by J. C. Hendee
More of the madman's madness!
“Do exactly as I say,” Fiáh'our had growled at him. “The pack is unlikely to go there anytime soon after what we gave them there the last time.”
Very well, so that made sense, but not some of the rest.
“No fire, no light, no noise, understand?” the blusterer had gone on. “Keep them hidden, and if you do not see or hear from me by the following dawn, make a run for Fieldhaven. Nothing and nowhere else!”
Gän'gehtin had balked—and worse—though not for the same reasons as Karras.
Fieldhaven was half a day away at a run; with children, they would be lucky to make it by nightfall. But Gän'gehtin was mostly furious about being left behind.
What had happened to his shirvêsh ways as a “guardian” devoted to Skâpagi among their people's Eternals? Not that Karras believed in such, but the last year had changed all of them. And he never expected to see what he had earlier this morning.
“I will not be left behind,” Gän'gehtin had growled at Fiáh'our, his long studìhallû clenched in hand. “Not even by… especially by you, thänæ!”
That last word came out like a curse, not an honor-bound title.
Karras forgot even his fear and anger over Fiáh'our's orders as he watched both of them. The old man never blinked as he fixed on the young shirvêsh.
“You do as I say,” Fiáh'our said barely above a whisper, “or I am done with you. I will not let your bloodlust undermine the needs of others. Go with Karras and follow his orders as if they were mine… for they are mine!”
He pulled the great axe out of its back-sheath with one hand. “Unless you think you can challenge me, shirvêsh.”
Karras stood numb and horrified. It had been a long time since the old man had even used his real name, but something else caught his attention even more.
Others around the village's center space watched intently in fright, though not 'yan. The tall lhoin'na fixed on Gän'gehtin with open disapproval, which was more emotion than he had ever displayed. Urval glanced between the would-be combatants, though it was fairly clear he sided with the old man as well. Jackdaw just looked bored or fed-up.
Off to the left, when Kaitlin took a step to intervene, Karras quick-stepped once toward her and shook his head.
How long had they stood there? In the prickling quiet, the only sound he heard was the shirvêsh's hands grinding on his long, iron-ribbed war-staff.
Gän'gehtin finally turned away and left the village center.
Karras sucked an audible breath. Realizing he had held it the whole time, he began panting. When he looked back, the old man still glared after the young shirvêsh as he spoke.
“You are going to have trouble with that one,” and Fiáh'our looked down at him. “I expect you to do as told. If you have not heard from me by tomorrow at dawn…”
The rest had not needed repeating and even now, as Karras crouched by the stockade gate, he wished Fiáh'our had not put him in charge. All he need do was do as he was told until the old man returned—other than hope Gän'gehtin did so as well.
Fiáh'our always returned.
Fiáh'our always accomplished what he claimed.
Annoying as that was, this time it was the only comfort. If, only if, it had not been about driving off sluggïn'ân once and for all. In that, Karras understood one other thing
Gän'gehtin's endless pain and need for vengeance over a lost mother and father would have only put Fiáh'our and the others at risk.
“…jêd-hóg-fê… jêd-hóg-jês… jêd-hóg-kyar…”
“Stop!” Karras snapped. “Count to yourself and do not make this worse on everyone.”
Gän'gehtin cast him a cold look one breath before turning back to the half-open gate. And when that count reached a thousand, if Fiáh'our had not returned or sent word…
Karras stiffened as someone touched his arm. He looked over his shoulder to find Kaitlin closer now. The ex-sage frowned and shook her head disapprovingly for his slip of anger. Just behind her was the reason why.
Among soon-to-be refugees, Jeron Adler crouched on his heels with a small sack between his knees. Beyond him, his older brother William leaned back against the stockade with his legs pulled up. And barely peeking around one of those raised knees with one too-wide eye…
Little Kaity ducked behind her brother's leg when Karras looked her way.
“You need to ease her fear of you,” Kaitlin whispered, “even if it wasn’t your fault. We don't need her running off again, once we leave here.”
Karras clenched his jaw in thinking of little Kaity's fear of him. Yes, that was what he needed: one more task, one more responsibility, one more… everything! And with another quick glance at the shirvêsh, Kaity was not the only one he worried about running off, once they left the village. And time lingered on until…
“Now,” Gän'gehtin barked in rising.
Karras rose, peered out of the gate, and still there was no sign of Fiáh'our.
“Everyone up,” Kaitlin said, and all villagers began to rise. “Keep together and, for those who can, carry the little ones.”
As all present follow her instructions, Karras hesitated at the sight of William and Jeron hefting their own burdens. There was little Kaity still hiding behind her eldest brother.
Kaitlin elbowed Karras in the side.
Under her scowl, he slipped past toward the boys, but Jeron stepped in his way. Looking up with as much challenge and warning as his round face could display, the boy was barely chin-high above Karras' belt. Instead of stepping around, Karras dropped on the balls of his boots and peeked around.
Little Kaity was completely hidden behind William's legs.
Even defenders who came to Irin's had always terrified her. Urval was one of few she would not run from at first sight. She still would not willingly let even the lieutenant get close unless she had no choice. Then she had lost both parents in one night. And in flight with her brothers, another monster had appeared in the dark behind the lieutenant.
Karras did not know what to say to the girl after frightening her even more, if he dared say anything. They had to get moving, and neither of the boys were any help.
“He might be a monster to you,” Kaitlin said, “but now he's your monster.”
Startled, Karras looked up where he squatted. She stood above him but looked toward where the girl hid.
“And no other monster can bother you while you have him.”
Karras frowned at that comparison. When he lowered his gaze, one little wide eye again peeked around William's leg.
“I don't think so!” and Jeron sidestepped in the way.
“Get to the gate,” Kaitlin ordered. “You, too, William—now.”
Both boys hesitated.
Karras did not see what the ex-sage did then, but both boys dropped their eyes and slowly shuffled away. Little Kaity stood petrified, face smudged with dirt, hair a frazzled mess, hands clutched together, and her wide eyes would not blink. She looked at him in horror, and Karras cringed.
“Oh, trinity!” Kaitlin huffed. “Spare me witless men of all races.”
Before Karras reacted, she smacked him across the shoulder.
“Turn around!”
So he did on one knee as she stepped past. It was a long moment before something small pressed lightly against the back of his hauberk. It was gone in an instant.
“It's all right,” Kaitlin said softly. “We must go, so you hang on to him, no matter what happens.”
Karras felt a small form climb upon his back with the ex-sage's help. When tiny arms wrapped about his neck, he could hear little Kaity's short panicked breaths. He rose carefully in turning to Kaitlin, but she was looking elsewhere.
Gän'gehtin scowled as he studied the gathered villagers, though he still often peered out the gate.
“You have to lead,” Kaitlin whispered.
Karras glanced at her as his mind blanked for an instant. He studied the shirvêsh again as he whispered ba
ck.
“That means putting him at the rear and… then what keeps him there?”
Kaitlin shook head. “I don't know, but after that scene he made, I'm not certain the rest will follow him. They'll follow you compared to him and because Fiáh'our said so.”
That did not help one bit.
“I'll keep near the rear,” she added, “and let you know if… anything goes wrong.”
That would do little if Gän'gehtin ran off looking for the old man and a fight, but Karras nodded as he carefully stepped through all of the villagers to the gate. He was uncertain what to say as he turned to face their frightened eyes.
“It is not far,” he started and then stalled. “Stay together, keep up, keep quiet.”
“If you see something,” Kaitlin spoke up, “don't make noise. Stop the person in front of you, and so on, and point. Do not run until told to and where.”
When she looked to him, Karras nodded, turned quickly out the gate, and little Kaity's arms clenched tightly across his throat.
So began the silent and exposed trek to the ravine.
12. Pulled In
Karras stood behind the great downed pine with his ku'ê'bunst—Skirlan—in-hand. It was the same place of the ambush nine days ago, and where Fiáh'our had reasoned—or guessed—the pack would not likely return. This time, Karras took a place near the tree's roots sticking up into the night.
Clouds somewhere above fully obscured the light of a three-quarter moon. As he peered over the tall trunk and across the ravine's broad floor, he saw nothing but more darkness.
Villagers, mostly children and youths, huddled together behind the trunk for shared warmth. Beyond them and somewhere near the tree trunk's midpoint, Gän'gehtin stood watch as well. Karras barely made out the young shirvêsh in dark, who had not said a word since they left Irin's.
He still worried enough to keep listening for any sound of Gän'gehtin climbing the trunk to head off alone. Worse was what else he did not hear.
Along the way, with little Kaity still on his back, he had slowed often to listen for any sound. Perhaps a snarl or a yowl, maybe a shout or the clash of iron and steel in battle, but no, nothing. All that anyone had heard, as now, was the infrequent shift of foliage rustled by an intermittent breeze.
That was more unnerving for what else he had not—did not—hear.
Fiáh'our and the others could not have gone far to assault the pack. Why had he heard nothing of them? Likely Gän'gehtin wondered the same.
Karras grew edgy in the darkness and crouched down. Halfway along the trunk, he just made out Kaitlin's form all wrapped up in a heavy cloak. Hopefully, Kaity and the boys were close to her.
Much as the girl had never spoken and only stared wide-eyed at him, at least she had not run off when he first crouched in this place to let her off of his back. That was something, he supposed, and perhaps lessened his guilt.
No one should have to lose so much and be left so afraid.
Karras' focus wandered on that thought.
Why did such things make him think of Skirra? Was it because she and her family had lost all that mattered generations ago for whatever reason and been left into the lowest place among their people? Or was it that he had lost most everything that had once mattered to him in wanting her?
“Any notion of how much longer?”
Kaitlin's whisper pulled Karras back to awareness. It took a moment to follow what she meant. He looked upward but still found no hint of the moon.
“No,” he answered, “but we have been here a while, maybe past the mid of night.”
Suddenly weary, he rose and stepped to the edge of the slope beyond the uprooted pine. There he dropped to his haunches and hoped at least half of the night had passed. And not once had they heard anything in the night.
At a better angle, he looked to where he had heard Kaitlin. He made her out in the dark, though two other forms huddled close to her, likely the boys. Further along the tree were all of the others, though Gän'gehtin was nearly lost in the darkness. Suddenly, something small came creeping toward him.
It was so small, and when close enough, his gaze met with little Kaity's. Where had she come from? Those wide and fearful eyes never blinked in staring at him, not until he fidgeted.
“Go back to Kaitlin,” he whispered. “Try to sleep. Morning will come quicker that way.”
She did not move at first and, instead of doing as told, shuffled in on him.
Kaity dropped between his upright knees and looked up at him.
Karras was about to shoo her off when she crawled in closer and flopped against his stomach. He did not know what to do about that.
“I guess she's finally over you, little monster.”
Karras started and scowled at Kaitlin's whispered jibe, and then he felt Kaity shivering. He looked down at a loss, for his own cloak would not wrap around without getting up and tumbling her off.
“Haven't you ever taken care of child?”
“No,” he answered a bit petulant. “When would I have?”
At the rustle of heavy cloth, he looked up just as a heavy bulk of wool hit him in the face. Startled and panicked, he dropped his weapon to thud on the earth and clawed the rumpled blanket off his head. It snagged at first on his helmet.
“Start learning!” Kaitlin hissed at him. “It isn't difficult… even for a wits-rattled one like you.”
Karras finally jerked the blanket off. Instead of snapping back at the ex-sage, he sighed, frowned down at the girl, and did his best to drape the blanket over her. One corner of it he carefully pulled up over the top of Kaity's head. And he heard her breaths lengthen, deepen, and slow in the dark.
It was not a comfortable way to sit, but he did not dare move. And in listening to her finally fall asleep, he pulled her close in remembering his first journey with Fiáh'our out in the world.
The old braggart had claimed any rughìr warrior could sleep while walking. That had cost Karras more than one face-first slam against the earth all through that first night. Keeping to his vigil and fearfully shielding the girl, he did not topple this night.
13. Heartless
“Wake up, now, quickly!”
Karras shuddered though he barely shifted at being shoved. He blinked sleepily for it was bright out even though cloudy. Only half-aware that he had fallen asleep where he sat, Kaity straightened up off his stomach, and the blanket's corner slid off her head.
There were those little, wide, unblinking eyes again, but they were not looking his way. Karras followed those eyes to Kaitlin leaning down on him.
“Will you get up?” she demanded. “He's leaving, and you must stop him!”
He instinctively shrank away—and then panicked. He knew exactly who was him and scrambled up as Kaity quickly scrambled away.
Karras looked to the far end of the great tree, even as some of the young villagers were peeking over it.
Gän'gehtin was not there.
Karras lunged one step toward the backs of those villagers. William among them turned and looked as shocked and lost as his little sister. Karras veered toward the tree’s uprooted end rather than struggle up the bark of the round trunk. He stalled and back-stepped to snatch his weapon first and then ran on with Kaitlin right behind him.
Once he clawed up those roots and stood atop the trunk he saw what had panicked the ex-sage.
There was the young shirvêsh trudging across the ravine's floor toward the far slope.
“Gän!” he shouted. “Stop!”
The shirvêsh neither halted nor looked back.
Karras dropped off the tree trunk and ran, not bothering to shout again, for he knew it was pointless. What he might have to do he pushed out of his head, for it would have stopped him from even trying. As he closed and was about to grab the shirvêsh's arm, he hesitated.
“Go back,” Gän'gehtin said without breaking stride.
In one last rush, Karras cut around out in front and planted himself. Only that brought the shirvêsh t
o a halt.
“Get out of my way,” Gän'gehtin said quietly.
“How can you leave these people… be so callous?” Karras demanded amid pants. “What did we come here for if not for them?”
The shirvêsh said nothing at first, and then, “I go to find Fiáh'our and the others. They have been gone too long.”
“And if, what did he tell us to do?” Karras countered. “We must take these people to Fieldhaven.”
“You do not need me for that.”
“What if the pack is still out here?”
“I do not answer to you,” the shirvêsh half-shouted at him.
Karras hesitated. In that instant, he spotted Kaitlin over the shirvêsh's shoulder hurrying to reach them. It might have been better if she had stayed with the others.
“Then to whom?” Karras asked. “Without a shirvêsh's garb, are you not even that anymore? Would a guardian of Skâpagi walk away from people who need to be protected?”
“They are safe… and safer still, if I find the pack.”
Kaitlin was now close enough to hear that and stopped a staff's reach behind Gän'gehtin. She stared in shock at his back.
Karras had never heard such madness, not even from the old man.
“Alone?” he whispered, and then louder, “You think you can face them—and without even one slipping by you? No matter, they will know the others are outside the village because of you!”
“They will not,” he countered, “if they are dead.”
Karras lost his voice for an instant and then his temper. “Has there not been enough of that for you? Your hate gains you nothing. Vengeance has gained you nothing. And now it will cost everyone around you!”
In furious fright, he made a terrible mistake.
“What would your mother think, once a shirvêsh of your own temple?”
Kaitlin's lips parted in shock as she took another step.
Gän'gehtin's eyes widened with a shudder.
