Children of Ambros

by Katy Winter

  As Asok absorbed them, so they evaluated him. They saw a tall, slight steppeman wrapped in skins and furs, every part of the man suggestive of serenity and control. They noticed their appearance left him unmoved, curious certainly, but quite unalarmed. The steppeman's eyes were clear, mid-winter gray, and they saw well beyond the immediate future. He seemed a powerful presence standing shrouded in snow.

  They stood, a silent tableau, the group watchful and the steppeman gently swathed in snow. The traveller in boots made the first move when he stepped forward, his eyes as alert as Asok's. When he reached in front of the steppeman, Asok let out his breath on a long whistling hiss.

  "The little one saw true," he observed complacently.

  "She did indeed," agreed the stranger, his green eyes looking deeply into the tranquil gray ones. "The girl lives, Hasuran?" There was now a hiss from those who accompanied him.

  "Yes." A look of satisfaction crossed the stranger's face.

  "We'd have reached you sooner," he explained quietly, "but there's much afoot in the Shadowlands and it was impossible for me to come earlier." Asok's eyes looked beyond the man.

  "They're from the Shadowlands?" The man nodded.

  "They're those you seek," he replied. "The Aelkin wishes to know you."

  "Likewise," responded Asok. A man came to stand next to the bigger man. He held out his hand. When Asok clasped it, both men sighed and stood motionless for long minutes.

  "Know me, Hasuran. Welcome back."

  "Know me, Aelkin," answered Asok. "It's been too long." Indariol stepped back again, a smile deep in his eyes. Asok turned to the other man.

  "We have a mother and child who seek refuge with them."

  "They know. The child's part of them." Asok's eyes met the stranger's again and he smiled.

  "Yes. From her father."

  "As you say."

  "Will she be safe with them?"

  "She and the girl will be safe, I can promise you that, steppeman."

  "And Soji? It's the cold that troubles her." Asok saw gentleness touch the stranger's expression.

  "Soji will be unharmed. Her mate Leontok may accompany her." Asok didn't flinch at the knowledge of their names.

  "And her little boy?" he asked quietly. The green eyes rested thoughtfully on Asok.

  "Carok," Oreth murmured. "Possibly, the child's very young." Asok waited, his glance drifting back to the silent still figures who intently watched him. The stranger spoke to himself. "The experience won't harm the boy. He may come."

  "When do you wish them to come?" The green eyes rested on Asok again, a hint of amusement in their depths.

  "The girl suffers, Asok. She should come as soon as possible." A reciprocal glint of amusement shone in the responsive but imperturbable gray eyes.

  "I'll get them," Asok said very quietly. He turned to go back to the cavern, but stopped at the deep voice.

  "You have knowledge, steppeman, and wisdom. You ally them with intelligence – that's rare. Your people are blessed to have you. Do you have Adept Setoni with you?" Asok glanced back, a smile at the question.

  "Yes, we do. He's kept Soji alive."

  "He must also come. He'll know he's called." Asok nodded and turned away.

  At the cavern entrance, Asok almost collided with Sagi and knew, from one look into her eyes, that she'd heard every word. They were large, the pupils so black they almost devoured the softer gray. Her voice shook when she spoke.

  "It's Jonqi's seeing, isn't it?" Asok nodded. "And they're the Shadowlanders?"

  He nodded again, pushed her gently to one side and walked calmly over to Soji who sat dreamily, Leontok's arms protectively about her. Though she was tired and the drink had made her sleepy, her look up at the steppeman was one of sudden alarm and fear.

  Asok spoke very gently, crouched down beside her and stretched out to take one of her hands reassuringly in his.

  "Our paths part for a little, daughter."

  "Pasangan," she whispered, her face perfectly white.

  "They're the Shadowlanders, child, to take you north to safety. Leon will go with you and so will the children." A tear crept down Soji's cheek. Seeing it, Asok knelt closer to her, his voice soft and placid. "I don't know what the future holds for you, daughter, no one can tell you that, but I trust the man outside when he tells me that you'll come to no harm. I must trust him and so must you, child. You must believe I wouldn't let you go should I fear for you and yours. Soji," he added with a warm smile, "you're our daughter."

  "I know," whispered Soji. "With you I'm at peace."

  She was helped to her feet by Leontok, then reached out to Asok who held her close for long moments.

  "Blessings on you, Soji," he said, releasing her and lifting Jonqi who stood next to them. "Come home to us before too long."

  He held the little girl in a strong clasp, then passed her to Sagi who held the child closely and fiercely before releasing her. Asok signalled to Leontok. The young man rose immediately, stepped to his father's side, his head tilted while he listened, before he nodded several times in rapid succession. Then he returned to Soji, touched her shoulder and pushed her to Sagi.

  When Soji broke from Sagi, she saw tears in the gentle gray eyes when the older woman let her go, and, as Soji turned to her mate, Sagi moved back, a hand brushing her eyes. Leontok stooped to her and embraced his mother, murmuring words only she could hear. Setoni also went to Sagi. He touched her gently, spoke briefly with her, then their hands met and held for a long moment, before the healer turned from her and crossed to Asok.

  Leontok approached the cavern entrance, Soji's hand in his and her free hand holding that of a small dark-haired child. Leontok carried a second child in a hide cradle on his back. Behind them was Setoni, his eyes rather sad.

  When advised by Asok of his leaving, the healer said, "I know, my friend. We approach a crucial time in Ambros, don't we?"

  "It seems so, Adept," sighed Asok. "When you can, return to us, Setoni. You're now part of the steppes."

  "As you're now part of me, Asok. I'll care for the four of them so they come home to you - you may believe that."

  "I do," said Asok. "I've always trusted you, my friend, always."

  ~~~

  The stranger looked at the small group that emerged from the cavern and moved to stand in front of him. His green eyes were extraordinarily gentle and kind. It was Jonqi who looked up at him first, her little face transformed and suffused with delight. She looked back and up at Soji, then twisted back to Asok and Sagi who stood just outside the cavern entrance, the snow falling quietly around them.

  "Asokgansan, Sagigansan, here he is. This is him!"

  Jonqi broke free of her mother's hold and ran to the stranger who lifted her with ease. He glanced down at Soji who stood downcast, her eyes troubled and afraid.

  "Come, child," he invited quietly. "You won't be harmed and will be safe in the Shadowlands, I promise you."

  Soji took a step forward, encouraged. He nodded, so she moved closer, face still white and eyes big with apprehension. He put Jonqi on the ground and then touched Soji's head with a gentle hand.

  "Trust me," he said softly. When Soji looked up into his eyes, her fears faded. Leontok came forward, Carok soundly asleep on his father's back. "And you're welcome, young steppeman, as is your son." He looked beyond Leontok to the healer. "It's been a lonely road for you, Adept. You're needed." Setoni nodded.

  The stranger looked long at Sagi and Asok, smiled benevolently at them, turned, and took Jonqi by one hand and Soji by the other. Leontok looked back to his parents with a smile, then followed, Setoni beside him.

  Flanked by the other steppefolk, Asok and Sagi stood watching. They stayed that way until the small group, surrounded by the Shadowlanders, was no longer visible in snow that fell ever more steadily and swallowed them as though they'd never been. Asok knew if he stepped forward to look he'd see no trace of footprints about him.

  When he finally sighed faintly and turned his head
to look back at where they had to travel, he was startled to see a clear, direct path cut a swathe, for some considerable distance, through the freshly fallen snow. It was a track that was very easy for the steppefolk to follow.

  Ambrosian Chronicles,

  Third Age,

  12211.

  Our Archmage left Yarilo without advising the masters when he'll return. Though we've inordinate faith in the senior mage chosen to deputise for him, still we feel deep uneasiness the Archmage felt a necessity to leave.

 

  It's only known he's on Ambros, nor are we able to be in touch with him. The acting Archmage assures us all is well, but we remain anxious and concerned. Not only is the Archmage revered, we're also acutely aware of his rapidly increasing fragility and how the upheavals on Ambros distress and torment him. A venerable mage is vulnerable and should be within the protection of the hall. His wisdom is critical to the restoration and maintenance of balance.

 

  We've been informed, through Adept Setoni's work with a Churchik girl, that the enslaved Samar twin's left the Keep in the company of Haskar Kher. They move slowly but steadily northwards, presumably to meet up with the Warlord. We suspect this may be why our Archmage has gone to Ambros; our suspicions about Blach the sorcerer were confirmed for us some time since by the Watchers.

 

  We're now fully aware Malekim's alive and active in his usual malevolent and destructive way. His use of Luton causes us serious concern. Where the apprentice treads, so comes the mage himself. We await his move so we may counter it. There's much more to come on Ambros. We suspect we're merely at the very beginning.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  The southern army made steady progress towards the Kingdom of Kyaran. The serious attacks they constantly encountered, since they left Ortok, became increasingly formidable with serious losses to the warlord's army. Even so, Lodestok still couldn't get to grips with what he knew was a large and developed army in the north.

  The Cartokian state, so long protected by her small mountain range and forests, had held out much longer than the warlord anticipated. His warriors, expecting an easy victory, walked into the main city to find its taking a hollow victory, because the entire population had either withdrawn north or gone into hiding in the mountains.

  Fighters, foraying from the alps, were skilful and deadly. Everywhere the warlord's army camped, so came the Cartokians. They took and slaughtered small groups of men camped on the perimeter, then they indulged in hand to hand skirmishes that Lodestok's men invariably lost. The warlord's army was organised to over-run and subject. Now his warriors had to adapt to clashes and brief scuffles they didn't handle well.

  These running battles infuriated the warlord. He may've taken Cartokian land but he'd neither subjected nor defeated her people. In retaliation, he angrily ordered the total destruction of anything his army came upon, his men even setting fire to the forests that were an integral part of Cartokian culture and economics. Every significant city in the state was sacked, but Lodestok won few slaves and even less in the way of vital supplies. Plundered riches made their tortuous way south, but the further north he went, the fewer slaves he found.

  The warlord entered the Duchy of Sushi to find the same situation. He flew into such an uncontrollable fury, it made Bethel's life hellish for two days, in spite of Sarssen's efforts to distract Lodestok. Sarssen managed to deflect some of the rage, but not all. He always had a healer waiting for Bethel who, sore and hurt, retreated, desperately trying to avoid his master whenever he could.

  As the warlord's army neared Taki for the anticipated rampage, Lodestok summoned Jaden and demanded that the healer read and seek the minds of those in command, especially the mind of Nakron.

  Jaden found that an impossible task because he sensed a blanket surrounded the whole city. It was so inexplicable it made him blink with shock. Nor could he sense the presence of a reader-seeker of any degree. Telling the warlord that, made Jaden fear for his life. He'd seen Bethel shrink from Lodestok many times, the young face white and the eyes deeply scared, but now he did the same because the warlord's look of fury was so menacing.

  Obligingly, Jaden tried again. This time, he got the faintest reading of someone who clearly referred to Strategos Sarehl who was northwards bound. When Jaden told Lodestok that, the chilling eyes held an arrested expression and a grim little smile played about a pitiless mouth. The rest of the warlord's face was like flint. He dismissed Jaden and then stood contemplatively stroking his lush whiskers.

  "Well, well," he murmured to himself. "So, little flower, your brother has indeed survived to cause us trouble. Now I wonder how he managed to escape."

  Over the last cycles, Lodestok always used a knowledge of Sarehl's whereabouts as an effective weapon of control and coercion, Bethel instantly subjected, even if it was never necessary, by the merest threat where his elder brother was concerned. His big eyes became apprehensive and his head bowed submissively. It came as no surprise to Sarssen that the warlord should begin to idly toy with the use he could make of Sarehl's current whereabouts, assuming, of course, the young man moved quickly north with the retreating forces he helped marshal.

  From Adept melds the warrior had known, for some time, that Sarehl was alive though meant to be dead and was deeply involved with the formation of the northern army. So, Sarssen prayed the warlord wouldn't think of a way to involve Bethel in his search for a method of either containing, or trying to use, a young man clearly gifted with a brilliant mind. The warrior now had a clearer understanding that the bond between Bethel and his eldest brother was no ordinary one, so any attempt to tamper with Bethel's mind, in connection with Sarehl, would be enough to upset the boy's fragile mental and emotional state. It would strike at the very essence of the young warrior and may well be the final attack Bethel could cope with.

  Lodestok wasn't quite right in his surmise that Sarehl was with the army, but his reasoning that the Strategos would move north, from Sushi to Kyaran, was correct. Perhaps, thought Lodestok with amusement, he could arrange to deal with the tiresome young northman there.

  Taki was taken, but again Lodestok was frustrated, because there were few defenders, most well gone by the time the assault battered down the main gates. Enraged, the warlord's anger spilled over onto his men and inevitably onto Bethel. Sarssen again found himself trying to defend the boy from the worst of Lodestok's anger. He shielded Bethel surprisingly well.

  From early morning, Bethel retreated to Jane and his men. When they camped, he stayed as often as he could with other warriors, especially with Luth, or Manas. He had other warrior friends too. He became hardened and proficient in his drills, seldom, if ever, making mistakes. Bensar and Esok, who had most to do with him, watched him and exchanged glances, but nothing was said.

  Bethel went to Sarssen, ostensibly for additional training. The tempkar taught the boy as much and as fast as he dared; at the end of a session he deliberately blocked the boy, Bethel's mind only fully unlocked when they were together.

  Bethel's men learned to respect the gentle youth. His orders were never unreasonable, he was never harsh or cruel, and he'd always listen. Kel spent a lot of time with the young man, so much so, the men began to take their cue from him and rapidly weren't prepared to tolerate any criticism of the `lad' as he became affectionately known.

  Kel found the youth fascinating. It was, however, Bethel's absolute subjection to the warlord that increasingly bothered Kel, more and more, though he couldn't explain why he felt that way. It finally dawned on him that it was tragic to see a young one, so full of hope and talent, sometimes crushed and hurt. The abject submission troubled him most. It made Kel, a very tough mercenary, who killed with impunity and had no conscience about his work, begin to have serious doubts about why he was with the southern army. He became protective of Bethel, trying as best he could to reduce the stress of controlling and organising the men. He worked willingly with Jane and always had a smile for Bethel.

&
nbsp; Bethel, apart from episodes with the warlord that were sometimes unspeakable if Lodestok threw a violent temper, lived a calm two cycles from initiation. The turbulence brought about by his warriorhood passed very quickly and Bethel, now eighteen cycles, had settled into a lifestyle that always seemed to exist for him.

  He was extremely tall, taller than the warlord, certainly more so than any other warrior and though he was still boyishly slender he was very broad-shouldered in the mould of his siblings and father, with a gentle manner and a velvety bass/baritone that was a pleasure to listen to. It was only these days that the warlord saw the beginnings of dark down on the young cheeks and chin; it made him thoughtful when he watched the youth of an evening, the boy curled up on his slave mat, a slender hand scratching at the fluff. In general, in private, Lodestok was surprisingly tolerant and gentle with his slave and unusually protective. Only Sarssen was aware of that.

  Bethel was still a quite beautiful young man, his finely chiselled features sensitive and delicate, the skin still alabas soft and clear, and the eyes, framed by those ludicrously long, curling eyelashes, were the same huge, lustrous purple. The mouth still sensuously curved. Bethel still licked his lips when threatened or was nervous. Another gesture uniquely his was when he thought, Bethel twined his long hair round a finger, then chewed reflectively on the ends of it. He was doing that this evening. He sat quietly on his mat, hunched, because there was a chill in the air and he badly felt the cold. The warlord eyed him.

  "Bensar spoke of you today, flower," he said coldly. Startled, Bethel turned and stared up at the warlord, his finger quickly unravelling the entwined hair.

  "My lord?"

  "He says you learn most satisfactorily. That pleases me."

  "My lord," murmured Bethel automatically, his head bending and his hands, still, in his lap.

  "You also, I believe, manage your men in a competent fashion." Bethel swallowed nervously.

  "I try, my lord."

  "Trying is not enough, petal," censured the icy voice. "It is your duty to succeed. The measure of a warrior is how he sees himself. His courage must come from within and it is instinct that drives him to achieve the highest honour and glory he can. Your battles within must be conquered before you can function efficiently as one of my warriors. The only thing you should ever fear, petal, is disgrace, failure and dishonour. You do not try – you succeed." Bethel gulped and remained silent. "A true warrior, in an ancient tradition, must be a rounded man with a centre of calm and control and he must have many skills. You will begin to study warrior meditation more deeply, boy. Ask Sarssen to take you through the routines. I shall also teach you so you can, one day, achieve this centred state."