temu,” Shan assured him. “They are wanderers from the east beyond the Wilderness come to meet their brothers and sisters in the west. Allow me to introduce Dreibrand Veta and Miranda.”
Xander bowed his head politely but was unable to remove his eyes from the foreigners.
Shan continued, “This is Xander, General of the Temu and counselor to his lord, King Taischek.”
“Greetings, General Xander,” Dreibrand said and extended a hand.
Xander hesitated, admitting to himself that the stranger’s blue eyes were very disconcerting. Still, Xander knew fear from no man and firmly grasped Dreibrand’s hand.
“Well met,” Xander said simply. On such an extraordinary occasion he preferred to leave the speaking to King Taischek.
Turning his horse, Xander cast a furtive look upon Miranda, but his manners demanded he not allow his gaze to linger. In all of his days, the General had never imagined a woman so exotic.
The Temu warriors escorted the visitors into Fata Nor. A large tent stood on the common green at the base of the hillside village, and a purple banner emblazoned with a horned yellow serpent was planted beside the tent.
Every resident of Fata Nor had put aside all tasks and duties to gather for the spectacle of the arriving foreigners. The throng parted for the warrior escort but pressed around all sides of the party. Miranda and Dreibrand heard many shocked gasps and exclamations, and the scrutiny of so many eyes made them uncomfortable.
General Xander guided the guests to the tent where more warriors kept a space clear of curious villagers. Everyone dismounted, and Dreibrand conspicuously helped Miranda from her saddle.
Two women entered the clear space. Their straight black hair was unbraided and neatly pulled back into tight buns. They wore lovely flowing robes of deep red. With downcast eyes they walked directly to Miranda and addressed her alone.
“Our Queen invites you to join her,” they said together.
Miranda glanced to Shan for guidance.
“The Queen receives all female guests,” he explained quietly. “It is their custom. You have no need to fear.”
“I do not wish us to be separated,” Dreibrand protested.
To calm his protective impulses, Miranda touched his hand and said, “You cannot keep me in your pocket. I believe it would be rude not to go with them.”
Dreibrand nodded and watched her follow the women away. Where she entered the crowd, he noticed three men in blue robes and white skullcaps. Two were young men, who seemed to hang behind the heels of the other older man. The older one had a lean weaselish face, and his thin eyes glared at the visitors.
“Who are they?” Dreibrand whispered to Shan.
The rys was looking at the blue-robed men with equal intensity, and Dreibrand realized that they were looking directly at Shan.
“They are rysmavda, priests of the temple. They administer Onja’s rule,” Shan answered. “Normally they would greet a rys visitor and provide accommodations at the temple, but they know I would not enter their temple, and they resent it.”
“Do you think they know what happened in Jingten?” Dreibrand asked.
“Most likely, but it does not appear they have shared the news, or Xander would have said something to me already,” Shan said.
“Should I consider them enemies?” Dreibrand whispered.
Shan hushed him. They had whispered enough in front of their hosts and it was time for King Taischek to receive them.
Xander led them into the tent. The tent seemed dark after the bright afternoon sun, and their eyes took a moment to adjust. A few oil lamps burned, providing a soft light. Many rugs and cushions furnished every inch of the tent.
The King sat with two men, and many scrolls were strewn around them. The King and one man discussed a scroll while the other man made careful notations upon a new scroll. When the guests entered, the
King finished his thought and promptly tossed aside the paper and waved dismissively to his accountants.
Taischek was a stocky man with a round belly and a balding head. What remained of his salty black hair was braided in the Temu fashion. Wrinkles from age and his big grin made his eyes appear as mere slits, but the intelligence sparkled through.
Shan required no introduction and Taischek bounded energetically to his feet.
“Shan!” Taischek cried with genuine pleasure, throwing his burly arms around the rys.
Shan leaned down slightly to receive the sturdy embrace.
“Taischek, you look good,” Shan proclaimed.
The King threw back his head, laughing freely. Addressing Xander, he said, “I love this rys. I will never look old to him.” Sighing, Taischek dignified himself and looked Dreibrand up and down. “Now who are you who makes all my people drop their tools and set to gossip?”
Already beginning to like the King, Dreibrand bowed deeply. “Thank you for seeing me, King Taischek. I am Dreibrand, second son of House Veta from Atrophane, an empire far east of the Wilderness.”
Despite himself, Taischek looked a little impressed.
“You have nice manners, Dreibrand Veta, but I have never heard of Atrophane. How many taxes does Onja demand from the eastern world?” Taischek said. When he got the chance, he always compared the tribute of other peoples. He did not intend to let his tribe be overcharged.
A little surprised by the question, Dreibrand answered, “None, King Taischek. Atrophane is so far away we have never heard of Jingten.”
This information fascinated Taischek, who had never heard of a people who avoided Onja’s demands, and his concept of the world doubled.
“Very interesting,” the King mused. “Come sit with me. I will send for refreshment.”
The accountants had finished packing their records into wooden chests and Taischek hurried them out. Reclining among his many pillows, Taischek clapped his hands and a servant appeared from behind curtains carrying a tray of goblets and a pitcher of wine. Too impatient to suffer the fuss of the servant pouring the wine, Taischek seized the pitcher and began sloshing wine into the cups.
“Bring us food,” he barked, and the servant obediently disappeared on his errand.
“What have you been doing with yourself, Shan?” the King inquired pleasantly.
Sipping his wine, the rys replied casually, “You know me, making life difficult for Onja. Contradicting her every order and general feuding.”
“Did she finally kick you out?” Taischek asked as a joke.
“Yes,” Shan said simply.
The humor faded from Taischek’s face, and he kept his suddenly serious gaze on Shan as he handed Dreibrand the last cup of wine. Gratefully, Dreibrand accepted the drink, noting the King lacked a couple fingers but made up for them with rings.
“I hope to discuss business with you, Taischek,” Shan added.
Taischek suspected the meaning behind Shan’s words but shook his head adamantly. “Not today, Shan. Let us speak of serious matters tomorrow. The Temu celebrate tonight. We go to war against the Sabuto Tribe in three days and this day is only for pleasure.”
“Excellent idea!” Shan agreed readily, knowing it would please Taischek. The delay of a day meant little to a rys. Shan continued, “We are fortunate to arrive before your celebration. Dreibrand, the Temu have the best parties.”
“Of course we do!” Taischek cried, relieved that Shan had not pursued his business. “Tonight we shall enjoy ourselves so that we can take the warpath with memories of joy.”
Xander whooped with agreement and drained his goblet. The King called for another round, and Dreibrand had to hurry through his wine in order to take more.
Too dignified to rush through anything, Shan declined more wine and asked, “Why are you in this tent? Fata Nor has a wonderful guest house.”
“Yes, and all of my wives are in it,” Taischek grumbled. “I’m sick of them. I’m glad it’s the war season.”
