Under a Warrior's Moon

by C. L. Scheel

Kitarisa clutched the folds of her cloak and peered down at the wary citizens. It had been a long time since she had been allowed to ride in the streets of Gorendt and she had forgotten their fear.

  Older children scuttled out of their way hiding behind wagons or staring at the warriors with wide, curious eyes. The alarming sight of so many Talesians, bristling with swords and knives, their heavy shanks of hair fluttering like banners in the wind and intimidating eye patterns, only rekindled Gorendt's inbred distrust of strangers. They were as exotic as rare, wild animals and doubly-feared from sheer ignorance. Few had even seen a Talesian. All that anyone needed to know of them was that the High Prince was Talesian and he, like the seven riding through their dismal city, was a barbarian who drank the blood of children and killed without the slightest provocation.

  It did not take long for the news of their arrival to reach one of the numerous mounted patrols scouring the streets looking for idle miscreants, or to bully hapless merchants.

  The curious crowds scattered like chaff as the mounted patrol clattered up to them, deliberately blocking their path from further progress into the city.

  "Come no further, barbarian," the leader ordered. "If you are looking for a fight, then prepare to die here. We want nothing of your kind to break our prince's peace."

  The captain pushed back the mail coif; bright yellow hair sprang into the sunlight.

  Kitarisa bit her lip. So like him.

  "If you cut us down here, good captain, then you slay your own as well."

  Taking the hint, Kitarisa lowered her hood. "These Talesians have brought us home, Captain Mar'Kess. Have we changed that much?"

  The captain's eyes widened as he realized who she was.

  "Your great pardon, Highness. I had no knowledge of this. His Highness, your father, did not inform us either. And, the Princess Alea is with you, too?" He nodded, noticing the other hooded woman.

  Alea reluctantly lowered her own hood, her lips pressed together in annoyance, realizing she had not arrived mounted on her own horse, but still riding behind Brekk.

  "Yes, Captain, I am here and quite safe. Will you please lead us home at once," she ordered, the old arrogance slipping back into her voice.

  "Of course, at once. We had not expected--"

  "For us to be returned by Talesians? My father will be greatly surprised, too...I am sure. Nevertheless, Captain, you will treat them with all courtesy."

  Kitarisa paused and watched Assur and the captain eye each other like fighting stags--weighing each other's worth, looking for weaknesses and testing for strengths.

  "Assur, this is First Captain Raldan Mar'Kess, one of my father's best captains. Captain, this is Assur. He goes by no other name, but he and his men have proven themselves most courageous and have brought Princess Alea and myself home with great care."

  "Sir." Mar'Kess bowed slightly from the waist and Kitarisa was pleased to see Assur return the bow.

  "Your princess is too modest, Captain. She is as brave as any warrior and brought one of my own back from his Summons. We were attacked by marglims and he was luckless enough to swallow their blood. She saved him from a certain death."

  "Indeed? I had heard there was a way to cure the poisoning."

  "She will have my Oath of Duty," Kuurus rumbled from his position at Kitarisa's left. "The Siarsi do not forget such an honor."

  Embarrassed, Kitarisa waved impatiently at the captain.

  "Please, we are exhausted. Lead on, Captain."

  "Of course, Highness."

  The captain gestured to his men to take their places at the rear of the long file of Talesians and spun his blood-bay horse around to flank Assur's right.

  "Marglims, eh? If they come close enough, I will send out some men to rout the stragglers. Where did you encounter them?"

  "North, near the Rift Cut. I believe we killed them all, but then we did not stay to find out."

  Captain Mar'Kess smiled. "Wisely done. I, too, have dulled my sword on a few marglim bones." The captain shuddered. "Their smell alone makes a decent man want to puke. Your pardon, my lady. I shall send out a patrol tomorrow; the harvest will begin soon in the outer reaches and we don't want anyone turned to marglim fodder."

  "We also encountered Wrathmen who claimed they were also looking for the princess. Were you aware of this, Captain?" Assur asked.

  The captain looked at him, startled. "I did not. His Highness, Prince Kazan, does not tolerate Wrathmen within our borders. We want nothing of their vile ways among us. We have lost many daughters to their Order...stolen from under our noses! I shall inform His Highness of this, you can be sure."

  Unlike Sherehn, Gorendt Keep was not protected by a moat, but four great walls, each with three rows of iron spikes as thick as a man's arm, thrusting out from the highest ramparts. The first and highest row was imbedded so that the pointed ends thrust upward, the second row pointed straight out and the third row, barbed and by far the most deadly, was arranged so the spikes pointed down.

  The first inner courtyard seethed with activity--horses being shod, weapons sharpened or repaired, provisions unloaded from heavy wagons for both horse and soldier.

  The second innermost courtyard was wide and empty; the stones under their horse's hooves were swept and clean. At the far end, a low set of stairs had been built, designed not only for greeting guests and access to the keep, but to allow for the easy mounting and dismounting of horses.

  One of Mar'Kess' men had been sent ahead to inform the prince that his daughters had returned and it was only a matter of moments before the prince himself appeared, without ceremony, to greet them.

  A heavy man in dark-brown leather and the green tunic of a hunter hurried down the steps. Once fair hair, now thinned and faded to nondescript gray, topped a blunt, square face lined with harshness and unyielding will. Black eyes, hard as flint, scoured the gathering of Talesians and soldiers looking for only one face. The fineness of his tunic could not conceal the bulk of heavy muscles and impending fat around his middle--a body once hard and fit, now gone slack with age.

  Captain Mar'Kess dismounted and bowed to the prince. "My lord, both Princess Alea and Princess Kitarisa are safely returned by these Talesians."

  Alea did not wait for any assistance, but slid from Brekk's horse and ran to her father's embrace. Prince Kazan looked over his daughter's shoulder at Assur and nodded.

  "My thanks. You may tell the High Prince I am thankful for your swiftness. You will be amply rewarded."

  For a moment, Kazan allowed for Alea's hysterics, indulging his favored daughter by holding the sobbing girl, patting her hair and murmuring encouragements. From behind him a flutter of women descended the steps, clucking and fussing over the girl. They scarcely noticed the soldiers or the Talesians for that matter, but quickly enfolded Alea in silk coverings and their concern and hurried her away.

  "I cannot recall when I last saw a Talesian and I confess, I have not wished to encounter one, but for this...I am grateful to you," Kazan said, watching Assur and the others dismount.

  Assur bowed stiffly, his face tight and emotionless. With deliberate care, he assisted Kitarisa from the little roan. She approached the low steps and made a slight curtsy to her father, keeping her head down.

  "I was informed you had two daughters when I received the orders to take on this task, my lord. I had to assume a father would want all of his family returned to him."

  Kazan's face went a shade redder as he took in Kitarisa's slight form bent before him, annoyance clearly written on his features.

  "You should have saved yourself any unnecessary risks." His eyes narrowed, looking down at her.

  "If not for the fact that she is royal herself and deserving of being rescued from Reddess and his dogs, the princess twice saved the lives of my men and that of Princess Alea, putting her own in jeopardy."

  "A noble effort," Kazan said coldly. "However, Princess Kitarisa has always been known to be too headstrong for her own good. You will be paid for her return
, but let us not spoil this happy occasion with talk of transactions. You and your men deserve rest and care. We will dine tonight and settle what is due you."

  He motioned behind him to an officious-looking man with sharp, clever eyes.

  "Mangerin, see that our guests and their horses are well-cared for, rooms made ready and to any other needs they require."

  "At once, Highness." The little man made gestures to Assur and the others to follow him.

  Assur did not move--his men emulated him, standing stiffly by their horses, awaiting permission to enter the keep.

  "The Princess Kitarisa has personally saved the life of one of my men from marglim poisoning. I would ask she be allowed to receive his Oath of Duty while we are still assembled," his voice came deceptively soft.

  "Your barbaric rites have no meaning here," Kazan said curtly. "However, I will allow it."

  Kuurus, already bristling with anger, jerked the shortest blade from its sheath on his saddle, moved quickly to Kitarisa and dropped to one knee before her. In one deliberate stroke, he made a short cut on the inner side of his left arm, above the leather armguard. The bright blood welled from the wound. He took Kitarisa's left hand and made brief his vow:

  "It is my blood you have saved and my blood you now have, for all that is my life until Verlian Summons me."

  Kuurus kissed her palm lightly and then pressed it to the wound, his blood staining her. He folded her fingers over it as if to seal his vow. "I ask that you take my Oath, my lady."

  Kuurus stood and bowed to her, his black-marked eyes brilliant with devotion.

  "You have but to ask of him," Assur interjected quietly, watching her bewilderment. "Anything."

  "An oath such as that is a dangerous thing to give to a woman, particularly this one, Talesian," Kazan said irritably, watching Kuurus return his knife to the saddle cloth. "You have made enough of a spectacle of yourself Kitarisa. Go to your apartments, girl, and clean up. You smell of horses and marglims."

  Forgetting himself and to whom he was speaking, Kuurus flared at the prince: "She has saved my life and she has my blood. I am bound to her will even to take my own life if she wishes--she cannot be denied my Oath."

  Assur held up his hand, silencing Kuurus' hot words.

  Kazan stiffened and all the Talesians bristled, becoming more outraged by the moment, while the Gorendtian soldiers shifted uneasily, uncertain of what the barbaric visitors would do next.

  Kitarisa paused and placed her hand lightly on Kuurus' arm. "I accept your Oath, Kuurus, with honor." She looked back at Assur and the others. "Thank you all for what you have done for me. I will go. I am not worth the risk of seeing any man's blood spilled."

  She turned, gathering her ragged skirts and climbed the steps--her every movement revealing her weariness and despair.

  When she had disappeared from view, Kazan recovered his good humor.

  "Now," he said pleasantly. "You must refresh yourselves. Come. Mangerin, please see to our guests."

  Chapter 6

  THE KEEP HAD been immensely old when Gorendt arose new from the ashes of the ancient Al'Raisah Empire, the First Empire. The keep was dark and menacing having been used only as a fortress and outpost for the emperor's most feared warriors. It had been renovated and expanded countless times and once its entire interior had been gutted and refitted. In spite of a millennium of internal changes, the keep itself did not change. It remained a towering, black hulk, dedicated to war and death--a grim influence permeating beyond its lethal walls into the city and the rest of the province.

  Assur and his men were made comfortable enough in the well-appointed, but hardly sumptuous rooms. A large bathing room, finished in green and sand-colored tiles was most welcome, but Kazan's attendants were not. Terrified of their lord's guests, the servants were only too glad not to have to attend to them. However frightened, they made certain there were plenty of thick towels and jars of costly bathing oil for the Talesians' use.

  Kuurus eased into the hot, steaming water, groaning with pleasure.

  "At least they have this--I only hope the food will be as good. I am weary of teki-bread and Lady Kitarisa's potions," he said, rubbing some of the washing oil into his chest.

  Assur sank down next to him and had to admit the bath did wonders for his aching back.

  "Princess Kitarisa's `potions' saved your worthless skin. Do not forget that."

  "I cannot not forget that, my lord, but still, a joint of something, anything, will be a vast improvement."

  "And a flagon of good wine," Jarad added from his end of the deep pool.

  "You mean, a `cask' of good wine," Sherlin corrected, grinning at the biggest of them.

  A wet, heavy sponge sailed across the expanse of the pool, hitting Sherlin squarely in the face. All seven of them laughed, helping to relieve their exhaustion and long, self-imposed silence.

  "Ah, well, it will be wise to keep our heads here," Kuurus admonished. "I do not trust any of them, especially Kazan."

  Assur squeezed water from a sponge over his head and face, allowing the warm water to wash away the last of the grime and filth from their travels.

  "Kuurus is right. We must remain on our guard. `Sleep by your blade, but let her stay awake'" he quoted the old adage. "I don't like any of them either, but you will behave properly. After all, they will expect us to eat our meat raw with a broken bone instead of a spoon."

  "Where do they get such ideas?" Brekk asked, squeezing the last of the soap out of the long ends of his hair.

  "You forget your lessons, Brekk, and Suldan's legacy," Assur reminded him. "We have not been on this side of the Adrex for nearly three hundred turns--we being too busy breaking our own stubborn skulls. A sorry excuse. All that these people remember is the blood and death. Time has little changed that memory."

  "Well," Kuurus mumbled, as he slowly sank deeper into the comforting bath water, "someone make sure I don't pick my teeth with my blade or use Brekk's arm to wipe my mouth. Maybe I will just eat his arm instead."

  Amid the good-natured groans, Assur shoved Kuurus' head under the water and when he was finally allowed to surface, spluttering and cursing, six heavy, soap-laden sponges all found their way into Kuurus' face.

  A bath, a shave, and fresh clothes from their saddle packs did wonders and it was pleasant to drop the heavy burden of their swords, but they all felt naked and vulnerable without them. As an extra precaution, each slipped one of their saddle knives into their boot tops.

  Assur adjusted the shoulder strap of his body-harness. The garment was an intricate covering that appeared more like a heavy weaving of richly decorated straps worn around the chest and back, and vertically over the shoulders. Sometimes a single wide band was worn diagonally over the right shoulder and if it was cold, they added the long, sleeved, fur cloaks.

  He peered at himself in the tall glass, scrutinizing every detail. He fervently wished he had a better collar instead of the plain silver one. The gold one with the black enamel inlays was his favorite. Assur frowned. Perhaps Gorendtian women did not like the collars.

  Assur ran his hand over the newly trimmed, narrow beard framing his jaw and the moustache bracketing his mouth. Perhaps they did not like beards either, recalling that the estimable Captain Mar'Kess was clean-shaven as were most all of the Gorendtian men he had seen.

  Kuurus had scorned them as "whey-faced puling boys." Assur was not so certain. He had seen steel in Mar'Kess' gaze and had to admit grudging respect.

  For Kazan he had none. The general feeling of annoyance he felt for the man who so despised Kitarisa, had congealed into solid contempt. Kazan would have to be dealt with, and soon.

  Assur studied the bold markings around his eyes. He had never thought much about them until they arrived in Gorendt and had faced the sheer terror seen on the citizens' faces. He remembered Kitarisa's wide-eyed horror when they had burst into the room in Sherehn Keep, the look later replaced with her frank staring as he explained the markings. Maybe he was as ugly
to her as a barnacle-toad was to him.

  KITARISA'S ONLY servant made a last adjustment to the modest headdress and the fine net that held her heavy hair in place. She brushed a stray strand from her shoulders and handed her maid the mirror so she could see from the back.

  "That will be fine, Jesria."

  The maid curtsied slightly. "Do you wish me to leave, Highness?"

  "Not yet."

  Kitarisa knew instinctively Jesria did not care for her and made little effort to cultivate her friendship. Jesria performed her duties as a lady's maid with just the right amount of deference, together with a studied coolness that forever kept them from developing any kind of friendship. Kitarisa was careful with what she said to the serene-faced Jesria. They would never share cherished conversations, forbidden secrets or private jokes. Her last confidante died when she was ten and Kitarisa learned quickly to keep heartaches and secrets to herself.

  "Will you please adjust my hem?"

  Jesria knelt down and tugged at the velvet hem, hiding the last hint of petticoat. "I understand your father will be hosting the Talesian barbarians tonight, the ones who returned you and the Princess Alea to safety?"

  "Yes, and they are not barbarians." She twisted back and forth before the mirror, scrutinizing herself from every angle.

  "I caught a glimpse of them being led to their quarters. Frightening! Nothing but fur and swords and beads. And those dreadful eyes!" She shuddered at the memory.

  "Every one of father's soldiers carries a sword," Kitarisa retorted a little sharply. "And, every one of those `barbarians' as you call them has better manners than some of father's most refined courtiers and probably better educated, too."

  Jesria made a noise of disbelief. "They are accursed fiends, blood-drinkers. They ground the Eastern Lands into the dust. Your father should not have allowed them entrance to the city." Jesria said heatedly, almost overstepping her place.

  "They saved Alea from being killed by a marglim and returned us home with no harm to either of us. They have changed, Jesria. Time has changed them and they are no longer the savage beasts from the past." Kitarisa's voice dropped almost to a whisper as she recalled the terrible events surrounding Kuurus and the marglim. "I could not let him die, could I? He was in such pain...he would have died."