He fell deep within the gemstone and deep within himself, exploring all the corners of his aging physical form.
He found those areas of pain, the clenched muscles and weakened bones and he used the magic of the hematite to bring relief and healing and energy. For a very long while, Yakim Douan stood there, purging his body of impurities and infirmities. He knew that it would be a temporary and imperfect fix for the one ailment that could never be cured: aging. But this would get him through the next months in relative comfort, until the time came for him to cheat the end result of aging once again.
Merwan Ma came upon Chezru Chieftain Yakim Douan quite by accident that day. He went to the chalice chamber merely to clean the place - for the care of such a sacred area could not be entrusted to mere servants.
He was quite surprised to find Douan in there, so much so, in fact, that he gave a little cry when he noticed the Chezru.
But Yakim Douan, deep into the magic by that point, didn’t even hear him.
That lack of response piqued Merwan Ma’s curiosity. He scolded himself for intruding upon the God-Voice, and started out of the room, but his natural curiosity held him, for just a bit.
Merwan Ma could not understand what was going on in there, for it was no ritual that the God-Voice had ever related to him. And while he understood that Yakim Douan could not be questioned, nor could he err in matters spiritual, something about all of this settled uncomfortably on Merwan Ma’s shoulders.
The realization of his discomfort only prompted the loyal servant of Ya-tol to scold himself again and remind himself that he was ignorant.
Ignorant.
He scurried out of the room, taking care to close the door gently so that he did not disturb the great Chezru Chieftain.
He consciously denied his feelings of discomfort.
His subconscious was not so easily controlled.
chapter
Never the Horse
e was Togai-ru, and not Behrenese. Brynn had no doubt of that at all from the moment she had entered the tapestried room in the Yatol Temple to stand before Yatol Daek Gin Gin Yan. His hair was straight and raven black, and his skin was not the delicate, chocolate brown most common among the Behrenese, but held a ruddier hue, a touch of yellow within the rich tones so unique to the To-gai-ru. While at first glance, his physique seemed more like that of a Behrenese man, the softer and rounder lines more common among people living in the luxury of cities, Brynn noted the strong underlying musculature along his bare forearms. And when he shifted in his seat so that his flowing robes tightened about one leg, she noted, too, the muscular set of his thighs, both indicative of the hard riding of a To-gai-ru.
He stared hard at Brynn as she stood there calmly before him, with Dee’-dakh, who was half a foot taller than she, at her side. The Yatol narrowed his eyes several times, and stubbornly did not blink, obviously trying to in-^Jimidate the woman.
Brynrrworked hard not to match that stare. Knowing that this man was To-gai-ru made her hate him all the more. He was a traitor to his people, abandoning the old ways and embracing the conquerors’. He was everything that Brynn was not, holding fast to everything she despised - she knew that from his title and his heritage. There was little more, if anything, that needed to be said between them, as far as she was concerned. But Yatol Daek wouldn’t see things that way, she knew, and so she let him play his game for the time being.
„Kayleen Kek,“ he said, a hint of derision in his somewhat shrill voice speaking perfect To-gai-ru. „I did not know that any of Kayleen Kek remained anywhere to be found. Certainly they do not proudly announce their presence.“
The insult rolled from Brynn’s shoulders; she gave it hardly a thought. She knew that she was being tested.
„I see that you chose to wear your sword,“ Yatol Daek observed.
„It would bring dishonor to you if I had not,“ Brynn replied. „This is a meeting of station, and my station is that of warrior. To come in here adorned differently, for our initial meeting, would be deceptive, would it not?“
She had spoken truthfully concerning To-gai-ru tradition. A sheathed sword was a sign of honesty, not of threat.
At her side, Dee’dahk bristled, giving Brynn the distinct impression that the warrior woman was not nearly as deaf to the To-gai-ru language as she had pretended at their first meeting.
„You fancy yourself a warrior, then,“ said Yatol Daek.
„I am. There is no pride. There is no ambition. There is only truth.“
„A fine warrior, I suppose.“
„It is not a measure that I seek,“ Brynn answered. „My skills have kept me alive through my trials, and thus, they have been sufficient.“ She couldn’t help but twinge a bit as she considered that her skills had not been enough to keep Belli’mar Juraviel and Cazzira alive. Her answer was perfectly in line, again, with To-gai-ru tradition, where such things as battle skill were not measured for vanity, but more for pragmatism. Rather, skill levels were viewed as more akin to one’s legs - long enough to reach the ground.
„There is a true warrior standing beside you, you know,“ Yatol Daek remarked.
„I am well aware of the reputation of the Chezhou-Lei,“ Brynn calmly answered. She subtly glanced to the side as she spoke, noting that Dee’dahk had stiffened a bit with pride.
„Perhaps I should arrange a contest between you two,“ Yatol Daek said, speaking more to himself, it seemed, than to Brynn or Dee’dahk. „Yes, that might be a fine idea.“
„To what end?“
Brynn’s blunt question elicited a glare her way from the traitor To-gai-ru. „Is it your place to question?“
Brynn gave a hint of a shrug, but otherwise did not answer.
„Perhaps I will arrange such a contest for my amusement,“ Yatol Daek went on. „Yes, watching two women do battle for my enjoyment…“
Brynn let it all roll away from her, thinking the man a perfect fool. She entertained a fantasy of allowing Daek Gin Gin Yan his game, of slaughtering Dee’dahk then turning her wondrous blade upon the Yatol, cutting him down in front of the whole, grateful village.
Patience, she reminded herself. Patience.
„Let me see your sword,“ the Yatol said suddenly, motioning to her with one outstretched hand.
Brynn drew out the fabulous weapon and presented it vertically before her, but not close enough for the Yatol to grasp it.
„Hand it over,“ he instructed.
Rrvnn slowly turned the blade around, allowing him to view the master-crafting and design, but did not move it out toward his hand at all. H°r expression was not defiant, nor was it confrontational.
„The code of the To-gai-ru warrior prevents me from handing my sword
nv but one who has defeated me at irysh kad’du,’„ she said quietly, refer-
ring to the greatest challenge in To-gai-ru society, a test of horsemanship
kad’du has been outlawed,“ Yatol Daek said. „You know that, of
Brvnn most certainly did not know of that. For a moment, she allowed her flash of stunned amazement to show upon her face. Had it gone that far already? Had the To-gai-ru been so completely conquered that they had abandoned the most sacred of their rituals, irysh kad’du? How had her proud people allowed this to happen without going back to war with the Behrenese?
Brynn fought hard to put all of that out of her thoughts, reminding herself that this was not the time for violence. She needed to use this place, and this traitorous Yatol, to gain better insights into her enemies.
Yatol Daek reached out a bit farther, motioning for the sword, and despite her desire to maintain a controlled environment there, she made a quick movement that slid her precious sword back into its scabbard.
Fires burned in Yatol Daek’s dark eyes.
„If the challenge is outlawed, then none shall touch my sword until I am dead,“ Brynn stated, and Dee’dahk at her side bristled again, like a horse straining at the bit.
Yatol Daek sat bac
k and continued to stare at Brynn, an amused expression on his plump face.
For a moment, Brynn thought that she had stepped over the line, that the man would agree to her terms and instruct Dee’dahk to kill her. Still, on this point there could be no other open path; Brynn would certainly not turn over her amazing elven sword to any potential enemy!
Yatol Daek relaxed, though, and the moment of danger seemed to pass. You may remain in the village,“ he decided suddenly, and he waved his hand and looked away.
It took Bryrm d moment to catch on, but she realized that she had been dismissed, ancTso, with a shrug, turned and started toward the door.
without a proper pronouncement of departure?“ came Yatol Daek’s question behind her.
Brynn turned, looking at him with confusion. Apparently, she had broken yet another rule.
1 will forgive yet another of your transgressions,“ Yatol Daek remarked naughtily. „But if you intend to stay here - indeed, Brynn Dharielle, if you intend to survive - then you would do well to learn what is expected of
you.“
Brynn resisted the urge to show him her sword again, this time horizontally and point out.
She made no gestures at all, though, no sign of confirmation or denial of his last statement, and walked out of the room and out of the building. She knew that Daek Gin Gin Yan was inside conversing with Dee’dahk at that very moment, likely trying to discern the best method for discrediting Brynn in front of the other To-gai-ru, or for simply eliminating her altogether. She knew that she would be watched every step during her stay in Yatol Daek’s domain, and she suspected that her refusal to bend to his will would force a confrontation with him, and with Dee’dahk, fairly soon.
She knew, too, the dangers of that course, for this was a fine opportunity for her to come to understand better the truth of the present state of To-gai.
But so be it, she decided.
Layered in skins, from the shaggy and heavy coat of the brown ox to the silver accents of the wolf, and with a tall and strong physique of corded, rolling muscle, Ashwarawu looked every bit as fierce as the reputation that preceded him. His long legs hung far below the belly of his pinto pony, seeming as if he could guide the creature easily through any maneuver.
Which he could.
His jaw was square and firm, his brow furrowed, a line of thick black hair accenting it from one side of his face to the other. That pronounced brow only added to the mystery and intensity of his dark eyes below it.
It was said that many of Ashwarawu’s enemies simply surrendered to him on the battlefield, begging for a quick and merciful death. Anyone who looked upon the angry To-gai-ru warrior did not doubt those rumors.
„They have not finished the wall,“ one of the great leader’s scouts reported to him.
Ashwarawu nodded grimly, then turned to regard the single stone marker set in the grass, up from the banks of a dry riverbed: the spot where a young To-gai-ru man, Jocyn Tho by name, had been staked out and murdered.
Ashwarawu had brought his gang there purposely. He wanted them to see this marker - yet another example of the brutality of Yatol Grysh and his murdering soldiers. Many of Ashwarawu’s warriors were of that assaulted clan. Many had known Jocyn Tho.
It was just one more insult to the To-gai-ru, one more reminder that they and the Behrenese were not alike and not allies, and that they, whatever the cost, had to expel the conquerors from their sacred lands.
Ashwarawu walked his mount right past the stone marker. He tapped the tip of his great spear once, twice, thrice on the stone marker, a traditional signal from living To-gai-ru warrior to deceased that his death would soon be avenged. One by one, Ashwarawu’s warriors walked past the grave marker, tapping their weapons similarly.
The leader looked at his clansmen, his warriors, his friends, and he knew that they were ready this day.
„The builders understand?“ Ashwarawu asked his scout.
„They believe that they can sneak in a score, and hide them,“ the man
A sly smile crossed the leader’s face. The folly of the conquerors to use the conquered in projects as vital as the building of fortifications! It hadn’t taken much effort on Ashwarawu’s part to make contact with the To-gai-ru wall-building slaves, and had taken even less to convince them to render aid
in the attack.
He barked out a command to one of his undercommanders to organize the score of infiltrators, and with precision honed over the months of fighting, the undercommander was soon away, trotting across the steppes with nineteen eager warriors in tow. They would hide in the grass outside the town Douan Gal until dusk, and then, as the slaves arranged for distractions, crawl into the town one by one to their appointed hiding places. It was all too easy.
Ashwarawu led the attack just before the next dawn. With a hundred warriors riding behind him, the great outlaw charged the still-sleeping settlement of Douan Cal.
Cries went up along the wall, from the sentries, calls to all the Behre-nese settlers to take up arms and defend their homes. Dozens of men and women went up to those walls, twenty skilled To-gai-ru soldiers filtering up beside them.
Ashwarawu came in straight and strong, his spear held high above his head, the song of the warrior god, Joek, on his lips. The settlers rained arrows down on the attackers, but the thundering horde did not slow and did not turn.
And unlike the frightened Behrenese, the fierce To-gai-ru did not loose their missiles from a distance. They waited until they were in close, drawing back powerful bows - and no race in all the world could handle a bow from horseback better than the warriors of the steppes.
The thunder of the charge held-ffhen, with Ashwarawu and his warriors milling about the base ofthewall, which was barely higher than a tall man, firing arrow after arrow./
A Behrenese occasionally rose up to return the fire, but the barrage had him ducking, or had hirrxdead,sllmost immediately.
Another group within the^To-gai-ru archers went to work then, tossing grapnels up over the wall top, then turning their powerful ponies about and starting the pull immediately. As pony after pony hooked up, the wall began to groan and sway.
The Behrenese responded by charging to the spot, ready to loose a fierce barrage, ready to slice through the tugging lines.
But then the score of To-gai-ru infiltrators sprang up among the defenders, disrupting their shots and shattering any coordinated defense. Out-poster after outposter was heaved over the wall, to fall to the dust at the feet of the merciless Ashwarawu.
Then the wall came crashing down, and battle was joined, and the mounted To-gai-ru sliced the lines of standing Behrencse apart with devastating precision.
For all of its construction, Douan Cal was not prepared for so large an attack, and had no chance of beginning to repel even the first assault. Many were dead or on the ground screaming in agony within a few minutes. Out-maneuvered, outflanked, and outfought, those who remained soon enough threw down their weapons, pleading for mercy.
Their answer came in one chilling word, „Ashwarawu.“
The captive men were bound and taken away, out to the dry riverbed, where a select few were untied and forced to dig holes in the sand, so that their bound kin could be buried up to their waists. In turn, Ashwarawu s own warriors dug the holes for the remaining captive men.
Then, with forty-three Behrenese men squirming in the sand, buried to their waists and helplessly bound and blindfolded, Ashwarawu led in the To-gai-ru nomads of Jocyn Tho’s tribe, showing to them the many stones left by the dried-up river.
The stoning went on for hours, until the last Behrenese outposter leaned over limply, dead.
Most of Ashwarawu’s men left before it was finished, returning to Douan Cal to have their way with the Behrenese women before killing them outright.
The few children of the outposters were killed mercifully, at least, a single blow to the head before being thrown atop a large bonfire.
Jocyn Tho had been a
venged.
Her last transgression when leaving Yatol Daek, she learned, was one that offended her profoundly. In leaving the presence of Yatol Daek, To-gai-ru were expected to drop to one knee and bow their heads.
Brynn took great care over the next few weeks to avoid the Yatol, for she doubted that she could bring herself to do that, whatever the result.
The young ranger also took great care to learn well the rituals of life in the settlement. She tried to fit in as well as she could, though, since she would not go anywhere without her sword and the bracer, at least, she always seemed to stand out.
She also made time every day to go and see Runtly. The pony, who had run free all of his life, was not pleased to be indoors in a stall.
„Not much longer,“ Brynn promised him every time she went to him. „We will be away to the wide fields again.“
The pony seemed to understand, and always calmed down when Brynn came in to see him. The last few days, though, Runtly had continued his ribbing, biting the wood at the front of the stall and tugging it back, even
‘hen Brynn was there, a clear sign that he was not happy.
Outwardly, Brynn remained calm, not wanting to distress the pony any
ore Inside, though, the woman bit it all in and swirled it about, adding . e situation to the list of crimes of the Behrenese, using it to build her hatred even more.
But she refused to allow her simmering anger to boil over. She was learning much there about the Behrenese and about the present state of the proud To-gai-ru. Many were assimilating; to Brynn’s distress she heard more than one of her fellow villagers claiming that the new way of life introduced by the Behrenese conquerors was preferable to the old ways.
Not all of them felt that way, though. Certainly not old Barachuk and Tsolona, who peppered Brynn for tales of Kayleen Kek every night after they had retired to the old couple’s home. Though she didn’t have many tales to tell of that long-past time, Brynn always tried to accommodate -
id she always tried to draw out recollections of the past from the old couple. And so it happened that these two, Barachuk and Tsolona, became Brynn’s informal tutors, schooling her in the way things had been, and in the way she intended for things to be again.
Transcendence Page 22
