Children of Ambros

by Katy Winter

  ~~~

  It took Daxel's visit to Taki to enlighten Kasan about Sarehl. It came not long before Sarehl was due to leave for Kyaran and caught him completely by surprise. Among the rooms he'd been given in the palace, was one room he'd set aside as a study and office.

  On this day he stood, thoughtfully looking out to the ordered flower beds in the courtyard below, his mind many miles distant. When the door opened, Sarehl didn't bother to turn round.

  "Who's that?" he asked absently. "Is that you, Brue?"

  When he got no answer, he turned idly and then just stood still, his eyes riveted to the face of the young man who stared back at him. A smile crept to his eyes when he realised how much his younger brother had grown and his hand went to his beard.

  "Gods," he whispered. "Dase lad, you're grown into a man."

  Daxel began to laugh as he advanced across the room with his arms out. They enfolded each other for a very long time, before Sarehl pushed the youth back so he could see him better.

  Daxel was as tall as Sarehl, his frame was larger and though he was slender he was no longer thin, but instead looked athletic and moved with ease and grace. His hair was still in the shorter Dakhilan fashion, his face still serious and too mature for his years, but what struck Sarehl was the trace of dark fluff on the boy's cheeks and chin. Daxel was growing a beard. Sarehl shook his head. He thought his brother was the image of their father.

  "Little brother doesn't seem appropriate now, Dase, does it?"

  "Oh aye, big brother - I'll always be your little brother, Sar. Ah but it's good to see you!"

  Daxel flung his arms round Sarehl again and hugged him hard, tears in his eyes when he let go his brother and sauntered over to a chair. He flopped into it and stretched out long limbs. Sarehl wandered over to his desk and perched on the edge of it, his eyes never leaving his brother's face. Daxel stared back at him and a smile lit the dark, serious eyes.

  "Your scar's almost invisible, Sar," he said suddenly, "and you look so well, big brother!"

  "I am," agreed Sarehl with a chuckle. "Very well fed and cared for too."

  "You're heavier," Daxel commented, leaning back on the cushions, then moving them so they were more comfortable. "You live elegantly, don't you?" Sarehl grinned.

  "The Strategos does, yes, lad." Daxel returned the grin. "Have you seen anyone else?"

  "Not yet," was the reply. "Ens told me to see you first and I wouldn't have wanted to see anyone but you to begin with anyway. Ens asked me to give you this," he went on, pulling a sealed letter from his breeches pocket. Sarehl came over and took it, his eyes alert.

  "Is an answer expected?" he asked, breaking the seal and perusing the single sheet. He gave Daxel a quick look.

  "Ensore didn't mention one. Is it a despatch or something?"

  "Something like," agreed Sarehl, calmly pocketing the sheet. "Would you like a drink, lad?" Daxel nodded and yawned. "Wine?"

  "Aye, thank you."

  When Sarehl opened the ornately carved and painted cabinet next to his desk to remove carafe and goblets, he glanced quickly across at the youth again, noticing with amusement that Daxel had stretched his long length out comfortably. The long legs were crossed at the ankle and the black eyes were half-closed.

  "Was it a long ride you've just completed, lad?" Sarehl asked, pouring out the wine and crossing to his brother with the goblet held out.

  "Aye, big brother. Loui and I didn't linger yesterday. We rode very hard to get here. The army's skirting the lake now, so Ensore told me he thought it should be safe enough for me to come and see you again. I'm glad he did, Sar. It's so good to see you. I think Ensore's by-passing Taki entirely."

  "Yes, he is," agreed Sarehl, perching back on the edge of his desk and idly swinging a foot.

  "Ongwin says we want to get into Kyaran land, to the plains that spread out from the base of the Chasa Mountains. I wonder if Ensore will make a stand there. That's what the men are saying anyway, Sar."

  "It makes sense, lad, though I've yet to get to the Kyaran kingdom. We must hope the King's amenable. I imagine he will be when he hears from the Ustomi about what's happened to his cities and lands, because they're old trading partners and there's been recent inter-marriage as well."

  "What's happening with the Sushi, Sar?" Daxel drank deeply and sank further into the chair.

  "They're withdrawing, lad, and have been for a time. I won't be staying here for very much longer because there's urgency for me to get to Kyaran. Most of the organising at this end's been done to make transition easier; there's a limit to what I can do."

  "Will it slow Lodestok, Sar? That's important."

  "Possibly," was the thoughtful reply. "If nothing else, no slaves and no supplies irritate him. Also, he's extending his supply line quite dangerously, because he must be starting to depend on caravans wending north. He's destroyed much of where he's gone, so land won't provide the sustenance his army needs. It's only a matter of time before the warlord wakes up to the realisation that he must husband the resources he conquers, because his men have needs from the land. I won't be surprised to see less pillaging of the landscape and fewer firing of fields and forests over the next few cycles. If, lad, we can do something about his supply lines, we've a real chance of crippling him." Daxel listened quietly, his dark eyes fixed to his brother's face.

  "Who could do that?" he asked dubiously, sipping at his wine.

  "Southerners he's subjected," responded Sarehl. "People do fight back one day."

  "If there are any left." Sarehl heard the bitterness in the young voice.

  "Aye, little brother, as you say, if there are any left." He paused meditatively. "I remember Ensore telling me one day that a group of southerners was never defeated."

  "The Sinhaliens," nodded Daxel.

  "Do you know much about them, Dase?"

  "Nothing much. Eli says they're dangerous to rouse and that they're amazing horsemen. They've perfected the use of recurve bows too. They're called steppefolk, so I'm told." Sarehl frowned down at his goblet.

  "Lodestok tried to get some of their horses once, didn't he?"

  "Apparently." Daxel shrugged, then grinned suddenly. "I think I have this right, Sar. Eli seems to think the Sinhaliens defeated Lodestok and sent him crawling back to the south."

  "Salutary experience for the warlord," murmured Sarehl appreciatively.

  "Maybe we can too," said Daxel, hopefully eying his brother.

  "Aye, lad, the man's not invincible, and we have to defeat him. We have no choice, none at all." Sarehl's voice had gone quiet, but now he looked up with a smile. "Ensore tells me you're with one of Ongwin's cavalry troops, lad. Is that so?" Daxel's face relaxed into a very boyish grin that was both shy and proud.

  "Aye, Sar. He took me from the courier squad nearly a cycle ago. I'm directly under him." He looked a bit self-conscious. "He's training me to be an officer." Sarehl rose, limped across the room, stooped and rested a hand on his brother's shoulder.

  "Dase," he said quietly. "I'm so proud of you." Daxel blushed and put his hand up to grip Sarehl's hard in response. He was silent for a moment, then spoke hesitantly.

  "Ens says all we are today we owe to you, Sar. You've organised the army and set out the campaigns to come, haven't you?" It was Sarehl's turn to be discomfited. He crossed to the window and stared out the window, not saying anything. "It would all be for nothing without you, big brother. We all know that."

  "Perhaps," murmured Sarehl, turning to his desk and lifting the carafe with which he replenished the goblets.

  "Have you heard any more of Bethel, Sar?" asked Daxel tentatively.

  "From what Brue told us and what we learned from Sasqua and Ensore, do you mean?"

  "Aye."

  "No, lad, nothing." Sarehl looked searchingly at his brother. "Lute, Dase?" Daxel shook his head, but Sarehl saw his hand shake. "We need to talk about our brothers, lad, don't we?" he asked gently, his eyes on the bowed head.

  Daxel's answer was inaudib
le. Just as he looked up and was about to add something, the door opened and Kaleb entered, a huge smile splitting his face as he advanced on Daxel with his arms wide.

  "I heard a messenger who looked like the Strategos arrived a short while ago," he said beaming. "Well, lad, stand and let me look at you!" For a little man, the healer's hug was ferociously strong. He stared up into the young bashful face and laughed. "Gods, lad, you're becoming the image of your big brother, even to the traces of a beard. I can hardly credit how you've grown! Just look at you!" Kaleb turned Daxel round and then pushed him back into the chair, making Daxel spill his wine. "You've even filled out, Dase, and you've got taller. What is it with you Samars?" Daxel started to laugh and brushed at the wine that was on his breeches. Then he glanced up to see Kalor at the door surveying him, a roguish twinkle in the Cyrenic's eyes.

  "See how like Sarehl he is," said Kaleb, helping himself to wine but waving first at Daxel who rose and hastily placed his goblet beside the chair. Kalor strode across the room and grasped both of Daxel's outstretched hands affectionately.

  "You've grown out of all recognition, lad," he said, with a welcoming smile. "And you do look well. You're a very handsome fellow at that. From such raw and thin beginnings comes a youth with coloured plumage," he added on a teasing note. Daxel blushed again and threw his hands in the air in mock despair.

  "Have I changed so much?" he demanded.

  "Aye, lad," chuckled Kalor. "From boy to man. I see you're striving for a beard and all."

  "Stop teasing him," grinned Sarehl, coming to his brother's rescue. Kalor wandered over to Sarehl's cabinet and began pushing the contents in all directions while he hunted for a goblet.

  "And why are you here, lad?" he asked, jerking up his head for a moment.

  "I brought a letter from Ensore for Sarehl."

  "He usually sends regular couriers for that purpose, doesn't he?" asked Kalor, straightening with a goblet in one hand, but a look of surprise on his face. He caught Sarehl's warning glance and turned to the wine. Kaleb changed the conversation.

  "Tell us, lad, how you find your brother."

  "I can hardly believe he looks as he does," was the genuine response. "He's so much heavier and looks more like how I remember him when we were children." Daxel looked respectfully across to the little healer. "We have you to thank, haven't we?" he said shyly.

  "Not entirely. Your brother struggled to get where he is." Kaleb drank deeply, then lifted the goblet in a salute. Sarehl and Kalor did likewise. "To you, lad, and to seeing you again."

  "So tell us, Dase," said Kalor, striding over to a chair and sprawling in it, "what the -." Daxel looked enquiringly round when Kalor broke off and glanced over at the door. Before anyone could speak, a copper-headed boy came bounding into the room, his very blue eyes widely enquiring and bright.

  "Why's everyone here?" he demanded. "Sar, Maren's let me go for the rest of today, so can I..."

  His voice trailed away when he suddenly noticed the stranger lounging in a chair on the other side of the room. Daxel stopped resting and sat abruptly, his eyes keen and disbelieving. He looked as hard at Brue as the boy looked at him. Brue stood still, fidgeting. It was Sarehl who went to him and draped an arm over the rigid young shoulders.

  "Large for his age, Dase, isn't he?" he said easily. "And isn't he the image of his father?"

  Daxel swallowed. He had a vivid memory of he and his twin, resigned to a deserved scalping they were about to receive from a huge red-headed man with an impressive bushy beard. A surge of affection for the Bruno who'd loved their mother almost choked Daxel. He had to swallow again as he struggled to push the memory into the past, before he felt in control enough to look at the boy cast in his father's image.

  "Aye," he said huskily, a smile touching his face as he put out a reassuring hand to the boy who still stood unmoving. "Aye, Sar, he is. You're a young copy, Brue, of the man who married Mam." He held out his arms in welcome. "Won't you come to your brother?"

  "Sar tells me it's you who saved me," whispered Brue, as he went shyly forward and was held affectionately in long, strong arms. He bent his head. Daxel hugged him hard and touched his lips to the copper head.

  "It feels right to hold you again, little man. Thank the gods Kalor found you," he murmured. Brue relaxed and stared up into the dark eyes, curiosity in his.

  "You're very like Sar," he announced.

  "Shall I stand?" asked Daxel, with a wicked grin. "If I stand next to him, then you'll see if we're alike." Brue stepped back so his brother could stand. When Daxel sauntered over to Sarehl and draped an arm about his elder brother's shoulders, Kaleb caught his breath. Even Kalor looked mildly surprised.

  "Well, Brue?" asked Sarehl, with a twinkle. Brue looked astonished.

  "Sar says I take after my Da. You and Sar must look like yours because I think, don't you, Kalor," he appealed to the Cyrenic who gave a wry grin, "they look the same."

  "Aye, lad," he agreed with a chuckle. Daxel crossed to Brue and taking the boy's hand, he pulled Brue onto his knees when he sat again.

  "Now, little fellow, you must tell me all about yourself, before I tell you anything about me. Who's Maren, then?" A delighted boy stroked Daxel's face and began to chatter quite unselfconsciously.

  ~~~

  Daxel's days passed in pleasant renewal of friendships with Arth, Sache and Dalmin, though he was shadowed by Brue who guarded him jealously. All doors opened to the Strategos' younger brother. He met Maren, too, and liked the captain immediately; it was reciprocal, Maren seeing in the youth what Brue could be. He watched Brue's attempts to distract Daxel, the boy reminding him strongly of a puppy with its first bone and he smiled tolerantly, aware the child hadn't seen his brother since Ortok and conscious, too, that both needed time together to renew a brotherly bond.

  Daxel met Kasan. Since he was as easy in manner and as unaffected as Sarehl, Kasan liked him immediately. She and Daxel walked about the gardens, both enjoying the sun and companionship, and, since Daxel had endured a long and arduous ride, this relaxation suited him.

  It was Kasan who first spoke of Sarehl, but she did so in such a way that Daxel stared down at her with an arrested expression. He decided then and there that he had to talk to Kaleb. Kasan didn't think she'd been obvious, but Daxel was a highly sensitive young man who could almost sniff nuances. He was frankly intrigued. They sat on a marble seat where Kasan twined her fingers through her hair. Daxel concentrated on what she was saying.

  "You resemble Sarehl closely, don't you?"

  "So they say, aye. We're all supposed to be alike, except Brue, that is. Even Chlo's got our colouring, or she had."

  "Beth's very like you, too, Sasqua tells me." Daxel nodded, quite unable to say anything in reply.

  He'd met Sasqua, but even after speaking with her, his mind boggled that she could be Bethel's mate or that she could be carrying his younger brother's child. He still vividly remembered the shy, gentle boy who always gave in when they had fun-fights and he simply couldn't imagine the beautiful little musician as a father. He came back to the present.

  "Sasqua tells me he has very long hair," he said, for want of something to say.

  "Yes," responded Kasan. "Yours is shorter in the Dahkilan way. Why?"

  "Because I've been with your brothers for so long," Daxel answered. "Ens cut it that way the first day I met him."

  "That sounds very like him," said Kasan on a faint chuckle. "Ensore likes Sarehl very much, doesn't he?"

  "Yes," Daxel agreed, eying Kasan cautiously.

  "So do I," she admitted frankly. "He's a gentle man and we often talk together. He sometimes seems to me to be a solitary person."

  "I'm glad he talks with you," said Daxel, with genuine gratitude. "I know he hasn't talked with other than Ensore and his four close friends for a very long time, other than as an ambassador when he's surrounded by people and responds as he must. Once, in Ortok, he was much more sociable and enjoyed being with a wide range of people." Daxel sighed.
"I sometimes wonder if he'll fully recover from Alicia and the children." Kasan's head came up at that and her gray eyes were startled.

  "Who?" she asked. Daxel glanced down ruefully and chewed on his lower lip.

  "Didn't you know about them?" he asked gently.

  "No," she whispered. "Tell me."

  "I'm not sure I should," Daxel said nervously. "If Sar wanted you to know, he'd tell you himself." Kasan held his hand.

  "Yes," she said positively. "You should tell me. I want to know."

  Daxel shrugged and began to speak. Kasan heard the break in the deep voice as he did and gripped both his hands when Daxel's voice faltered a few times in his recital. When he went silent, she saw he was pale, his teeth were clenched hard and he looked bone weary she thought, her hands tightening on his. When Daxel put his arm round her, she snuggled into him as if indeed he was one of her brothers.

  When he left her, Kasan walked quietly away to think. Her mind was full of images of a nearly dead and brutalised young man, an even younger dead woman and savagely murdered little ones, and she found emotions overwhelmed her – pity, anger and horror made her unable to communicate for some hours.

  ~~~

  Daxel, however, wasn't amused when told some of the contents of Ensore's letter. His face was a mixture of disbelief, chagrin and annoyance. Sarehl merely looked diverted.

  "What would happen," demanded Daxel, "if I just rode back?"

  "You'd incur his gravest displeasure," answered Sarehl, looking hard at him. Daxel ground his teeth.

  "Is it an order then?"

  "Yes, little brother, that's exactly what it is."

  "What am I to do here? I've no place outside the troop."

  "I'm leaving Sushi soon, Dase. Ensore wants you to accompany me to Kyaran. He says you're to join up with him from Krynn, but not until he sends the order for you."

  Daxel got to his feet and strode about irritably, one hand kneading the other. He stopped next to his brother.

  "Who goes with you?"

  "The usual five, including me. We also take Sasqua, because Kaleb wants her well away to Kyaran where he'll be able to concentrate on the child's birth. He anticipates it'll be very difficult and worries for both the unborn child and for Sasqua."

  "What about Brue and Kasan?" Sarehl looked up, surprised.

  "Kasan? Why would she go with me, lad? She's the honoured guest of Nakron and will travel with the royal entourage." Daxel glanced briefly at his brother.