The World Weavers

by Kelley Grant

  “You . . . you can’t,” Abram said. She looked bleakly at him and he held out a hand. “You can’t want to do this.”

  Her expression softened. “Sacrifices in war are bitter, Abram,” she said. “I find it less bitter that the sacrifice is mine, rather than others’. Please go summon Ursa, Gursh, Bento, and Sandiv. Ask them to come without their assistants.”

  Abram shook his head and she put her hands on his shoulders. She squeezed gently, almost a hug, then turned him and pushed him toward the door.

  “Go, Abram. Tell no one, not even Casia. I’m sorry. It will be a hard burden to bear in silence.”

  Abram walked out, then leaned against the building a moment to compose himself. “Not half the burden you willingly carry,” he said softly. “May I someday be worthy of your sacrifice.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Kadar loosed another arrow from his position up on the ridge, but the fighter turned and it bounced harmlessly off his armor. It distracted the man enough that the Tigu he was fighting found his footing again.

  Kadar notched another arrow, but he could see that the Tigu warriors needed to retreat. The Sepacu tribe was buying time for the Zanta tribe to gather their belongings and move deeper into the desert, but this cohort of Voras’s fighters was too strong to engage for long.

  Voras had taken the loss of his troops poorly. The information the Tigus had stolen was essential, but the retaliation had cost them dearly. They’d lost over a hundred warriors to a surprise attack on the closest tribe to the army encampment. Voras’s army had pushed the Tigus farther into the desert. Soldiers had arrived from Illian with their feli and they directed the great cats to scout out the surrounding hills for the nomads. Desert magic did not affect the feli, who could see through illusions. So the Tigus were forced to retreat and regroup. True to her words, Onyeka had abandoned her colorful tapestries and pillows without a second glance, moving to a single bedroll with Kadar, which they could pack quickly onto one horse.

  Jaiden whooped her signal and the Tigu nomads disengaged, fading into the desert at random, having done their job of slowing the army. They would regroup farther up the ridge. Kadar swung up on Asfar and glanced behind once, surveying the retreating Tigus. He recognized Onyeka’s mare galloping toward the ridge closest to him, trailing two others. He looked ahead in time to see an army archer stand and take aim, but wasn’t fast enough with his own bow to stop him from making the shot. Onyeka’s mare went down, shot in the chest, as Kadar drew his bow. Kadar planted an arrow in the archer’s neck, and then galloped down the rise to where the mare lay. The horse’s body hid Onyeka; he couldn’t tell if she was injured. He drew his sword, ready for battle, but they were at the edge of the battlefield and Voras’s fighters were regrouping.

  Onyeka struggled to get her foot free from under the mare’s body. Kadar cast out a wave of fear that would keep their opponents’ horses from approaching them and leapt down, keeping her dying horse between him and any archers.

  “Kadar, get away,” Onyeka ordered harshly, still struggling. “You need to protect yourself.”

  Kadar ignored her and helped lift the saddle enough that she could free her foot. He flung himself onto Asfar’s saddle, feeling Onyeka scramble up behind him. Her arms wrapped around his waist and he signaled Asfar to leap into a gallop.

  “Are you hurt?” Kadar asked Onyeka.

  “No,” she said, voice clipped. “Keep riding.”

  They slowed to a trot when Kadar realized they weren’t being followed, and circled around to the meeting point. As other warriors straggled in, Kadar realized he and Onyeka weren’t the only ones riding pillion. Voras’s archers had targeted their mounts. They were probably hoping to demoralize the Tigus, since their love for their horses was legendary. Kadar smiled slightly. The Tigus loved their horses but were terrifyingly blasé about death. If they had to switch to humpbacks, they’d treat them with the same meticulous care as their horses, and their weapons.

  Jaiden signaled for everyone to move on to camp. As they rode out, she reined in beside Kadar to speak with Onyeka. He could understand most of what was said now, having been immersed in the language for months now. He couldn’t hear thoughts with his farspeech, but if he focused, he could hear the intent behind the words spoken. That helped his mind translate the words, so he had learned the Tigu language with surprising speed.

  “We lost Duran, Jase, and Sella,” she told Onyeka. “I thought you were gone as well when your mount collapsed. Are you injured?”

  “Bruise or sprain to the ankle,” Onyeka said. “Nothing major.”

  “Good,” Jaiden said. “I need you to take over for Duran. We will meet the others at the spring and camp for the evening.”

  “What then?” Kadar asked.

  “That’s for the elders to decide,” Jaiden said. “But I’m guessing we’ll stay on the move, teasing the troops, not letting them feel safe.”

  They traveled on into the dusk, others coming to ride beside and confer with Onyeka and tease Kadar about rescuing his bedmate. Onyeka become more and more tense with the teasing.

  They reached the camp a little after dark, guided by the Tigus’ water sense. The camp was well hidden, and they were upon it before Kadar realized. Onyeka slid down immediately, and Kadar dismounted. He handed Asfar’s reins to a waiting helper, and then was suddenly busy untangling Amber from his breeches as she tried to climb up him. The cat had an uncanny sense for when he entered camp, demanding attention and treats. He settled her on his shoulder and turned to find that Onyeka was limping off.

  He ran up beside her. “Any idea where they’ve pitched our tent?” he asked.

  “My tent,” Onyeka said, turning to him. Her face was tight and angry. “Not ours. I think you need to find your own tent, Kadar.”

  “Why are you so angry?” he asked, though he suspected what she’d say.

  “You risked yourself in battle because you were too attached to me,” she said. “I can’t trust you to be dispassionate. I can’t trust you to do what the One needs for you to do in battle. You broke the one rule I set for us. We’re done.”

  She turned away, and he stepped in front of her again, forcing her to look at him. They were getting looks from the other warriors, but Kadar didn’t care. Amber growled low in her throat at Kadar’s abrupt movements.

  “I rescued Dono in the last battle,” he told her, letting his own anger show. “It is part of my job as a lookout to see where I can assist the warriors on the field.”

  “You are more important than I,” Onyeka said, her voice harsh. “If you had been killed, we would have no way to communicate with the warriors of the One. We would be cut off. Your attachment to me made you forget that and run into danger.”

  “I forgot nothing,” Kadar said. “I killed the archer who felled your horse. There were no troops around you, and none except the archer saw you fall. I assessed the danger to myself against the danger to another comrade, as I did with Dono. I had already mounted Asfar, so it was easy and quick.”

  She looked down at her feet, too furious to listen to him, and he reached out and lifted her chin. He directly looked into her angry eyes.

  “I think you’re the one who is too attached to think straight. You’re so attached to your own independence, to your view of what you think the One wants that nothing anyone else does can penetrate your thick skull. I will not let a comrade fall in battle if I can safely get her out—­that’s how the One made me. If you can’t let me be as the One wills, then you are right, we are done. But you will never be a good leader until you recognize the One in everyone around you, not only in yourself.”

  Kadar turned on his heel and walked to the heap of supplies and extra tents by the packhorses. Jaiden fell in beside him as he sorted through the pile.

  “You are good for her,” she said slowly, so he could understand every word. She slapped him on the back and Amber hiss
ed at her. She chuckled at the cat’s ire. “You will make a leader of her yet. You did the right thing. Others saw you. It was a clean rescue. I will tell her. She will learn from this.”

  Kadar wasn’t certain what to make of this encouragement, so he set up his tent.

  His sleep was restless and he woke with first light before the rest of the camp stirred. Amber settled on his lap, a cream-­colored ball. Kadar allowed his mind to wander. He could feel that several of the soldiers in Voras’s camp had farspeech and shielded his mind from them. He let it wander down the twin-­bond, but Sulis was still fast asleep and he did not have a good reason to wake her.

  His cousin, with the warriors of the One, was also sleeping. Kadar thought of the woman he’d spoken with several times in the past year, Sulis’s pledge mate Tori, and let his mind wander in that direction, hoping that perhaps she could tell him what was happening in the North.

  He cast about, looking for that link he’d formed with her. He followed it and found another mind active, searching as he was. One as familiar as his own heartbeat.

  Uncle Aaron? Kadar queried.

  Kadar? Do you have a message from Mother? Uncle Aaron asked.

  No, I’m with the Tigu warriors, at the edge of the desert, by Voras’s army. Where are you? Sulis said Grandmother has been worrying about you, Kadar sent.

  At Stonycreek, Aaron said. I was almost trapped in Illian trying to get some of our Southern families out. I knew we’d left guards in Stonycreek, so we regrouped here. Aaron’s mindvoice became rueful. But Voras’s army was on our heels, hoping to recapture the Forsaken here.

  Are you besieged? Kadar asked anxiously.

  No, Aaron sent. Oddly enough, we were rescued by one of Sulis’s old friends—­Tori, and a whole group of fighters calling themselves Descendants of the Prophet. They defeated Voras’s army, helped free the geased fighters.

  Tori? I thought she served Parasu, Kadar sent. Sulis has been working with one of those Descendants at the Obsidian Temple as well.

  She’s a Counselor now. There’s a whole wave of acolytes becoming Counselors, all across the North, Aaron responded. And she’s a Descendant.

  And the geased fighters? Kadar asked. How did she free them? Are all the army fighters geased?

  Kadar thought back to his own battles against the army. He hadn’t felt any sort of compulsion on the fighters, but he was only a farspeaker, not an energy channeler.

  Tell your battle leaders, Aaron said. The Forsaken who fight for Voras are under a compulsion to fight. Tori and her companions were able to feel it. They broke that geas, and most of the army either fled or fought against their commanders. Many of them have joined us now.

  Break it how? Kadar asked.

  We killed the Knight. He had bound the will of all the Forsaken to him. Kill the Knight and you free every Forsaken. Not all the fighters are geased.

  That is huge news for us, Kadar told him. Did you know the Tasharas’ caravan leaders were forced to tell the deities the location of the waymarkers and the words of power? They know the route from Illian to Tsangia.

  Has anyone warned the villages along that route? Uncle Aaron asked, and Kadar knew he was worrying about his wife, Kadar’s aunt Janis, and their friends in Shpeth.

  I think so, Kadar said. We passed all the information to the warriors of the One. It’s up to them to protect the border towns.

  I must go, Aaron sent. Protect yourself, son of my heart. Contact me if you hear anything that might help our march on Illian.

  I will. Take care of yourself, Kadar said. I could not bear to lose another loved one. Let me know when the march on Illian begins. We begin one of our own here, retreating from Voras’s army.

  Aaron broke contact and Kadar opened his eyes. Onyeka sat cross-­legged in front of him, watching him intently. Amber stood and arched her back in a stretch before sauntering over and walking across Onyeka’s lap, her tail waving in the woman’s face.

  “It looks strange when you do that,” Onyeka said in his own tongue. “Your face is exactly like when you talk to someone in person. I can almost guess what you are saying, mind to mind, by what your face shows. But you don’t speak out loud.”

  Kadar stretched and stood, putting on his cloak.

  “It is odd, not being able to see the faces of the ­people I’m talking to,” he told her. “Have the elders sent you to fetch me? I have some information for them from Aaron.”

  Onyeka shook her head, looking uncertain. Kadar didn’t like that look on her.

  “Many warriors have told me that you were in no danger, rescuing me,” she admitted. “I did not sleep last night, thinking about it. I believe you are right. I become so worried about being too attached that I forget others can judge for themselves, know what is right. My mother was a battle leader. But she died because she became too attached and rode back when it was clear that the only thing she could do was perish with her companion. I feel . . . judged by her actions. I want the camp to respect me.”

  “You are respected,” Kadar said. “Everyone reveres your battle skill. If anyone used to judge you by your mother, they don’t anymore.” He grinned at her. “You are right though, I would risk a good deal to rescue you. Not because we share a bed, but because you are more essential to your tribe, as a leader, than you realize. Luckily, all the warriors who ride with you feel the same way, so they rescue you before I do something stupid.”

  Onyeka smiled. “I guess I am lucky,” she said. “The One wants you safe and protected, so I do not have to choose between my duty and my heart.”

  It was the closest she would ever come to saying she cared about him, Kadar realized. Even admitting that much was hard for her. He wouldn’t ask for more.

  “So can I move back in?” Kadar asked plaintively. He kicked the bedroll beside him. “These leftover bedrolls feel made of brick, and a man gets used to a little softness in his life.” He did his best leer, looking at her chest.

  She laughed and swatted him on the arm. “If you want softness, you should share Remy’s bed,” she said, naming the camp’s cook, a man with a soft, round belly. “You won’t find much here.”

  He grabbed her in a hug and kissed her. “More than enough for me,” he said.

  “The ­people of Stonycreek have formed an army, along with the Forsaken fighters we just freed,” Aaron told Tori. “They have no food for winter because of Voras’s attack on the town and cannot stay here. They are arming themselves to fight.”

  Tori stared at him in shock. “Do they plan on raiding other towns?” she asked. “We can’t let them kill innocent towns­people.”

  “No, they plan on attacking Illian when the Voices of deities and Voras’s army leave it unprotected. They are angry and want the riches the temple hides. They say they want to help with the Descendants’ plan.”

  Tori looked around at their group. “How do they know the plan? Who told them the deities were leaving Illian?”

  The twins shook their heads, mystified, but Evan stared her down.

  “I told them,” he said.

  “Why would you do that?” Tori asked, furious.

  “You chose to involve them in this fight. We helped them, now they can support us. With the deities gone, they will soon be free to go wherever they wish. If they choose to fight to make that happen, it is to the glory of the One,” Evan said.

  “Voras won’t leave Illian unprotected,” Tori said. “We’d planned to trickle the Descendants into Illian in small groups, to avoid alarming the guards. We can’t do that with a Forsaken army on our heels. You have destroyed the chance of a quiet revolution. Now blood will be shed.”

  “Unless the Forsaken army doesn’t march on Illian until you are ready for them,” Aaron suggested.

  Shane grinned. “I like the way you think,” he said, quicker than Tori to grasp Aaron’s meaning.

  “You’re
suggesting we use them as a distraction,” Sandy said.

  Aaron nodded. “My men can join their army. We will delay marching on the city until your ­people are inside the walls.”

  “The soldiers will be so focused on an army approaching Illian, that a trickle of us fleeing before that army to the safety of the city will seem normal,” Tori said. “Sandy, Shane, and I arriving as new Counselors of the One to take our place at the Temple will be another distraction. This could work.”

  Aaron nodded. “When the final battle comes, you can farspeak me and our army will attack the gates, pulling Voras’s soldiers out of the city.”

  “We won’t have to stave off Voras’s soldiers while shielding the city from the deities,” Sandy said. “This distraction could save us.”

  “How do we convince the towns­people to agree to our plan?” Aaron asked. “We want them to attack, but with no promise of a reward. They want revenge.”

  “By promising them food and livestock to replace what they lost,” Evan said. “I can speak for the Descendants. We have large herds and can share our resources.”

  Tori nodded in approval. “I cannot promise the Temple’s resources, but I believe once the war is won, Counselor Elida will be generous to the ­people who fought for us.”

  “Good. Evan will speak to the leaders. We’ll start dividing up the Descendants to send through the forest so they can join parties on the road,” Shane said.

  “This is the time of year when scholars and craftsmen tithe to Parasu and Aryn,” Sandy offered. “There are several crafts gatherings in Illian before the harvest brings in the farmers.”

  Tori nodded. “Excellent.”

  “Only the men should carry weapons if you don’t want suspicion raised,” Shane reminded her. “Have them take residence at different inns around the Temple. We three Counselors and a retinue of Descendants will ride in midmonth.”

  “And by that time, our army will already be inside,” Tori said with approval. “Sneaky. I love the way you boys think.”