The three boys now brought up the rear. Silent, watchful of the quiet proceeding ahead of them, they each wondered when they would see their villages and homes again. Antonin thought he was the only one to have noticed the raven marking their passing. He hoped it would report their departure to the Dark Master. That way the village would surely be safe.
Finally the last of the Mare Altan were gone into the night. Back to watching the village. The riders were now alone on the road glimmering away across the plain in the starlight. The night closed around them as they left the village behind.
Luan could hardly be seen. His dark cloak hid him in the night like a moon shadow. His black horse was equally invisible. Mei’An in contrast wore pale silks now, a skirt divided for riding, pale blue and shimmering in the starlight like gossamer webs. She would be visible for miles. The others still wore the cloths they had begun the day in. The girls in the browns and greens of the Stone Lion Sept. Soft hide boots laced up almost to the knee with long trousers of brown stuffed into the tops. The trousers were tight fitting and belted at the waist with a broad leather belt made to hold the quiver and knives. A small leather pouch was attached to hold any little personal items. Although renowned as tough in the field and merciless in battle, the girls never the less allowed themselves little luxuries like a favourite ring or perhaps a trinket presented by an admirer. Perhaps even one of the men of the Asha Altan. The Asha Altan were hardly known even to the people of the village in which the sept house stood. Although the women seemed to run the septs, and certainly were the ones who dealt with those not of the clans it was the men, the Asha Altan, who decided which battles were fought and when. Their comings and goings remained secretive even to the Mare Altan. It was rumoured that their wives exercised a good deal of authority over their husbands but it was never admitted and never obvious.
It was the elder women of the septs who had the power that was in some ways similar to that of the Wind Readers. It was used in a different way but it was still a power drawn from the Well Of Spirit.
The party rode quietly through the night now. The Maidens blouses were loosely laced and the night air was cool and pleasant. Just a touch of night dew. The chill would serve to keep wits sharp. The bare brown arms of those riding just ahead of Antonin seemed to hold his attention. Their hair was worn pulled back into pony-tails and hung straight down their backs. In the soft starlight the group was all but invisible. All but Mei’An in her shimmering silks. The horses made little sound other than the occasional puffing and blowing or quiet nicker to another horse nearby. The animals could sense the tension in their riders, and it made them step a little higher and they were inclined to want to sidle and prance lightly.
Some would have liked to run the horses. Ease their tension a bit. Mei’An forbade it. She was concerned that they might need that burst of nervous energy before the night was out.
Antonin was not actually staring at the bare arms of the girls in front of him. He was simply lost in thought and his eyes had fixed on the glow of the brown skin in the starlight. His two friends Rees and Gaul rode out a little way on either side of him now. There was no jingle of tack from the group. There were no metal fittings at all about the horses. Even a large group could travel in relative silence this way. Gaul glanced across at Antonin from time to time as though to reassure himself that this was happening. That here he was getting further from home by the minute. Each step taking him further from home. The moonless, starlit night shadowed his eyes.
Rees rode a little way out on the other side of Antonin. He carried a long handled battle axe suspended from his belt. The wicked half moon blade nestled his side and the long haft hung down almost to the stirrup. It seemed awkward but in Rees’s hands it was a formidable weapon. He had always wanted to join the Asha Altan but his father needed him so he never did. It didn't stop him from training like a warrior though. With the axe, the long bow and the sword and buckler Rees was very good. Only his closest friends Antonin and Gaul knew that he had been trained by an Asha Altan. This was unheard of, but Rees had been out by himself one day a year or so back. Down in a dry gully south of the village some distance he had been doing his best to bring a song wood tree to its knees with his sword. He knew he would never learn by himself of course and he had been forbidden joining the Asha Altan, but he was determined. As if the scrubby Song Wood tree were his mortal enemy he thrust and parried and hacked at it and would best it yet. Of course the Song Wood tree just stood as it had for years, only shaking it’s crown at Rees’s furious and unskilled blows. The Song Wood tree was as hard as forged steel, and the ringing of the sword and the jarring of Rees’s hands were the only result of the attack.
Rees stumbled and nearly dropped the sword when a voice seemed to come from the tree itself.
“Would you cut down a Song Wood tree boy, with the sword of a warrior? Have you no axe that you must show such disrespect for a well made weapon?"
Rees was dumbfounded. The Song Wood tree had spoken to him! Had he been in the sun too long? Was this a dream that he would awaken from to face another day? No. Rees looked about him. There was no one in sight. Turning back to the Song Wood tree he was equally surprised now to see a man of the Asha Altan standing by the trunk, arms folded across his chest. Brown skinned as all the people of the Plain were, his skin had turned almost black with sun and time. He was not young, the grey hair told that, but he looked as tough as old boot hide and as unyielding as a rock. His clothing said he was one of the elders. The lion symbol woven into his headband told Rees he was local, of the Stone Lion sept. He stood a good few hands taller than Rees, himself tall for his age. His clothing was spare. The bare essential necessary to cover himself decently. Short breeches, leather jerkin, soft boots, a broad belt worn over one shoulder supporting a sword. The hilt of which Rees could see over his right shoulder. He held a short spear and small shield in his left hand. The spear point was burnished copper almost two hands in length. This was a killing spear used in battle. Not a hunting spear. The copper spear point would need tempering after any use. They were soft, but used only by the older warriors as a mark that they had survived many encounters. Any foe they faced now needed only a soft point to bring them down. A sign of contempt for an enemy. In battles, the most courageous had been seen to turn and run when faced with a man carrying a copper tipped spear.
Rees was set to run. His eyes were like saucers in his face. He daren't take his eyes from the grizzled warrior only a spears length away from him. Rees still gripped the sword. He would never let it fall. His father had given it to him, with just a wink when Rees had asked what his mother would say. He kept it in the stable from then on. He knew his father had fought for the Queen in times past and this had been his weapon. It was marked with the strange stick like script that told all that the sword belonged to a blade master.
Rees stood rooted to the ground, wishing he was a Song Wood tree. To run would be to shame himself forever in his own eyes. He had no idea how he should react to one of these mysterious men.
“Close your mouth boy. The flies will find rest enough in other shade.”
Rees snapped his mouth shut. Red slowly crept up his face to the roots of his hair.
“Who did you steal the blade from child? For it is certain that you are no blade master. The Song Wood tree can tell me that.”
Was that a hint of mirth in the man’s words? Rees could swear that the man was laughing at his expense, but his face was like stone and the black eyes glittered like obsidian from the slopes of Sara Sara.
“I… my father gave me this sword. He was – is a blade master in the Queens service. During the Mordos Wars.” Rees managed to stammer. “Curse my hide,” he thought. “What am I doing? Do I not look fool enough?”
Straightening, he continued. “I wished to join the Asha Altan, but my father needs me to help him. He was injured during the wars and now finds some work impossible. He gave me his sword and for him I will learn to use it.” Rees swallowed. “… An
d I'm not a child.” He added with a touch of defiance in his voice.
“No, you are not. You hold a blade master’s sword and had I been from another sept, or the Forests of Gloom perhaps, you might now be dead where you stand.” The Asha Altan looked Rees up and down. Not a glimmer of expression told Rees what he could be thinking. What should he do. "Should I turn and leave?” thought Rees, swallowing under the scrutiny.
"So,” said the warrior. “We had better make sure that you can protect your family as well as work for them. I will train you myself.” The Asha Altan took a step closer. “Learn to control your mouth. It’s hanging open again boy.”
This time Rees was certain he caught a flicker of a smile on the man’s mouth. He was enjoying Rees’s discomfit he was sure.
So began Rees’s training. The old warrior, Jardine of the Asha Altan, of the Stone Lion sept, oldest of the Asha Altan, holder of the Seat, met Rees every day beneath the Song Wood tree and trained him until he fell in exhaustion at the old warriors feet.
“You have much to learn boy. Be here at the same time tomorrow.” So saying he would walk away down the dry creek bed. Rees came every day. Jardine had told him early in his training that if he missed one day, he would not see the old warrior again. Commitment was the first duty of a warrior.
Rees learned quickly. Jardine trained him in all the weapons including the short killing spear, but Rees excelled with the sword and the axe. Try as he might though, he could not make Jardine even raise a sweat. It was frustrating, and not a little frightening. Rees knew he was good now. Jardine even admitted it. How good he had to be to get Jardine on the defensive though he could not even guess at. The man just didn't appear to be even exerting himself. Rees did notice though that Jardine had stopped calling him “boy”.
One day Rees turned up at the Song Wood tree and waited. Jardine never came and Rees never saw him again. He wanted to thank the man and had sought out Riadia. When Rees told Riadia what had been happening she plainly did not believe him. Until he calmly took down a short hafted spear from the guest room wall and pinned the flapping apron of a passing servant to the timber post by her side.
“Jardine taught me.” He declared flatly. “I would thank him.” Rees ignored the Mare Altan now on their toes, some with arrows nocked in short bows.
“That was a very foolish thing to do boy.” Said Riadia.
“Jardine stopped calling me boy three months gone.” Quietly replied Rees.
Riadia walked to the door post, signalling to the others to relax.
“Then you are truly a man it seems, and a warrior.” She said with a slight grin to the other women in the room. Some whispered to each other, laughter evident in their eyes. All except their serving girl, still struggling to get the spear out of the post and unpin her apron.
“He will know of your thanks Rees. I apologise for doubting your word. I should have known better. I have a debt to you. I will not forget.”
She pulled the spear loose from the door and the serving girl fled. Riadia walked out leaving Rees facing the now speculative looks – raised eyebrows – of the gathered Mare Altan. He had seen that look on girls before, and fled the room as fast as dignity would allow him.
Now he rode out on his own to one side of this friend Antonin, lost in his own thoughts. The entire party was making good time in their journey away from the village. Slowly swinging North East if Antonin knew his senses to be correct. He brought his focus back to the present. This was no time for day dreaming. Questions of what was, what could be and what might be would be answered as surely as the Great Wheel now turned. What his part in all this was he gave up trying to fathom.
Unconsciously he counted off those around him. Mei'An and Luan in the lead. Edina and Elsa with Catharina slightly back from them. A little further out to the right was… Who was that. Gaul was on his left, Rees on his right, none behind as he swivelled in his saddle to look. It looked a little like another Mare Altan but he could not be sure. Whoever it was however was a little ahead of Rees. Rees was all but invisible out in the starlight, horses barely raising dust with their steady pace. Antonin swept down with his fingers to the ground as he walked his horse and scooped up some small pebbles. There weren't many, but the plain was peppered with pea sized little stones of a reddish colour. He didn't want to cause alarm at this stage, but if he could get Rees’s attention and point out the unknown rider, they might just be able to flank the person and get close enough to ask questions. There would be no point in raising an alarm and scattering everyone in a mad chase across the dark plain. Antonin began flicking the pebbles at Rees. “Was he asleep in his saddle?” thought Antonin. After a few direct hits Rees finally looked over at Antonin. He could barely see Antonin but he knew his hand signals meant “Quiet, game ahead.” They had spent long hours hunting together. Gaul had been looking in Antonin’s direction and had caught the hand signals although he could not see Rees, nor any game that might be ahead.
“What was Antonin talking about?” He muttered under his breath. He could not see the outrider. Rees had no such trouble. The rider was only a few lengths ahead of him. Gaul dropped back to come around behind Antonin slowly. He didn't want to startle anyone or anything, and would come up on the far side of Rees. Suddenly there was a shout from back in the darkness and a clash of steel. In that instant the unknown rider wheeled his horse in toward the three Mare Altan, Catharina in the middle of the group. The shout from the rear by Gaul had brought everyone's head around except for Antonin and Rees. They had their quarry marked and the rider had only moved a few steps when he stood in the stirrups with a cry. The point of a spear appearing in his chest. Barely had he cried out when it was cut off with a gurgle as a broad head arrow tore through his throat. He pitched from his horse, dead before he hit the ground. Antonin and Rees wheeled back to the sounds of battle behind them. Antonin could not see the battle yet, but he could surely hear it. He thought of the raven he had seen in the night as they left the village. Gaul was out in the darkness facing who knew what. Rees appeared beside him as they raced toward the noise of the fray. Luan flashed past them like a dark shadow and the three Mare Altan had left their horses already. They preferred to fight on foot. They had actually disappeared into the gloom ahead of Luan. The starlight was not enough to show more than moving dark shadows. Suddenly a pale ball of light appeared in the sky above the plain. Mei’An was not a warrior but she could do her part. They had only moments to realize they were facing Tharsians. The warriors of Mordos. These warriors were like nothing else in the world. Huge, green hide beasts that knew only killing as a way of life. There didn't seem to be many. Half a dozen at most. They seemed a little disorganised. Perhaps that had been their leader that Antonin and Rees had brought down. Perhaps they had been taken by surprise when Gaul had turned back and stumbled into them. Either way it didn't matter now. They were huge beasts. Twice the height of a man and their green hide was like armour. The only sure way to kill them was through an eye or under their bony breast plate. They were not built like mortal men. The Tharsians were on the defensive now. Gaul had given a good account of himself even in the dark. Two of the Tharsians were already dead on the ground. Luan was dispatching another and the three Mare Altan were actually laughing as they took on one each. There were two trying to get around behind Luan, and Antonin and Rees raced to the attack. Rees had indeed been well trained. Antonin cold only gape in wonder as his friend took on both, and within moments they lay dead on the ground. Rees’s axe was still whistling through the air as a gory green head rolled almost at Antonin’s feet. An arrow loosed by Antonin did little harm to the other but the broad sword driven hard up into its chest brought it to a surprised stop. It’s eyes rolled upwards and Rees pulled his sword out as it toppled backwards to crash onto the ground. Antonin was surprised, but not distracted. His next arrow found it’s mark. A Catharsis fell bellowing with an arrow through its eye. It was dead in moments, thrashing about on the grassy plain to the last. The girls of the Mare
Altan seemed to be having sport with their opponents, darting away from their sword thrusts and nipping in to draw blood with spear points before leaping back out of reach. They were the only Tharsians left standing.
“Finish it.” Demanded Mei'An in a voice amplified by The Power. In the blink of an eye the last three Tharsians fell, the short killing spears of the maidens deep in their hearts. Mei'An’s voice rolled away across the plain. The light she had held aloft winked out. It had not been bright. Just a glow really like a small moon. The night vision of the group had not been marred.
“Be assured,” said Mei’An “That small group will have friends.
Luan was wiping his blade on the clothing of one of the fallen.
“We do not want to face a larger party. This must have been a scouting party.”
“Let us look at the one who tried to get at the girls.” Said Rees. They made their way back to where the person lay. Mei’An lit a small glowing orb, held close to her and low. Just enough to light the body in front of them. He had straight jet black hair, and almond shaped tilted eyes. His nose had a very low bridge like those people who lived in the extreme cold regions far to the north and east. Further even that the great desert wastes north of the Dragon Spine Mountains. He was not very tall. Little more than the size of a boy really. Mei’An was quiet for a moment.
“This man was from Hua Guo. A great pity he is dead.” She said. “Perhaps he could have told us much. He was probably a slave of the Tharsians even so.”
Mei’An pointed to the ugly brand burnt into his cheek. There was a thin leather cord around his neck, with a small kid pouch attached. It was tucked into his shirt. Mei’An cut it loose with her belt knife. There was small hexagonal disk inside, made of silver and worked with a stylised script that Rees recognised as similar to the ancient characters engraved on his sword.
The Dragons of Sara Sara Page 7
