by Pedro Urvi
Then she heard the sound of hooves.
She turned and bitterly cursed all the spirits of the Beyond. Four soldiers on horseback, in yellow and black, were climbing after her. They must be a patrol from the fort, and clearly they had seen her. Iruki went on uphill but the horses gained on her rapidly and reached her before she got to the top. One of the soldiers hit her in the back with his steel spear and she lost her footing.
With a cry of impotence and rage she rolled downhill.
She fell, hitting rocks, earth and trees on the way, and ended up at the edge of the lake violently bruised. Her body ached as if a whole herd of pintos had passed over her. The pouch with the Sky Weed had fallen off her belt, but she found it a few steps away on the ground. She lunged to retrieve it ignoring the terrible pain. Nothing would stop her, nothing.
A rider reached her, shield and spear ready.
Iruki refastened the pouch to her belt and unsheathed her Ilenian sword.
“Let us drink the blood of the enemy, my warrior, let my soul become young again as it bathes in the red fluid of life. Will you allow it, my mistress?” the same cold, dangerous voice spoke inside her mind, seeming to come from the dawn of time.
“I allow…” she said to the bewitched sword.
A golden flash ran through her from head to toe, and she realized at once that it was no longer she who controlled her own body but the Ilenian sword. She was possessed by its soul.
The soldier directed his spear to Iruki’s chest without a word or gesture of warning, but the sword cast it aside with ease. Iruki saw herself turn on her heels and approach the rider in a single move. Before he could attack again the sword cut deep into the soldier’s thigh, hacking half his leg through its armored protection. Iruki turned again getting out of the horse’s way and saw the rider tumble from his mount amid screams of agony and fear.
“The nectar of life is delicious. My essence gains eternity with it, my soul finds its youth renewed with each tasty sip,” the sword said in her mind.
Two other riders appeared, coming downhill and charged her.
Iruki noticed her body moving lightly, with the balance and dexterity of a lethal warrior, of a master swordsman. She was possessed by the spirit of an artist of the sword-fight. Her body crouched, then leapt, and the sword shone in the sun. A moment later she turned, advanced, parried, and the sword flashed again. In the blink of an eye both riders had died in the lethal dance which her body had performed.
She was flabbergasted.
Her four original pursuers arrived from the south.
“Don’t you even try unless you want to end like them,” she warned, not wishing the sword to end more lives.
The four soldiers exchanged doubtful glances, but then decided to attack.
“Today is my day, my mistress, today my blade will be rejuvenated by nectar and my soul will be delighted once more.”
The soldiers attacked, forming a barrier of interlocked shields, with their spears ready to launch against Iruki’s body. That scared her, since they were well protected and she was afraid, thinking the sword could not break that defensive formation.
She was wrong.
The moment the soldiers moved forward to launch their spears from behind their rectangular shields, Iruki’s body gave a huge leap and turn that took her right past behind the line of soldiers in an impossible somersault. She then swerved like a panther behind them and faced the unprotected backs of the men as they tried desperately to turn in time. The sword flashed four times like lightning and the four soldiers were dead before they even realized it.
Iruki was in absolute awe. She was possessed by the soul of an amazing warrior. The Zangrian soldiers could never stop her.
She was wrong again.
The fourth rider, whom she had already forgotten, came out of the trees at full gallop.
Iruki saw her body turning.
The soldier’s spear hit her on the head.
The sword fell from her hand as darkness enveloped her.
Iruki woke up to the cold drip of water on her face. Her head hurt furiously. She opened her eyes, trying to focus. She was shackled to a rough rock wall, and by the looks of it she was in a dungeon. Three men in Zangrian uniforms were staring at her with hostility. By the uniforms she guessed they were officers, not common soldiers.
One of them asked her something in Zangrian. Iruki shook her head.
“Do you speak the Common Tongue of the North?” asked the oldest of the three. He had white hair and was very tall, and by the braids on his jerkin he was probably the officer in command.
“Yes, I do…” said Iruki, understanding that they wanted to talk. The strange Zangrian language was unknown to her, but she knew the tongue of their northern neighbors.
The soldier nodded. The officer asked her: “What were you doing in the lakes?”
Iruki looked around the dark, gloomy room. She saw her belt with the leather pouch for the Sky Weed on a table beside her Ilenian sword.
“I was searching for medicinal plants,” she said, nodding towards the belt.
“It’s a little strange that a score of Masig dare to enter the Thousand Lakes,” said a second officer with a thick black beard and green eyes.
“The medicines we seek are very important for our people. Many have fallen sick and are at risk of dying. That’s why we came.”
“They’re spies, no doubt, working for the Kingdom of Erenal. The Masig never come this far into the lakes,” said the third one. He was fat and bald. “It’s absurd! They come into our territory fully armed in search of medicinal plants? Lies, I say!”
“We’re nobody’s spies. We came searching for the Sky Weed, that’s the truth. My tribe is sick, I need to take it back to my people. The lives of many Masig depend on it. You have to believe me, please…” she begged.
The officer in command walked up to Iruki and took her cheeks in his hands. He made her look up and stared into her eyes.
“I’ll ask you one more time, Masig. What were you doing in the lakes?”
“I’m telling you the truth, you have to believe me. Look in my belt, you’ll see I’m a Healer Woman.”
“A healer she says, the bitch! After killing three riders and four infantry soldiers!” shouted the bearded officer, enraged.
“You’re an assassin sent by Erenal to spy, or else to kill Count Ulmitch, lord of this fort. The men who came with you were your escort,” said the bald one.
“I’m telling the truth, I just defended myself. Your soldiers attacked us without any provocation.”
“Do you really expect us to believe that a savage Masig, a healer, is capable of killing seven Zangrian soldiers without any assistance?”
Iruki had no answer to that. They were not going to believe her no matter what she said and she could not explain about the spell on the Ilenian sword: they would think she was trying to fool them.
“Silence is as good as an admission,” said the white-haired officer, taking a step back and straightening his uniform. “You are guilty of the death of seven Zangrian soldiers. As the officer in command of this garrison and by the power given to me by the King, I condemn you to death. Take her to the tower and execute her.”
Iruki was struck dumb. She tried to say something in her defense, but she could only mumble incomprehensibly.
“Guards!” the officer called. “To the tower with her.”
Two soldiers came into the cell and took off her shackles. They took her belongings and dragged her away upstairs to a room on the top floor. They went up and up and endless staircase. When they came into the room, she saw with alarm that it was an execution cell. She was lost. All she could see was a little window to one side and a tree-stump with a basket beside it.
She knew what that meant. She swallowed.
The two soldiers made her kneel at the stump and forced her face down on to the wood as they held her arms. She commended herself to the good spirits of the steppes. They were going to cut her head off.
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br /> “Allow me the honor, they were my men,” said the bearded officer.
“The honor is yours, Sergeant,” replied the bald officer.
“Appreciate it, Captain.”
Leaning beside the stump was the biggest sword that Iruki had ever seen: a two-handed sword with very sharp edges. The Sergeant went to the sword and wielded it, weighing it in the air. He turned to Iruki.
“By order of the King and as the military representative of his designs, I now carry out the sentence.
He placed the blade on Iruki’s neck.
He raised the sword.
Iruki thought about her father, her tribe… and felt utterly desperate. She was going to die without being able to save them.
At that precise moment the tower window exploded into fragments. A shadow slid into the room.
The executioner turned his head. A throwing dagger caught him in the eye.
“Damnation!” cried the Captain. He took his sword from its sheath.
A cloud of black smoke filled the room, and Iruki could not see what was happening. She heard a grunt of pain, followed by the sound of a body dropping to the ground. Suddenly the pressure the guards were exerting on her vanished, and she was able to raise her head. She heard a murmur on her right, and another body hit the floor. Another grunt on her left, and one more body fell. She did not know what was going on, but there were men dying in the blink of an eye. Through the black smoke she made out her sword on a table. Without thinking twice, she lunged for it, unsheathed it and cried: “Possess me, my body is yours!”
The sword awoke, and its light ran through her body.
“Ilenian magic,” a voice whispered.
Sword in hand, Iruki looked in the direction of the voice. The smoke was beginning to fade.
“Who are you? Show yourself!” she cried.
The smoke dissolved completely and Iruki saw that the four Zangrian soldiers were dead.
“Has it been so long that you don’t recognize my voice, Iruki Wind of the Steppes?”
She was petrified.
Out of the shadows of a corner Yakumo came out.
He was dressed all in black, with only his slanting dark eyes visible.
“Yak… Yakumo?”
The Assassin pulled back the black scarf which covered his face.
Iruki’s heart nearly burst in her chest. The Ilenian sword fell from her hand.
She could not believe her eyes. Her beloved was there, alive!”
Through her whole body there burst such a feeling of joy that she was overwhelmed.
“Yakumo! You’re alive!”
He came to her and looked into her eyes. “I gave you my word that one day I would come back for you.”
“I… I can’t believe it,” she stammered as she held him in her arms, fearful that this was nothing but an intangible dream.
Yakumo held her close and smiled, and as he did Iruki’s soul lit up.
She kissed him passionately, filled with happiness and joy. They both poured their feelings into that kiss as their love and desire surged, taking over the reins of their destinies. Time stopped, and everything around them vanished in that moment of an impossible encounter born of a desperate promise. In the arms of the man her heart yearned for, the one her thoughts had clung to day after day all-but-hopelessly, Iruki was fulfilled.
The door to the tower opened suddenly and two soldiers ran in. Yakumo reacted at once and rolled onto the floor, while attacking the guards with his lethal black daggers, taking them by surprise. Iruki crouched, holding the Ilenian sword in both hands. The Assassin’s daggers did their job taking life, and the Masig’s sword sought the blood it craved. Both guards died instantly.
“We must flee, Iruki. They’ve sounded the alarm, and more soldiers will come.”
“Guide me, Yakumo, I’ll follow! I’ll follow you to the end of the world!”
He smiled, gazing at her lovingly, then climbed onto the window-sill and offered her his hand.
“Follow me, Iruki Wind of the Steppes! I’m not worthy to have you come with me, but maybe one day I’ll be able to redeem myself at your side.”
With the help of a rope Yakumo carried with him, the two fugitives climbed to the roof of the tower. On the other side they climbed down onto a large building with a sloping roof.
“Careful, these are the barracks…” whispered Yakumo.
The whole fort was on alert. The soldiers were running all over the courtyard, and there were cries of alarm everywhere. Luckily for both of them, night had already fallen and there was barely any light on the roofs. They were wrapped in the darkness of night, and they escaped under her wing. Crouched and in silence, they made their way to another smaller building, and Yakumo leapt on to the roof with the ease of a cat. Iruki made it to the roof a little off-balance and began to slip. She almost fell, but Yakumo grabbed her in time.
She thanked him with relief.
“It’s time to hide and disappear.”
“Are we going to jump the wall?”
“Look over there,” Yakumo pointed to the inner courtyard, where more than thirty riders were preparing to leave. “Patrols, out to get us. They’ll comb all the forests around on their horses.”
“How are we going to escape from them?”
“Always do what the enemy least expects,” he replied with an enigmatic smile.
An hour later the fugitives were hiding among the hay in the upper floor of the stables.
“It’s crazy, they’ll find us!” said Iruki.
“On the contrary, they’ll never think of looking for us here. All the riders have left and they won’t come back until dawn. The stables are closed, so to speak. Nobody’s going to come up here, there’s no need, no horses to feed.”
“It’s crazy, but if you think it’s best…”
Yakumo smiled. They were facing a mountain of dry hay.
“Follow me,” he said, and began to climb up the hay towards the far end of the stable.
They made a hole there and hid in it. Behind that pile of hay they were invisible. Iruki stretched her tired body, although her heart was beating at a gallop. Yakumo sat beside her, looking at her tenderly. She took his hand and drew him to her. She looked at him and stroked his face, the face of her savior, her heart, her soul… She felt a growing desire for her man. Hiding there, surrounded by enemies, in danger and lying beside the enigmatic foreigner her heart yearned for, she bent to kiss him.
But he stopped her. “Iruki, I’m not worthy…”
She did not want to hear that, she only wanted to be loved by the one her heart had chosen. Yakumo tried to resist, but Iruki would not let him. She held his neck with both hands and drew him to her once more. She kissed him, and Yakumo’s defenses crumbled. He let the love he felt for her overcome him and gave in to their passion.
That night, surrounded by dangers, two human beings, as different as they were alike, became one with a passion and a love so honest and so great that the moon had to look away, blushing.
Sonea, crouching by the wall, pulled Lindaro’s sleeve. The footsteps of the two watchmen rang on the fort parapet. The two scholars were hiding among the high brush under cover of night, trying not to be discovered by the Zangrian guards. It was almost dawn, and if they wanted their plan to work they had very little time left. If dawn arrived and they were discovered, they would be lost.
“Come on, Lindaro, let’s go,” Sonea encouraged him in a whisper.
The priest looked at her with anguish, but regained his composure and followed her.
They had planned it well, and it was going to work. Sonea was sure of it. They would make it, just as long as nothing they had not considered came up… which given the latest events was all too likely. The real world was very far from her beloved library. She thought of her Master and of the many hours of study they had shared. She had to improvise now, with whatever means she had at hand in order to survive. And mistakes were paid with death, not mere scolding. She sighed and tried to ease h
er restless spirit: she had to control her emotions. They were in great danger.
They stood at the spot they had chosen by the wall. Sonea nodded at Lindaro. They took two steps back from it and readied themselves. Now came the hard part of the plan. Lindaro prepared the sack they had brought with them, filled with stones and dry grass. He opened it, and they covered it with their own bodies.
The crucial moment had arrived.
A barn-owl flew above them, and Sonea’s heart nearly jumped out of her mouth.
“Come on, Sonea, hurry.”
Very carefully, Sonea took out her flint and lit the grass inside the sack. After several attempts she finally managed it. Luckily the guards did not see the sparks. They waited until the inside of the sack was on fire. They had to throw it. The bottom part was rock, paper and grass which they had soaked in lamp oil. Once the fire reached the bottom it would burn intensely. The idea had occurred to them when they happened upon an empty hunting shelter near the southern end of the great lake. They had spent a long while puzzling over the plan and had finally decided to go ahead with it.
Lindaro looked towards the wall.
Sonea heard the steps of the guards walking away.
“Now!” she said in his ear.
Lindaro closed the sack, then with calculated skill threw it over the wall.
They both lay on the ground and waited, looking at each other expectantly.
“I think it’s a hit,” whispered the priest, controlling the excitement in his voice but not in his lively eyes.
The fire did not take long to catch. They had thrown the incendiary bomb to the barn beside the stables. They had spent half the day up in a huge fir tree, spying from afar on what went on inside the fort whose walls were not very high, fortunately. From their launch position the sack must have made its way into the barn through the open front. Lindaro had been practicing the throw all day, aware that they would only have the one chance.
