Nb’arsk was also a Vrykyl, a taan Vrykyl like K’let. The two communicated through the Blood-knife.
“Five thousand taan are dead at the battle of the God City,” said K’let.
Derl stared, shocked speechless.
“They were murdered,” K’let continued, grinding the words beneath his sharp teeth. “By Dagnarus.”
Derl did not know what to say. The appalling news left him paralyzed, shaken. His legs started to prickle and tremble, the blood left his head. He was forced to sit down or fall. K’let assisted the aged shaman, squatted beside him.
When the dizziness passed, Derl felt better. Now he understood the scowling fury…and the triumph.
“Tell me,” was all he said.
“When the taan came to the God City, Dagnarus rode into the city by himself, telling the taan he wanted to talk the xkes into surrendering.”
Derl shrugged, made a face. He had never been able to grasp this strange concept, but he let the matter pass.
“Dagnarus told the taan to wait for him before they launched the attack. Days passed, and Dagnarus did not return. Then one morning he came to the taan to say that the xkes had not only surrendered, they had agreed to accept him as their king and their god. There would be no attack on the human city. He ordered Nb’arsk and five thousand taan to march south, to take one of the magical holes-in-the-air, and proceed from there to reinforce the taan fighting in the human land of the xkes, Nesskrt-tulz-taan (Those Who Die Like Taan).”
“Nb’arsk captured the magic hole-in-the-air?” Derl asked with interest.
“Of course.” K’let dismissed this as nothing. “She did not immediately enter the hole, however, for the taan had taken many slaves, and she knew that they would fight better if they were permitted to enjoy their spoils before going on. They had been there four days when a tasker came stumbling into camp. The tasker was half-dead from her wounds. She reported that Dagnarus had led the remaining taan into a trap. Once the taan entered the walls of the God City, the gates closed behind them. They were attacked by powerful wizards wielding foul magicks and by archers and swordsmen. Our people fought bravely and took many xkes with them into death, but no taan survived. Lokmirr gathered to her five thousand taan that day. All died, including the taskers and the children. Yet, even though they were ambushed, they died heroes, and they will be honored by our people. I will see to that.”
Derl saw K’let’s expression, and he understood why K’let chose to relate this to him in his taan form. Taan usually did not honor warriors who had gone down to defeat. In this instance, however, these taan had died nobly. In their defeat, they had won a great victory for K’let and for all the taan people.
“The day that I predicted would come has come,” K’let said with fierce elation. “Dagnarus has proven that he is no god of the taan, that he cares nothing for the taan. As he murdered these five thousand, so he means to murder all the rest of us—once we have gained him his great victories, of course.”
“Where is Nb’arsk?” asked Derl.
“I ordered her to travel through the magic hole. She will continue to fight the humans, but now she fights for the glory of the old gods and for the glory of the taan, not for Dagnarus. The taan will keep all slaves and loot for themselves, not give them to him. Eventually, she will bring her armies to join up with us.”
Derl considered this a good plan, but he was skeptical. “Nb’arsk lacks your strength, K’let. I fear she will not be able to break with Dagnarus. He will continue to control her through the Dagger of the Vrykyl.”
“On the contrary, my friend,” said K’let, “she and Lnskt have already broken with him. He let them go. He said he had no need of them anymore and he bid the Void take them.”
“Is he such a fool?” Derl asked in wonder.
“Whatever else he is, Dagnarus is no fool,” K’let growled. “I see his plan now, as I have seen it all along. He will go to the other derrhuth of this fat land and tell them that the taan have slipped the leash and are now a threat to all derrhuth. He will admit that it is his fault, and he will make amends. He will lead the battle against us, and he will need all derrhuth to join him.”
“But, if we continue to fight the derrhuth, we are doing Dagnarus’s bidding,” Derl argued.
“We will fight only long enough to provide our warriors with strong food and many slaves, jewels for our hides and armor and weapons. Then, when the Dagger of the Vrykyl is mine and Dagnarus is my slave, we will return through the magic hole-in-the-air to our old land.”
“A pity to leave this place,” said Derl. “Such a fat land.”
“Bah! Too many trees and too much water for my liking,” K’let returned. “Our gods do not like it here either. They will be happy when we come back home. Besides,” he added offhandedly, “we can always return through the magic hole anytime we want.”
“True,” Derl agreed. “What is to be done now?”
“We will send all the scouts we can spare to carry tidings of this to the other tribes. I have ordered Nb’arsk and Lnskt to do the same. They will tell those taan who already side with us to come out of hiding, to begin to speak openly of the old gods and urge the people to renounce Dagnarus and return to the old ways. They will proclaim that I am the new leader of the taan.”
“That will cause discord among some of the tribes,” Derl predicted. “Some will remain loyal to Dagnarus. Blood will be spilled.”
K’let shrugged. “All the better. Let us purge our ranks of any who continue to view this filthy xkes as a god. The Void take them.”
K’let assisted Derl to stand. “Summon the tribes to come together. I will speak to the people, tell them what has happened, and send out the scouts.”
“I will go forth to prepare to give thanks to the gods,” said Derl. “Tomorrow will be a day of celebration.”
“Add one more matter to your prayers, Derl,” advised K’let, as the shaman was leaving. “I heard yesterday from our eastern travelers.”
“And?” Derl paused, looked back.
“Their mission was successful,” said K’let, grinning hugely. “They have arrived safely at the meeting place and await me there.”
“All went well?” Derl asked.
“All went very well,” K’let answered.
Unnerved by the memory of K’let’s horrific shriek, Raven was glad to go back to camp and do what he could to try to cheer Dur-zor. He was still rattled from that terrible yell, when he had another unpleasant surprise.
The shaman, R’lt, stepped out of the shadows and stood blocking Raven’s path.
Raven brought himself up short, so as to avoid touching R’lt. Like all Trevinici, Raven had an inborn repugnance to magic and those who wielded it. He had no use for human magi, and this taan shaman, who stank of the Void, turned Raven’s stomach.
Raven eyed R’lt warily. “What do you want?”
“I came to warn you, R’vn,” said R’lt, speaking through a half-taan translator. “Your wretched Dur-zor is in danger.”
Raven stared at him, wary and suspicious.
“Dur-zor!” R’lt repeated, then he drew his finger across his throat in a slashing motion. “Dag-ruk’s orders.” He turned and jabbed a finger back at the camp.
Raven understood everything in a moment and took off running. He cursed himself for a fool. This was why Dur-zor had been so unhappy. This was why she had insisted that he mate with Dag-ruk. Thinking selfishly about himself, he had never given a thought to her. Dag-ruk would not punish him. He was a warrior and valuable to her. He was favored of K’let. Dag-ruk would punish Dur-zor, remove her as an obstacle.
Raven dashed into camp, his untoward haste and wild looks raising the alarm. Warriors shouted at him, demanding to know what was going on. Raven ignored them, ran straight to his tent, and thrust open the flap, peered inside.
Dur-zor was not there.
He searched throughout the camp, but did not find her. The warriors, understanding at last, went back to their work.
Raven noted that many exchanged glances, and his suspicions were confirmed. Everyone knew what was going on.
He accosted the first half-taan he found.
“Where is Dur-zor?” he shouted.
The half-taan shrank away from him. He grabbed hold of her, shook her. “Tell me, damn you! Where did they take her?”
Accustomed to obedience, the half-taan raised a trembling hand, pointed east.
Raven flung the woman away from him, turned and ran in the direction she had indicated. He had not gone far before his trained eye saw signs that someone had gone ahead of him. Grass stalks were crushed and bent. He could see the talon marks of taan toes in the dirt. He followed the signs, his heart in his throat, expecting at any moment to stumble across Dur-zor’s body.
He continued tracking, making what haste he could, but fearful of going too fast and losing the trail.
But this trail would be hard to lose. The taan had not taken any care to hide their tracks. Whoever had snatched Dur-zor was not bothering to shake off pursuit. Her captor must be confident that Raven was back guarding K’let.
Either that, Raven thought suddenly, or this is an ambush.
“That’s why R’lt is suddenly so friendly,” Raven said to himself. “He wants to mate with Dag-ruk. Everyone in the tribe knows that. This way, he rids himself of a rival.”
Well, it is as good a day as any to die, Raven reflected.
He ran over the ground, glancing only now and then at the trail. He’d traveled about a mile when he came to a small rise. The country was made up of rolling hills and valleys, an ideal place for an ambush. He had the warrior’s instinct that he was getting close, and he slowed his pace as he ran up the next hill, preparing himself for the danger that lay ahead. He had almost reached the rise, when he heard Dur-zor scream.
She did not scream out of fear. Her scream was that of a warrior, and it came from just over the rise. Raven sped up the hill, his tum-olt in his hand. Topping the rise, he saw a taan warrior and Dur-zor struggling. In former days, she would have accepted her death as her due, but now she fought for her life, kicking and clawing and biting, trying to grab the dagger he had been about to use to stab her to the heart.
Raven gave a fierce, challenging bellow.
The warrior, Ga-tak, lifted his head, but he did not shift his attack from Dur-zor to the Trevinici.
Ga-tak knew he wasn’t in any danger. At Raven’s shout, two fellow taan warriors leapt up out of the tall grass in which they’d been hiding.
Raven was not fool enough to think he could defeat three veteran taan warriors, and, even he if managed to, Dur-zor would die. Her strength was already failing. She cast him a pleading look.
Raven had only one chance. He flung down the tum-olt, so that it stuck, quivering, in the ground. Raising his hands, he cried out in a loud voice, “In the name of K’let, I command you to stop!”
To Raven’s shock, it worked. The taan understood only one word, but that was the most important word—K’let, a taanic word even a human could pronounce. Raven wore the ceremonial armor he’d been given when he joined K’let’s guard: an ornately etched breastplate of steel; a steel collar ringed with spikes worn over chain mail, with a snow-white cloak symbolzing the albino. He wielded a tum-olt that was a gift from K’let.
“I am K’let’s servant,” Raven continued. “If you harm me, you harm K’let.”
A bit grandiose and not precisely true, but it impressed the taan.
Ga-tak hesitated. That was all Dur-zor needed. She twisted out of his grasp and ran to stand beside Raven.
Ga-tak and the other taan warriors looked at each other uncertainly. They had orders from Dag-ruk to kill the half-taan and orders from R’lt to kill the xkes, but they also had a healthy fear of the Vrykyl K’let. Dag-ruk and R’lt would be furious. They might kill their bodies, but K’let could shrivel their souls, cast them into the Void, and prevent them from ever joining the battle of the gods that would one day determine the rulership of heaven.
The souls won out.
The taan sheathed their weapons. Ga-tak threw down the dagger. One by one, they walked past Raven, who dared not give in to his relief. He maintained his show of outraged indignation until they had departed.
The taan cast him cool glances as they left, as much as to say, “You may have won now, but where will you go from here?”
Raven wondered that himself. When he was certain that the taan were gone and that no more were going to leap out at him, he sighed deeply. Then he turned to Dur-zor.
“Oh, gods! What did they do to you?”
Ga-tak had struck her repeatedly, by the looks of it. Her face was bloodied and bruised, her nose broken, both eyes starting to swell shut. One wrist was purple and swelling, probably broken, and she had slash marks on her arms from where she’d fought to avoid the dagger. The knuckles of her hands were cracked and bleeding. Raven was sorry at that moment that he hadn’t chosen to fight. He put his arms around her, held her close.
“Forgive me, Raven,” she mumbled through her bleeding lips. She spit out a tooth.
“It’s not your fault.”
“Yes, it is. I should have let him kill me. I am a burden to you.” She hung her head. “If I had died, you would live in honor. Now, we will both be hunted. I have caused your death. I am a coward.”
“You are not a coward,” said Raven. “Do you remember the word I taught you—hope? So long as we are alive, we have the hope of making things better.”
He kissed her gently, so as not to hurt her wounded flesh. “If I had found you dead, I would have let them kill me. I would not want to live without you.”
Dur-zor looked up at him as best she could through her swelling eyelids. “Truly, Raven?”
“Truly, Dur-zor,” he said. “You are my mate. As long as I live, I will have no other. I love you.”
Dur-zor hated herself for asking, but she could not help it. “Do you love me as you would love a human woman, Raven? A human woman like my mother?”
“I love you for you, Dur-zor,” he said.
“I love you, Raven,” Dur-zor said. “But, then, you already know that. Unfortunately,” she added, with taan practicality, “love does not help us much. If I go back to the tribe, Dag-ruk will kill me—”
“And if I go back, R’lt will kill me,” said Raven.
“We could run away…” But even as Dur-zor said the words, she fell silent.
Both looked out at the bleak plains, brown and barren. A human and a half-taan alone, without shelter or any idea of where they were, would either perish from the elements or die at the hands of human or taan raiders.
The idea that had been in the back of Raven’s mind for days surged to the forefront.
“I hate to ask it of you, after that mauling you took, but we have to hurry. We have to reach K’let before the others do.”
“K’let?” Dur-zor repeated fearfully. “Do you run toward death now, Raven?”
“No, I run toward life. Every taan around here seems to imagine that I have some sort of influence with the Vrykyl,” said Raven grimly. “We’re going to see if they’re right.”
RAVEN CAREFULLY AVOIDED GOING BACK TO HIS OWN CAMP, FOR fear Dag-ruk would challenge him. He set a brisk pace, and Dur-zor managed to keep up with him, nursing her broken wrist and peering through her swollen eyes. Raven was worried about her, but he didn’t have time to coddle her, not that she would have expected coddling anyway. Raven did not think that Dag-ruk would go to K’let to complain about him, but there was always that chance. As for R’lt, there was no telling what he might do.
Arriving in K’let’s camp, Raven was startled to find the tribe in an uproar. The taan were stirred up, shouting and yelling, making wild gestures and brandishing their weapons. Shamans were huddled together, conversing in low tones, while young shamans hovered near, waiting for orders. Taskers bustled about, making ready—or so it appeared—to strike camp.
“What has happened?” Dur-zor wondered, staring abou
t.
Taan are nomads, and pulling up stakes was not that unusual, except that Raven had been told K’let intended to remain behind for several days, to await the arrival of another taan tribe. He recalled K’let’s hideous shriek. Now was not the time to start asking favors. Yet now was the only time he had.
He headed for K’let’s tent. Hauling Dur-zor with him, he walked up to the taan guards, saluted, and said that he had an urgent message for K’let.
He counted on the excitement of the camp working for him in this instance, and he was not mistaken. The taan guards knew Raven. They sent him through to see the Vrykyl. He entered to find K’let in a meeting with all his nizam, including Dag-ruk.
She took one look at him, one look at Dur-zor, and knew the whole story. She glared at him. He glared back and had the satisfaction of seeing her lower her eyes. She slid one uneasy glance at K’let, then pretended to ignore Raven. The nizam stood in a line before K’let, awaiting their orders. K’let glanced at Raven and motioned him to join them.
Raven took his place at the end of the line. Dur-zor crept behind Raven, tried to make herself as small as possible.
“What’s going on?” Raven asked her softly. “What is K’let saying?”
He listened in amazement to the story of the ambush and murder of the five thousand taan in a place called God City. Raven squeezed her hand when she had concluded.
“Good,” he said softly.
K’let issued his orders, briefly and succinctly. Scouts would be sent to spread the story among other taan. Those tribes with K’let would now travel east with all possible speed, to join forces with other taan moving up out of the south. The nizam had no questions, and K’let dismissed them to go about their duties. After loudly expressing their outrage and their fury, they departed. Dag-ruk flashed Raven one burning glance as she passed him, but she said nothing. Raven concentrated on K’let, thankful that the Vrykyl had retained his taan form. He was not so intimidating in his own hide.
Assuming that all his nizam had left, K’let turned to say something to Derl. The aged shaman nodded in Raven’s direction.
Journey into the Void Page 29
