by Dana Marton
Under heavy guard, I led to the forest all the Shahala healers who’d run to Karamur to seek protection. We stayed within sight of Fortress City, not daring to risk the deep woods, and gathered as much medicine as we could carry. Spending time with my people and other healers bolstered my spirit. As all their healing energy surrounded me, I felt stronger than ever. My heart lightened from hearing the language of my childhood spoken around me.
But that lightness did not last long. The following morning, the Kerghi horde appeared at the edge of the forest. Many in Karamur rushed to the roofs and the top of the walls to see the endless barbarian force that thirsted for our blood like a ravening beast. Our battle for survival was about to begin.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
(The Siege)
The blood-thirsty horde waited for Woldrom’s orders at the edge of the forest. Outside Karamur spread our army with Batumar at its helm. Lord Karnagh and his men made up the right flank, along with their restless tigers. Thus the defenders of good faced their enemy.
For a moment, silence as deep as a grave covered all living creatures. No birds took flight; no leaves rustled in the wind, for the wind had stopped in shock to watch such evil as was about to take place.
A cloud of enemy arrows pierced the air, so thick it covered the sun.
The Kadar archers responded in kind, and so it went, back and forth, until a wall of bodies lay before each army. And then a deafening roar rose from the Kerghi warriors as they climbed over the bodies and charged. When weapons finally clashed against weapons, the sound was that of thunder. Instead of rain, blood soaked the ground.
I rushed from the roof, for I knew soon I would be needed to treat the wounded. But night fell before the first of the injured was brought in, for none would leave the battle until the fighting ceased for the day.
The wounds gaped deep, from weapons that must have been the work of the darkest spirits. One man had his arm nearly torn off by but a single blow; another had the bone of his thigh smashed to pieces.
Through the night I healed, the Shahala working by my side. And there were many healers among them, so we were able to save a great number of warriors. Those we fully healed returned to their captains, but some had suffered injuries more grievous and needed the power of time to complete what the healers had begun.
At first light, the battle resumed, and from the palace roof I saw that the enemy had lost more men than we. But so great were their numbers, I did not think it would make a difference. Our army stood vastly outnumbered, even hopelessly so, although I refused that thought each time it tried to enter my mind.
The warriors fought on for seven days. And we healed for seven nights. Each day we lost fewer than the enemy, as many of our wounded were able to rejoin the fight, but still the Kerghi advanced toward the city.
By the morning of the eighth day, we could no longer see the battle from the palace roof, for it raged directly under the city walls. I climbed the parapet, many women with me, to watch our loved ones and pray to the spirits and the goddesses for their safety.
But the enemy fought their way through the Kadar defenses and reached the city gate, cutting off Batumar and his guards from the rest of his warriors. I held my breath as I watched him fight with true Kadar fury.
The Kerghi tried to break through the thick oak planks of the gate. Leena and I hugged each other with relief when we saw that they could not. But relief faded into fear when they carried armloads of dry branches from the forest and piled them high against the gate. They set the pile on fire.
“Water!” I ran and shouted to all in the streets over and over.
Everybody helped, the Shahala working alongside the Kadar. We soaked the gate on the inside. Then women and the stronger children made a human chain. Buckets and pails and tubs of water were handed from person to person up to the wall above the gate. Those at the top threw the water on the fire that burned below them outside. Many were hit by enemy arrows and fell to their death, but their valor defeated the fire and saved Karamur.
As I leaned over the wall, tipping a large jar to make sure the last of the smoldering embers were out, I saw Batumar fighting with the most fearsome of men, the leader of the enemy horde.
I recognized the red hair that spilled from his battle helmet and spread upon his shoulders. Woldrom.
He had come, then, I thought, to kill with his own hands the man who had set Mernor castle ablaze around him. I saw another Kerghi circle behind Batumar. I shouted but could not be heard over the clamor of battle.
As I watched, the Kerghi swine thrust his sword into Batumar’s back and twisted it before pulling it free. Batumar fell onto one knee, and Woldrom swung his double-edged sword. Its blood-soaked blade, like the dark bird of death, flew through the air.
The Shahala have a saying: A lifetime can pass but in a moment, and some moments last for a lifetime. Time stopped as I watched the sword fly toward Batumar’s neck.
A great power rose within me, dizzying me, power great enough to corrupt a person’s spirit. I thought of my great-grandmother. So this was what had turned her heart. Even as I fought against it, the power surged through me, filled me, until I felt more, bigger, brighter than I had ever felt before.
Then in a moment all the Guardians’ lessons came together in my head like the separate colorful threads of a tapestry come together to paint a story. And I understood that the power was neither good nor evil, but would follow the path of the person who wielded it.
I found a fear under all my resistance, a nagging voice that asked what if I claimed my full power and still failed? And the next moment, I knew that the only true failure would be to run from my destiny.
Spirit, be strong. Heart, be brave. My mother’s last message came to me.
With a cry, I sent my spirit into Batumar across the distance and drew his pain, and as I sank to the stones with agony, I watched him rise and defend himself. Blood poured down his back, for he was still injured. But he did not feel his injuries. I closed my eyes and began to repair the hideous wound.
If Batumar was defeated, Karamur would fall, all the men, women, and children killed or enslaved. And with Karamur would fall Dahru, our legacy erased from memory forever. We would become like the First People, carvings on cold cave walls hidden in the dark for future nations to look at with wonder and not understand.
No!
I healed the man I loved and opened my eyes just as he ran Woldrom through. The great savage fell at Batumar’s feet, blood trickling from his mouth. He stared at me, hate boiling in his gaze.
But the khan’s fall did not halt the battle nor did it slow down the fighting, for the fight was so fierce his men barely noticed his demise.
I expanded my power until I could almost see it, a shimmering cloud above me. And then I shared it, connecting all the Shahala healers on the parapet together with invisible strands. They drew in my bright power, their eyes on the battle, some clutching their shoulders, some their legs, pain on their faces as they healed. On the battlefield, I saw a young Kadar warrior with a lance piercing his side. As soon as the lance was withdrawn, he seemed to regain his strength and fought on to vanquish his enemy.
The fight went on all day and into the darkness. The enemy battled through the night, for they felt victory was close. The Kadar fought back with their swords, and the Shahala fought back with their healing spirits. We even healed the wounded tigers.
Every time a Kadar warrior suffered injury, he sprang back again. And every time it happened, his Kerghi opponent was either slain or lost heart upon witnessing such magic. Soon the cry spread through the enemy that the Kadar were not human, that they were able to rise up from the dead. Woldrom was not there to rally them. That too was at long last noticed.
Slowly the tide turned, the enemy army pushed back by the fear in their hearts as much as by the Kadar. And it seemed there might yet be a chance for our victory. But a small group, perhaps knowing that the miraculous powers of the Kadar had something to do with the
Shahala men and women who stood on the parapet, began to scale the walls with ladders crudely made from the tall trees of the forest behind them.
We poured water on them, the only weapon we had, but that did not stop the Kerghi. Then some town people brought boiling water and even boiling oil from the kitchens. That did have some effect.
Dizzy with exhaustion, by chance I turned toward an abandoned section of the wall. The top of a new ladder appeared in that instant, angled cleverly so that it would be difficult to see by the defending force.
Any soldiers who came up that ladder would quickly disappear behind a guardhouse, in cover.
I rushed forward.
Shartor climbed at the top, leading Kerghi warriors. If they secured a portion of the wall, more could climb after them and overpower the people within the city, for the men and women inside were not trained to fight. The walls would be lost then for certain, and the city with them.
I charged as Shartor straddled the wall. I tried to push him back. He laughed at me—his eyes dancing to a mad rhythm—and bent me back as if I were a willow sprig.
I scratched at his face. Not something my mother would have ever done. All my life, all I wanted was to become like her, but I had Kadar spirit too, from my father.
Spirit, be strong. Heart, be brave.
“Sorceress.” The soothsayer hissed the single word.
“Traitor.” I leaned into him, with but one thought—his feet must not find purchase on the wall.
But my strength was no match for his. And so I did the only thing I could—I threw my entire weight against him. This at last upset his balance, and as he reeled backward, he took the ladder with him. The ladder and me, for our arms were entwined.
We fell from the dizzying height, the ladder somehow falling sideways, and I could see the corpses below us. But I did not land on the dead. I landed in the last of the hot embers that still glowed in front of the city gate.
I heard the sound of Shartor’s neck breaking as we landed, he but a moment before I. All my bones felt broken as I fought to pull in air.
I rolled out of the fire, my clothes alight, and rolled and rolled until the blood-soaked ground doused the flames. Then finally I lay there, panting, seeing little but the shadowy outlines of the corpses next to me, among whom I now belonged. The pain of my flesh paled in comparison to the pain of my heart as I lay on the ground among our dead and the fallen enemy I had helped to kill.
Then one of the dark shapes rose a few steps to my right, staggering—a Kerghi warrior as large as a bear, nearly gutted. Somehow, miraculously, he still hung on to his sword. Blindly, he lurched toward me in the last rallying of his spirit. In but another moment his spirit would leave him, and he would collapse dead. Likely on top of my broken body. I could not move. I held my breath waiting for him to fall and skewer me.
He tilted forward slowly, his sword extended, blood running from his lips, his eyes rolling back in his head. As he crashed onto me, the air left my lungs in a painful whoosh. But his sword missed me.
I lay under him, covered in his blood and spilled innards, the foul stench of death all around, his great weight crushing me as I struggled to breathe. I fought to budge his heavy bulk. I could not. I wheezed, fighting for air.
I heard the city gate open and felt the ground shake as the manyinga entered the battle. Since Batumar had few of them, I knew he had decided to hold them back until the end, hoping the very sight of the fearsome beasts would strike terror into the hearts of the enemy. They had to fight on the opposite side of the battlefield from Lord Karnagh’s men and their tigers, as the beasts were not used to waging battle together.
I passed in and out of awareness, the noise of the battle rising and receding in my ears like the tide. But after a long while, as the night wore on, the battle clamor quieted. Far out of my reach, wounded men moaned. One who could still talk begged for help, another prayed for death.
I waited. Above me, a wispy, insubstantial cloud—like a decayed funeral shroud—floated over the moon.
Then a roar rent the night, as loud as any manyinga or any tiger. “Tera!”
I drew a ragged breath. Batumar had discovered I was missing. He lives.
I could not call back.
Other voices rose, warriors shouting, “Lady Tera!”
Armor rattled as men scoured the battle field for me. The flickering light of torches moved through the darkness.
He lives.
He will come.
He will find me.
I repeated those words silently, held them like a shield against the pain, against the cold, against death that stalked around me.
He lives.
He will come.
He will find me.
“Tera!” Batumar’s enraged roar—closer now—swept through the battlefield, demanding, frightful enough to scare death itself away.
He lives.
He will come.
He will find me.
The heavy weight on my chest pressed me into the blood-soaked ground. I fought for each breath. My ears were ringing. When the stars began swirling in the sky, I closed my eyes.
The night wore on, men calling frantically, Batumar bellowing, urging them on, demanding more torches.
“Tera!”
Heavy footsteps neared at last, then the earth shook and armor rattled as Batumar fell onto his knees next to me.
The weight lifted from my chest. I tried to open my eyes, but found the Khergi soldier’s blood had crusted my eyelashes together.
“Tera!” Batumar howled like a wounded beast, brushing my matted hair out of my face, wiping blood from my skin. “No!”
He held me to his chest with one arm while he searched me for injury with his free hand, his movements urgent, feverishly so, but so gentle. His great body shook as he kissed my forehead, my eyes, my lips, his kiss tasting of blood and sweat and tears. “You will not leave me,” he whispered hoarsely against my mouth.
Hot tears flooded my eyes, and I could open them at last. I could see little in the dark, but I could see Batumar’s eyes, squeezed shut in grief. I drew my first full breath, but I did not think he could feel the rising of my chest through his armor. So I moved my lips against his.
He drew back with a ragged gasp, searching my face. “Tera,” he whispered with wonder. “I thought--” He swallowed. “There is so much blood.”
“Not all of it mine,” I rasped the words weakly.
He gathered me back tighter against his chest and covered my face with kisses. “You live.”
I wanted him to never let me go. “We live.”
He gathered me into his arms and stood up, calling out to his soldiers to let them know he found me. Then he strode with me toward the city gate. “I thought you were safe in the city.” His chest heaved. “And then someone said—“
“You found me,” I whispered into his neck that was covered in dried blood and sweat. I did not care. We lived.
His arms around me were as strong and unmovable as a fortress, yet as gentle as a cradle.
“I will always find you,” he promised.
* * *
The Shahala healers gathered around me, but I forbade them to take my pain—they were much weakened already—so they treated my wounds with salves, but they did not use their powers. The Guardians arrived in the morning, but I would not let them further weaken their own spirits to help me. They had been much worn out by holding their protective wards over the Forgotten City for so many days. I did not think they could have held a day longer.
If we had not triumphed over the enemy when we did, all would have been lost.
But we did win.
Batumar scarce left my side as I convalesced in his bed. I asked him to give Pleasure Hall to the Shahala healers in my absence. The many chambers and the heated water of the pool could serve the injured. He agreed, and whenever he did leave for a short while, upon returning he always brought me news of the healings, and of the city.
“The refugees are ret
urning to their villages. Our warriors tracked the last of the enemy who escaped the battle. They were put to the sword. The island is safe. The Gate is secured,” he said one night as he held me.
Yet I heard something in his tone that made me look up at him. “There is something else.”
“Lord Karnagh returned home with his men and tigers. He does not dare leave his own lands undefended long. Emperor Drakhart has other armies.” Batumar drew me closer. “I questioned some of the enemy soldiers we captured. Emperor Drakhar has bound to his service a sorcerer from the east. The Emperor will send more men against us. He cannot allow us to remain free. Word of our victory cannot spread over the world, and give hope to the conquered.”
Batumar was right. With everything I was, I sensed an even greater battle ahead. The journey that had brought us to this point had not been easy. And a long and dangerous road stood before us still. But as long as we were together, I could face anything.
“Do you think we will be attacked soon?” I asked.
Batumar thought for a moment. “No. The Kerghi lost their khan and a great number of men on our island. They will need time to build up their forces.” He paused. “But they will come again.”
At least, I was recovering. I would leave the bed and visit Pleasure Hall and the other healers tomorrow, I decided. However, like any wise woman, I would postpone the argument with Batumar over it until morning. For tonight… I pressed my lips to the corner of his mouth, then ran my palm up the warm skin of his chest until my hand rested over his strong, steady heartbeat.
So Emperor Drakhar’s armies are still coming. Let them come and try to take what is mine. Let them perish.
Spirit, be strong. Heart, be brave.
--- THE END ---
If you enjoyed RELUCTANT CONCUBINE, would you please leave an online review? Reviews make a huge difference for authors. They count toward special placement at the online stores. Some advertising venues will not accept a book for advertising unless it has a set number of reviews, etc. If you could leave even just a sentence, I would appreciate your kindness beyond words. Thank you! --Dana
