Finding Kai

by David A Willson

  “I hope you’re right. But he mustn’t merely hate her and love me. I need this to work!”

  “It’s working, Majesty. Give it time. You’ll have your cursed. Maybe more than one.”

  24

  Resolve

  Nara sat on the side of the high, sloping peak near the rim of the half-built fortification. She hadn’t finished the water system and needed several more tunnels to ensure escape routes, but her heart just wasn’t in it right now. A defensive position was nice, and this place might become useful someday, but she tired of the internal turmoil and it would be better to get this conflict over with. Offense, not defense. She would take the fight to Kayna.

  Below, she could see the soldiers training with Mykel. There were more than before, at least eighty now, and she wondered if men from nearby villages had joined the effort. Eighty against what, a thousand? Five thousand? A traditional battle was simply not possible without a lot more men. She wanted ideas, and a conversation with Jahmai might provide them.

  It took little time for her to descend to the training area, the exercise stopping when she got close. Some knelt when they saw her, and one of the younger lads went fully prone and started praying out loud.

  “Please, get up,” she said. She turned to Jahmai. “General, can we speak?” She turned and walked back into the traveler cave and sat on a stone seat. A freshly stoked fire crackled and popped, and an iron pot of something hot bubbled on a grate stretched across the flames. Jahmai took a seat beside her.

  “Eighty men?” she asked.

  “Eighty-three, actually. Several are out gathering food. Can’t buy enough around here, so we’re foraging and hunting in shifts.”

  “I have half of an impressive fortress started up on this mountain, but no way to feed my men. Didn’t really think of that.”

  “We’ll make do, ma’am.”

  “Call me Nara. Please.”

  “In front of the men, I’ll need something else. Holiness. Mistress. Your Majesty. Something.”

  “Nara. I insist.”

  “As you wish.”

  She grabbed a stick from the ground near her feet and poked a log. “We need more men. How do you propose to get them?”

  “I’ve been thinking of that. We could attack more outposts. Give terms. Like you did in Junn.”

  “Anything nearby?”

  “Several, actually.”

  “Why not just go big?”

  “Ankar? It’s a few days away, but we could. It’s twice the size of Junn. Three outposts there. And even bigger than those in Junn.”

  “Make it happen.”

  “They have gifted in the Ankar outposts, mistress. And at least three hundred men in total.”

  “Nara.”

  “Yes, of course. Nara. Ankar has been deploying gifted. We’ll see at least one in each outpost. I think a steelskin-flamer pair might be in Ankar as well. Won’t be easy with only eighty-three men.”

  “We’ll find more along the way. I’m hoping for more than a hundred by the time we’re in Ankar. Besides, Mykel and I have only fought on a small scale. We need to learn what it’s like to face an army, even if it’s a small one.”

  “Yes, miss,” he said. “Um. Nara.”

  “Thank you.”

  “First names aren’t used by soldiers, Nara, especially for their commander. Standard military etiquette. It will take some getting used to. Not the normal rules.”

  “We’re outnumbered, tired, away from our homes, and half our force is made up of local boys with courage but no experience,” she said. "Not a time to play by normal rules.”

  She stood and walked back to where Lieutenant Martel was directing two men to spar in heavy armor, pointing out weak areas where the metal did not protect. She stepped up to the fray and everyone stopped, turning to look at her. Eighty men marching on Ankar was foolishness, but if they wielded the hearts of heroes and carried hope, it would be better. Plus, it would give them stories to spread. Watching Mykel fight surely helped, but Nara was their leader and they needed more from her than pretty caves.

  “May I join you?” she asked.

  Martel stuttered enthusiastically, “Yes. Um. Majesty.” He cleared his throat. “We’re demonstrating the flaws in armor. Where to strike, limitations in an armored opponent’s ability to move.”

  “Nara. Not Majesty. How can I help?”

  “Well, we’ll be fighting racers, and that’s a big concern,” Martel said. “We usually make a defensive circle and overcome them with numbers and time, but they do a lot of damage.”

  Mykel was standing on the other side of the throng of men but didn’t move. Good. She wanted to do this alone.

  “Okay, listen up,” she said. “We racers are fast. We won’t carry heavy items; they slow us down, so we have knives or axes, small weapons we can swing quickly, injure you, then run away before you can counter. Met a racer already myself, and she was fast. Darn fast. We don’t have enough men to overwhelm them. But they have a weakness. They must move to be a threat. We’ll take that away.”

  Several wore curious looks on their faces.

  “Who knows how to make banners?” She scanned the crowd. “Flags?”

  A man in the back raised his hand, and she walked toward him, the men parting to allow her passage. “What’s your name, Soldier?”

  “Panuk, Your Majesty. From Trapper, west of here.”

  Panuk was native and old, at least sixty. He was tall, with a solid stance, and his black hair was neatly combed. Proud man. Good. They needed more like him.

  “Call me Nara. None of the ‘Majesty’ stuff. Please. Panuk, you will find fabric and make banners. Spread them among the men. Mount them on the end of spears for others to see. In the middle of battle, we will seek the gifted, but racers can do a lot of damage and I must know where they are right away. By making banners, you will help your brothers signal the discovery of a racer so I can find them quickly.”

  She reached up to put a hand on Panuk’s shoulder. “Start working on the banners today. Red ones and black ones. Tomorrow we march south.”

  Nara stepped back into the middle of the circle. “If you’ve never seen a racer, know they are a fearful thing.” She flared speed and danced around the circle, touching several men on the cheek before they could move. “We are fast and can disarm you.” She flared it again and held a dagger in her hand a moment later. Several soldiers checked their sheaths. “Or we can run away.” They lost sight of her until she waved from a hundred feet away, near a tree. She raised her voice as she returned to them, “But we have a weakness.” Her foot caught a rock, and she fell forward, dropping the dagger. A deliberately clumsy move, but it illustrated the point. “We depend on stable ground, keeping our eyes high on our opponents. No racer watches her feet.”

  “You will alert me to a gifted by waving the special banners sewn by Panuk. Black for any other gifted, but red for a racer, whom I will engage.” As she stepped back into the circle, she closed her eyes, summoned the earth rune and flared it. The ground rumbled and shifted, dropping in places, rising in others, the landscape under the soldiers’ feet becoming pockmarked, jagged and uneven. “Two things will happen after that red banner goes up,” she said. “The racer will fall, becoming vulnerable, allowing you to attack. Do so before the racer adjusts to the new terrain. The problem is that I won’t know where the racer is, so I’ll disrupt the ground in a wide area. If you aren’t alert, you will also fall. Watch and listen. Call out ‘gifted’ when you see the black banner, and ‘racer’ when you see the red. Others will hear and will know to watch their footing.”

  The men clapped and cheered as she rose to her feet. Loud bellows filled the air. Some knelt and praised Dei. Nara looked over to Jahmai, a big smile on his face as he clapped along with them.

  Nara continued, “You are doing something precious, my friends. And you are growing. A few days ago, we had two dozen. Today, we have many more. We will grow, and we will fight. This is a battle for the Great Land, and
I intend to win. But I can only do it with your help. Work hard. Be good to one another. Your friends and neighbors depend on us to defeat the monster in Fairmont and we will not disappoint them. Now get back to work. We leave for Ankar in the morning.”

  Nara walked away from the men, stopping when she found a good place to look out over the valley below, and on Keetna. Perhaps that demonstration would give hope to these men. Men who might die for her. Hope can be a powerful thing.

  Mykel came over to her, smiling. He clapped a few times. “Very nice. Never thought of that one.”

  “I’m full of surprises.”

  “I thought you would just wrap them up with a mound of dirt so they couldn’t move.”

  He was still smarting over that one, clearly. “They are too fast to trap that way. Besides, I only use that method to stop big brutes who won’t listen to me.”

  “I’m listening now,” he said.

  “I know you are. Thank you.”

  “So, it looks like you’re gonna do this after all.”

  “I’m tired of second-guessing myself. They are depending on me. Besides, I don’t see any other way.”

  “Me either. Ankar?”

  “Maybe we get some gifted to join us. At least we’ll get more soldiers. We’ll need more than this ratty crew to march north.”

  “Need anything from me?”

  “Yes. Show off as much as possible.”

  “What?” Mykel’s face displayed his confusion.

  “These men are tough-minded and eager but will be far from their homes and alone. They’ve seen terrible things, they’ve done terrible things, and may be as frustrated with Dei as we are. They are scared, even if they don’t show it. When citizens join up with men who have wronged their villages, taken loved ones, there may be infighting. It could brew into chaos if we don’t manage it.”

  “Wow, you’re way ahead of me on this. Never thought of that.”

  “Mykel, when you lift heavy things or fight with your eyes closed, your magic is terrifying. So is mine. But we’re on their side. The more we show our strength, the more confident they will be. They’ll become brothers in pursuit of a common goal. It may heal the rift between them, and ease their fears. We need that to happen.”

  “But showing off? Making myself look better or tougher? That’s just not my style.”

  “But you are better. You are tougher. You’re the toughest warrior they’ve ever seen. It brings confidence. It’s not our way, but that must change because bold men who are properly motivated will march forward and spread the word. Not only will they fight harder, but our force will grow. People want to be part of something victorious. Look at their reaction to what I just did. It works.”

  Mykel made an odd face, then sighed. “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  He looked out at Keetna for a moment, then turned back. “I’ll do it. Want me to go arm-wrestle ten at once? Or head-butt some boulders?”

  “Boulders would be perfect,” she said. “Thank you.”

  They both laughed.

  “You might want to fix the ground back there,” Mykel said. “Hard to walk.”

  “Nah. It’s their reminder we’ve got big, bad magic and we’re gonna win.”

  Part Three

  War is a curious thing. Men kill for revenge. They kill for gold. They hurt one another because they have been hurt themselves. Pain begets pain, and in the midst of it, they defend their homeland. They defend their brothers. They defend their wives. They rise above themselves, displaying honor, sacrifice, and achieving a glory not possible without adversity.

  Darkness can give birth to beautiful stories.

  Author Unknown

  25

  Rescue

  The sun was almost down, and Gwyn again held the advantage over the guards within the compound who couldn’t see without torchlight. Over the last week, she’d made many trips over the wall, learning each building, which doors were locked, and the routes of each sentry. The northern sentries were like machines, always alert and focused, particularly when a carriage entered the compound. Sometimes, it was the Queen, but that was usually by day. Other times, it was the sick-looking man, who came often, or another who came rarely. The other man was in his fifties, she surmised, with long hair. Not just on his head, but on his face, and all over his arms. That guy was just plain hairy.

  At first, Gwyn thought the sick-looking man suffered from an ailment that was being treated here, but, after a time, it became clear that he held authority and was directing the actions of soldiers. She even overheard conversations between him, the guards and some porters. About moving prisoners and such. And moving bodies. Whatever they were doing to the children, some did not survive.

  The southwest sentry was her favorite, always having hot rolls and stinky cheese for his dinner. He would retrieve them from a kitchen in the large, central building and would abandon his post at least once an hour, making for easy entry and exit near his platform without the need to approach any of the other platforms.

  Of all the buildings she had surveyed, the four smaller ones were of the most interest. Not only did the Queen and the sick man spend all their time here among those structures, but it was also where they took the children. A sentry manned a single door on each building that faced the inner pathway that ran down the center of the compound. Only two windows were visible on the exterior of each building, one on the north side, and one facing the outer walls. The north window sported iron bars and the other, on the opposite side of the entry door, was locked and in clear view of a nearby sentry platform. Entry to any of these smaller buildings would require overpowering a guard and revealing her presence, removing iron bars, or breaking into a window in clear view of a sentry. Timing and stealth would be her only way to get inside one of those buildings.

  Five days ago, they had taken Yury into the southwest building, the one watched by the lazy, cheese-eating southwest sentry. Despite multiple attempts, she hadn’t yet picked the lock on the window before he had returned from collecting his dinner, but she hoped for success tonight, a silent, quick entry. Hard to do in the middle of an armed compound, but it was the best bad idea she could come up with.

  Once the sun had set, Gwyn didn’t have to wait long before the southwest guard began to look restive. He stood on his platform, periodically glancing back and forth at the main building. Once, he even grabbed his ample belly and Gwyn imagined hearing his tummy rumble. It wouldn’t be much longer now.

  She checked her quiver again to make sure the arrows were secure and adjusted the bow on her back. Another few minutes and the southwest guard turned to descend the ladder to the ground and Gwyn sprang into action, sprinting across the open space that separated the tree-line from the compound wall. After bolting up the side using well-practiced handholds, she held herself in place near the top, looking for other sentries. The southwest guard was the only human in sight, making his way in rapid fashion to the kitchen where his dinner likely awaited. She would have some time before he came back.

  Over the top and down the other side, she wasted no time moving to the target building. Catching her breath, she lingered a moment in the shadows on the south side of the building to check her surroundings. No sounds. No guards. Time to move. A hand went into a pocket, loosed a strap and lock picks came free. She eased around the corner, stopping in front of the window and putting a hook pick in the lock. She thought she had the pin combination right, but the torsion wrench hadn’t yet managed to force the tumbler.

  Feel. Lift. Lift. In with the torsion wrench. Turn.

  Drat. It was still stiff. Frozen – or had the tumbler seized? Perhaps she’d need to heat it somehow. Everything moved better with heat. With precious few moments before the lazy guard returned, she dropped the tools into her pocket once more and darted over to grab a torch from the sconce on the nearby wall. Back at the building, she placed the torch under the lock, warming it. The fire marked the windowsill black, and she worried about it igniting the wood
before the lock warmed enough to move. Just another moment. She held her breath. There, that should do it! She set down the torch, applied the hook pick and the torsion wrench and turned. Harder. Harder. Clack! The tumbler broke free, and the latch fell open.

  Gwyn dropped the tools back into her pocket, grabbed the torch and replaced it on the wall sconce. She then dashed back into the shadows on the south side of the building, reassessing. Footsteps on the north side of the building moved toward the southeast platform. The guard was returning with his dinner. Hopefully, he wasn’t observant enough to notice the singed windowsill and open padlock. She’d have to make entry to the building tonight, however. In full daylight, it would be easy to see that she’d tampered with the lock and she would lose her opportunity.

  More footsteps. She spun to see a different guard leading several children out from the south side of the main building, moving toward the field latrine. She was exposed, saved only by shadows. Normally in a situation like this, she would hide in a high place, since few people looked up. But that was only when inside a building, not an open area. Instead, she dropped to the ground and flattened herself against the building, hoping that the guard’s torch wouldn’t be bright enough to reveal her location. They passed within thirty feet of her location and it was only blind luck that kept the man from looking her way.

  Each child took a turn in the latrine and it seemed like an eon passed before they all finished and the guard led them back. They passed by Gwyn again, far too close for comfort, and a small girl at the back of the line turned to the left. Her eyes met Gwyn’s and the girl slowed. Caught. All it would take now was for the guard behind her to notice and follow her gaze.

  “Hurry up,” the man said, pushing the little girl forward, causing her to stumble and fall. “I ain’t got all night.”

  The girl picked herself up and kept walking. A moment later, they entered the large structure and the door behind them was closed and latched. Gwyn breathed a sigh of relief.