“Then Omli it shall be. But only when no one else is in earshot.” He cradled his instrument as tenderly as a baby and slipped it into his knapsack. “You’re going to ride with the prince, are you?” he murmured.
Oli didn’t answer. Rolan rose slowly, looking down at her. Aware of his gaze, she sighed. “Yes. I’m going with the prince. For a long ride this afternoon.” Raising her eyes, she stared up at him. Her face twisted. “Time goes by so fast. It seems like yesterday that we were playing tag together.”
Rolan stood silently, watching her eyes fill with tears. She wiped them away hastily, then nodded as if to herself. “Yes. Time has passed. I’m a woman now, old enough to be a man’s wife.” Thrusting her chin forward, she looked at him with a fierce gleam in her eye. “We mustn’t let that prince take our country lightly. If we can establish a strong bond with Tolah, I’m sure my brother will use that good fortune to protect this land. You’ve spent years painstakingly building this connection. I’ll make sure we tie that knot well.”
Renowned for his spellbinding voice, Rolan was invited to palaces in every land and had used his position to serve as a bridge. He looked for people who could be of use to this kingdom, took time to subtly move their hearts, and built slim but precious connections between Lyoza and other countries.
He gazed wordlessly at Oli. She knew this visit from the prince of Tolah was due to his hard work. And she was telling him that she wouldn’t let his effort go to waste. He nodded slowly. As the younger sister of the Aluhan, and the sister-in-law of the Yojeh, she was a trump card in the game of diplomatic relations. His daring, cheerful childhood companion was telling him she would play that card well. Yet all he could do was nod.
Prince Tauloka stayed three short days and, in the end, offered only a promise of friendship between the two kingdoms. No doubt during his visit, his shrewd eyes had grasped the country’s internal instability. In the agreement they made, there was no mention of an alliance that would involve military action.
Shunan was discouraged by the results, but the visit had yielded one opportunity to deepen their relationship. After his long ride with Oli, the prince had invited her to visit Tolah as a guest of the state. From her efforts was born this single bond, slim but highly promising.
THREE
DESCENDANTS
1
THE ROAD TO OOHAN
The sasha trees were in full bloom, their pale blossoms floating like a cloud above the road. Petals quivered in the barely perceptible breeze as the carriage passed beneath.
“Ah, spring is the best season.” Yohalu sighed, inhaling the delicate fragrance that drifted through the window.
The mellow trill of a flute was followed by a burst of cheerful music. Several musicians were playing beneath the sasha trees. They had set out a large box to collect the coins of passersby, but no one stopped. Although the musicians had chosen a well-known tune and played with skill, something was lacking. One of the instruments was a little off-key.
What a waste, especially when the flute sounds so nice, Elin thought.
“That lakkalu player must be an amateur,” Yohalu said with a grimace. “His strings are loose. They won’t make much in this town. People here are used to far better.”
Elin looked at him in surprise. “I had no idea you knew so much about music.”
“I don’t really,” Yohalu said with an embarrassed smile. “I just listen to a lot of it.” His face softened. “My son plays the lakkalu, you see.” Saying no more, he looked out the window.
The road was lined with many kinds of stalls, and the people crowding the street were garbed in diverse styles of clothing. Carts piled high with sacks of wool lumbered by, swaying drunkenly each time the wheels struck a rut in the paving stones. Although firmly secured with ropes, the bags lurched precariously, as if they might tumble off. The drivers were mostly men with thick beards and long, intricately braided hair coiled on top of their heads.
“I wonder where they’re from,” she murmured, round-eyed.
Yohalu grinned. “They’re Asheh, from the grasslands. We’re near the border, so it’s quite common to see them here.”
Elin stared at him. “The border? But you said that Oohan wasn’t far.”
His eyes twinkled. “That’s right. Oohan is near the border. Although, to be precise, the closest border is about three days from here by horse and boat. Does that seem odd?”
Elin shook her head. Toda villages were located far from other settlements and kept a closely guarded secret. The Stewards only dealt with the nearest villages and were never informed of where the others were—a precaution taken to prevent hostile nations from discovering their location.
A sasha petal fluttered through the window and landed on Elin’s shoulder. Yohalu reached out and plucked it off. “Oohan is the oldest Toda village,” he said. “Where the first Toda were raised.”
“Really?”
Holding the petal between his fingers, Yohalu said, “I’m sure you’ve heard the tale of the first Toda Rider and Aluhan, the hero Yaman Hasalu.”
Elin nodded. Yohalu released the petal out the window and pointed east. “This is a land of ancient history, where the Victory of Amasulu took place. Beyond those hills flows the great Amasulu River, the one that Yaman Hasalu crossed on the back of a Toda to defeat the invading Hajan army.
“Even though he saved our country, Yaman Hasalu was defiled by the blood he had shed,” Yohalu continued. “Because of that, he never returned to his homeland on the other side of those mountains, which then formed the border. To reward him for his loyalty, the Yojeh bestowed upon him the title of Aluhan, grand duke, and gave him the territory from here to the mountains.” Yohalu swept his hand toward the west. “So you see, this is where Aluhan territory began.”
His hand traced an arc toward the rear of the carriage. “At first, it was just a small piece of land, a fief between the river and the mountains that could have been blown away with a single breath. And it stayed that way until the time of Yaman Hasalu’s grandson, Oshiku Hasalu. He began raising Toda to create the army that would conquer, one by one, the lands of the Hajan kingdom.”
Yohalu looked at Elin. A light burned deep in his eyes, and he broke into a smile. “In one sense, this is where our kingdom started. In a different way from how it began on Tahai Azeh.”
Elin regarded him silently for a long moment. “You’re very proud of this land, aren’t you?” she said finally.
Yohalu’s smile deepened. “Of course. This is my homeland.” She looked at him in surprise. He nodded, then shifted his gaze out the window again. “This road is very well maintained. Do you notice how it twists and turns so you can’t see ahead? It was designed and built in anticipation of enemies invading. This is the kind of place in which I was raised. I’m a Toda Rider to my very bones.”
With that, he fell silent, eyes focused on the passing scenery. As he had said, the road was well kept, and the slope had been built at the perfect incline to ease the uphill passage of horse-drawn carriages. This made the ride smooth and pleasant, and they reached the top of the hill by noon.
Yohalu ordered the driver to stop and invited Elin to step outside. Descending from the carriage, she gasped. Below her spread a wide plain rimmed with mountains and bisected by a great river. At the foot of the hill on which she stood lay a large town. White sails dotted the river, and she guessed that they must be merchant vessels. Rice paddies encircled the town and spread far into the distance. Fed by the abundant waters of the Amasulu River, the plain was a prosperous rice-producing district.
Pale, wispy clouds drifted across the bright blue sky, and birds flitted busily to and fro. Caressed by the refreshing spring breeze, Elin gazed down, squinting against the hard, silver light glinting on the river’s surface.
“That’s the Amasulu, which Yaman Hasalu crossed on his Toda to scatter the Hajan troops.” Yohalu stretched out his arm and pointed toward a spot where a smaller river merged with the larger one. “Do you see t
hat tributary?” he asked. When Elin nodded, he said, “Oohan, the village where we’re going, is at its head, although you can’t see it from here.”
Elin looked up at him. “Pardon my ignorance,” she said, “but is the Amasulu the border?”
Yohalu shook his head. “No, not anymore. The eastern border is some distance away. In the past, the broad Amasulu River plain belonged to the kingdom of Hajan. The territory the Yojeh gave to the first Aluhan, Yaman Hasalu, only went as far as the riverbank on this side. It was tiny. He stayed here for the rest of his life, continuing to protect it from Hajan invasions. It wasn’t until his grandson’s time that the other side of the river became part of our country.”
Yohalu stared at the narrow strip of land. “The Hajans finally stopped attacking us when Oshiku Hasalu developed his Toda army and conquered not only the lord across that river, but also the lords of Hajan domains much farther east. He signed a pact with the king of Hajan, who ceded those lands to our country on the condition that we advance no farther.”
Shifting his eyes to Elin, he said, “In Yojeh territory, people speak of Oshiku Hasalu as a man who laid waste to other lands from selfish ambition. But if he hadn’t crossed the Amasulu, everyone in Lyoza would still be destitute and living in constant fear of invasion. Oshiku knew his name would be reviled through the ages, but rather than protecting his reputation, he chose to lay the foundation for this country’s stability and prosperity.”
Elin remained silent for a long time, staring down at the plain. Slowly, she raised her head and looked at Yohalu. “But in the end, Hajan was destroyed, wasn’t it?” she said.
Yohalu’s eyebrows rose. “You’re well informed.”
He looked as if he would say more, then paused, but Elin could guess what he was thinking. The Yojeh’s subjects were rarely told anything about the enemy that now threatened the caravan cities to the east. Yohalu was probably thinking that someone had tried to persuade her to use the Royal Beasts against them by telling her the fate of Hajan. Having seen the momentary flash of consternation on his face, however, she was sure he had some other reason for expounding upon the feats of the Aluhan’s ancestors.
Yohalu gave a small sigh. “Yes, the kingdom of Hajan was destroyed. It was swallowed up by the Lahza horsemen who control the plains far to the east.” He pointed eastward. “The prosperous caravan cities of Hajan that we seized lie some distance in that direction. The Lahza attack them frequently. Until now, their attacks, though fierce, have not been large in scale. They’ve just been testing us. Without a doubt, however, they hope one day to seize our kingdom.”
Elin frowned. Looking at this beautiful, spacious world, she found it strange that anyone would want to invade another country. “Why would they want to conquer us?” she murmured.
Yohalu smiled wryly. “Because—” he began, but then stopped and grew sober. He scrutinized Elin’s face for a moment, then shook his head lightly. “We should go. We’ve tarried here too long. By the time we reach the foot of this hill, the sun will be starting to set. The road to Oohan leads into the mountains and is quite steep. Let’s stay the night at the bottom of this hill.”
Catching sight of Elin’s expression, he added, “As for your question, let’s wait until we have time to discuss it properly.”
* * *
The next morning, they left the inn and headed toward the village, accompanied by four of Yohalu’s men. Around noon, they veered off the main road and began climbing the path that led to Oohan. Elin was now keenly aware of why Yohalu had avoided traveling in the dark. Far too narrow to travel by carriage, the mountain trail was typical of those used by woodsmen and hunters. It followed a deep, churning river that seemed to go on forever.
Elin reached down to rub her knee as her horse plodded along behind Yohalu. She was used to riding. When she had lived with Joeun as a child, she had often ridden his mare, Tochi, and in Kazalumu, she usually rode when she went to town. But this mountain trail was so steep in places that she had to raise her hips and lean forward with her chest against her horse’s neck. Her legs had begun to ache, then her hips and even her back.
Perhaps he had heard her labored breathing because Yohalu slowed and glanced back. The two soldiers who were following Elin slackened their pace as well. “Are you all right?” Yohalu asked.
“Mmm, maybe not. My legs are starting to cramp,” Elin said with a rueful smile. “How much farther is it?”
Yohalu grinned. “There’s still quite a way to go, but this is the last steep part,” he said. “Hang on a little longer.”
Just as he had said, the trail soon leveled off, and Elin could catch her breath. Her mount seemed to have found it a hard climb as well. Its hide was sweaty, and steam rose from its flanks. She patted its neck. “Well done! That was quite a climb. Thanks for carrying me up.” The horse’s ears flicked in her direction, and it shook its head as if in agreement.
Yohalu swiveled around, a grin on his face. “Terrible trail, isn’t it?”
Wiping away the sweat that trickled down her temples, Elin sighed. “I thought that the village of Tokala and the one where I was born were deep in the mountains, but the trails there are nowhere near as steep as this, and they’re both closer to town. The villagers here have it pretty hard, don’t they?”
Yohalu nodded, toying with the Silent Whistle that hung around his neck. It was the kind Toda Riders used, much shorter than those of the Stewards. As he fingered it, he looked down at the rushing river at the foot of the cliff. “This area’s crawling with wild Toda. Even hunters avoid it. That’s exactly why Oshiku Hasalu chose it as the place to raise his army. His first concern was to make sure no one discovered where it was.”
Still talking, Yohalu dug his heels into his mount, urging it into a walk. “Even so, it’s possible for enemies to sneak across the border into the mountains and steal the eggs. And then there are the smugglers who sell eggs to other countries despite the penalty of death. But no one from any other country has been able to train the Toda and ride them into battle. In other words, the real gems of the Aluhan are not the Toda but rather the skills of the Stewards and the Riders. We have to make sure that these two things never fall into foreign hands.”
Shielding his eyes from the sunlight shining through the leaves, he smiled. “Living so deep in the mountains makes life that much harder. In other villages, the Stewards feed their Toda goats, but it’s difficult to raise goats here or bring them in from outside. Instead, the Stewards of Oohan feed them mainly fish, which means they can only raise a limited number. There also isn’t much room to practice riding them. Oshiku discovered many things that needed improving while raising the first Toda here. That’s why the villages that were built later are in more convenient locations.”
Elin was so intrigued that she forgot her aches and pains.
“Oohan has only a little over ten Toda,” Yohalu went on. “That’s not enough to form a troop. There are three other Toda villages in Amasulu territory, and most Toda that are ridden into battle are raised in those villages.”
Holding the reins in one hand and deftly guiding his horse with his legs alone, Yohalu looked back at Elin again. “The other three villages are closer to Tokala, but I wanted you to see Oohan, the first Toda village.”
Elin bowed her head. “Thank you very much,” she said fervently. Although she still wondered why this old warrior had brought her here, her heart leaped at the prospect of seeing the village upon which all the others had been modeled.
Squinting, she looked down at the sunlight dancing on the river’s surface. When the men of this village were summoned to battle, they probably rode their Toda down this river. And when the war was over, rode them back up again. This was where the Toda army had first begun.
As the light shining through the foliage began to pale and the sun started its descent toward the horizon, the trail they were following came to an abrupt end. A sheer cliff towered in front of them, and a cascade plunged over it with a deafening roar, f
alling into a wide pool beneath. The emerald-green water was so clear that Elin could see fish swimming under the surface. Waves fanned out from the waterfall and lapped against the reeds in the shallows at the pool’s edge. As Elin drew near, the color of the water intensified. It must be quite deep, she thought, because the bottom was shrouded in darkness.
The water carved an arc as it fell from the height of the cliff, sending up a shower of white spray. On the wind raised by the thundering water, Elin caught a faint sweet scent. Softly, she grasped her Silent Whistle. At intervals around the pool, she noticed deep purple shrubs called ogulu. “This is the gate, then, is it?” she asked.
Yohalu nodded.
There was always a place like this on the trails leading to a Toda village; a swamp or a pool where Toda too old to bear a Rider were kept. These served as a barrier against intruders. Toda hated the smell of ogulu. Unless there was some dire emergency, they would never go near these shrubs, and the Stewards called them Toda stoppers.
To an unsuspecting traveler, this spot would look like an ordinary pool. But Elin had been raised in a Toda village; she understood that these shrubs had been planted at strategic points, such as where the Toda could slip from the pool into the river, to keep them from leaving the area. When the Toda swam out to battle, the Stewards probably got into the river and pushed the shrubs aside to make a passageway.
She heard a ripple of water and saw the reeds along the pool’s edge sway. Having picked up the scent of horse and human, the Toda were on the move.
“Dismount and hold your horse’s bit tightly,” Yohalu told Elin. “Then follow my footsteps.”
Elin slid off her horse, as did Yohalu’s men, two in front and two bringing up the rear. They looked at Yohalu as if awaiting orders. When he slipped his whistle inside his mouth and gripped it between his teeth, his men followed suit. That motion brought back a day long ago when Elin’s mother had taken her to send off the Toda Riders from her village. That’s right, she thought. Toda Riders carry the Silent Whistle in their mouths because they need to use both hands.
The Beast Warrior Page 8
