The Way to Freedom: The Complete Season One (Books 1-5): An Epic Fantasy Action Adventure (The Way to Freedom Series)

by H. M. Clarke

  ‘Another group. They left you with us, as they had to finish their patrol.’

  Just at this moment three more of the group entered the clearing talking cheerfully with each other. They were lithe and graceful but stepped with a laziness at odds with their excited chatter. She did not see any movement from their mouths but she could clearly hear their speech. How are they talking? She held her lips together and tried to say hello but all she managed was a loud humming noise.

  ‘That did not take Asnar long,’ She heard someone say from the other side of the campfire.

  ‘The rest are still giving him a bit of a workout,’ one said poking a thumb back in the direction they came. ‘He’s sent us back to see if there is anyone else who wants to test themselves against him.’

  ‘He’s keen. He only arrived here this morning,’ said the person sitting to her left.

  ‘I thought he wanted to meet our newest member as soon as she awoke?’ Ghrista said, clapping a large and very furry hand on her shoulder. It’s bulky weight made her sag forward but she did not complain. At least he sheathed his claws before he slapped her.

  ‘Perhaps she would like to challenge Asnar?’ said the middle fellow of the trio whose golden eyes gave her a once over before saying directly to her. ‘You look about the same height and at least you both are Bareskins. What do you say?’

  “Bareskins? Who is this Asnar?” She turned to Ghrista who smiled at her all teeth and fangs.

  ‘Come. The best way to find out is to meet him.’ Ghrista rose from his seat on the grass and held a paw out to help her up to her feet.

  ‘I suggest you do not challenge him though. You should at least let yourself recover from your injury first.’

  “Challenge him to what?” She asked as Ghrista, still holding her hand, pulled her forward across the clearing. She turned to see that the others had stood up from the fire to follow them. Ahead she could see a small trail that disappeared into the soft green undergrowth and the breeze carried to her the faint sounds of thumping and grunting. What is going on?

  ‘Challenge him to a Mushta,’ Ghrista replied with a flare of his whiskers. She was now sure that he did not open his mouth to speak. In fact she did not think that she actually heard him with her ears at all.

  “What is a Mushta?” They were now walking along the well-worn path, the faint noises heard moments before slowly growing louder.

  ‘The Mushta is the true way of greeting the return of a fellow warrior. You do not remember a custom like this?’

  “No I don’t,” she replied as they followed the path as it curved through the trees and undergrowth.

  ‘Did you remember anything about yourself this morning?” Ghrista turned to her and gave a full-toothed smile as he spoke in an effort to take any implied sting from his words. She did not mind the question and took no offence.

  “Not exactly about myself but,” she reached down and drew the dagger from its sheath and held it up for Ghrista to see. “I do remember sharpening this in front of a fire someplace.” On impulse she flicked the dagger into the air and caught it by the tip between her thumb and forefinger. “It’s a little plain but it feels finely balanced in my hand as if it had been made for me.” As she spoke they stepped out from the confines of the path into another clearing and the first thing she saw was something small and bright hurtling towards her.

  Without thought, she tossed the dagger by its tip with a flick of her wrist towards the object and ducked down, hands reaching to the other side of her belt for a weapon that was not there.

  Behind her, she could hear the odd wheezing noise that passed for laughter among these folk and she turned to glare at Ghrista. The others who followed close behind stopped and joined Ghrista in his laughter.

  “What’s so funny?” She asked him in annoyance.

  Ghrista pointed a clawed finger in the direction her dagger flew and began wheezing even harder.

  Deliberately, she turned her head to look into the clearing.

  Several sets of golden eyes were crinkled in merriment as their owners wheezed with laughter. But it was the bare pale skin and clear blue eyes that caught her gaze. The man was bare to the waist, his smooth skin glistening with sweat. He wore only white suede trousers and boots and his light brown hair was long and curly but as the wind rustled his hair, she could hear the soft music of the little bells that were woven into it. He stood stock still, his eyes riveted to her still crouching form.

  She could not take her eyes away from him. He was exactly like her except very obviously male. After a moment he moved. Reaching back over his shoulder with one hand, he plucked something from the trunk of the tree behind him. His movement was smooth and fluid and she watched his graceful motion as he bought the object forward for all present to see.

  Her dagger was in his hand, a small bronze plate impaled on its blade. The thing must have just missed him by a hair! She felt her face blush with shame. She did not even think when she threw it. It was an automatic response.

  He flicked her dagger in his hand, making it twist and flash in the morning sun before catching it again by the hilt.

  “It looks like we have another Dearen in our midst,” he said to the crowd who began to wheeze with laughter even more. His voice was deep and melodic and the sound of it struck a chord deep within her. Something inside of her suddenly let out a shout for joy that he was near. A sharp tingling began at the base of her spine that slowly began to spread over the skin of her skull. She felt a heat rising in her and she quickly smothered it with a strong effort of will. What has gotten into her?

  Smiling he came across the clearing towards her and flicked her dagger again in his hand, catching it by the tip and bent down to offer it to her hilt first. “I think this belongs to you.”

  She reached hesitantly for the hilt, her eyes never leaving his for an instant. As she took the hilt, he pulled the punctured piece of bronze from the blade and flipped it in his fingers.

  “I don’t think this will be much use any more,” he said turning back and throwing the piece into the furred hands of the nearest person who held the mangled piece of bronze over the leather strap of a bandolier.

  ‘Definitely, I will need a new brace plate Asnar,’ he said tossing the plate aside. ‘Just remind me next time we cross paws to take the bandolier off.’

  She stood slowly up from her crouch still red with shame. She felt the fool and to be one in front of this man made her shame burn stronger. He turned back to her and smiled but all she saw was someone trying to be nice to a mad woman. The tingling in her head became more insistent and she had to concentrate to stop her hands from scratching at her scalp. It felt as if there was something inside trying to call out.

  She turned back to Ghrista, rubbing the nape of her neck with her fingers. “Ghrista, I think I need to lie down. I don’t feel very well.” She took a few staggered steps towards him and the tingling in her head suddenly grew worse. Something did not feel right within her and as she went to take another step she felt herself falling. Just as she lost consciousness, she felt strong hands catch her before she hit the ground.

  Chapter Three

  Dearen

  “What happened? Where am I?”

  She tried to get up but a hand on her shoulder restrained her. She felt hard ground beneath her body but her head rested on something soft and warm. She turned her head slightly and saw that it was a white suede shirt. Seeing the shirt made her remember who wore the trousers that matched it.

  “You are still laying where you collapsed but you will be fine. I fear we might have over exerted you.”

  She looked up at the sound of his voice and saw blue eyes staring down at her. She felt the heat rise in her face as she blushed again.

  “You are Asnar?” She said slowly. Her head no longer tingled and itched. She pushed Asnar’s hand away from her shoulder and sat up.

  “Yes I am, Dearen.”

  Around them was a crowd of furry bodies all peering down at her. She s
miled and waved them away, “Don’t worry. I’m fine.” The tinkling of bells drew her attention back to Asnar as those milling about her stepped away. The sound reminded her of something, something that she could not quite remember.

  “Have I met you someplace before?” The question blurted out of her before she had time to think. But Asnar nodded slowly, the smile slipping from his face.

  “It was a long time ago when you were little and I was not much older than you are now. Do you remember Dearen?”

  “Dearen, is that my name?” She caught upon the name, not wanting to suffer the frustration of not remembering something that she clearly should.

  Asnar looked up at Ghrista who sat slightly behind him, after what seemed a moment of staring the big cat just shrugged his shoulders. Asnar gave Ghrista a small nod and then turned back to look at her.

  “Ghrista here told me that you have no memory of who you are so I have decided to call you Dearen after that knife display you gave.”

  “Then you don’t know who I am?” The disappointment was thick in her voice but she brushed it aside. “Why call me Dearen?”

  “Well,” Asnar made himself more comfortable on the ground, adjusting himself to sit cross-legged. She followed suit as she picked up the white suede shirt that was used as a pillow and handed it shyly back to him. He took it with a smile and quickly shucked himself into it. The shirt was a close fit, made especially to hug the contours of his body. Around the yoke were sewn hundreds of tiny gold, green and red beads in a simple geometric pattern.

  Together it was very beautiful and she wished that she had the patience and skill to do that kind of work. She quickly chided herself. How would she know what kind of work she was capable of if she could not even remember a simple thing like her own name!

  “Dearen is a very ancient name among the Dymarki.-“

  “The Dymarki?”

  Asnar pointed a finger in the direction of the rest of the group who were now sitting under a tree at the far side of the clearing, talking amongst themselves.

  “They are the Dymarki. That is what they call themselves. We ourselves,” Asnar flicked the finger between himself and her, “are called Pydarki.”

  She unexpectedly felt a thrill go through her bones. She now knew who her people are. “The names sound very similar to each other. Are the Pydarki and Dymarki races related to each other?”

  “Yes. In a strange way we are,” Asnar nodded. “But that is a long story for another time, now I must tell you about Queen Dearen.”

  “Many Generations ago, before the Dymarki disappeared from these lands in the Great Exile, the peoples of Arran and Suene lusted after the wealth that was contained in these mountains, our home, for as long as our peoples existed.

  The Dymarki homelands were the border between Arran and Suene and both nations knew that it held the richest deposits of the metal ore and the precious stones that the Bareskins of the plains and the Bareskins of the North coveted. It helped the Bareskins cause that the Dymarki looked as different to them as they do to a dog. That was when the derogative term of IceTigers appeared in the language of the Bareskins.” Asnar paused to take a breath before continuing on.

  “The Suenese King (Suene at that time had no empire) and the Arranian King arranged a pact with some of the minor potentates to drive the Dymarki out of their home in the Bhaglier Ranges and force them into leaving Alleron altogether. They would then split the Ranges between them. So, the two armies lined up and approached the Dymarki strongholds. The Suenese (what the Dymarki call the Bareskins of the Plains), on their side and the Arranians (what the Dymarki call the Northern Bareskins), on the other. But both Kings and their allies did not reckon on the Dymarki Queen.

  Queen Dearen had gotten wind of what the two Kings were up to. Dearen knew the Dymarki could not hope to defeat the armies of the two nations. The Pydarki offered her help but she refused them. She wanted one of the peoples of the Mountains to be able to stay in the Ranges and guard the sacred sites from the Bareskins of the Plains and of the North.

  When the Suenese started their march into the Bhaglier, Dearen and the Dymarki were already gone. She had sent the non-combatants through secret ways to the Arranian coast and across The Grotto to safety, but led the main Dymarki force around behind the Suenese army to ensure they were not followed.”

  Asnar learned back, his hands cupped over his knees. He tilted his head up with his eyes closed to the morning sun.

  “Now that would have been a battle to watch,” he said quietly.

  Sitting silently beside Asnar, Ghrista nodded in agreement. Asnar’s voice was soft as he continued.

  “Dearen took the them by surprise, her forces ripped apart the Suenese flank, sending the rear of the army into disarray. As they began to rout, the forward army had turned about to face them. Then the fight was on in earnest and it continued for several hours until the Suenese King and the Dymarki Queen met together in single combat. It was the first time the rulers had ever met face to face and King Aileach was surprised to be facing a female in combat. Queen Dearen just hoped that she had the strength to finish this fight before it finished her.

  The fighting around the two leaders stopped as soldiers turned to watch the two monarchs as they met in a flash of steel and claw.

  King Aileach was the stronger but Dearen was the faster and she kept dancing out of his reach in an effort to tire the man. Every now and then she would feint in and leave a cut on an arm or leg but the King kept swinging his blade without pause.

  Then, as Dearen danced back again from Aileach’s sword, she slipped and fell to the ground, landing hard on her back. The Suenese King strode forward, sword raised to deliver the killing blow. Then suddenly Dearen slipped a dagger from her bandolier and threw it towards the approaching King. Those watching gasped at such a dishonorable thing.

  Aileach immediately did the same, aiming his throw straight for the Dymarki Queen’s heart. But Dearen’s dagger flew straight pass his nose and connected in a shriek of steel with something next to his ear. The King turned back to see the Queen’s dagger caught in the hilt of another.

  But the King’s dagger was buried deep in Dearen’s chest, her lifeblood soaking the grass beneath her.

  Aileach dropped to his knees in shock. He was amazed that she had spent her last moment in life saving him from a dishonorable death.

  The surrounding soldiers stood in silence, the Bareskins stared in wonder at the Queen, not believing this chivalry from a people they had come to drive off or kill. And the Dymarki started to keen.”

  “That is the story of Dearen Hardclaw, the last queen of the Dymarki.”

  “What happened to the Dymarki army? Did they escape from the Suenese?”

  “Yes they did. King Aileach let them retreat from the field, taking the body of their dead Queen with them and when they reached the coast, the remains of the Dymarki army fled across the Grotto Sea into the Great Exile. Now the people have come back and this time the Pydarki will stand by them to help win our country back from the Bareskins.” Asnar smiled and leaned back to clap the Dymarki hard on the shoulder. Ghrista smiled back at him in a show of fangs.

  ‘It is truly good to be home. Our people have been dreaming of this time for generations. Now we are back, the Great Exile is over, and this time the only way we will leave these mountains is by the Low Road.’

  “Well said Ghrista, well said,” Asnar said as he rose to his feet. “Now I think I could use a little breakfast. Have you eaten already?” He suddenly asked her as she was partway through rising.

  “Yes, I have. Ghrista gave me some of that wonderful stew that was on the fire.”

  “Good, good,” he said as Ghrista’s form towered above him. “ I made that for us this morning. The raw meat diet of the Dymarki is not that appetizing to the likes of us.”

  Asnar turned and headed to the path that led to the breakfast fire and waved an impatient hand at the two.

  “Come and keep me company while I eat. Af
terwards Dearen, I will have a proper look at that head wound of yours.”

  Chapter Four

  Hilltop Sunset

  “Asnar, I’ve had enough.”

  Dearen’s shoulders sagged in exhaustion and her arms hung limply at her sides. Her linen shirt clung to her sweaty skin and her hair felt plastered permanently to her face and neck.

  “I want to rest.”

  Asnar took another step towards her, fists held up aggressively. He had stripped to the waist and sweat trickled freely down his face and torso. Asnar had tied his long hair with its tinkling bells back behind the nape of his neck with a scrap of leather.

  “If you fight a Bareskin while on patrol, he will not oblige you by letting you have a rest.” Abruptly he darted towards her.

  Dearen leapt back, furiously blocking his blows in a flurry of movement. Asnar’s hands moved faster than her eyes could see, but the Pydarki had taught her to anticipate an opponent by watching their torso.

  But Asnar’s relentless attack still drove her backward across the clearing. Dearen frantically blocked his blows but she was quickly losing ground.

  Suddenly she felt huge arms wrap themselves around her, trying to hold her arms close to her body. A memory crystallized in her mind.

  Instinctively Dearen pushed her arms close into her body and slipped through the circling arms and dropped into a crouch. Pivoting on her left leg she swung her right leg behind her in an arc, knocking the person behind her to the ground. She heard a snarl of surprise as she continued her circle to sweep Asnar’s feet from under him as well.

  Dearen stayed in her crouch, her hands held in a defensive stance that Asnar had not taught her. She simply stared at the two prone figures, stunned by what she had done.

  Ghrista sat up and shook himself but Asnar lay where he was, watching her with shrewd eyes.

  ‘That was surprising!’ the Dymarki said as he moved onto his haunches and rubbed the back of his leg where Dearen had knocked him.