Under a Warrior's Moon

by C. L. Scheel

  Assur had pushed both his men and the horses for six days, almost to the limits of their endurance, but as exhausted as they were, none would dare show it.

  The horse moved again and this time he spoke sharply in deep, guttural tones. The great gray finally ceased its nervous fidgeting.

  He sat astride a warhorse, saddled and harnessed in his colors of dark red, black, and flashes of gold. Expensive trappings for a barbarian. Five knives of the finest Siarsi steel, their grips of hammered silver and inlaid with gold and breok horn, lay sheathed behind his right leg in the heavy saddle cloth. He carried two swords on his back, slung over a jerkin of intricately woven leather, its design made for protection against sword cuts and the cold. His long, nearly-black hair fastened tightly at the crown by an intricately designed silver ring, fell to his shoulders in a heavy shank. A short-cropped beard trimmed his jaw, bracketing a firm, straight mouth that framed a face deeply tanned from endless days in the sun. Black-marked eyes, dark blue as winter water, and fierce as a lion's were his most arresting feature.

  No mark identified him, but he carried himself with an air of decided authority, clearly indicating he had no tolerance for defiance or disobedience.

  The others were similar to him in stature and dress and each bore the two swords strapped to their backs. Only the man at his right, showed any marked difference. Fierce, raised scars, deliberately cut and blackened into lean cheeks, marred his face. His lightly graying hair was also drawn back, but two thin braids, woven with leather and fine glass beads, hung from each temple.

  A noise made him turn in the saddle. He steadied his horse while Kuurus nudged his own horse next to the big gray.

  "How bad is it, my lord?" he asked.

  "It could be worse, but by nightfall our chances will be better."

  "I wish we had more time to watch this place. Verlian's blood, there could be a legion in there!"

  "A poorly trained one, Kuurus. They lack discipline and order-- they are easy marks. Here, see for yourself." Assur handed him the glass eye to study the keep below.

  Ancient Sherehn Keep had been built at the fork of the Sherehn River on an island, a rock, forcing the river around each side of it, forming two branches: one continuing on in a rambling southeasterly fashion and the other becoming the West Sherehn that wound its way to the west, near the base of the Adrex and by Gorendt itself.

  The ancient engineers, well aware of the river's ability to flood, had built an intricate system of protective walls on the north and sides of the keep, with release valves to allow for the excess water. One massive drawbridge spanned over the now-dry moat surrounding the south face and west walls, and a networking of three bridges crossed both forks of the river, giving easy access to the island keep. In times of war or flood, the bridges could be drawn back, but their ancient mechanisms were now long gone to rust from disuse and lack of maintenance.

  The keep itself was massive, old, and it rose from its island base a battered hulk of red granite, now crumbling into ruins from disrepair. Once the outpost and country retreat of a long dead prince, it had served thieves, roadwilds, and the last of the scavenging tribes.

  The warriors were well hidden in the trees just above the western shore of the river. The fierce one, Kuurus, holding the glass to his eye, studied the ruined turrets and battlements, counting guards.

  "I count only four at the top most battlements, my Lord Assur," he said, handing over the glass.

  "By the looks of them, they will be more interested in the revelries Reddess will provide for them tonight, rather than guarding those walls. Their backs will be to us."

  "My lord, allow me to take Brekk and Jarad to the east side and set fire to the breach wall and the stable."

  From inside his leather jerkin, Assur removed a map, a sketch of the keep. He studied the rough drawing.

  "The inner wall here is designed well, but we don't know how many men are inside. The fire must be high if they are to be diverted enough for us to get inside."

  "It shall be high enough, my lord," Kuurus promised.

  Even as the last threads of light vanished in the west, Assur still held them back until the night's revelries had begun. An oxcart filled with laughing, bold-eyed women, lumbered across the main drawbridge. In a very short time, those within the entire keep would be drunk on free wine and dancing. Assur and his men would still have to hurry--they did not know the lay of the keep well enough to make any mistakes. If they did, Kazan's daughter would be killed unless the ransom was paid. If they succeeded, Kazan would pay for their services--and Talesian mercenaries did not come cheap.

  Reddess' clumsy attempts to cover his tracks had been easy to detect. His band of scavenging thieves did not know the land nor did they have the skills to elude cunning Talesians. Petty theft and drunken brawling were the worst of their crimes and for the most part, generally overlooked. Abduction of Kazan's daughter would not be overlooked.

  Assur fixed the glass eye on the river barge moored on the eastern fork of the river. They would burn that first.

  It was dark only a short while before the men on the battlements turned their attention to the festivities below. From beneath their own jerkins, they pulled out forbidden flasks of strong ale and soon were lolling against the crumbling walls.

  Assur signaled Kuurus and his men. Silent and swift, the three hurried down the embankment to the nearest bridge. Had they been seen from the ramparts above they might have been

  stopped, but the irresistible sounds of tambour and flute, the high-pitched laughter of the women, diverted the guards' attention from their duties.

  Kuurus and the others slid down the edge of the dry moat and ran under the main drawbridge. It was too dark to see anything with the glass, but Assur knew they were close to their mark. At first there was only the smallest spark in the darkness, but soon the barge was ablaze.

  "Fire!"

  Aroused from their stupor, the four guards on the battlements saw the fire and frantically called to their comrades below.

  Assur signaled the others and they too slid down the embankment and raced for safety under the drawbridge. Overhead, they heard the thudding feet and frantic cries.

  "The stable! The stable is on fire, too! Get the horses!"

  Assur nodded to a grinning Jarad. Kuurus had done his job well.

  Screams and cries filled the night. Panic stricken horses broke free from their drunken handlers and thundered across the bridge into the blackness of the forest. Above the chaos, Reddess shouted orders and growled furious oaths as his men desperately tried to save the interior of the keep.

  From the darkness, Kuurus and the others suddenly appeared under the drawbridge to join them.

  "They will be busy for hours," he said, a broad grin splitting his scarred face.

  Assur nodded. "Good."

  As silently as they had begun, the six barbarians eased onto the drawbridge and melted back into the shadows of the walls.

  Two half-dressed women stumbled across the bridge, clutching at each other. A small dog skulked nearby and stopped to sniff at Kuurus's boot, but a well-placed poke with his sword tip sent it scurrying away.

  The entire inner court was a melee of frantic people, terrified horses, and fire that flared and roared into the night. Flames licked at the main walls of the inner keep, burning the tinder dry hay of the stables and the old timbers supporting it. The light flickered and danced like hot demons, casting eerie shapes and shadows against the great walls.

  Using the shadows and the chaos as cover, the warriors easily entered the now empty main hall. In the feeble light of the guttering candles and rank torches left on the walls, Assur made a low noise of disgust. Filth and offal littered the entire hall. Overturned tables, spilled, rotting food and excrement, both human and animal covered the floor. In the corner, under a torn, ancient tapestry, a pig and her litter grunted in peaceful oblivion.

  The fire in the massive hearth, the only bright spot in the huge hall, still burned, but i
ts ancient splendor was ruined by the half-cooked, half-consumed carcasses piled before it.

  The ringing noise of a fallen platter sent them melting behind pillars and into the deep shadows. An old retainer, stupid with wine and sleep stumbled into the hall, clutching at the great table for balance, sending the long forgotten feast crashing to the floor. Assur slipped behind him and pressed his sword lightly to the old man's throat.

  "If you value your life, old man, you will tell me where the princess Alea is being held."

  He started to protest, but the sword bit deeper, silencing his urge to cry out.

  "Up the main stairs to the fourth corridor on your left. She is in the last room on the right," he managed to choke.

  The old man would never know who they were. Bound, gagged, and blindfolded, he was hastily tied to a pillar and left to whatever fate would become him.

  The first, faint threads of acrid smoke began to fill the hall as they climbed the stairs. Only one dim torch flickered from its rusting bracket, barely dispelling the blackness of the corridor. Assur could just see the doorways stretching down the corridor and strained to find the last one.

  From the deep shadows they heard a guttural cry, a sudden

  flash of a blade and the bright clang of steel against steel. Young Del sidestepped the assailant, effectively blocking the stroke aimed for Kuurus' neck. Without pausing, he drove his own blade into the attacker's mid-section allowing the body to fall heavily to the floor.

  Tense and keen, the six crept toward the last door, straining to see in the darkened hallway. Assur motioned three of them to take a stance on the other side of the doorway. The girl could be guarded even inside the room. He nodded and with a single blow, Kuurus kicked open the door.

  Chapter 2

  TWO WOMEN stood huddled at the back of the filthy, ancient chamber--one, a golden-haired beauty in the ragged remnants of a once regal gown. Her blue eyes were red-rimmed from constant weeping as she clung to her companion, trembling with terror. The other woman was scarcely taller than the golden-haired girl, but older. She was past her first blush of youth and at first glance, Assur thought she was the girl's maid. Her own gown was torn too, but equally as fine. Her soft, dark eyes, filled with terror at the sight of so many barbarians, held a glimmer of defiance. Dark brown hair, probably once confined into a ladylike coiffure and headdress, now tumbled freely down her back past her waist in an incredible, shimmering cascade. Where the younger girl was all pink and roses, this woman was as cool as silver and as distant as the moon. She drew herself up as much as her slight frame would allow. Swallowing hard, she lifted her chin, bravely meeting his gaze.

  "Do with me what you wish, but I beg you, please spare her," she pleaded softly, her voice shaking with fear.

  Assur lowered his sword and motioned for his men to do the same. "We will not harm you. We are here to save the daughter of Prince Kazan."

  The dark-haired woman looked puzzled for a moment. "We are both the daughters of Prince Kazan."

  Assur hesitated and glanced at an astonished Kuurus.

  "Why were we not told there were two daughters?" Kuurus muttered irritably, flinging up his arms in disgust.

  "Our orders are to find and return the Princess Alea," Assur said firmly.

  "How do I know that? How do I know what you will do with her? Maybe you will kill her, or use her vilely. Maybe you will ravish both of us?" she asked, trying to sound determined over the quaver in her voice.

  "Do you doubt the word of a Chaliset warrior?" Kuurus growled threateningly. "If you doubt us, then stay here and die!"

  The dark-haired woman appeared to weigh his words, glancing from one fierce face to the next. Assur deliberately lowered his sword and shook his head to convince her. Finally, she seemed to have accepted the situation.

  "It is she whom you want. She is Alea," indicating the shaking blonde girl. "I am Kitarisa."

  Assur noted the thread of sadness in her voice, but quickly dismissed it. "We must hurry if we are to get out. My men have created a diversion by starting a fire on the east side of the keep. If we are to get across the drawbridge without being noticed, we must go now."

  "We only have the one extra horse," Kuurus exclaimed. "If we try to take both, we will be slowed down too much."

  Kitarisa shook her head, at once grasping their dilemma and pulled free of the girl's tenacious grip.

  "You must not go back that way. Reddess's men are drunk but they are not stupid. Once they realize the fire is a hoax, this is the first place they will look. Come, I know a better way."

  She moved to the shabby bed, picked up one of the cloaks and pulled it around the girl's shoulders.

  "You must stop crying Alea. Father has sent these men to rescue you. Be a brave girl now." She kissed the girl's forehead and patted her arm, then turned to face Assur. "I know a back way. If we hurry, she will not be missed for hours."

  She brushed past him into the hall and moved to the right, completely avoiding their entrance route.

  From the depths of the keep they could hear the shouts of frantic men, trying to put out the blazing fire. Horses whinnied and the hunting hounds barked and whined in fear.

  Kitarisa led them through a series of seeming blind corridors and down a narrow stairway, curving deep into the bowels of the keep. There were few torches to light the passageways and stairs and as she approached the last step, she stopped and drew back. She motioned them to be silent.

  "Do you see that light coming from the doorway?" she whispered.

  Assur nodded.

  "It is the guard's common room, the last one this far west in the keep. I am certain they do not even know what has happened above."

  "How many?" Assur asked in an equally low voice.

  "Four, no more than five. They are probably drunk, too, but we cannot be sure of that."

  Assur nodded again.

  "The only other difficulty is the alarm. At the back of the room, to the left, is a pull-rope. If that is pulled, it will sound a series of bells in the great hall and in the soldier's quarters--it was supposed to signal a water breach in this part of the keep, but it can also alert them of your escape."

  Assur signaled to his men, conveying his plan of attack. "Stay back and keep her quiet," he ordered firmly.

  Kitarisa shrank back against the damp wall of the stairway, pulling Alea close to her, allowing the men to pass.

  Silently, the six men eased into the corridor and crept to the light coming from the open door of the room.

  Raucous laughter and the stench of sour beer, spoiled food, and unwashed bodies spilled into the grim passageway. Assur nodded to Kuurus and two of the men. They darted across the narrow expanse of the doorway to the other side, unseen by the drunken revelers inside. Kuurus held up five fingers, indicating the number he had seen while moving to the other side of the door. More than good odds. Assur waited, listening until the ribald laughter had reached a loud enough level when they would be least aware of an attack. He gave the signal and the six mercenaries sprang into the room.

  Like the great hall above, two filthy tables, covered with weeks of rotting food, befouled trenchers and cups littered their surfaces. Rats and other vermin feasted boldly with their human hosts. Two of the men were sprawled in a drunken stupor over the table to the right, oblivious to the attack. The two others, seated at the left table, swayed drunkenly against each other and singing a coarse song about a certain tavern wench. Too late, they noticed the six men, swords drawn and upon them before they could move.

  Kuurus grabbed the first man's hair, pulled his head back and slit his throat as easily as gutting a fish. Del and Brekk dispatched the other three so swiftly, they never realized what had happened.

  At the back of the dark, little room a small fire still burned in a hearth that served both as a place for cooking as well as a latrine. The last guard, still on his feet and in possession of a clear head and a sword, made a lunge for the bell-rope. Assur blocked his path, striking away the
attempted blow, sending him reeling against the hearth.

  The man was neither drunk nor inexperienced. He rallied and faced Assur and drove hard at him, Assur just managing to parry the thrust. The guard had no chance and he knew it, but he refused to give any ground.

  In quick order, Assur exchanged two more blows with the unfortunate guard. As dispassionately as if he were destroying one of the rats on the table, he saw his opening and drove his sword deep into the roadwild's throat, just above the breastbone. Choking on his own blood, the luckless guard toppled forward, dead before he hit the floor.

  As silently as they had come, the six warriors slipped from the room into the dank corridor. Assur motioned for Kitarisa to hurry.

  "Do not look into the room," he muttered, taking her arm and pulling her quickly past the sights and smells of their carnage.

  The princess needed no encouragement and Alea, too frightened to even look up, followed her.

  Once more they followed her down the dark corridor until they came to one final set of stairs leading down to an enormous vaulted chamber; the floor entirely covered in red sand. Far to the left and deep into the interior they could just make out the crumbling remains of hundreds of stalls, row upon row, disappearing into the gloom.

  "This used to be the stables, when the keep was an outpost to fight the Oduns," she went on in her hushed whisper.

  "You seem to know this keep well," Assur murmured.

  "I ought to. Before it was abandoned, I was permitted to come here to be with my grandfather. As a girl, I used to explore every corner of the keep."

  They eased to the foot of the stairway; Assur's men were still tense and wary. They fanned out into the open expanse of the huge chamber. Incredible pillars, as thick as trees supported the entire length of the chamber, and beyond the pillars, at the far end, thrusting high up into the dark ceiling was what appeared to be a drawn up ramp, sealing off an enormous opening, wide enough for six horses ridden abreast. Its ancient, rusting mechanism loomed in the eerie half-light like a monstrous beast, ready to spring and devour the first intruder into its black lair.