A Warrior's Knowledge

by Davis Ashura

  “In the celebrations that followed, we drank too much. I drank too much.” She picked at a scab on one of her wrists. “I don’t remember what happened next,” she said, her voice growing soft, “but I woke up in our lieutenant’s bed. The man who had been charged with most of our training.”

  “Don’t say any more,” Rukh said, capturing Jessira’s fidgeting hands in both of his. “Please. You did nothing wrong.”

  Even if she had wanted to, the words wouldn’t stop coming. “I don’t remember anything from that night,” Jessira said. “I only know I didn’t have any clothes on. And I hurt.” She glanced out into the night and shivered, suppressing a pain she’d long grown accustomed to but one which still stung even now. “I couldn’t report what had happened. In Stronghold, a woman’s honor is tied to her behavior. If I’d wanted to be with the lieutenant or any other man, I could have. It would have been my choice, and it’s acceptable. But getting so drunk that I couldn’t even remember the night’s events … ” She hugged her knees. “That is most definitely not acceptable. The shame would have fallen on the lieutenant as well, but it would have fallen more heavily on me. I would have lost everything: my honor, my position in the army, my future. No one would ever marry such a scandalous woman.” She shuddered. “So I pretended it didn’t happen. I’ve never told anyone, and it’s been hard to remain quiet, but somehow … ” She looked Rukh in the eyes. “I survived, and I’m happy. I’m glad of my life.”

  A single tear leaked from the corner of her eye. Jessira hugged her knees more tightly, realizing just then how wrong she’d been: speaking of her shame hadn’t helped at all. It had simply brought to the forefront of her mind events she wished had never happened. Remembering them only made her furious. Jackhole lieutenant! She should have cut off his manhood. A mouth full of broken teeth wasn’t nearly punishment enough for the fragger. And Rukh better not feel pity for her.

  She shot a glance at him.

  He seemed to consider her words with pursed lips before finally speaking. “I don’t pity you,” he said.

  She hadn’t said the words, but hearing Rukh speak what was in her thoughts seemed to cause something inside her to break. The dammed up tears flooded out, but she smiled through them. It had been days since Rukh had guessed her thoughts. She was glad to hear him do so again.

  “You’re strong enough to not need it and proud enough to resent receiving it,” Rukh said. “I’m just sorry you felt you had to tell me something so painful because of my own problems.” He hesitantly reached for her, wiping away her tears. “I’m sorry,” he said, his words seeming to encompass today’s events and everything she had just told him.

  “I’m betting that right about now, you wish you’d cut that lieutenant’s testicles clean off,” Rukh said.

  She laughed. “The thought has crossed my mind a time or two.” The smile faded. “Thank you,” she said.

  “For what?”

  She shrugged. “For listening. And not judging or giving me advice on what I should have done.”

  He smiled. “And if I had done either, I’m thinking it’s my testicles you’d have wanted to lop off.”

  They settled into a comfortable silence, sitting close to their meager fire as the frigid wind blew about them.

  “I didn’t know I was hurting so bad,” Rukh began, breaking the silence. “I thought the pain was fading. I thought I’d forced it out of me. I never realized I’d just pushed it down deep and out of sight.”

  “Are you sure you want to tell me?” Jessira asked.

  He smiled wanly. “After today, I think I need to.”

  *****

  Rukh and Jessira rode west through a box canyon. It was hedged to the north and south by long escarpments formed of stacked layers of pale yellow-gray limestone, ruddy shale, and gray granite. Through the center of the valley flowed a boulder-strewn creek, the rocks slick with a coating of snow and ice. The stream itself was frozen over, except for a thin rivulet trickling its way west. The banks on either side of the sluggish water were similarly iced over. Steam from their mounts misted in the air, and an ill wind blew through the canyon, funneled into a freezing draft. It was cold enough to slice through Rukh and Jessira’s thick gloves, as well as the heavy coats beneath their cloaks. Scarves were wrapped around their faces, exposing only their eyes.

  “That’s Babylin’s Hope,” Jessira said, a note of pride in her voice as she pointed to a strange looking rock formation high up on the northern escarpment. “Babylin took its appearance as a sign. It points straight to Stronghold.”

  Rukh bit his lower lip, holding back a chuckle. Maybe it was just his crass imagination, but Babylin’s Hope had a very phallic appearance to it, going so far as to even curve slightly. “It certainly is, ah, impressive,” he choked out.

  Jessira laughed. “You see it too, don’t you? The first time I saw Babylin’s Hope, I was only a nugget. Imagine my disappointment when I saw that.” She gestured to the rock. “It was only later that I learned what Babylin really called it.” She grinned, daring Rukh to guess what she might mean.

  Rukh had no idea what Babylin — whoever he was — might have wanted to name the rock formation. He gave her an expectant look.

  “He called it The Sword of Hope.”

  Rukh laughed.

  It was good to smile and laugh. After the battle with the Ur-Fels two weeks ago, something in his heart seemed to have come back to life. He could feel a tiny throb now and then, of life and curiosity taking hold. Of course, he’d felt those same sprigs at other times in their journey, but they had always withered away, dying in the vacuum of his hopelessness. This time was different. He could feel a small vine of hope pulse and grow, blooming more strongly with every passing day.

  “So who’s Babylin?” he asked

  Jessira blinked, nonplussed. “I keep forgetting. You know nothing of Stronghold’s past,” she said. “Babylin was one of our greatest heroes. You remember the Fifty-Five, the ones Hume saved?” Rukh nodded. “One of them was a Muran named Babylin Suresong. He scouted ahead of the others, deep into the mountains. It was the only place where the others might be safe. Babylin found … ” her lips twitched into a slight smile, “ … the Third Leg. He took it as a sign and followed where it pointed, and two weeks on, he found the valley that became the Croft as well as the caverns where my ancestors established Stronghold.”

  “So we’re only two weeks from Stronghold.”

  “Yes,” Jessira said. “This stream we’re following eventually joins the River Fled.” She pointed to the trickle of water to their left, below them now as they crested an icy rise.

  “I’ll be grateful to be warm again,” Rukh said.

  “Too cold for you?” Jessira asked, a challenging glint in her eyes. “Back home, we’d consider this a brisk winter day. You’re soft, Pureblood.”

  Rukh opened his mouth to answer, but whatever he was about to say was cut off.

  His gelding slipped, caught its balance, slipped again and slid down toward the water. The horse screamed as he lost his balance, crashing down on his side. There came a thunder-crack sound, like snapping wood. The gelding had shattered a cannon bone.

  Rukh was momentarily pinned by horse’s weight, and he felt something in his right leg and shoulder give way. It hurt like the unholy hells, but he couldn’t afford to stay in the saddle. He threw himself clear, twisting in mid-air so he would land on his feet on a snow-covered boulder. He thudded onto the rock, but his feet flew out from beneath him — the slickness of the stone and the weakness in his injured leg. He cracked the back of his head on the boulder.

  The last thing Rukh heard was Jessira screaming his name as he slipped into unconsciousness, carried away by the slow-flowing finger of water.

  *****

  “RUKH!” Jessira saw his horse go down, heard the sickening sound of a bone snapping. She prayed it hadn’t been Rukh’s. She leapt out of her saddle and ran to the edge of the rise, arriving just in time to see Rukh throw himself clear
of his saddle as the gelding thrashed to the ground, screaming in pain, his right foreleg flopping around like a wet noodle. It was grotesque, and Jessira knew she would have to deal with the horse as soon as she could.

  Rukh would have to come first. He had landed smoothly, but his legs had instantly gone out from under him. He hit the boulder heavily with the back of his head; going limp as he slid face first into the water. He wasn’t moving.

  First Father, keep him safe she prayed as she ran down to the base of the rise. Her heart pounded. Jessira had rarely been so terrified, not even when Rukh had almost let go of his sword while facing the Chimeras. She raced past the gelding, still thrashing and screaming in pain, reaching Rukh in moments. She turned him over. His face was blue.

  Jessira conducted Jivatma, using her small Talent at Lucency. Her thoughts became focused and clear. She had to get him breathing. Jessira dragged Rukh back to the bank. Waterlogged as he was, it wasn’t easy, but she managed it; fear giving her strength. Once she had him flat on his back, she tilted his head to the side and let water dribble out of his nose and mouth. Next, she pinched shut his nose, arched his neck and exhaled heavily into Rukh’s open mouth four times. He coughed once, twice and then more heavily. He turned his head away from her and spat up more water.

  Jessira exhaled heavily, and some of her fear ebbed. A flutter of relief flitted its way through her stomach, up the taut cord of her spine, and into her heart and lungs. From there, the sensation went into her throat. Jessira felt like simultaneously laughing and crying. She let go of her Jivatma. Lucency emptied from her mind. She wanted to hug Rukh and also smack him for scaring her so badly.

  “Are you hurt anywhere else?” she asked after his fit of coughing had passed.

  “I’ll be fine,” Rukh growled around a cough. “See to the gelding. He shouldn’t suffer.”

  Rukh’s horse still thrashed about, his eyes rolling as he screamed in pain and fear.

  “Stay here,” she ordered Rukh even as he moved to sit up.

  She approached the gelding with a heavy heart. He looked like he’d snapped his left cannon bone. There wasn’t much to be done about such an injury. Maybe back in Stronghold, they could have Healed him, but out here in the field, with her limited skills, it would be impossible.

  Jessira called softly to Rukh’s horse, coaxing him to quietness as she reached for his reins. The horse lay on his side and panted, froth forming on his lips as he chewed the bit. She knelt next to him and placed her hand on the gelding’s cheek. She conducted Jivatma, stretching it out fine before letting it empty into the animal. The horse sighed once before fading into a sleep from which he’d never awaken. Within moments, he stopped breathing.

  Rukh hobbled to her side. “Thank you for taking care of him,” he said, his voice tight with suppressed pain

  Jessira stood and faced Rukh, annoyed that he was on his feet. “You’re hurt,” she accused.

  “I think I did something to my right leg. Near the ankle. Hurts like the unholy hells.” Sweat beaded on his forehead.

  “Then sit down!” Jessira snapped. “Why didn’t you wait for me like I told you?”

  Rukh opened his mouth and looked like he was about to answer. For once, wisdom gripped him. He took one look at Jessira, reconsidered his decision to speak, and shut his mouth. He sat down on a nearby boulder.

  Jessira shook her head in disgust. Men and their bravado.

  She knelt beside Rukh, conducting Jivatma as she examined his right ankle with senses other than touch and sight. It took a few minutes before she found the problem. He’d broken one of the two bones in his right calf, almost snapped it in half. Luckily, there were no torn ligaments or tendons, which meant it was an injury she could handle. Although the swelling in the muscle would have to take care of itself. She’d never been good at Healing soft tissue damage. Rukh would have to hobble around with a crutch for a while, but after a few weeks, he should be fine.

  Jessira placed her hands on Rukh’s leg, making sure the two ends of the bone were aligned correctly. She sparked Healing into the bone, forming a lattice so they could come together.

  When she finished, Rukh leaned away from her with a sigh. “Thank you,” he said.

  Jessira gave the injury a final inspection before releasing his leg. “It’s the best I can do for now,” she said. “Stay here. And don’t move this time. Let me round up the rest of the horses, and we can get you out of here.”

  “Don’t bother,” Rukh said. He gestured to a spot across the mostly frozen stream. “Looks like a cave. There’s even a bunch of driftwood piled up near it. I could use a rest.”

  Jessira looked to where he pointed. Carved into the walls of the southern cliff was a cave. It had a narrow entrance and should be a cozy place to stop for the day. She nodded agreement. “We’ll make camp here.”

  “While you’re bringing the other horses down, I can get the gelding unpacked.”

  “No,” Jessira said, her voice brooking no argument. “Me. Let me get the gelding unpacked.” She patted his cheek. “You just stay here and try not to break your leg again.”

  Rukh muttered something coarse under his breath but did as he was told.

  After Jessira got the pack rolls and saddle off the dead gelding, she hauled them over to the cave. Several large slabs of rock had cracked off the escarpment above, sealing the entrance and reducing it to the width of two men walking abreast and with no need to stoop. Further in, the cave opened up, large enough for her Rukh and even the three remaining horses. There was even what looked like a natural chimney, a flue, cutting through one of the fallen slabs of stone that framed the entrance. Jessira tested it and smiled. It drew air. If she cleared the rubble underneath, they could have a nice fire inside if they wanted.

  “JESSIRA!”

  She rushed outside, wondering what could have Rukh sounding so alarmed. He pointed east.

  The blood emptied from her face. Blizzard. And it was coming fast.

  Jessira snapped into motion, rushing back across the stream.

  “Get the horses!” Rukh shouted as she approached. “Don’t worry about me. I can make it over on my own. We’ve got five minutes.”

  Jessira nodded. “Gather up as much firewood as you can,” she ordered.

  “It came out of nowhere,” Rukh said before she left. “There was wild lightning up in the sky before it appeared, and a storm cloud that looked like it was crisscrossing the sky.”

  If she’d been scared before, now she was terrified. “Suwraith,” Jessira whispered in horror.

  “Get going,” Rukh said. “And Blend as deeply as you can.”

  Jessira did as directed, running hard to where the horses still stood atop the rise. They’d picked up the scent of the coming storm. Their eyes rolled, and they whickered nervously. Somehow, Jessira got all of them down the steep rise and across the icy stream without delay. Rukh worked near the cave’s entrance, furiously gathering driftwood: logs, twigs, anything that could burn.

  He broke off when Jessira arrived, taking the reins of one of the packhorses. He led the animal inside before hobbling back out. Jessira was guiding her mare into the cave when the leading edge of the blizzard struck. She stared outside in horror. Rukh and the other packhorse were still outside. Jessira raced to her packs and grabbed a firefly lantern. She lit it, raising it high as she stood next to the entrance just as the teeth of the storm hit. Where was he? She hated being so scared. Twice in one day. She almost cried out with relief when she saw two forms emerge from the snow. It was Rukh and the other horse.

  He had managed to gather more wood, loading it on the packhorse. Jessira wanted to berate him for taking an unnecessary risk. Though he’d been no more than ten or fifteen feet from the entrance to the cave when the storm had struck, he still might have found himself lost. Jessira bit her lip, holding back the flood of terrified words. The extra firewood might be the difference between survival and death.

  They needed to keep a fire burning if they were to
survive the blizzard, especially since Rukh was dripping wet. His clothes already looked to be freezing on him. And of course, keeping up a tight, strong Blend in case the Queen lingered about.

  “I’ll get a fire started. Get out of your clothes,” Jessira ordered.

  Rukh smirked. He actually smirked.

  How many times could he make her want to smack him in one day? After everything that had happened in the past hour, his insolent expression was the last thing she needed. She smiled in grim satisfaction when he shivered, wiping the smirk off his face. His clothes were freezing. Served him right.

  While Rukh changed, Jessira cleared out a space below the chimney flue. She stacked twigs and larger pieces of firewood. It wouldn’t be easy to get the wet wood to light, but Rukh needed the heat. They both did. She went back to the horses, meaning to fetch her flint and ironwood. A roar sounded behind her. Rukh had ignited the wood with a Fireball. It burned merrily within her makeshift fireplace.

  “Your way would have taken too long,” Rukh explained. His coat and shirt were off, and his chest was covered with goosebumps. He shivered again before reaching into his packs to pull out some dry clothes.

  Jessira shrugged. One problem down. Now time to do something about the entrance. It was open to the elements and gusts of an ill wind blew inside, carrying sheets of snow. She had to close off the opening if they wanted to ride out the storm. If not, fire or no fire, they’d freeze to death. The watertight canvas from their tents should work nicely. After a few stumbles, she managed to close off the entrance, doing so just as darkness fell. Jessira stepped back and assessed her handiwork. Blasts of wind whipped against the canvas, causing it to billow inward and push a dusting of snow into the cave, but overall, she was pleased. The air already felt warmer.

  She turned about and saw Rukh limping about. His leg was obviously giving him problems. He grimaced as he carried a log — a larger one — and placed it on the fire.