Wanderer's Song (Song of Prophecy Series Book 1)

by P. E. Padilla

  The decision was taken out of his hands. With a movement almost too quick for even his senses to pick up, the woman spun, flinging her cloak out like a fan.

  One of the men lunged in with his sword. There was a sharp ringing sound as the woman slipped to the side of the weapon and struck it with something. She made a few rapid movements and the attacker dropped to the ground, the sword falling from his limp hand.

  She moved on to the next closest assailant, a man with a club. He swung it with enough force that if he struck the woman, he would break bones, but she was not where his weapon landed. She slipped under and around the overhand strike and jabbed at him twice with each hand. Before he finished his swing, he grunted, bent double, and dropped alongside his companion. That quickly, she had incapacitated two of the attackers.

  Two of the remaining men closed on her at the same time, both with swords. The woman bent over backward, folding almost completely in half, to dodge one horizontal slice, allowing it to pass just above her torso. At the same time, she kicked out with her right foot, somehow maneuvering it around the lunge from the other man’s sword and landing a blow solidly on his chin. The momentum of her body caused the kick to generate enough power that there was a loud cracking sound as the man was driven off his feet, his jaw or several teeth broken.

  Coming back upright, the woman snapped her hand out, striking the other man while pushing the sword aside with another metallic ring. Tere realized that she had something in her hands, something metal. She struck the hapless swordsman several times rapidly, and he plummeted to the ground and did not get back up.

  The last of the men had taken a more cautious approach. He held back, watching her and waiting for his opportunity. He took it now, choosing the exact right time to swing his massive, iron-banded club at the woman’s head before she could turn around and notice he was there. With the force of his blow, he would crush her skull, killing her instantly. Tere wasn’t ready to watch that happen.

  In the blink of an eye, he drew, nocked, and loosed two arrows. The first struck the club midway up the shaft, the force of it deflecting the weapon from its path. The second arrow went cleanly through the hand holding the cudgel. The man screamed and stumbled forward, the momentum for his strike lost. The woman turned around and jabbed at his throat with whatever it was she held, causing him to crumple to the ground in a heap.

  The woman was the only one left standing in the clearing. She made a gesture as if to salute Tere, having figured out that someone helped her from the shadows. She looked around at her attackers, all of them on the ground and motionless. Tere wondered if they were all dead.

  After she had determined that there were no more dangers, she turned toward where Tere was sitting in his tree.

  “I thank you for your help,” she said. “Who are you?” As she spoke, she rifled through the bodies at her feet, relieving them of their purses and whatever else she found of value on them.

  The tracker jumped down from the tree and walked into the pale moonlight illuminating the clearing. “Just someone who saw another person facing odds that were not even,” he said, eyeing her as she checked the last body.

  She cocked her head as he spoke, listening to his voice. “You are one of those who came earlier today, the heroes who saved the town. The one with white eyes?”

  He came up to her. “Yes,” he said. “I am Tere Chizzit.”

  “Well met, Tere Chizzit. I am Aila Ven. How do you see with eyes like that?” she asked as they walked. Tere noticed that she made very little noise, even in the thick vegetation.

  “There are ways to see other than with one’s eyes,” he said cryptically.

  “Magic, then? You have magic that allows you to see things?”

  “What is magic but something someone else does not understand? Some might think that the use of whatever small weapons you have in your hands to deflect sword blades was magic.”

  She laughed. It was a pleasant sound, a rolling giggling kind of laugh, full of amusement and as attractive as she herself was. It made Tere Chizzit smile. He could not really see features as others would with their eyesight, but he could sense the charisma, the aura, of a person. He had no doubt that most would consider this woman beautiful. “Fair enough, old man. We all have our little secrets. Some more than others.”

  “And what are your secrets, Aila Ven?”

  “My own, as yours are your own.” She looked at the road going south. “I am afraid I must take my leave of you, Tere Chizzit. It’s not safe for me to be here with the…ah, recent events and all.”

  “I understand,” the old tracker said. “Safe travels to you, then. Try not to get into any more uncomfortable situations.”

  She smiled at him. “I will do my best, but no promises. The world is an uncomfortable place, after all.” She waved at him once and headed toward the road. She was soon out of sight.

  Tere came back through the window to his room and set down his weapons. His night time stroll was just the thing to relax him and relieve him of the energy that was trapped within him. He closed the window, undressed, and climbed into bed. He was asleep in moments.

  40

  The party got up soon after dawn, rested and in good spirits, and had breakfast in the common room. A mere handful of people gathered there so early in the morning. They ate at a leisurely pace, which made Aeden feel a bit guilty. They had a journey to complete, and lives could be lost if they dallied. Still, it was good to be able to eat real food for a change, while sitting in a real chair.

  “We’ll need to head westward, either taking one of the smaller roads ten miles or so off or going cross-country,” Tere Chizzit told them.

  “I think avoiding the roads would be wiser,” Aeden said. “We have seen that the animaru are now on this side of the forest. I’d not like to meet up with any more of them if we can avoid it. The groups seem to be getting bigger.”

  “I agree,” Tere Chizzit said. “However, we can only avoid the roads for so long. Once we get to the Heaven’s Teeth, we’ll have to take the path through the Cleft of Surus. There are other passes through those mountains, but they might just prove more dangerous than fighting with the animaru.”

  So, after thanking Master Orden for his hospitality, and being thanked again for saving the village in return, the party headed out with full packs—care of Dred Hauf, the provisioner—toward the west. Toward Sitor-Kanda.

  As they passed through, the stands of trees that were so plentiful near to the Grundenwald dissipated into a few clumps of them and then into sparse groups of bushes and scrub brush. The land went from sharp inclines to rolling hills covered in long grass. Aeden wished they had horses. The terrain was perfect for mounts, and they could have made much better time.

  Still, they didn’t see any trace of the animaru chasing them, so Aeden considered it good.

  The second day brought more change in the terrain. Mountains loomed in the distance, much bigger than the ones he was accustomed to back home in the highlands. These were massive things, the range crossing the entire horizon. The land started to become choppy, looking as if pressed from both sides by giants to bunch in the middle. When they stopped to rest, Aeden caught sight of Urun Chinowa looking at the mountains and frowning. His brow furrowed, and it struck Aeden as funny that the skin on the priest’s forehead looked a model of the land he was staring at with such contempt.

  Toward the evening, after a hard day’s travel, Aeden caught sight of someone up ahead of them, sitting on a large rock directly in their path. He pulled up short, trying to figure out what a lone person was doing out in the wilderness.

  “Hello, Tere Chizzit,” the woman said as she waved.

  “Good evening, Aila Ven,” Tere said. Aeden couldn’t place the emotion in his voice. Was it long-suffering, disappointment, or something else?

  She hopped off the rock and made her way toward them as they advanced. Aeden froze again in his tracks when he recognized who she was. He could not mistake that distinctive walk. It
was the woman from the tavern. As if to confirm his discovery, she left her cloak on the rock so he could see the black clothing she wore. He gulped.

  The brown-haired woman walked sinuously toward them, drawing every male eye. Aeden looked at Fahtin and saw that even she had her gaze fixed on Aila Ven. They stopped when she was ten feet away.

  “Oh,” she purred. “I remember you.” She looked right at Aeden. “You’re the one who was staring at my ass in the common room the other night.” She turned and tilted her hip, giving him a clear view of that part of her anatomy, wrapped in those snug pants of hers.

  “Everyone was staring at your ass,” Fahtin said, exasperation clear in her voice.

  “Well, maybe,” Aila Ven said without missing a beat, “but he’s the only one I wanted to stare.”

  “Enough, Aila,” Tere Chizzit said, stepping between them and her. “Why are you here?”

  “I thought about how you saved me the other night and decided I owe you something. True, I might have taken that last one down without being injured, but we’ll just assume that you saved my life. I want to join you in whatever it is that you are doing. Some kind of heroing, no doubt.”

  “No,” Aeden said, surprising everyone, including himself. “We have no need of others. Thank you, but go on along your way now.”

  “Ooh,” Aila said, pursing her lips. “Is that any way to talk to someone who needs your help, someone who offers you hers?”

  “I’m sorry, but we are on an important mission, a dangerous one. I wouldn’t want you to be put into danger.”

  Aila tossed her dark hair, and it settled onto her as if it weighed nothing, floating downward to rest on the taut muscles of her shoulders and back. Her lower lip jutted out just a little as her half-lidded eyes became liquid. “Can I at least share a meal with you before you force me away from you into the wilderness?”

  “Oh, for Ianthra’s sake,” Fahtin said. “Let’s feed her and let her leave.”

  “Fine,” Aeden said. Turning to Aila, he added, “You can help with the cooking.”

  Aila Ven’s face lit up and she went to Fahtin. “Hi, I’m Aila. I’ll help you,” as if it was her idea. “What’s your name?” The women went off to find firewood as the others set their packs down and prepared a ring of rocks. Aeden rolled his eyes. Women!

  Once the rabbits Tere had killed earlier in the day were dressed and put over the fire, the party sat down to enjoy their rest. Each of the men introduced themselves to the newcomer—Urun with excitement, Raki with shyness, and Aeden with grudging politeness. Aila Ven was charming and beautiful and just a little too pleasant. Aeden didn’t need to see the set to Fahtin’s jaw to know this one would not be a good addition to their party.

  “So,” Aila said, scooting up to sit next to Aeden near the fire. “What is this big quest of yours? Does it involve those black creatures that are everywhere nowadays?”

  “Aye, it does,” he said, refusing to move and let her see she was affecting him.

  “What is that accent you have? Are you one of those barbarians over to the far east, up in the mountains?”

  “Highlands. They are called the highlands, and we are not barbarians just because we can fight.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I meant no offense. Tell me about your people, then, so I won’t be ignorant.” She snuggled closer to him as if she was cold, but the night was mild, even without the fire.

  Aeden moved over to gain some space from her. So much for not showing her she was affecting him. “I would rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind.”

  “Oh, come—”

  “Aila,” Fahtin said, “his parents were both killed by those black creatures recently. Leave him be. It’s painful to talk of his home.”

  The woman’s eyes went wide and then softened as she looked back at Aeden. “I’m sorry, Aeden. I lost my parents, too, so I know a little of what it feels like. I won’t press you.” She paused for a moment, but then her eyes danced. “But I do love the accent.”

  Aeden moved around the fire to sit near Urun, asking him about his service to the goddess. He wasn’t really interested in the subject, but it kept Aila from getting closer to him and trying to monopolize on his attention. As the priest began talking, his enthusiasm was infectious, and the Croagh got wrapped up in the conversation. He hardly noticed when Aila and Fahtin put their heads together and began chatting.

  “…and it was just my parents and my older brother—he was nine to my five years old—on our small farm just outside the village,” Aila was saying to Fahtin as Aeden’s conversation with Urun had wound down. Tere and Raki sat quietly, listening to the newcomer as well. The Croagh had found that it was hard to ignore the presence of the small, dark-haired woman.

  Aila noticed that the others were listening. Eyeing Aeden sideways, she raised her voice. “So the bandits came in force. My father and mother didn’t stand a chance. They were killed almost without thought. My brother, too. Bandits had no need for a little boy. A girl, though…” Aila took a drink from her waterskin.

  “I was too young for them to do anything with right then, but their leader was a planning sort, always looking years ahead. He saw that I could be valuable—either to him or to someone else—in a few short years, so he took me with him back to his lair.

  “He raised me, treating me like some sort of pet at first, locked up and fed and watered, but gradually he treated me like a person. I was still a captive, but he had taken me so young that he figured I had forgotten what he did to my parents and my brother. I played along, acting like his daughter, even calling him Papa. He gave strict orders to his men that any who touched me would be killed, so I was relatively safe.

  “He grew to have affection for me, not as a plaything as he had originally planned, but as his own child. The bandit king had no patience for women, so had no other children that he was aware of. He treated me with about as much respect as he treated anyone.

  “When the time was right, I used the skills he had taught me and escaped. Rortam still searches for me, I’m sure, but he’ll never get me alive. I’d rather die than be kept by him, even if he didn’t let his men touch me in the way they wanted to.”

  “Wait,” Tere Chizzit said. “Did you say that your adopted father’s name was Rortam?”

  “Yes.”

  “Rortam the Cruel, bandit king of the south?”

  “Yes,” Aila said. “That’s him.”

  Tere looked at her with those white eyes. “How old are you, girl?”

  “Twenty and four.” A look of discomfort flitted across her face, but her neutral expression replaced it almost immediately.

  “I see. Your story does not make sense. I…that is, Rortam the Cruel was killed more than twenty years ago, a few years before he would have taken you.”

  “Oh, that,” Aila said, chuckling. “He wasn’t the first Rortam. I learned later that the first one was killed, but then his lieutenant took up the name to keep continuity. It was easier than using his own name and convincing the men he deserved to lead them.”

  Everyone was silent for a moment. Aeden studied Aila’s face, trying to look beyond the way her cheeks rounded when she smiled that wedge-shaped smile of hers. She looked to Tere Chizzit expectantly.

  “My father told me,” Fahtin broke the silence, “that it often happens that way. Being a bandit king turns out to be a short-term proposition. Others send assassins, and often their reign is cut short. He said that it causes less confusion for the new leader to simply take the name of his predecessor and continue on as if nothing had happened.”

  “It doesn’t happen nearly as often as you make it sound,” Tere said, “but granted, it does happen on occasion.” Fahtin and Aila shared a significant look, almost triumphant.

  “So, that’s how I came to be on my own, making my way however I could. I have stolen when I needed to eat, and I have done violence, for I was trained to do so, but I mostly just react to what life throws at me. A girl can’t be blamed for try
ing to stay alive, right?”

  “Well,” Aeden said. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Aila Ven. You have shared our meal and rested. It is past time for you to be going on your way.”

  Fahtin gasped. “Aeden. You would turn out a woman in the dark of night, forcing her to travel alone and unprotected?”

  Aila put on a pitiful face, as if she was defenseless and scared. Aeden didn’t buy it for a minute.

  “Maybe she can just stay the night and leave us in the morning when it’s daylight,” Raki said. “There would be no harm in that, right?”

  Aeden sighed, looking around at the others. They all nodded slightly as his eyes passed over them. “Very well. She can stay tonight, but in the morning, it will be time for her to leave.”

  “Thank you, Aeden,” Aila said as she and Fahtin left the campfire to lie down a little way off from the rest of them. The way she tilted her head and blinked slowly at him, he thought maybe he was missing something. It didn’t matter. He nodded to her and set about smoothing a place to lie down.

  Tere Chizzit took first watch that night, waking Aeden after a few hours so he could take a turn. Halfway through his watch, he felt a presence, as of someone watching him. He loosened one of his swords in its scabbard and scanned the area for the cause. He soon found it. It was Aila, standing twenty feet away, motionless as a stone, the moonlight just barely lighting the whites of her eyes. When she saw that he had seen her, she walked toward him. She made as little noise as Tere Chizzit.

  “I was restless,” she said, sitting on the rock next to him. “Do you want me to take a turn at watch?”

  He kept scanning the surroundings, taking a peek now and then at her through the corners of his eyes. “No. I’ll be fine. I will be waking Raki in an hour or so to take his turn anyway.”