by C. L. Scheel
Kitarisa felt her throat thicken with threatening tears. She swallowed several times before speaking again.
"If I release you from your oath and bond, what will happen to me?"
Assur stepped around her so she would look directly at him. The dark patterns around his eyes only added to the intensity in them. His firm mouth was set and determined.
"Whatever you wish. You are not my slave and you certainly are not Kazan's pawn."
She nodded, satisfied.
"You must promise me this, my lady, that you will not release my bond until after I am finished with Kazan and this witch. Will you promise?"
Again, she nodded. "Yes, I promise."
Kitarisa barely got the words out of her mouth, when they both heard Kuurus' warning shout. Assur spun away from her and in the time it took for her to blink, his sword was in his hand. There were more shouts, unfamiliar voices mixed with those of Brekk and Mar'Kess.
From the deep shadows of the trees, they saw several dark shapes emerge into Verlian's silver light. Wrathmen.
There were twelve of them and they carried swords instead of the liet'fa, the handmaiden's touch--and it was apparent they knew how to use them.
These were not drunken roadwilds or stupid marglims. The Wrathmen had deliberately cut the two of them off from the others, with the edge of the escarpment and its enormous drop just behind them. Mar'Kess and the others had been keeping a discreet distance and Kitarisa now regretted it.
The Wrathmen fanned out, some facing Assur and Kitarisa, the rest turned toward the others. Assur shoved Kitarisa behind him and slowly drew out the other sword from the scabbard on his back.
"Well, well, we meet again," the tallest of them said, taking a step forward. "It seems you have been playing little tricks on us, barbarian. I was unaware that animals like you had any interest in escorting princesses around the countryside. However, as reluctant as I am to say it, there is a need for you, Talesian dog. And, the rest of your pack." He gestured to the others. "There is a particular need for the brave Mar'Kess. The Holy Sister has a score to settle with you, First Captain, concerning two of her most devout followers and their untimely ends."
"I make no apologies for their deaths Leashed One. They were responsible for the torture and murder of an innocen--!"
"Resistant heretic!" Captain Syunn snapped. The Wrathman stepped forward and raised a warning hand. "To resist the Reverend `Fa is futile--all must yield to the will of the Divine Lady and her handmaiden, as you will soon learn, Captain."
"I am a slow learner," Mar'Kess said deliberately, never taking his eyes off Syunn's arrogant face.
There would be no more taunting words. The Talesians and Mar'Kess flung themselves at the hated Wrathmen. This was no noisy fight against lumbering marglims, but a cold, silent battle between two forces that knew exactly what they were doing--how to kill with no wasted motion.
Kitarisa recalled Assur's words spoken to the terrified Aerik: kill only when your heart is cold. She now understood why the ancient Talesian tribes had been so feared. The blood of their violent ancestors raged in their black-marked eyes--a near-mindless savagery that would not be quelled until the last Wrathman lay dead at their feet.
Assur took the first Wrathman at Syunn's right. In two strokes the man was a bleeding heap in the dust. He turned to face Syunn, the Wrathman captain. Swords arced and clashed, the ring of steel on steel shattered the stillness of the forest.
Syunn's skills nearly equaled Assur's, but only by his size. Heavier and more muscled, Syunn's blows fell hard on Assur, but the Talesian was taller and used his height and agility to counter attack with almost disdainful ease.
Seeing his opening, Assur's right arm whipped back and struck at Syunn's sword arm, cutting through the fine black mail, finding flesh and tendons. Syunn howled in pain, but managed to switch his sword to the other hand in time to block Assur's next strike.
Helpless, Kitarisa stood in the melee, unable to move. The sound of swords and labored breathing surrounded her as Talesian and Wrathman fought each other to the death.
Jarad took on two at once and bore several cuts to his arms and chest. Blood ran from Brekk's left ear and to her horror, Del, shy, quiet Del, was fighting with the use of only one arm--the other was covered in gore from shoulder to his fingers--the useless sword held only by sheer willpower.
For several tense moments it appeared the Wrathmen would win, but suddenly, Jarad saw a lucky opening and struck down the two he had been fighting. The others rallied and in quick succession, more Wrathmen fell. From nowhere, Kitarisa heard the sound of hooves and looked up to see Kuurus galloping toward them both swords over his head, his lips peeled back in a ghastly snarl. His great horse easily trampled down the two Wrathmen about to finish Del, pummeling their bodies to a pulp.
Right behind him came Courronus, flushed with excitement. It was his first real battle and to prove it, in one savage stroke, killed the first Wrathman in his path. Courronus would earn his scars.
Assur backed away from the stumbling, bleeding Syunn. The Wrathman dropped his sword, clutching the wound in his right hand--the blood poured through his fingers and down the fine cloth of his gray surcoat.
"I am letting you live, Wrathman, so you can crawl back to your mistress and tell her of your defeat."
"You are a dead man, barbarian! You have been cursed by the Divine Medruth herself. She knows you are hers," Syunn shouted at him. "There is no place, no corner where you can hide that I will not find you!"
He looked back at the carnage. Nine of his men lay dead. The other two were weakened and staggering with pain.
"More are close by, Talesian, and you will be hunted down like animals."
The tall Talesian ignored the captain's threats, but looked up at the mounted Kuurus and Courronus, and in short, hurried phrases, uttered orders in their ancient language. The scarred Siarsi only nodded his head, wheeled around sharply and galloped away with Courronus hot on his heels.
Assur called to the others who also ran to find their own horses. Still eyeing the wounded Captain Syunn, he backed slowly toward Kitarisa.
"Go. Get on your horse," he ordered over his shoulder.
Kitarisa scrambled onto the little brown horse, her heart pounding in terror. In an instant Assur was on the gray, slamming the left-hand sword into the scabbard on his back. With the flat of the other sword, he slapped the gelding's rump. Startled, the horse jumped forward, nearly unseating her.
"What about the others?" she asked.
"They will head for our encampment and we will meet with them later. For now, we split up. Those lapdogs will have a hard time chasing so many rabbits!"
For a time it looked as if they had shaken the pursuing Wrathmen. Syunn had not been boasting, as more Wrathmen appeared to take up the chase, splintering off to find Mar'Kess and the others, while a small band chased after Kitarisa and Assur.
They rode into the blackened night through the deep part of the north woods. When they cleared the trees, the ground suddenly turned hard leaving no hoof prints for the Wrathmen to follow, but Assur took no chances. In a bewildering pattern of double-backs and circling, he left no trail for their pursuers to find them.
Kitarisa had never ridden so hard in her life and it was clear her gelding was beginning to falter. The short-legged horse was no match for Assur's great stallion and began to fall behind forcing him to slow the pace.
"We will never get away at this rate," Kitarisa gasped, nudging her horse next to Assur's gray.
"We will if we can reach the first ridges." He nodded toward the looming mountain ahead of them.
The horses' hooves clattered on the rocky pathway as they wound through the narrow cliffs of the mountains. Both animals struggled up the steep incline, heads down, panting in exhaustion. Just when she thought her horse would collapse, Assur stopped them between an enormous fissure in the rock.
"Rest here, but do not get down," he warned.
Taking the glace from his
saddle pack, he eased onto the nearby ridge overlooking the valley floor below and the path they had just climbed. The brilliant white light from the moon was enough for him to use the glass as he searched for approaching Wrathmen.
"What do you see?" she called softly from the black fissure.
"Nothing...yet. But they will be coming. Wrathmen do not give up easily."
"My lord, what do they want with us? Seeking Mar'Kess I can understand, but why me? I am useless to them. I have renounced Riehl and Gorendt. Having me sent to the Catacombs was only one way to be rid of me. I am sure my father could have thought of many ways to be rid of me."
Assur slid down the rock and slipped into the fissure next to her. He looked up into her perplexed face.
"I do not know, Kita. Unless--" He stopped, hands in mid air as he replaced the glass to his pack. "Unless, it is us."
"You? You mean, Del and Kuurus and the others?"
She could see him slowly nod his head.
"Why?"
"My lady, listen. What did Mar'Kess say about those witches he killed in the Keep--what he overheard them saying? The grandmother in the village said it, too."
"Something about, `needing them for their strength.'"
"Yes, but strength for what?" Suddenly, Assur touched one of his eyes. "Medruth's curse." He glanced up at Kitarisa. "We must get to Riehl as fast as possible."
Swiftly, he mounted Adzra and headed back down the same trail they had just taken.
"Lord Assur, we must rest. We will kill these horses!" Kitarisa protested.
"Soon, my lady. As soon as it is safe. We will rest where the witches' pets will not find us."
The tired horses were hurried down the trail, veering off toward the west. In spite of the brilliance from the half-phased light of the moon, it was still so dark she could not understand how he was able to find any kind of trail.
Fatigue made her numb to the stiff-legged, jarring steps of her exhausted horse. Kitarisa looked ahead. Even Assur's powerful Adzra was stumbling.
They skirted along the low foothills of the mountains, pressing on toward the north. Ahead, Kitarisa saw another thrusting, an outcropping of rocks indicating the most easterly mountains of the Adrex where one could stand at its tip and look across the valley and the Sherehn River to the east and see the western edge of the Kor Breach, the narrowest point where the Adrex nearly met the Soldrat Mountains.
Assur stopped them again just within the fringe of the trees. It was the first time Kitarisa had actually seen him show any sign of fatigue and as the bright light of Verlian passed over them, she saw a dark stain oozing from a cut in his sleeve, the blood running down his arm.
"You should have that tended to." She nodded at the wound.
"It will keep, my lady. When we stop you can practice your healing skills on me."
"If you do not bleed to death before then. Are you controlling your pain as you have been taught?"
"Who told you that?"
"Courronus."
Assur made a disgusted noise in his throat. "Courronus! What did he tell you? That Talesians do not feel pain? Courronus has been with Kuurus too long. There is no boast too great for a Siarsi, especially in front of a woman. Believe me, Kitarisa, the wound hurts. However, there are times when we must think of other things besides our pain."
Kitarisa lowered her gaze, a gesture Assur did not miss. She adjusted the cloak over her knee. She was glad he could not clearly see her face in the deep shadows of the trees.
"I know," she whispered.
"Are you injured?" he asked, suddenly worried.
"No, just weary. I am sorry to be a burden, but I must rest, my lord."
He nodded, gathering up the gray's reins. "Not much farther..."
They both heard the soft whoosh of an arrow near their heads. It slammed into a tree behind Assur, the white fletchings quivering from the impact.
"Go," he shouted.
There wasn't much left in either horse, but they obediently responded to the heels in their sides. Adzra pounded ahead of Kitarisa's faithful little brown horse. Terror danced down her spine like tiny white-hot fiends as she leaned over Nika's neck, urging him on.
From behind her, she heard the staccato beats of the Wrathman's horse as he galloped closer and closer to them. He was so near she was certain she could hear its panting breath and the soft rattle of bit and spurs, chain mail, and straining leather.
She slapped the gelding's neck and he gamely shot forward, but it was not enough. Again, she heard the whir of an arrow.
Little Nika didn't even stumble, but simply collapsed to his knees and then flipped forward, somersaulting, throwing Kitarisa over his neck. She landed hard on her side, the air painfully forced out of her lungs.
Panic screamed through every nerve. Without thinking, she rolled on her belly and crawled to the nearest underbrush. The Wrathman's black horse skidded to within inches of Kitarisa's hiding place and from her vantage point, she saw black boots step to the ground and the sweep of a cloak and surcoat. The boots crunched on the thick bed of pine needles, moving closer and closer to her hiding place. Kitarisa was certain he could hear the pounding of her heart--it felt like a huge beating drum--much too large for her chest.
A sob escaped her throat as she felt his knee bump her shoulder and heard his growl of surprise.
"Get up," he bellowed. Rough hands tore at her cloak and found the flesh of her shoulders and upper arms. The Wrathman dragged her from the underbrush, forcing to her feet and then pushed her up against the side of his horse.
"Where's the barbarian dog?" he demanded.
"I...I do not know," she screamed at him.
"He cannot be far, Princess. No man would be stupid enough to leave behind such a prize like you."
"I am worth nothing to him, Wrathman," she managed to gasp.
His hands were on her throat, pinning her against the solid wall of the horse's side--the well-trained animal did not move, but seemed to lean into her back giving more support to the Wrathman's assault.
"We will see." He yanked her away from the horse, pinning her arms behind her back. "Get on your knees!"
Kitarisa was forced down with one arm painfully wrenched behind her back. The Wrathman pulled out his own sword and placed the razor-sharp edge next to her throat.
"Come out Talesian! I have your princess. I'll carve her to pieces before your eyes!"
Silence. Only the faint rustle of the wind sighed through the great trees.
The Wrathman pressed the sword deeper just short of cutting her skin. "She will die barbarian. She is worthless to us."
More silence, eerie and unsettling. Kitarisa shook in the Wrathman's grasp. She felt the raw edge of the blade against her throat biting into the soft flesh. Where was Assur? Surely he would not leave her here to die? Even as she knelt, helpless in front of the Wrathman, she now knew what they wanted. They had always wanted Assur. Abducting her and Alea had only been an elaborate cover for a greater, more sinister scheme. Why? Why would the Reverend `Fa want this particular Talesian?
"I'm waiting, you groveling, spineless animal. Excrement of dogs!"
His words were meaningless--loud baiting words to try and force Assur to her aid by outraged pride. She knew he would not rise to it.
Hurry, my lord.
Like the arrows, there was a soft rushing sound of something passing through the air. It stopped with a thick-sounding `thunk' and a howl of pain from the Wrathman. Kitarisa fell out of his grasp. His blade slid from useless fingers. The pale, white light of the moon broke through the trees and glinted off the silver hilt of the saddle knife embedded deep in the Wrathman's side. Horrified, Kitarisa backed away from the dying man, almost into Assur himself.
"Get his horse," she heard him order.
She barely had the wits to stumble to the great black horse and take up its reins. It was then Kitarisa remembered her small saddle pouch still strapped to the dead gelding.
Tears of terror and fatigue ran down her
face as she groped over the dead body of brave, little Nika trying to locate the precious satchel. The Wrathman's arrow had struck cleanly through his neck, causing instant death. With trembling fingers she touched the white fletchings of the arrow thrusting up from the horse's neck. Poor, gallant beast. Another death for her sake, like Falla and Rhynn.
"Kita!" she heard Assur call.
She found the satchel and hurried to the Wrathman's great black warhorse. He was as tall as Assur's gray and danced with nervous energy. His eyes rolled, revealing the whites. The soft black nostrils flared as it caught another scent--not blood, but something foul and deadly.
Assur pulled his knife from the Wrathman still writhing on the ground and then ran for Adzra. The gray smelled them too and whinnied. Fear had revitalized Assur's tired horse. He danced like the black, half-rearing and fidgeting under the barbarian warrior.
Assur spurred the stallion into a gallop and Kitarisa's mount lunged after him. Even over the clatter of hooves, Kitarisa could hear them--gibbering and howling as they descended on the dying Wrathman. She could not cover her ears to block his screams. The marglims were hungry and they did not wait to kill their prey.
Chapter 13
THE TALESIAN camp was so well hidden in the woods Kitarisa did not realize they were upon it until she saw a tall man step from the dark protection of the trees and salute Assur with one raised fist.
He was a Siarsi, clad like the others in a leather jerkin and boots to the knee. His auburn hair was tightly bound at the crown with the traditional silver ring, but his scars were distinctly different from Kuurus. Instead of the slash marks that reminded Kitarisa of arrows, his were cut like bolts of lightening very much like the marks worn on Mar'Kess's left sleeve designating his rank and the number of sunturns he had served. Unlike Kuurus, this man had a refined, proud look to him.
He stood at the center of the camp awaiting them and the moment Assur's foot touched the ground, he was down on one knee, right palm to left shoulder. His eyes could not hide the same intense loyalty she had seen in Kuurus and the others.
"My lord, we are relieved. Another day and I would have set out to find you."
