Flight to Savage Empire se-4

by Jean Lorrah

  She was jolted out of reverie by the sight and smell of a thick black cloud on the northwest horizon. Far too big to be a campfire.

  “Zanos-”

  “I see it,” he said, pulling up next to her. “Can you Read that far?”

  It was about two miles away. “By the gods!” Astra breathed. “It’s a village being raided!”

  “Vortius?”

  “No. I don’t know who-”

  Three score of men were setting fire to the wooden huts of people who could barely fight back. She saw a young girl carried off by an ugly brute who laughed at her terrified screams.

  An adolescent boy snatched up a sword and ran at the man, only to be cut down from behind by another raider, who laughed, “Gotta share her now, Yorgo!”

  Astra screamed at the boy’s death agony, and withdrew into herself, separating her mind from the pain.

  Zanos touched her shoulder.

  “I’m all right,” she said tersely. “But those people are being slaughtered!”

  The gladiator looked to the east, then back at the smoke column. His indecision lasted only for a moment. “Come on!” he said, kicking his horse to a gallop.

  Astra slapped her horse’s flank and took off after Zanos, the sword slapping against her thigh.

  They rode into a scene of devastation. Bodies littered the ground, the cries of the dying mingled with the crackle of flames. Astra Read a handful of survivors as she and Zanos dismounted.

  “Which one first?” he asked, eyeing the bleeding bodies.

  Astra ran to the side of a girl of about twelve. She lay unconscious, a large gash in her right side. Even with her limited medical training, Astra could tell that no Aventine healer could stop that bleeding-but…

  “Zanos-?”

  He knelt beside her, placing his hands over the wound. The bleeding stopped almost immediately, and the girl drifted from unconsciousness to healing sleep as her severed flesh drew together.

  As Astra began Reading other survivors, Zanos suddenly exclaimed, “This one!”

  She whirled at the intensity of his voice, to find him kneeling over a leather-garbed man who writhed in pain. Her husband gripped the man’s upper right arm in anger, not concern.

  “He’s one of the raiders, Zanos, not-”

  “I know that! Read him for me!”

  Startled at his tone and manner, Astra nonetheless complied. “Internal bleeding, and severed tendons in his upper calves.” She guided Zanos in stopping the bleeding and reconnecting the tendons, but in the midst of it their patient suddenly passed out.

  “There,” Zanos said with satisfaction. “He’ll stay unconscious until I can question him.”

  “Question him about what?” Astra wanted to know.

  “Later. Right now there are his victims to help.”

  With Astra’s guidance, Zanos used his healing powers on two other severely injured villagers, then asked,

  “Are there any others in danger of death?”

  “No, but-”

  “Good.” But as he turned back toward the unconscious raider he coughed. Their eyes watered in the acrid smoke. “Maybe some of their homes can be salvaged,” said Zanos-and where he looked, the flames died away, revealing that several dwellings might be made habitable.

  But Astra saw that Zanos’ efforts were depleting his strength. “Please,” she told him, “use your powers for healing.” There were still an old woman with a skull fracture and concussion, and a young man with a broken collarbone. Zanos worked on them while Astra Read the others-but when he joined her at the side of an unconscious middle-aged woman, he staggered against her, breathing heavily, close to exhaustion.

  Just then a scream from behind them caused both Reader and Adept to turn. From the other side of the village came a young woman, hair loose and disheveled, shrieking an attack cry as she charged them with a sword.

  The moment of surprise brought Astra’s Reading wide open. She could sense the girl’s frenzy and Zanos’

  weakness in the same moment.

  Instinctively, Astra jumped to her feet and stepped in front of Zanos—

  Within five paces of Astra, the girl suddenly seemed to trip and fall. She landed at the Reader’s feet, unconscious.

  With a sigh of relief, Astra turned to thank her husband, who was sinking back on his haunches, barely able to stay awake—

  And only then did she realize that she had drawn her sword, and was gripping the hilt tightly with both hands.

  Zanos woke to find himself lying on a straw mat in one of the huts he’d saved from the flames. Astra sat tailor-fashion not far from him, cleaning her sword with an oil-soaked rag.

  “Good morning,” she said as he sat up. “How are you feeling?”

  He almost replied, “You’re the Reader-you tell me,” but remembered that they were in a land where Aventine Readers were feared and killed. Looking around warily, he asked, “Did I pass out? The last thing I recall was… stopping someone from attacking you.”

  “You expended all your energy saving the villagers, putting out the fires, and then saving me-again,” she told him. “You hadn’t had time to recover completely from the white lotus, either. But you didn’t pass out; you went into a kind of trance. After I straightened things out with Trel, we got you into this hut, where you fell asleep.”

  “Trel?”

  “He’s sort of the village elder. He and Kimma-the woman with the sword-were returning home when they saw the smoke, just as we did. When they arrived and saw the destruction, Kimma assumed the strangers she saw here were responsible. That’s why she attacked. But when Trel saw you put her to sleep

  rather than kill her, he wasn’t so quick to assume we were his enemies.”

  “But how could you communicate?” asked Zanos. “You don’t speak their language-”

  “No, she doesn’t,” said a voice from the doorway, “but I still speak Aventine.”

  Zanos looked past Astra to the gray-bearded man entering the hut with a tray of food. This had to be Trel, a tall, thin man of more than sixty years, but with the stride and bearing of a younger man. His most striking feature was clear blue eyes. They seemed to take in everything, revealing little. The eyes of a hunter.

  “In fact,” Trel continued, “everyone in the village speaks at least a little.” He gestured Zanos to remain seated, handed him the tray, and sank to a sitting position. Smiling, he held out his hand. “I welcome you to my home, friend Zanos, and thank you for what you did yesterday. “

  Zanos and Trel grasped one another’s forearms as a sign of newfound friendship. It was a long time since Zanos had done this with sincerity… not since he had befriended Ard. He pushed away that memory as their host bade them eat.

  “One of the people you saved is Deela, my wife,” Trel added. “Astra told me when she Read Deela this morning-”

  Zanos stared at Astra in astonishment.

  She said calmly, “No, I didn’t tell them I’m a Reader. I didn’t have to.”

  Trel chuckled. “You missed the sight of your wife holding me at bay with her sword. The moment she spoke, I knew she was Aventine, and well educated. But she doesn’t have the arrogance of the highborn.

  She was more than a little surprised when I assumed she was a Dark Moon Reader.”

  “And when did you escape from the empire?” Zanos asked.

  Trel’s smile faded. “I didn’t. Thirty-five years ago, this area was part of the Aventine Empire. My family had a small farm in the lowlands. Then Drakonius pushed the border back a few miles-right over our land. We and some of our neighbors fled into the hills, and survived by staying out of Drakonius’ way.

  Our village had a Reader, which made it much easier for us.

  “Eventually we settled here, fighting off the roving bandits until our rights were respected. Then we found we could trade with them.”

  “You never tried to get back into the empire?” Astra asked.

  The old man snorted. “From what I’ve heard, the pre
sent Emperor is no better than the one who ruled when our lands were lost. If there was justice in the empire, would you two have run away? Here, we enjoy a good measure of freedom… or we did until recently.” He continued sadly, “Many of the clans call these the Red Hills, for all the blood that’s been shed in them. Robberies, raids-not to mention feuds between clans. Our village was always the calm within the storm-until yesterday. We’ve paid a severe price for becoming lax and overconfident. Yesterday morning we were nearly fifty. Now we are fewer than twenty.”

  “But who attacked you?” asked Zanos. “And why?**

  “The clan of the White Crow,” Trel said tightly. “Of all the bandit clans, they’re the most vicious and cowardly. They usually camp southwest of here, robbing people on the trade routes between the lands of the Black Wolf and the Red Dragon. But when the Aventines invaded the lands of the Black Wolf two days ago, the Crows took flight-raiding any settlement in their path. It was bad enough that they took the food we worked so hard to store, but to kill and destroy, just for sport-”

  “Perhaps because of envy,” Astra said. “Success draws many jealous enemies. That’s a harsh lesson my husband and I recently learned.”

  Zanos said, “We’ll find out what their motives were when we question the prisoner. Is he still unconscious?”

  “No, but he’s not going anywhere,” the old man replied. “I bound him hand and foot before he woke up.

  He’s been doing a lot of cursing. Why did you save his life? Do you know him?”

  “Not exactly,” Zanos replied. “I recognized the sunburst tattoo on his arm. The last time I saw it was over twenty years ago-on the arm of every crew-member of the Sunrider, the slaver ship that took me to the Aventine Empire!”

  Zanos cut the ropes that bound the prisoner, then backed away toward the tree stump where Astra was sitting. Except for these three, the village center was deserted. The raider stared at them warily as he rubbed circulation back into his limbs. But he couldn’t get up.

  “We stopped the bleeding and closed your wound,” Zanos said as he sheathed his knife, “but I didn’t heal the nerve damage in your legs-so you can forget about running away. We’ll finish healing you after you’ve answered our questions. I am Zanos, and this is Astra, my wife. What’s your name?”

  The man said nothing, staring defiantly.

  Zanos let out an exasperated breath. “Astra?”

  “His name is Sarno,” she said flatly, and terror leaped into the hill bandit’s eyes.

  “Yes, she’s a Reader, ” Zanos said. “She could pull every thought, every secret out of your mind, but we’d rather you tell us freely. I don’t want to hurt you, even though I have plenty of reason. You are a former slaver, and I… am a former slave.”

  Sarno’s reaction was a laugh full of bitterness and anger. “Aye,” he replied, “I was a slaver. For less than a year.”

  “Aboard the Sunrider?” Zanos prompted.

  “Aye.” Sarno slapped at the tattoo on his arm. “I signed on an’ took ‘er mark, then found I was in a dyin’ business-a slaver on a route where slaves were becomin’ hard to get and even harder to sell. They need lots o’ slaves in an empire that’s growin’, not one that’s havin’ its borders pushed back ever’ few years. And there ain’t many kingdoms buys slaves anymore, not in this part o’ the world, anyhow.”

  “And the Sunrider got its slaves from the northern islands, right?” the Maduran pressed.

  “Wrong,” Sarno threw back. “Hadn’t fer years afore I signed on. Somethin’ happened in them islands…

  tales the old crewmen whispered about when they got drunk. Bunch o’ nonsense, sounded like’t’ me.”

  “What kind of tales?” Zanos demanded. “Tell me!”

  “Only one that made any sense, ” the slaver said. “Another slaver ship, the Hawkwing, was the last one’t’

  take slaves out o’ Madura. And the crew didn’t take em on in chains-they run aboard, glad’t’ get away, no matter how!”

  “Refugees?” Astra questioned. “What were they fleeing?”

  “Don’t know. Whatever it was, it killed every crewman who had any kind of Adept powers, cep the captain-an’ he went mad, they say. The survivors landed on the western shore somewheres, and fell in with the hill people. That was about four years ago. Some o’ me shipmates an’ me left the Sunrider last year, after business dried up an’ smugglin’ had too much competition-”

  “Zanos-duck!”

  Even as Astra tried to knock him aside, Zanos instinctively dropped and sheltered her with his body.

  Two arrows whistled over them-one of them thunking sickeningly into human flesh. Sarno screamed once and slumped, the arrow through his heart. Scrambling behind the inadequate shelter of the treestump, Zanos looked toward where the arrows had originated.

  “There!” Astra pointed. “Up in the trees!”

  Yes! About fifty paces away. With a wave of his hand, Zanos set the trees aflame. The two archers yelled in fear as they leaped from their hiding place. Even before they hit the ground, the Adept was on his feet, concentrating his powers. The killers’ hearts stopped.

  He concentrated again to extinguish the fires, just as Astra warned, “Behind you!”

  Zanos spun and leaped aside as a ball of fire came hurtling at where he had been. The Adept who threw it was standing openly at the north edge of the village, pressing his attack with more fireballs. Zanos stood his ground and deflected them, then tried to stop the hill bandit’s heart. The other Adept clutched at his chest, but resisted-just as Zanos had done in his last arena battle. They were locked in a struggle of powers and wills when-

  “Zanos!”

  He heard Astra’s cry, heard other bandits attacking, felt Trel and Kimma rushing into the fray, swords swinging.

  But he dared not move, couldn’t let his concentration slip or the other Adept would win out and kill them all.

  He kept up the pressure, knowing they were evenly matched, knowing that only determination would decide the winner-until finally his opponent screamed and dropped to his knees.

  But Zanos dared not collapse in relief-it could be a ruse to make him let down his guard.

  And as, indeed, the bandit glanced in his direction to see where to direct another Adept blow, Zanos reached out once more with his full powers-and the man collapsed, dead.

  Breathing heavily, he turned to look for Astra-and found a world of silence. The battle was over.

  Several bandits lay dead. Trel and Kimma were unhurt, looking grimly satisfied, while Astra—

  Astra stood by the tree stump, unmoving, staring at nothing. Her dress was covered with blood, as were her hands-and the blade of Zanos’ knife. He didn’t even know when she had taken it from him.

  Slowly, her fingers loosened their grip and the knife fell. Zanos ran to her as she tried to sit down on the stump, stumbling over the corpse of the man she’d killed.

  Zanos grabbed up his wife and held her gently in his arms. “It’s all right, Astra, ” he whispered. “It’s all right…”

  But she was not all right. Her skin gray with shock, she suddenly clutched him with incredible strength, and screamed.

  And screamed. And screamed.

  Chapter Seven

  ” ‘First kill?” Trel echoed.

  “It’s the term used in gladiatorial training,” Zanos explained. “Some react to the experience without remorse. Others work it out with their consciences, as I did. And still others”-from his sitting position, he glanced over his shoulder into the hut where his wife lay sleeping-“experience deep trauma, like Astra.”

  “I see.” The old man nodded. “Most of us here go through the experience, sooner or later. Kill or be killed is the natural law of this land.”

  “I know. Astra had to understand that. I just wish she hadn’t learned it this way. I had to put her into recovery sleep to stop her hysterics, but she’s the one who knows how to help injured minds, not me.”

  “Perhaps the rest will be
enough,” Kimma said gently. “That… and your love.”

  “I hope so, because that’s all I’ve gat.” He sighed. “Mowart! If only I could’ve stayed at her side, to protect her!”

  “What you did protected us all,” the woman reminded him. “I was closest to Astra when the one with the sword came at her-but there were two others after me. I could see her dodging that sword-I guess her Reader’s powers let her evade his moves. Finally she pulled off her cloak and threw it in his face.

  And then she saw your knife-”

  “I don’t even remember her taking it!”

  “She had to,” said Trel. “She was unarmed-hadn’t touched her sword since she cleaned it this morning.”

  Zanos sighed. “I have to make her wear it. She says it’s too heavy-and after today, she may never pick it up again.”

  “She will,” Trel assured him. “If she’s only half the woman I perceived last night, when she helped us prepare that mass grave, then she will be everything you need in a wife. Only a woman of the strongest character would be willing to travel with you all the way to Madura.”

  Zanos looked up sharply. “How did you know that?”

  “From the way you questioned your prisoner. We stayed out of sight, as you asked, but we had to know what you wanted with him. We overheard every word, and…” Trel paused to look at Kimma, then back. “Friend Zanos, wed like to ask you to delay your journey. These are dangerous times for all of us.

  The hill clans fear that the Aventines will retake these lands. They’re like animals before a forest fire, not knowing which way to run, attacking anything in their path. We need your help to keep those of us left alive.”

  “It might be better if you moved your village on north,” Zanos observed. “Your wife and the others will be well enough to travel in a few days.”

  “This is our homeland,” the old man said firmly. “We’ve fought long and hard to keep it. Besides, from what Astra told us last night about Lord Wulfston and the Aventine fleet, I don’t think their army will get very far inland.

  “But it’s more than not believing the Aventines can defeat the new alliance. I’ve been waiting thirty-five years to see the end of Drakonius’ reign, and something better rising up to take its place. That finally seems to be happening. The Adepts and Readers who now hold this cluster of lands base their rule on peace and trust rather than the terror and oppression with which Drakonius ruled.”