Silence fell as Tobar stood. His voice carried across the Faisach. “Hear me, Heleini. We are clan. We are of one tribe, one battle cry, and one family, sworn by ancient bond to defend one another.” Tobar met the eyes of those gathered. “Tonight, we begin anew. Tonight, we are reborn!”
A cry rose from the Heleini gathered.
Tobar strode toward Sara. After nodding to Zeynel, he took Sara’s hand. “Now, Healer, we dance.”
Chapter Sixteen
Sara woke alert; she blinked, her body tense, adrenaline pumping in her veins. Ilydearta throbbed against her breast. Something was wrong. Darkness lay like a blanket over the tent. As she hurriedly dressed, she picked up the whispers of feet running over hard-packed earth outside. After a moment’s hesitation, Sara pushed back the tent’s flap and stepped into the night, her hand on the hilt of her sword, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The camp was quiet under the starry sky, mist eddying around the tops of tents before dissolving in the soft wind. Cool air washed her face. The bonfire still lit the night sky at the edge of camp. Sara rubbed her eyes. No, that’s wrong. They’d put the fire out after taking the ember back to Tobar’s hearth.
“Fire!” The shout echoed through the camp. Groggy men stumbled from their tents, taking less time than she would have imagined to shake off sleep and the effects of too much alcohol.
Tobar charged out of his tent, his chest bare. She saw him gesture to a group of men who ran toward the well. Sara moved to exchange her sword for something to help fight the blaze.
No.
She turned to see who had spoken. No one was there. Electricity danced along her nerves. Zeynel burst through the growing smoke, a blade in his hand. “Be prepared,” he whispered.
A war cry and pounding hooves filled the night air. Her heart jumped into her throat. Had the keeper of Crioch finally found her?
“Go in with the women, Healer.” Tobar spoke without turning, rushing back into his tent.
The pounding became more distinct; Sara could make out the sound of individual hooves beating the ground. Another battle cry split the night. Who is out there? Are they circling?
Tobar returned with a blade in his hand. “Rabishi,” he spat. “Healer, we fight. Join the women now. This is no place for you.”
Sara drew her sword. The relief that she wasn’t the source of this attack was short-lived. The ground vibrated beneath her feet.
Tobar glanced to Sara and then to Zeynel, eyeing their weapons. He raised an eyebrow and then pointed away from the fire. “They will come that way.”
They rushed to the edge of the camp to join the chaos. As they neared the battle, Sara took several deep breaths. A moment of doubt clouded her vision. It was one thing to fight with her wooden sword—the three bandits had been easy to defeat. Here, she would fight against seasoned warriors. Fight or die. Is this what you meant for me, Grandfather?
Confusion reigned as a horseman rode into the outskirts of camp, blades flashing in the starlight. A clash of metal striking metal echoed as one of Tobar’s clan met the charge. Robed figures darted between the tents, shadows beneath the moonless sky.
A cloaked man rushed toward her, sword raised. Her mind cleared. Sara stepped forward, avoiding the Rabishi’s blade, then countered, slicing through the man’s neck.
Internal calm settled, the movements around her slowed into aching detail. In her peripheral vision, Sara spied Zeynel battling a shadow. Silence, save for the clash of steel, thud of bodies and crackle of fire, gave a dreamlike quality to the night. Sara saw the flash of silver in time to block a thrust but lost her footing, falling hard to the ground. A large robed man approached, his sword gleaming in the darkness. Sara rolled away from the first assault, coming to her feet in time to meet the second. The raider tried to get his curved blade around her as though trying to harvest a sheaf of wheat. Sara parried, searching for an opening. The man dropped his shoulder, preparing to step forward. Her sword found the joint between shoulder and neck. Disbelief etched on the raider’s face before he crumpled to the ground.
Sara turned to face another man as a whistle pierced the air. The man backed away, pivoted and fled into the night.
And then it was over.
For a moment, silence descended with weight; then the mumbled speech and cries of the wounded broke through the velvet night.
A horse snorted nearby. Bodies lay dead or dying, their blood seeping into the thirsty sand. Sara’s nostrils filled with a heavenly aroma of burned wood and thyme. A firm hand took her arm and strength surged through her body.
“Are you well?” Tobar’s voice cut through the haze that covered her vision.
“We are,” Sara said, finding Zeynel’s gaze. After cleaning her blade on sheared grass, she sheathed it.
The Akier nodded, spun toward the camp and cried, “Heleini!” A chorus of fervent voices filled the night. Tobar turned toward them. “The fire still rages.” Without a backward glance, he raced into the smoke.
“You knew?” Sara asked Zeynel as they followed the Akier. Sara stopped to check a fallen man. Dead.
Zeynel nodded. “And so did you.”
Sara remembered the voice and chills that prickled her skin. Someone or something had warned her not to put away her sword.
By the time they reached the fires, Tobar had organized relay systems from the well in the middle of camp. Men passed dripping baskets of water down the line then the last dumped it and ran to the beginning to draw from the well while every man took a step forward. Sara and Zeynel joined the relay.
Tobar emerged from the haze and approached. “The worst of the fires are out. There is more smoke than flames.” His eyes crinkled in his soot-stained face as he peered into the dark in concentration. “Two tents destroyed. Stores for winter, extra baskets.” He shrugged.
“Who were they?” Sara asked, stepping out of the line.
“Rabishi. I had no word they were in the area. I would’ve been prepared.” Tobar stopped, and his deep black gaze bore into Sara’s with intensity. “They’re gone. We’ve won the night.” The Akier shook his head. “Three dead, more wounded.”
“Where are the wounded?”
“I’ve had them all brought there.” He pointed to a nearby tent.
“I’ll see to them.”
The Akier nodded once, his eyes focusing on something far away. “My heart is not easy. This was no raid. They didn’t even try to take the salt or the horses. Something—”
A piercing wail cut through the night.
Chapter Seventeen
Without pausing to think, Sara sprinted toward the scream, sword drawn. As she entered the clearing in the center of camp, she saw Chavi stumbling out of her tent. The woman fell to the ground.
Tobar raced past Sara, dropping to his knees in front of his wife. “Chavi?”
She looked up, her face a mask of grief. Blood matted her hair and trickled down one cheek.
“Chavi!” Tobar grasped her shoulders.
“He’s gone,” she croaked.
“Who’s gone? Who did this to you?” The flickering torchlight danced along Chavi’s glazed eyes.
“They took him. I tried to stop... They—he’s gone.” Sobs shook her slender body.
Tobar held Chavi to his chest, meeting Sara’s gaze over the distraught woman’s head. He nodded toward the canvas flap.
Sara ducked inside the tent and rushed to Danladi’s d’jalla. The bed was empty, upended, and pillows and blankets were scattered on the ground. A water cistern lay broken on its side, the earth around it darkened by moisture. One large footprint marred the moist soil. A man’s foot. Next to the overturned d’jalla lay a bowl, half-hidden by blankets. Sara reached for it. Empty. The luna fruit she’d set by Danladi’s bed to be sure he’d see it in the morning now lay trampled in the dirt. Tears pr
icked her eyes. Edging closer but avoiding the area around the cistern, she examined the tent wall and nodded. Cut.
“They’ve taken him.”
Sara turned to see Tobar standing in the doorway, his eyes like flint. “The Rabishi have Danladi.”
Sara stepped toward the Akier.
He blinked as though seeing her there for the first time. “Chavi is with the other women. The wound to her head is not deep but—” His voice broke.
Sara moved to pass him. “I’ll see to her now.”
He took her shoulders in his hands and peered into her eyes for several seconds, his dark irises searching. With an almost imperceptible nod, he released her.
* * *
Sara stepped out of the tent. The sun stretched its fading rays toward the east, not quite keeping the indigo sky at bay. Had it only been last night they’d danced around the fire? Her eyes felt as though all the sand in the desert lay behind them. She’d napped for only a few moments. Some of the wounded hovered between life and death and if her help could save them, she could catch up on sleep later.
Tobar approached, his dark eyes ringed. “How are they?”
“One died early this morning. Another...I don’t know. The rest should be fine in a week or two.”
“And the wounded Rabishi?”
Sara shook her head. When Tobar heard there was a survivor among the Rabishi bodies, he’d stood over the man, clenching and unclenching his fists until he had to attend a call from an elder. Sara thought that if the Rabishi managed to pull through, his life wouldn’t be long. It was a moot point; his wounds had been fatal. Four dead Heleini, twice that many wounded and six dead Rabishi.
Tobar nodded. “Thank you for your care, Healer.” His body was tense, his eyes gleaming in the scant light as his jaw worked. “I’ve been to see Chavi. She’s resting. Patia said you gave her something to help her sleep. I thank you for this as well. Sleep is perhaps the only place to retreat from her pain.”
It was on the tip of Sara’s tongue to ask about the pain radiating from his eyes but she remained silent.
“The Rabishi must have waited until the sound of our celebration ended, then snuck into camp to take Danladi. Scouts followed the horse tracks as well as they could by the light of the stars. They led toward the marshes and Rabishi land. I sent more at first light. They should be back soon.”
“Why would the Rabishi take Danladi?” Sara asked, stepping aside to let a woman enter the tent.
“I don’t know. That is why I’ve asked for a council. We will ask the old ones who keep scrolls of the law and whose memories are long. Then we ride after the Rabishi and take back my son. They will regret the day the trespassed on Heleini land.”
Ilydearta drummed against Sara’s chest. “Tobar, I want to be in the council with you.”
“No. Women do not belong in council.” Tobar began to walk toward his tent.
Sara stepped forward and placed a hand on his arm. “I’m not just a woman, Tobar. I am a healer. And healers belong in council. More—”
“No.” Tobar met her gaze, then took several steps away.
Sara watched his retreating figure, frustration mounting, Ilydearta’s swelling tempo almost painful. “I am Danladi’s healer. According to Heleini custom, it is my right to share council.”
Tobar paused, then turned and walked back, stopping only a few inches away from her. His gaze was steady and held no emotion. “A little knowledge is dangerous.”
She lifted her chin. “I will not see him in the hands of the Rabishi and do nothing. Besides, you owe me. Anything within your power, remember?”
Though his face remained fixed, a single light rippled across his irises. “So be it, Healer.”
Chapter Eighteen
Deep creases lined darkened skin. Obsidian eyes followed Tobar and Sara as they entered the tent, the smell of smoke and horse sharp in the darkened enclosure. A dozen Heleini elders sat around a multicolored carpet, its tassels brushing at soft-soled shoes. Half as many men sat in a second tier just outside the first, Zeynel among their ranks. As though in agreement, every member of the council looked from Sara to Tobar, asking a silent question. Silence grew until it was a physical presence. Tobar gestured for Sara to sit behind him and the motion seemed to answer their unspoken query. Several men nodded to her. Sara recognized Durriken and an elder named Gatik from their tales by the fire. Other men she knew only by sight. The Akier knelt on the remaining cushion. He reached out and took a long stick that rested in the middle of the carpet.
Sara peered at the intricate carvings covering the object. So, this is the revered amarin Durriken spoke about.
“My friends, my family, you have heard the news. Danladi is gone.”
Heads nodded, several men picked at their clothing as though they would tear at their robes in mourning.
“Mika, are there any horses missing?”
One of the men shook his head. “No, Akier.”
“Moshie, the salt stores?”
“Intact.”
Tobar nodded. “Then the purpose of this raid was to abduct Danladi. I have sent scouts. They found tracks leading toward the swamps. More are out now to discover how many Rabishi there are and, if possible, who leads. The abduction was well planned. The Rabishi are familiar with the seasons. They know the time of the Fire. They knew we would celebrate and, in doing so, become vulnerable.” The Akier held up a hand to stall ripples of protest. “Our warriors are strong. In a full attack, we would have met any onslaught no matter our condition, but this was no attack. The Rabishi set fire to storage tents and snuck in like the scavengers they are to steal that which is dear to us.”
“Will we hear ransom?” a man in a dark green robe asked, his copper skin smooth save for deep wrinkles framing his eyes.
“The Rabishi are dishonorable. They have been living with the marsh rats too long,” Gatik spat.
Tobar held the amarin high. The group hushed. “The Rabishi have long coveted the southern Faisach, as the trade caravans will no longer enter the marshes. Their river, the Ebu, is not easy to navigate and merchants will not risk the journey. In drought, the fish disappear, their crops shrivel under the sun, their children and old die, but they do not ask to trade with the Heleini. Instead, they covet and hate from afar.”
“Akier, why would they want—”
The sound of a horse running hard and coming to a halt nearby silenced the question. A moment later, a man entered the tent, bowed low touching his hand to his forehead, then approached Tobar.
“Speak.”
“Akier, we have followed the tracks of no more than twenty horses leaving our camp. These horses joined with a dozen more near Ai Neglieve and headed north, toward the swamps.”
“Rabishi.” Whispers disturbed the air.
Tobar held up the amarin and the murmuring stopped.
“Yet you are troubled, Camlo. Speak your mind.”
“My Akier, no attempt was made to cover the trail but Gazin found something unusual. Half-hidden by low bushes there were deep round marks in the earth...heading east.”
Shared glances passed around the room.
“You are sure?”
“Yes.” Camlo nodded.
“Show me what the marks looked like.”
Camlo knelt and with his finger, drew an oval on the ground with a spike on the inside curve pointing toward the center.
Tobar let out a held breath. “It is the custom of the mountain tribes to shoe their horses is such a way,” he murmured.
“Is there now an alliance between the Rabishi and the Zorcani?” the man in the dark green robe asked, rising to his feet.
“Sit down, Pilani. Such an alliance is impossible,” Durriken replied, waving his hand toward the man.
Tobar stood. “I’ve heard enou
gh. Ready the horses.”
Sara placed a hand over Ilydearta. She could track him through Teann. She’d done it before. Would she have to reveal the stone? How would the Heleini react?
“Akier, may I have voice?” Zeynel’s soft tone stilled the movement in the room.
Tobar hesitated, then settled on his cushion. The other Heleini followed his example. “We will hear you.” He handed Zeynel the amarin.
Zeynel cradled the amarin in his arms. “It seems to me, there is more here than at first appears. You have said the Rabishi have no love for the Heleini. This is true?”
“Yes.”
“Do the Zorcani also hold the Heleini as enemies?”
“We have no feud with the mountain tribes, but no alliance either.” Tobar’s eyes gleamed.
“Several things bother me. Why would the Rabishi leave such a clear trail toward their lands?”
“Because they are simple fools,” Gatik answered.
“They have no craft,” Pilani agreed.
Zeynel continued to regard Tobar. “Are these things true, Akier?”
Tobar paused then shook his head. “No. The Rabishi may be without honor, but they are not without guile. Rather they are a race of thieves well skilled in their craft.”
Sara hesitated. How could they all miss the obvious? She glanced toward Zeynel. Her mentor nodded and handed her the amarin. She cleared her throat. What if she was about to prove she knew nothing about horses or war councils? She straightened her back.
Every eye in the tent regarded her with various degrees of curiosity and impatience. “I think the more telling tale lies in the hidden tracks. I think they were a mistake. We were not meant to know of the Zorcani involvement.”
“Why would the Zorcani help kidnap the Akier’s son?” Gatik asked.
“Why indeed?” Zeynel stared at Camlo.
Camlo eyed one section of the rug before turning his gaze to Tobar. “Akier, there have been rumors that the son of the Zorcani Akier lies dying and their healer cannot save him.”
“But what would that—” The color drained from the Akier’s face. He spun toward Zeynel and their gazes locked.
Journey of Awakening Page 19
