Then, turning on one leg like a dancer, she approached Fadhe once more. Anto's men held him still, but more from awe of the Bride than aught else. The Bride slowly took their hands from Fadhe and she turned her back to him, leaned back, and placed herself against his chest. Giggling she pulled his arms around her and laid her head on his shoulder. The she loosed herself from his arms, turned and said, “I would give to you a blessing, warrior, should you permit it.”
Fadhe nodded dumbly and the Bride giggled again. Slowly she pulled her mask aside and for Fadhe time stopped. She was more beautiful than anything he could imagine, and she looked at him with a smile. Standing on tiptoes she placed her lips to his in a gentle kiss and pulled away. Then she firmly gripped the back of his head, her hands deep within his hair, and pulled him low so she could whisper in his ear. “Death comes on swift legs,” she whispered in what sounded to him like a worried voice, “but not for you, Bear of Adhe.” Then, even softer, she whispered something else that Fadhe took deep within his heart. She pulled away, replaced her mask, and was gone before anything else could be said. For Fadhe it would be an event that he would carry vivid in his memory until his death. For everyone else there it was like watching the work of Adun, and before Fadhe could even gain his wits Anto said to him, “Your will be done, etKral of Adun.” Then the old Kral bowed, and change began.
Fadhe rode at the head of a small group of warriors, the growing heat of summer beating down upon his brow with ruthless carelessness. Kral Anto had been generous enough to give the etKral two of his fastest jar-Talq, the riding beasts of the valley that had long ago replaced horses. The reptilian beasts were low to the ground, long of leg, and had endurance enough to ride for a whole day without need of rest. A great frill of feathers lined a bony crest that jutted backwards over its neck and its tail was whip thin and bone plated. Some of the beasts could be trained for war, but it wasn't a common practice: they were too widely prized for their fleet footed speed and low breeding rates made them a commodity that was hard to replace. Fadhe's jar-Talq was a fine specimen: its talons were as black as night, its scales as green as grass and its feathered crest was an amazing hue of violet and red. Stahl rode next to his master, still nervous, while behind them rode the rest of the party. Two of Anto's warriors had come to accompany the etKral, and as they traveled from town to town, more and more warriors had joined in on the ride.
Things were moving better than Fadhe could have hoped. Etterskral had been stripped of men as Anto ordered everyone to the Thorn Wall, and once the word of the Bride's command spread even Jin, a canny old bastard that had more scars then ten men combined, immediately set his men north to the wall. Not wanting to let his momentum slow Fadhe skipped his father's town and went farther south. Somehow the news of his dreams, and the Bride's strange behavior, reached the peoples beyond Adheskral faster than Fadhe could ride. When he reached Kaininskral he was greeted by another of the Brides and even the young kral Bedin. The same scene, minus the Bride, happened in Jancenskral and Devinskral as well. Where he went, the warriors went north to the Wall. Confidence filled Fadhe's heart, and he rode tall atop his beast.
Now he road for Toninskral, and after he would go home to his father. Still he worried that time was passing too quickly, and he feared for those in the north. While still musing he realized he had come near his destination, but if felt strange. When he reached the town of Toninskral he found it deserted save for a single person wandering the square. He and his company of warriors pulled into the town slowly. He called for a halt and went on alone, approaching the lone person cautiously. The person was stooped over, brushing at the dirt with a broom of straw, and talking to themselves. Long silvery hair spilled out from under a pulled hood and withered hands gripped the broom with a strength that seemed almost manic.
“Daughter of Tonin, what has passed here?” asked Fadhe softly.
The woman turned so abruptly that Fadhe nearly jumped out of his saddle. Fadhe suppressed a shiver at seeing her face, for it was horrible to look at. Her eyes were red and bloodshot and her skin was wrinkled and worn through age and hardship. Great furrows had been run into her cheeks, allowed to heal, and then opened again for now they were black with gangrene and rot. Her teeth were all but gone, her nose broken, and her mouth drooling. “Woe to us, who toil the fields,” she said to him, “woe to us!”
“Woman,” asked Fadhe again, “I asked what has passed here.”
“Gone,” she replied, “all gone. Adun has abandoned me, the children of Tonin have ignored my pleas, instead listening to Geghti's lies with ears of lead and minds of sand!”
A sudden realization hit Fadhe and he worried in his spirit about his next question. “Woman, are you a Bride of Adun?”
The woman looked at him and smiled and somehow Fadhe was even more repulsed. “For years and years I was his,” she cooed, and then her face twisted and she grew angry. “Just as those faithless heathens of this town left me he too deserted his faithful servant! They can go and rot in the fields they will soon be laid down in!”
“What do you mean?”
The woman laughed and said, “If you want to know, ask me nicely and by my proper name.”
“And that would be?” said Fadhe, whose patience was quickly waning.
“Once upon an age past I was called Sarai,” she said to him, batting her eyes in a girlish manner.
“Well then,” said Fadhe nicely, “What do you mean by your words, dear Sarai of Toninskral?”
Sarai burst out laughing. “Only that the kral of Toninskral began having strange dreams some weeks past. Then his wife did. Then it was all his household. They sought me out, but I would not come.” Her voice lowered to a whisper and she said, “Geghti had already thrice been to bade me silent and since I am old and weary I stayed silent.” Once again she laughed, only this time there was an edge of madness to it. “They go north, to fight for a dream!” she cackled.
“Why is this funny?”
“Because,” she cackled, “everywhere The Road touches will be in flames, and the Salgara will fall along with Adun, he who deserts his people!”
“You speak lies and trickery, Sarai the foolish!” shouted Fadhe. “How far you have fallen from where Adun placed you!”
“Adun gave me only loneliness and pain! I spit upon his face and bade the foolish to stay, for had they stayed then...” she did not finish, but looked up at Fadhe like a cornered animal. “They will burn!”
“No,” said Fadhe, “you will burn, for Geghti has turned you from the light to the shadow!” Sarai shrieked and lunged at the still mounted Fadhe, her fingers looking like claws in the quickness of her strike. Without thinking Fadhe acted. For two steps more Sarai's body came on, but without its head, for on the road it sat, its face still locked in a horrible shriek, watching its own death. What was left of Sarai died as her lifeblood pooled in the dirt of Toninskral's square.
“Leave her for the crows,” said Fadhe, “we go north.” He looked down at the dead woman and suddenly he felt a little less sure of what awaited him in the coming days.
Change.
The voice pounded in Fadhe's head as he and his warriors charged north as fast as their mounts could run. Hours upon hours they would ride, stopping only to rest their mounts and sleep mere minutes, for Fadhe felt dread growing deep in his already troubled spirit. He ordered his warriors to ride past Adheskral, not wanting to lengthen their trip more than necessary, but when Stahl objected he compromised and sent one warrior from each of the towns he had visited to bear word to his father had passed. He was sure rumor had already reached him either by word of mouth or by the Bride in the hills above their town, but like Stahl had argued, what if it hadn't? So the warriors rode west along the road while Fadhe continued north.
Change.
Already Fadhe heard the whispers about him though never did he hear what words had been spoken. Even Stahl had remained tight lipped about what the men spoke amongst themselves during their stops. Fadhe feared they
thought him mad and the way they seemed to grow silent as he passed them did not bode well. Still, he knew that it was Adun's will driving him north at all haste. If all of this came to naught he would be cast out from the Salgara, his father would disown him and people would lose faith in the Brides. Or perhaps it would be only the young one that had prophesied his touch of divinity, for that is what she had done, wasn't it? The thought stung Fadhe's heart, but he reminded himself of the people of Toninskral; why had they gone north? Had the mad Bride deceived them, or had they deceived themselves. Either way about it change had come. For good or ill Fadhe had started it moving.
Change.
It was the word of Adun, a word telling him his place in the world. Fadhe hated it, yet it was who he was. He saw the pain of his people's ways, the constant warfare, the worry, and even in his younger years, the poverty. If he, as a simple man, could not bear to think of his people in such a situation how much more did Adun feel it? He had to place things into motion to help his people. But was that all Fadhe was: a tool?
Change.
They rode the north for the majority of a week. The length of Salgara made the trip from Toninskral to The Road a long one, but while most travelers would find it a trip for as many as ten days, the warriors drew near their destination in less than five, though on the evening of the fifth Fadhe ordered a halt. He wanted his warriors rested should they come over the rises north to find the depressions before the road littered with their dead. He did not think that such an awful discovery was at hand, but there was no reason to ride the whole night through if battle was to be had. Fighting in the dark was too dangerous. So it was the night sat on four days of hard riding and the warriors of the seven towns rested under the dark sky, for the new moon had not yet ripened. “Change,” thought Fadhe, “will be here on the morrow.” He did not sleep in the night for he feared what he might dream. Fadhe sat near his mount, watching the night while Stahl stayed in the shadows, watching his master.
Meanwhile The Road waited for them all.
The next morning Fadhe and his company broke camp before dawn and were once again off for The Road. Fadhe's heart thumped in his chest for he knew that something was coming and soon. As they broke the last hill before the flat plain that spread for five miles before the road Fadhe held his breath. His heart thundered in his chest and there was a palpable feeling thrumming through the group as a whole. Fadhe had become something odd and special and his feelings were now treated with the same respect as his commands. It was strange to be so respected when just days before he had been a near pariah. They came to the apex of the hill and looked down onto the flat plain before the road(often called The Plain of Blood because of how often it had been a battlefield for the people of Salgara) and Fadhe was rocked in his saddle. The whole of the plain was covered in tents, mostly in the style of Toninskral, but also in the various styles of all seven of the krals of Salgara. As they drew nearer Fadhe saw that massive portions of the Thorn Wall had already been moved, a line of carts pulled by tame singra hauling larger portions of the vast barricade in freshly rutted paths towards the roads. Excitement swelled in Fadhe's chest and loosed a shout of joy so loud that it was contagious. His retinue followed suit, and with a motion from their leader signaling them to follow, they charged onto the Plain of Blood.
Within minutes they had come to the main portion of the Salgara camps. Fadhe looked around at the assembled peoples and realized that much of this was his doing. Then, shaking his head to clear it, he accepted the truth: all of this was his doing. On his word the Salgara had mobilized because of a dream. It was hard to understand, but Fadhe knew it was a good thing. Then he saw it, the camp of his father's own soldiers. With little warning Fadhe turned his mount, veering directly for his father's camp. The warriors saw him coming and by the time the etKral arrived his father was leaving the pavilion that was the Kral's tent. Fadhe was off his mount and on his knees in a flash and the warriors that rode with him quickly followed suit.
Radhe of Adheskral welcomed his son with a smile, arms wide with joy. “Do not bow before me, boy, for the people have come at your word, not mine.” Fadhe lifted his eyes and looked at his father with a feeling he couldn't quite name. Eyes that rarely ever saw his father now took him in for all he was. He was a sturdy man nearing sixty summers, his hair iron gray with streaks of still remaining blonde. Muscle still held a hold over his frame, but even Fadhe could see that it would not for much longer. Radhe was a man that could still fight in battle, but was not the warrior he once was. His face was lined with scars and sun weathered wrinkles and his blue eyes were the color of a clear summers day. Fadhe never saw himself in his father's face; folks said he favored his mother, and part of Fadhe believed that was why he had been sent away so often. His brothers had resembled their father in many ways, but not Katarina's son. No, the youngest of Radhe's sons was not like his father except in one thing; Fadhe thought when others acted on impulse. Radhe laughed at the look his son gave him and took it upon himself to move forward and embrace his son. “You have done something many of our people have tried to do, son, though still I don't understand it.” He held his son at arm’s length and said, “A dream caused all of this?”
Fadhe laughed and said, “Yes, and it seems as if Adun favors me at least a bit. All while we rode I was troubled with the feeling that something bad was about to happen. I dreaded coming over the last rise because I thought I would find...”
Radhe's face grew still at his son's silence and nodded. “I understand that well. A troubling feeling has been plaguing me as well, especially since the people of Toninskral just uprooted and came North all because of dreams. Rarely do such things happen, and never are they a good omen.” Radhe's face flickered with emotion for a few seconds before passing, falling once more to his smile. “But we act on your words, by command of the Brides of Adun, and already the Thorn Wall moves.”
Fadhe turned from his father and looked beyond the gathered tents to where the Thorn Wall was being moved and, in some places, constructed anew. The wall was not so much a solid barrier as it was great wooden poles, sealed with a clay-like material (called stone-wax) that did not burn, that were mounted in the earth in large and small alternating “X” structures. The wood was then wrapped in a plant called Fentbusk that had also been sealed in the stone-wax. The fentbusk, or foul-bush, was not a bush at all, really, but a tangle of long vines that had the tendency to wrap themselves into a large ball if not groomed to grow differently. The vines were insanely hard to cut, grew to the thickness of a man’s arm and were covered with thorns the size of daggers. The thorns secreted a mild poison that caused vomiting and dementia; even a small scratch would make a man sick for days. They were also able to easily slice through the hardened leathers most warriors of Etkaldra wore, find holes and kinks in chain mesh and even, in some cases, damage solid iron armor. Needless to say that if a warrior found himself assailing the Thorn Wall the poison was amongst the least of his worries. Fadhe's ancestors had first constructed the wall hundreds of years before when the fighting had just begun between the north and south. Thorn Wall quickly became a pivotal structure in both the defense and the taking of The Road.
“It is good we move it,” said Fadhe. He nodded to himself and repeated, “It really is a good thing that we move it.”
“That is what I wish to speak to you about,” said his father with a directing motion towards his tent. Fadhe turned and said, “The Wall needs tending to and if even I toil to move it perhaps the warriors and working men will be moved to work that much harder.”
“We need to speak,” began Radhe but Fadhe cut him off saying, “We need the work to go quickly and without error, having me there might do that...”
“Have you forgotten who is Kral of all Salgara? I am still your father and your Kral, you will listen to me!” Radhe roared. Fadhe turned back and saw his father with his normally composed face contorted in his moment of rage. There Fadhe saw the look of a man who knew his end was coming and
was not ready for it. Fadhe did not know whether his father saw death or deposition in in the near future but there was no denying that there was something akin to panic in his face. Fadhe turned and saw Stahl standing like a grim guardian totem, his hand near, but not on, his weapon. Fadhe gave a near imperceptible nod at Stahl and made to enter his father's tent. Stahl approached behind him but came to a halt outside. Fadhe entered alone and Radhe followed.
It was stifling hot in the tent and, though it stood well above Fadhe's head, cramped to the point of claustrophobia. His father moved to the center of the tent and sat down on a pile of cushions. Fadhe chose to stand. He waited patiently as his father adjusted his position on the cushions, something Fadhe was sure he was doing out of nervousness and nothing else. Finally, after a small eternity, his father spoke. “How did you do it?” his father asked. Fadhe was perplexed and it showed.
“How,” said Radhe, “did you get all the villages, all the Krals, to follow you without question when for most of my life I have tried to do the same and have gotten only headaches, insults and bickering?” The old kral rubbed at his forehead and looked at his son with weary eyes. “Your grandfather thought it was a grand, but foolish, dream to unite the villages and truly take the north, ending this...endless struggle. When I was a boy we held the road for nine years, the longest since his twice great grandfather. But we could go no farther. The Krals argued, the tenets of the sons of Adun seemed to get in the way more than help.
“Long have I felt that something was needed to shake the foundations, to upset the ways we have lived. Never did I see this coming!” Radhe laughed and said, “You know old Anto came to me himself and spoke of your 'touch' from Adun. He said his Bride, daughter of our own, is practically fawning over you and that can only mean that you and she are destined to wed. In all our years never has a Bride married a man of Etkaldra! But you,” he said, pointing at Fadhe, “you have changed it all. How?”
Just Before Dawn Page 12
