by Rob Bayliss
But Tuan had taken to riding in other, more comely, company.
“The Shard wielder and the Khan’s daughter seem to spend a lot of time together of late,” Klesh said, swaying uncomfortably on his pony’s saddle while looking forward at the head of the column. He let his words hang in the air, awaiting a response from his companions.
Bronic, the mute giant, grunted in acknowledgement, but had a smile on his face as he looked at Tuan and the object of his friend’s attentions as they both rode up ahead. Princess Karla was certainly easy on the eye; if anything he was slightly envious of his friend, although he encouraged him. “There’s nothing wrong with a good fuck, lad.” He remembered the advice of Kress Startooth from all those long months ago in the cave of the siren.
Tamzine tutted disapprovingly. “This isn’t right. Why would the Khan’s daughter have such an interest in a lowly Gewichas recruit?”
Bronic made a rude gesture with his hands in answer, the finger of one going in and out of the clenched fist of the other. Klesh laughed aloud at this, as he was wont to do, while Tamzine scowled. Some of the Khan’s nearby armed retainers accompanying them on their journey cast grim glances at the three outsiders, wondering what the cause of the Flint Father’s laughter could be.
“He is no longer a lowly Gewichas now, Sword Girl,” Klesh said. “He is the wielder of my brother’s Sun Shard, chosen by the very crystal itself to be its bearer.”
“Ever since we left Keanasa she has showered him with attention.”
Tamzine continued, voicing her doubts aloud. “She sought him out on the first day of this journey.”
The mute giant nodded and shrugged his shoulders, but thought on the words of the Razoress. It was true; Princess Karla had actively sought out his friend on that first day of the journey from Keanasa to the foothills of the Skycrags, foregoing the comfort of the covered wagon for horseback and the pouring rain. Tuan hadn’t seen it, but he had. He was more experienced in vying for and winning the attention of women than his friend, Tuan, but then the giant Turanesci stood head and shoulders over most men and tended to get noticed.
So much so, that the Khan’s stable at Keanasa had been forced to saddle a destrier for his needs, as he was too large for the riding horses provided for his companions. The destrier, bred and raised for war, was strong and physical and had challenged Bronic’s right to hold his reins that first day. It was a struggle that the giant had won; an understanding of respecting each other’s strength had been reached. The giant dropped one of his hands from the reins and patted the horse’s neck. He did not need speech to communicate with the beast.
Bronic pointed to the Khan atop his warhorse and the covered wagon in which the Khan’s wife, Queen Shareen, and her attendants travelled. Inwardly he cursed, frustrated at not being able to formulate his thoughts into words.
Tamzine understood his meaning. “You are correct, Bronic. If it is obvious to us, then it must be obvious to the Khan and his wife, all of which is odd, when you consider how Captain Sendel was almost butchered by him for daring the attempt to kiss Princess Karla.”
“Not odd at all, Sword Girl,” Klesh interjected. “The Khan saw the power of the Sun Shard in action in his own audience chamber.” He lowered his voice then, so it was barely audible above the snorting of the horses and crunch of trotting hooves and marching boots on the gravelled road. “The Khanate is a mockery of Taleel; they would have an empire of their own if they could. Tuan said that all has changed since the war in the Cheama and he was correct. Taleel does not look all-powerful anymore and anyhow, their attention is now directed to Acaross. An ambitious Khan would want a Sun Shard added to his armoury. All things change and if things go ill for the Empire, as it did before, the Summerlands are there for the taking, for those with the strength to hold them.”
“You suspect that Karla acts with the Khan’s consent in the seduction of Tuan?” Tamzine asked, taken aback by the Flint Father’s insight. “Why not slit our throats and take the Sun Shard?” she whispered urgently.
“The Sun Shard chooses the wielder and the wielder hones his skill and craft as knapped flint or Bronic, here, whetting his Blissa,” The Flint Father said.
Tamzine nodded in understanding. “What use the wizard’s staff, without the sorcerer?”
“That’s it, Sword Girl,” the old Flinter said, “Tuan is being drawn in by Princess Karla, to serve her father. Will he allow us to continue our quest beyond his stronghold in the uplands? Will Tuan want to tear himself from her?” Klesh shrugged his shoulders.
“The Khan wouldn’t dare! He has seen the power of the Sun Shard and Tuan would not forget our reasons for being here, would he?” Tamzine said, somewhat taken aback. She turned to Bronic atop his destrier. “She’s not that pretty, is she Bronic?”
Bronic scratched his stubbled chin in contemplation, recalling Princess Karla’s tumbling auburn locks, her full ruby lips, white skin and womanly curves … especially her womanly curves. He would not blame Tuan if he chose to stay; that was a woman worth much sacrifice. But he knew in his heart Tuan’s honour and loyalty to their lost commander would win out in any quandary in his friend’s soul. He would like to see the Khan’s soldiers attempt to hold them captive while he swung Blissa in a red rage. He smiled to himself fiercely. Wishing to prolong and enjoy Tamzine’s discomfort, he quickly changed his expression to one of concern as he turned toward her. He waved his hand in the air as if the answer was unknown.
Tamzine scowled, her face showing her anger and disgust. “What’s the point in asking you anyway, you great Turanesci lummox? I’ve said it before: you only think with your fists, stomach and cock.” She looked ahead, her eyes shooting daggers at the back of the Khan’s daughter.
Bronic caught Klesh’s eye and grinned, while the Flinter shook his head at the warrior’s cruel humour.
The column trudged on, the road now threading its way through wooded valleys and up onto hillsides of gorse and heather. The scene reminded Bronic of the hunt some months before, for the Flint Father Kress Startooth in the uplands at the feet of the Hailthorns. He lost his smile and his face set grimly, remembering old pains. He had lost his tongue back in those hills, cut from him by the very man they now sought. He tried not to dwell on past hurt. He was different back then; everything had been, especially Kaziviere. The commander had been cruel, unnecessarily so. And yet, it was the same Kaziviere who had saved him from being eaten by a salamander.
Tuan had tried telling him that all things have a reason to them, that his sacrifice back on the escarpment and his subsequent service to his military unit had helped bring a change for the good, both for the commander and the Summerlands. Back then, in those cold northern hills, he had sworn a bloody revenge on the commander for his mutilation … and on Tuan, too, for that matter, for his perceived part in the death of Kress on that distant escarpment. Kress, the Flint Father who had rescued him from the Siren. He smiled to himself again, remembering the seductive embraces of the Siren in the cave. She had been rampant and demanding. They had rutted for what had seemed an age, while he had been under her glamour. He had been a captive, a slave to her sensuous whims. How they had copulated; he had lost himself in her sweet depths!
Yet in bouts of lucidity and despair he had yearned for escape, even if the only route was his own death. Kress and the Shard released him. Then, to see Kress, his saviour, helpless and wounded by Tuan, the Gewichas scout, suffer at the commander’s cruelty. And now his best friend was Tuan, the inheritor of Kress’s Sun Shard, and here he was, on a quest to find and rescue the very one who had maimed him. The Sun Shard had rescued him twice: from the Siren with Kress and then with Tuan, saved from the bitter hatred that had threatened to consume him. He had witnessed its power, his soul drenched in the sweet rainbows of light that had shone from it.
No wonder the dominar had lusted after it, no wonder the Khan wished to command it too. His smile faded. Karla could weave as sweet as any glamour on Tuan as that mermaid had on him. He
needed to be watchful; he owed it to Tuan, the Sun Shard, Kaziviere, and to the memory of Kress.
He jabbed his heels into his steed’s flanks and hauled the reins to the left, urging the destrier off the gravelled road and onto the grassy embankment. He heard Klesh and Tamzine call after him in shock and surprise and felt the grim huscarls cast disapproving iron glances his way. He cared not. He galloped up the column, his ruddy locks flying, and the hooves of the warhorse sending great clods of earth high in the air behind them. They galloped past the marching ranks to the line of covered wagons and past where Tuan and Karla trotted, near to the large sprung wagon containing Queen Shareen and her attendants. He brought the destrier to a halt and turned to look back at the column as it proceeded. Tuan and Karla were watching the Turanesci giant, made all the taller and imposing astride the large war horse.
Tuan had been in light hearted conversation with Princess Karla when he saw his friend sat astride his horse staring at him, his eyes boring holes into his.
“Excuse me, my lady, I believe my friend wants a word with me,” Tuan said, bowing towards the Khan’s daughter as he prepared to pull reluctantly away from her charming company.
Karla bit her bottom lip. “He is a mute, is he not? How is it he manages to converse with you? Ignore him!”
“He is my friend and comrade, my Lady. I owe him my life. I will re-join you as soon as I may.” Tuan rode away towards where his friend awaited him. He did not see the scowl on Princess Karla’s face behind him, or the look she exchanged with her father when the Khan looked back at his daughter.
As Tuan urged his horse out of the column and approached Bronic he could see the Turanesci’s grim visage. It was out of character for Bronic not to wear an easy smile. Tuan knew something was causing his friend great concern.
“Bronic, what is troubling you?” The mute sat still, his face set stern as stone. As Tuan spoke, he turned at the sound of Tamzine and Klesh cantering over on the springy turf to join them. They shared the same unsmiling expressions as the red rage warrior of Turan. “What is this?” Tuan demanded of his companions, his temper rising.
Tamzine held out her open palm in peace as Tuan’s face took on a scowl. “Peace, Tuan. We merely wish to discuss matters. We have barely seen you this day.”
“Is that what this is about? Princess Karla bid me ride with her. Would you have me refuse her and insult her father, our host?” As he spoke Tuan’s eyes flashed to view the column as it passed. Grim eyes viewed them from the ranks. He sought out Karla and caught her staring at him. She turned away, her lips tight and pensive. He followed her gaze, which led ahead to the Khan himself. Khan Chenkish’s hard face stared. His eyes, unblinking, held Tuan’s for what seemed an age of heartbeats. He suddenly turned and urged his horse onward to draw alongside the covered wagon in which his wife rode.
“We have all enjoyed the Khan’s hospitality and protection on the road so far, and we have been promised further supplies and lodgings before we set off beyond the Skycrags. I am merely being a grateful guest. You would all do well to appear likewise. Now what do you wish to discuss?” Tuan said, his impatience clearly sounding in his words.
Klesh spoke up, unafraid to voice the concerns of his companions. “You are being played by the Khan and his family, Shard Wielder,” he blurted out.
“What?” Tuan’s face twisted in anger, “Just because I am talking with Princess Karla? Who are you to question the one who saved you, old man?”
Tuan urged his horse towards the pony on which the Flint Father rode. He found his way blocked by the massive frame of Bronic on his destrier putting himself between his two companions.
Tuan looked at the serious-faced Turanesci in disbelief, but the red rage warrior’s expression remained grim, willing Tuan to listen. “Bronic, after all we have been through together. What is this, jealousy? How many times have I watched you find comely bed companions, and now a woman shows me interest? Is it such a terrible thing?”
The mute giant’s face changed to one of sadness, willing Tuan to use his shard and read his thoughts, but read them he did not. That was not it! He did not begrudge his friend female companionship. He was in danger, the Shard was in danger; could he not see that? Desperate, Bronic turned to Tamzine to intercede.
“Don’t you think it odd that the Khan’s daughter would single you out for attention the way that she has? Please do not take offence Tuan, but she is Cheamanite nobility, while we are common folk of the Summerlands,” Tamzine said calmly.
Tuan scowled. “I see. Because the beautiful Princess Karla, who happens to be the Khan’s daughter, deigns to speak to lowly me? True she is of noble blood, but a fellow Summerlander she remains.”
“Just be wary, Tuan. Do not forget our reason for being here,” sighed Tamzine. “Remember what happened to Captain Sendel in the great hall of the Khan’s Tower? Would the Khan allow his daughter to talk to you unless he was after something? The dominar lusted after the powers of the Sun Shard, are you certain that Khan Chenkish does not also? You said yourself that the politics of the Summerlands have changed. With the Empire looking south, the Khanate may well seek to fill the void of power.”
Tuan shook his head, his anger dissolving like autumn mist under a bright sun, as his own words were repeated back to him. He hung his head, looking at the springy turf below his steed’s hooves.
Klesh spoke up, emerging from behind the Turanesci’s massive frame. “You are the wielder of the Shard. Bronic and I were in that house of darkness with you, Tuan of the Bloodshadow. Were it not for Kaziviere, you and my brother’s Shard would have been lost to the shadows. I beg of you, do not lose sight of our mission. Know that you are not the only one with magic, lest Princess Karla casts her glamour upon you.”
Tuan lifted his gaze to look at the Flint Father, the brother of his mentor. “I hear you, Klesh, and I apologise for my previous hasty words.”
“Go now back to her now, Tuan, lest we arouse the Khan’s suspicions,” Tamzine said quietly.
Tuan nodded, smiling at his companions. He wheeled his mount around and cantered back to the column to where Princess Karla rode. Bronic watched his friend depart and cackling, turned to Klesh, making gestures and mouthing sounds with his tongueless mouth. Klesh roared with laughter.
Tamzine looked at them, puzzled. She turned to the old Flinter. “What did Bronic say?”
The Flinter wiped tears from his eyes. “He said our friend Tuan is in sore need of a good, hard shag.”
Tamzine chuckled. “I think you could be right!” She fell quiet as she noticed Bronic and Klesh looking at her expectantly. “Well, don’t look at me, you bastards!” she said in understanding.
Laughing, they rejoined the trudging ranks of the column.
Karla heard the trot of hooves as Tuan approached. She smiled to herself. Few men could resist her charms if she willed it so.
“So tell me about yourself, Tuan Blackstone of the Gewichas,” Karla said, throwing her cloak’s fur-lined hood from her head as he slowed his steed and drew level with her. She shook out her curly hair, her red curls catching the afternoon sun like polished copper draped around her shoulders.
“My Lady?” Tuan said nervously. Her beauty was entrancing, but he must be watchful and heed to the warning of his companions. It may be that not all was as it seemed.
“Please, Tuan, call me Karla,” she said with a ready smile, her bewitching green eyes sparkling. He was handsome enough, and young. Not old like Captain Sendel back at Keanasa. That poor old fool had been putty in her hands. How to control this one? Lust perhaps? But what drove him? “You fought at the Holms last year I hear? You bravely saved the Summerlands.”
“Indeed, my La … Karla,” stuttered Tuan, painfully aware of the Khan trotting on his horse, not far ahead. “The Flint Father, my comrade Bronic and I fought in the Great Marsh, destroying the base Acarross had hid there. Tamzine served at the Holms in General Broud’s retinue.”
Karla turned to look over her shoulde
r, looking back over the helms of the ranks of marching huscarls to where Tuan’s companions rode in together in the column. Yes, the Razoress. Would she be an obstacle? What had they talked of? “She is also of the Gewichas, is she not?” she enquired.
“Indeed she is. She accompanied the Earl of Oakenbridge’s daughter when she left to serve in the dominar’s household in the last muster.”
“Yet, she is a warrior and is called the Razoress?” Karla teased gently, arching her fine eyebrows as she questioned the young trooper.
“She earned that name for herself in battle, at the Holms,” Tuan said, smiling back. “She had been trained in armed and unarmed combat by the Earl’s sword master for months prior to the muster, to ensure the Earl’s daughter would not suffer the known lecherous attentions of the dominar. As it was, it was a close-run thing. That rapist bastard thought he had it all, with Northport and the Summerlands in his hands. He thought that the agreement with our Earl could be discounted, an agreement that included his daughter’s honour remaining intact. We proved him wrong with General Broud’s rebellion, and the Earl’s daughter herself removed that bastard’s balls with her teeth!” chuckled Tuan.
Karla sighed, stifling a yawn with her gloved hand. “Yes, but none of this tells me much of you, Tuan Blackstone. Tell me of Oakenbridge; I have never journeyed beyond the borders of the Khanate.”
“The lands of the Gewichas straddle the Great Tusk River on a high plateau, between where the two tributaries meet in the north before it tumbles down to the Great Marsh to the south. The Tusk carved a great ravine through the rock. Oakenbridge straddles the ravine. The great north road passes through it, linking the Summerlands either side of the river. The bridge itself is a huge, living thing formed by the ancient limbs of massive oak trees on either bank, intertwined and braced with steel and bronze. The fortified capital of the Gewichas is built around the bridge on both sides.” Tuan paused, remembering the home he had not seen for over a year.
