by C. L. Scheel
Kitarisa saw them first just as her eyes adjusted to the dimness inside the barn. She touched Assur's arm.
"My lord, look."
Huddled in terror at the back of the barn, a cluster of women clung to each other and to an array of small children. Little faces pressed into voluminous skirts while their mother's trembling hands tried to comfort them.
In front of them stood a boy, about twelve. Trying to appear brave, his face could not conceal the horrors he had seen--things too terrible for any child to bear. He clutched a kitchen knife in his hands. His large, solemn eyes observed Assur and the others.
Without warning, the boy raised his knife and made a lunge at Assur. "You leave us alone!" he cried.
Assur easily, almost gently, blocked the boy's blow, knocking the knife from his hands, forcing him to stop within a hair's breadth of the sword's edge. Kitarisa heard one of the women gasp.
Slowly, Assur went down on one knee, stretched his sword arm out far to his right and planted the tip, point down, deep into the loamy flooring of the barn.
The boy took a nervous step back, realizing his nearly fatal mistake. Assur's frightened gaze was too much. The boy tried to swallow back tears.
"Never have I seen such bravery in the face of such odds. You will certainly sit at Verlian's side," he said quietly. "Do you not agree, Jarad?"
"He will be twice blessed, my lord," Jarad agreed.
"Now. The first lesson of Swordmaster Rame, is you must never strike a blow while there is a fire within you. Only kill when your heart is cold and without feeling. Then you will not be reckless or afraid. Do you understand?"
The boy gulped and nodded.
"Take up your blade." Assur nodded for him to get the knife. The boy did so and stood before the Talesian.
"Then, are you the only warrior to defend these women?" he asked in all seriousness.
"I be the only boy left that's old enough. I mean, I didn't get caught."
Assur frowned, not understanding.
"Haven't you taken enough already?" A frightened voice asked from the group of huddled women. "We have given all we can. What do you want now?"
Assur stood up. "We want nothing. We are not here, woman, to take anything, least of all brave lads like this."
The barn door creaked open wider, allowing more of the late afternoon sun to shaft into the gloom of the barn. The warm light caught the tall Talesian and one of the women gasped out loud.
"They're not Wrathmen, they be Talesians!"
"Hush Gran! You do not know what you are saying!" Someone shushed her.
"By Verlian's blood and blade, I know what I see. They be of the tribes from the west!"
One of the women broke from the group and hesitantly stepped into the light.
"This be true?" She was a large woman, tall and angular, her face as plain and simple as good bread.
"It is true," Assur said seriously. "We are not here to harm you, but we would have some answers."
Before anyone else could speak, Kitarisa stepped forward and touched the boy's shoulder.
"What is your name, lad?" she asked kindly.
"It is Aerik."
Kitarisa smiled reassuringly at him. "I am Kitarisa. You must not be afraid. We are here because we are on our way to Riehl and we stopped only to rest."
"It were the Wrathmen, lady," the rangy women said. "They come and started it all--the killin' and the hurtin."
"Are you the only ones left?" Assur asked.
The old one called "Gran" came forward, clutching a gnarled stick in her frail hands.
"It were the Leashed Ones, as Cama said. Came upon us like a plague of marglims, killin' and takin' the menfolks. And now you be here--a scourge on the land, like in the afore times, only you'll find nothing here to take. They took it all. Aye, they did."
"When was this, Grandmother?" Assur asked courteously.
"It were five days ago, it were." The old lady nodded, bobbing the lace of her cap.
"And they killed our menfolks if they didn't abide by their orders," another woman called from the back of the barn, her voice breaking with anger and grief.
"They took them away, the ones they didn't kill and all the lads too. It were Aerik here, who were clever enough and hid away," Cama added.
Assur turned from them, frowning. "Where were your men taken?"
"To their place, their mountain," she said.
"What was the reason for this?"
The old woman tottered closer and peered up at Assur, scrutinizing his face.
"They need `em for their strength." She took a bold poke at his arm. "Not the strength of the flesh, mind you, but of the heart--them that has the greatest will. They took our strongest menfolks first, but then changed their minds and took `em all, even the young ones, like Aerik here."
"Didn't they fight back?" Brekk asked. Satisfied there was no further threat to them, he resettled the sword on his back.
"Who are we but poor farmers to fight against the Wrathmen? A sunturn ago, they took my little girl," Cama said bitterly. "What are you here for barbarians? Why can't you leave us in peace. By the Goddess' blood, we haven't even finished taking care of our dead."
Assur re-sheathed his own sword and then faced them all.
"We are not here to harm anyone. What you remember about us and our past has changed. There will be no more killing today." He nodded to the tall woman. "Show us your dead, Mistress Cama."
TALESIAN BARBARIANS filled Mistress Cama's great room as she ladled up plates of steaming breok stew and thick slices of fresh bread. There was only enough room for six at her rough-hewn table and Kitarisa noted Assur made certain he was placed next to her.
Mar'Kess and Kuurus sat across from them and the last two places were set for Mistress Cama and the frail one they called Gran. The others either squatted by the great hearth or leaned against the walls, plates in hand and eating like they did in Lekk's Bend, hurriedly and in silence.
At the back of the warm room stood young Aerik, his eyes wide with wonder as he watched them eat.
The boy had watched with the same wonder as Assur and the others attended to the village dead. The funeral pyre had been a serious matter and the boy stayed clear of their swift handling of the bodies.
The Wrathmen had taken the village's Chanter and Wordkeeper-- now there was no one to say the holy words as the hot flames roared into the night, sending their kinsmen to Verlian. The village women and the somber-faced barbarians watched the fire until it was little more than glowing ashes before they returned to Mistress Cama's to eat.
Kitarisa, like the boy, kept her silence and her distance. The sorrow she felt for the women of this village welled within her, threatening fresh tears. The senseless deaths of the village men as well as the tribesmen they found by the river, poignantly reminded her of Falla and ultimately of her mother. She bit her lip and kept her face down, hiding her grief. Assur and the others needed no more tears and hysterics.
It was old Gran who once more had the nerve to speak to their leader.
"You be a long way from the plains of the Tamis. What brings you here?"
"We were sent on orders, Grandmother," Assur said politely, "By order of the Ter-Rey."
The woman, Cama, sucked in her breath. "You were sent by the Ter-Rey? What would he want with us? The Ter-Rey has ignored his lands on this side of the Adrex for generations."
"Not anymore. Talesians have changed, mistress. We have learned, under the harshest terms, that we can no longer seize the world by the throat like a tiger taking its prey. There is more to life than horses and knives, although some of us still think differently." Assur cast a meaningful look at Kuurus.
Kitarisa glanced at an astonished Mar'Kess. Assur had revealed more information in those few words than either of them had heard since he had arrived in Gorendt.
"My lord, what were your orders, if I may ask?" Mar'Kess pushed back his empty plate and waved off Cama's offer for another helping.
"To inve
stigate what was going on at Sherehn Keep and to find out what Prince Kazan has been doing." Assur turned his hard blue gaze on Cama. "And the Sisters seem to have no interest in young girls any longer, but now have their hounds set to taking your men to the Catacombs."
"Aye, they did, and they've taken others." Old Gran nodded. "They've come to all the villages between Riehl and the mountains, takin' and killin', just as I said. They take the young and the strong ones and leave the old. Except this time, we fought `em and then they took every one of the menfolks, or killed `em." Gran rubbed at her tears, fumbling for her handkerchief. "Every last one."
The snap of the fire in the hearth was the only sound in the room as Assur and the others absorbed Gran's words.
"They didn't get me," Aerik said quietly, from his corner.
Assur turned toward boy and motioned for him to come closer.
"Why didn't they get you, young Aerik?"
"Because I hid where they couldn't find me--in the well. There be a stone, my lord, down in the side and it sticks out this far." Aerik spread his hands to show the width of the hidden stone. "I stayed there till they were gone."
Assur gave him a tight smile of approval. "Good lad."
"Only a Siarsi would have been so clever," Kuurus said, beaming at him.
"Mistress Cama, how many are there of you left in the village?" Kitarisa asked.
"Only about twenty, not including the little ones. There be only eight of them."
Assur nodded. "And your provisions? What is left?"
"Some grain; we've butchered nearly all the livestock, but there are still several chickens. The Wrathmen took almost all the horses. Not much be left, my lord."
Kitarisa watched as Assur placed his palms flat on the table, having come to his decision. The barbarian lord studied Cama's face. "How far is the next village?"
"A good day's ride, to Broken Oak," Cama answered, casting her own worried look at the old woman seated near her.
Assur eyed the expectant Talesians. "Tomorrow, we will take them there. They will be safe with the others until we can return their men."
Mar'Kess' brows shot up in surprise. "Those were also your orders?"
"No," Assur answered grimly, "it is my wish."
THE OLD RUTTED trail to Broken Oak wound through the thin scattering of trees that followed the fringes of the Adrex Mountains. The swift pace they kept after leaving Gorendt had slowed to a steady, plodding walk, while all of them remained alert for the Wrathmen. By midday, they were allowed to rest, particularly for the delicate Gran. It surprised and pleased Kitarisa to watch Assur pay such special attention to the old woman.
He had personally led his horse bearing the old woman and would permit no one else but himself to lift her gently from Adzra's back. Kitarisa followed close at his heels, making sure the frail Gran was seated comfortably on a nearby log.
Gran patted his leather-covered arm, unafraid. "You be a good man, barbarian, but you worry about this old woman too much. I be fine."
"It will be best when you are safely in the village, Grandmother."
"Such fussing over these old bones! `Twil be the same in Broken Oak, all the menfolks gone or dead."
"You are certain of this, Grandmother?" Kitarisa asked.
"Oh, aye. `Tis been goin' on for some time now. Each season, a few more, and a few more taken. We sent our Wordkeeper to Riehl to ask for help, to stop `em. But since our good Prince Murliff died, Verlian keep him, the Council be afraid to do anything. They are afeared, lord."
"Kazan," Assur muttered under his breath. He glanced at Kitarisa, frowning.
"Afraid of Prince Kazan?" The old woman made a noise of disbelief.
"He is more of a threat than you know, Grandmother. That is why you must find safety with the others in the village."
She peered up at him and nodded knowingly. "You be a clever one, barbarian. And reckless." She tugged at his arm to make him bend down to her. "It is not safe to travel here with the princess." She nodded at Kitarisa. "You must hurry now and not bother with us."
Assur smiled wryly at her. "Why would you think the lady is a princess, Grandmother?"
"I am old, but not blind. She is her own grandmother again--Prince Murliff's wife, Pelia."
Kitarisa blushed, avoiding Assur's curiously bemused stare.
"Now it is you who is being clever."
"Aye, but your secret is safe with me," she said, patting the leather over his inner arm, the place covering his firemark. "It is quite safe, my lord."
Chapter 12
AT DUSK, THE caravan of barbarians and village women stopped just above the bluff overlooking the narrow trail leading down to Broken Oak--its ancient symbol, a massive oak tree split by lightening, stood twisted and majestic at the outskirts of the village.
Assur motioned the boy Aerik to come to his side.
"It would not be well if we were to go into the village, young Aerik. You must escort them yourself. We will watch from here until you are safely within the village. Can you do this?"
The boy trembled with pride and lifted his chin.
"Aye, my lord. I can."
"Good. Go now, and remember to `Sleep by your blade, but let her stay awake'. The warrior who lives the longest is the one who stays as sharp and alert as his sword."
Assur nodded and then turned to Cama and Gran.
"You will be reasonably safe here until your men can be returned to you."
"Are you so certain of this, Talesian?" Cama asked skeptically. "What if the Wrathmen return and take us and the boy--our remaining children?"
"The Wrathmen's days are numbered, Mistress Cama, as are the Sisters'. Soon they will pray to Verlian and beg for Her mercy, because I will give them none."
"You speak like you lead an army, Talesian? When does this great thing happen?"
"Quiet, Cama," Gran said, shaking the woman's arm. "This one will stop them. Aye, he will. The land will be soaked in Wrathmen blood, as in the afore times when Talesians first came to the East. Enough blood to turn the Sherehn red."
Assur said nothing, but kneed Adzra back to allow them to pass and bowed his head respectfully to the old woman.
Now unhampered by the women and children, they resumed their trek, riding on into the night at their former faster pace.
Kitarisa looked ahead past the column of horses until she was forced to look upward at the great escarpment of the Rift Cut. Kuurus was heading north, taking them up the hard steep trail just west of the Cut.
She patted Nika's neck and clucked to him encouragingly. She did not like the sound of his labored breathing and knew if they did not stop soon, the horse would be too exhausted to go on.
She looked up again at the brilliant light of the moon, now in half-phase. It would be another seven days before it was full and then its light would make the night nearly as bright as day. Verlian's light--Verlian's guiding eye, the ancients said. It was there She lived, with Her three daughters by Her side--the three small moonlets gleaming in a precise vertical line next to their great mother. The Warrior-Goddess who kept the Balance and the Measure.
Kitarisa studied the moons while pondering Assur and his men. It must be a great comfort for him and his kind to pray to Her. They had no doubts as to their purpose and their worthiness, she thought sadly. They suffered no anxious thoughts about their final resting place, safe in their Goddess' Hall, dining on lamb and drinking honeyed wine. She wished she could feel the same, but as they struggled up the narrow path toward the top of the escarpment, she could only feel an oppressing sense of foreboding. The lighthearted moments she had shared earlier were being smothered by a newer, stronger sense of dread.
At the top, they stopped and rested. Kitarisa dismounted and led Nika to the very edge of the great Rift Cut and stared down at the splendor of the Sherehn River as it flowed southward toward Gorendt. Like a shining silver ribbon, it wound its way through the sweeping valley and on into the darkness of the forest.
"It is a wondrous sight,
isn't it?" she heard Assur murmur from behind her.
"Yes, it is. I have never been to the very top of the Cut before. It makes you feel like you could just fly off, like a great bird."
"Where would you fly, Kitarisa?"
She looked down, embarrassed. "I do not know. Some place far away I guess. Some place safe."
"You will be safe in Riehl." Assur stepped closer to her to place his hands on her shoulders. "And safe from Kazan."
She backed out of his gentle grasp and folded her arms across her chest, hugging herself against the cold.
"There will be no safe place until these events are over and my father is stopped. I am afraid, my lord. Afraid I will never stop running from something or someone." She looked up at him. "You paid a handsome price for a woman with nothing to offer you. Five thousand talins is a great deal of gold. I have no name and no home."
"You will have mine, if you wish. As I told you, under Talesian law, you are not bound to me."
Kitarisa turned away from him to gaze back over the breathtaking valley below. She had no idea how to talk to him and except for some intriguing clues, she knew nothing about him either. In one instant he was a ruthless killer, in the next, a thoughtful suitor, almost charming. Assur terrified and fascinated her. And, he was the only man she had ever known who could make her father afraid for his own life.
"What is it like in your land?"
"You mean Talesia?" he asked clearly surprised by her question.
"Yes."
"It is a land of sweeping plains, forests, and the sea. My home is next to the sea. A strange place for a people who once followed the breok and lived only in tents on the plains. Once, all we knew were horses and the land. Now we have cities, like Gorendt."
"And, do you have a family?"
She heard a soft laugh, knowing he was recalling the Wrathman's sneering insult.
"Yes. I have a sister and a father. Kitarisa, we are not animals--we have families and homes."
She felt his hands again close around her upper arms, felt his warmth and his unyielding sense of protection.
"Our families are our strength. We do not use them like pieces on a game board."
