Basiyr: Chronicles of Nahtan: Book 6 (The Herridon Chronicles)

by Kramer, D. L.

  "I caught a glimpse at the smithy, and I'd swear it's the one I've heard about," he said. "If it wasn't destroyed, then perhaps the stories of that last battle where it was seen aren't entirely true."

  Bear leaned back, resting his back against the wall. "How long ago was it supposedly destroyed?" he asked.

  Tabari pursed his lips, thinking. "It's been a long time since I've heard of that bow being used," he said. "That particular fight was maybe...twenty or twenty five years ago. A village a fair ways east of here was having trouble with raiders and hired a group of sellsword fighters to chase them off. Things turned badly for the villagers when the sellswords and raiders ended up in league one with the other. They say a farmer's son offered his service to Zakris if he'd help them and two days later riders came upon the village as the raiders were burning the fields.

  "Witnesses vary, some say there were a dozen riders, others say near twice that, but they all agree that one of the men carried a red wood longbow. The riders asked no questions, but immediately took to arms against the raiders and sellswords, chasing off those who didn't fall to the red bow's barbed arrows. But supposedly during the fight, the bowman was felled and the bow lost in the fires."

  Bear considered the story. Jedrik had said it had been years since the bow had been strung, and he did acknowledge fighting for whoever was paying good coin, so he supposed it was possible.

  He pulled the bow out and unwrapped it, handing it to Tabari.

  Tabari accepted it, handling it carefully, his fingers moving over the grain of the wood.

  "That's going to take a hard draw," he noted, his voice almost reverent.

  "That's why I'm retraining the draw carefully," Bear said.

  Tabari nodded, handing the bowstave back to him. "That does, indeed, look like the bow from the tale," he said. "You're sure this Jedrik was south with the Olorun armies? I'd be curious to hear how he got it, or if he was actually there at that fight where it was last seen. I suppose if he's as old as I've heard, though, he very well could have been there."

  Bear nodded. "You're really going to find them and watch the battle?"

  Tabari took a drink of his ale. "History forgets what we do not witness," he said. "And our words are how we bear that witness."

  "You really have a thing for words, don't you?"

  Tabari chuckled. "I ran away from home at a very young age," he said. "I learned pretty quickly that carrying material items became very cumbersome after a short time. The gods gave me feet so I could walk, or I could buy a horse and ride. If I didn't laden the horse with packs, I could ride further. But then I needed a way to pay for food, shelter and upkeep for the horse. With no goods, I had no way to barter, but with words, I could trade that. So I started telling stories I'd heard or about things I'd seen. Sometimes people would offer me a meal if I'd take a message to the next village for them. Sometimes I'd see or hear things and realize that someone else would be willing to trade more words for what I knew." He shrugged. "Over the years, I've come to learn that there is no weapon in this world as powerful as just the right word at just the right moment."

  Bear stared at him for a long moment. He was now doubting this was just a chance encounter. It wasn't the first time the gods would have placed someone there to help them when they needed it.

  "What words would you want from me to take a message to Jedrik for me?" he asked. He doubted Tabari would be able to get to Brijade, but Jedrik would be simple enough to get access to, and Jedrik could get it to her.

  Tabari shook his head. "You let me see the bowstave," he said. "I'll take your message."

  Bear nodded. "I'll be right back." He stood up and pulled his longbow over his head and arm, then left the tavern, carrying the bowstave. In Chase's packs, he found some parchment and pen and ink then went back to the tavern. He normally kept some on hand in case he had to issue orders quickly in his duties as captain of the guard. He supposed that was something he wouldn't have to worry about doing anymore.

  Back at the table, he wrote a quick note, then took one of the yellow beads from the pouch on his belt and folded it inside the parchment and handed it to Tabari. "Give that to Jedrik, please," he said. "And ask him to give it to Lady Takis."

  Tabari stared at him as he accepted it. "A noble lady?"

  Bear nodded. "I doubt you'll be able to get to her unless she's with Jedrik when you find him, but he'll be able to take it to her."

  Tabari looked at the parchment before tucking it into his belt. "No seal?"

  "I'm not nobility," Sewati replied. "And yes, I know curiosity is going to make you read it. It's not going to mean much to you, but hopefully it will to the person she's going to pass it onto."

  Tabari studied him for a long moment as he took a drink of his ale. "That bead was old," he said. "The paint was worn. A parents' perhaps? Mowik usually bury their dead with their beads, to have kept some must have been someone very close or very important--or perhaps both."

  Bear was silent, the memories of the night they'd burned and buried Notaku still fresh even after so many years. "We kept one of my mother's necklaces and divided the beads between my father, brother and myself to offer to the gods at services," he said. "So she'll get them all eventually anyway. I just hope the gesture isn't lost when that message reaches its final destination."

  "Except one bead can't be offered now," Tabari noted. "I admire these words. They're poetic, poignant, and tinged with great loss. Your words are closely guarded, Sewati, but cut deeply when you share them."

  "Ironic considering I'm an archer," Bear returned.

  Four - "What would your hero have done?"

  Gahrit leaned against the window frame, the brisk air blowing against him. He pulled his heavy cloak tighter around his arms, trying to ward off the chill of the air. Outside the window, he could see the walls surrounding the castle and Grand Cathedral compound just beyond the trees to the west. Beyond those walls, the rest of Herridon was contained by the tall outer wall that ringed the entire city.

  When the church guard army had first shown up, he had immediately locked down the gates and dispatched the Mo'ani throughout the city to keep things calm and reassure the citizens. His next step had been to take an inventory of what stores they had on hand and begin consolidating food and other supplies so they could control distribution.

  When there had been no sign of any Mo'ani armies right behind the church guards, he knew they had somehow managed to move their army here without anyone’s knowledge. The army was too large to have come through the mountains between Valin and the Stronghold, so that led him to the pass below Corydon. Going over the pass would have alerted Corydon and eventually Bavol, so they had to have found another way. That had led him to the library and digging through every old map he could find. Meda had helped him track down every book and scroll she could think of going back centuries for anyone who might have led an attack north. Once they'd found Thaniel's map, it was just a matter of figuring out how to get it out of the city.

  So Gahrit had started asking around the Mo'ani ranks, and sent Mehlis and Bredyn out into the city to ask around the citizens. His brother and sister had eventually tracked down a young man who'd won a city competition the previous year, beating out every other competitor in events like swimming the river and running both obstacle courses and distance. Bredyn had brought the young man to the castle and Gahrit had explained what he needed him to do, as well as how to get through the church guard ranks and the risks.

  He was relying on the siege force still being in somewhat disarray to allow the messenger to get through without too much notice. Men wandering around not sure who belonged where were going to be far less likely to notice someone running past than a bunch of bored soldiers sitting around waiting for orders.

  The young man had accepted, so Gahrit had made sure he had anything he said he needed, then sent him on his way with the map hidden in an empty waterskin, and orders to head south to Bavol or circle around and head east to the Stronghold, whi
chever way he felt would be the safer way to go. The Stronghold was closer, but would involve a lot more church guards to avoid, so the risk was considerably higher.

  Then they'd had no choice but to sit and wait and try to keep the citizens as calm as possible. It wasn't even a week later when the patrols on the wall sent in reports that they'd sighted the first Mo'ani armies appearing in the distance, letting Gahrit know the messenger had gotten through. More Mo'ani had been steadily showing up since then as word had reached the other holds and their armies had all marched on Herridon.

  "There's a crowd gathering down by the Cathedral gates," Mehlis said from behind him. "Rations from the north storehouse haven't been distributed yet this morning, so it's started rumors they're running low."

  Gahrit nodded, pausing before reaching over and pulling the window closed, his thin fingers latching the frame. He turned to look at his sister.

  Her blonde hair was pulled back into a braid, and she was dressed in her chain and leather armor, her red sash knotted around her hips. Her sword was sheathed on her back and even now with autumn in the air, her skin was a healthy tan, a sharp contrast to her older brother's pale skin and thin frame.

  "Get the rations distributed," Gahrit ordered. "Break the crowd into four or five sections to distribute it. It'll help it go faster, and keep them in smaller groups so any rioting will be less likely if there's a troublemaker in there somewhere."

  Mehlis nodded and turned to leave.

  "Mehlis--" Gahrit called after her. She paused by the door to look back at him. "Make one of the groups for families with children under five summers and make sure they get extra fruit and vegetable rations for the children."

  "Are you sure you want to give away extra food?" she asked him.

  Gahrit nodded.

  "Men and women with families that have been taken care of will fight to defend just as eagerly as those who have been wronged will fight to overthrow," he told her. "Besides, we have the harvest that made it into the city before I closed the gates to finish storing still, so I'd rather clear out food while it's good rather than risk it going bad from letting it sit too long."

  "You know, you do have a lieutenant Nahtan left you with who you could give these orders to," Mehlis pointed out to him. "I failed to get my cloak before Nahtan left, the Mo'ani don't like listening to me."

  "Lieutenant Derrec is already taking care of something else," Gahrit told her. "So is Bredyn. You were here, you get the orders. They'll listen to you because you're the daughter of Lord and Lady Corydon." He walked away from the window, coming back to the large desk. "You just weren't ready to earn your cloak, Mehlis, and you tried taking on Nahtan to do it. Even he told you that you'd have it soon, I don't know why you're still beating yourself up over that."

  "You know why, Gahrit," she told him, then turned and left the room.

  Gahrit sighed and sat in the chair behind the desk. He did know why. For many years, his parents had doubts about whether he'd even reach adulthood, let alone be healthy enough to be able to run Corydon when they were gone, so they had considered making Mehlis the heir to their hold. Once they knew Gahrit would survive and his years of childhood illness had no effect on his ability to think or communicate, they had agreed to name him as heir. Then both Dahlos and Sevanha had begun drilling into his brother and sister that they would be expected to be his strength of arms. Mehlis was just barely passed her twentieth summer, and had become a skilled swordswoman in her own right, but earning a Mo'ani's cloak had so far eluded her. In her challenge with Nahtan to try to earn one before he left, she'd been so tightly worked up over it she'd made mistakes that in the end had cost her the victory that would have gotten him to give her one.

  Gahrit did blame their parents, they had placed unreal expectations on both her and Bredyn from an early age. Mehlis being a child who had wanted nothing more than to please her parents, had tried to live up to those expectations. Now when she failed, it was hard for her to see beyond the failure.

  Bredyn was almost two years behind her in the Mo'ani training, and while showing just as much promise, he wasn't as driven as their sister and seemed able to handle failures better.

  He looked up when the door opened and Meda came in, carrying several more books.

  "I found a few more journals," she said, bringing them over to him. Her brown hair was pulled into a topknot, and she was dressed in a fitted blouse and skirt. There was something exquisitely beautiful in her features, no matter what angle you looked at her from. She was a far cry from what most librarians and scholars tended to look like. Gahrit was one of the few who knew she was one of Jensina's servants in mortal form sent to help Nahtan when he was a boy. Most others just wondered why a woman with her features had settled for sitting surrounded by books and scrolls every day instead of one of the many men who would have happily courted her.

  "Thank you," he said. "I don't suppose you found any that told you how to feed a city through the winter on limited stores?"

  Meda looked through the spines on the books she'd brought. "No, I don't think so," she said. "But honey will help preserve things."

  "I need the honey for the healers and surgeons," Gahrit returned. "Eventually we're going to have fighting, and I need them to be able to keep infections to an absolute minimum. If my choice is saving the lives of a dozen soldiers or preserving a dozen apples, I'll take the soldiers."

  "Fish?"

  "I'm already pulling every fish out of the river and canals that I can."

  "Grainhouses still full?"

  "Yes, thankfully we'd gotten the early harvests in before I had to close the gates."

  Meda set the books on the desk.

  "What would your hero have done?"

  Gahrit glanced at her as he looked at the books she'd brought him. "Thaniel would have fed them hard grain bread, vegetable mashes and salted meats," he replied. "All of which I'm saving for when it snows just in case we're stuck here that long."

  Meda sat in the chair across from him. "Do you think it'll take that long?"

  Gahrit met her gaze, considering what to say. Nahtan had disclosed to him who she was in a letter with his written orders he'd left behind giving Gahrit command of the Mo'ani and city guards within Herridon. He'd wanted Gahrit to know about every asset he'd have at his disposal just in case he needed it.

  "I don't know what Jensina tells you," he said, deciding to let her know he knew. "I do know you aren't allowed to interfere beyond a certain point because it would be considered cheating on some level." He nodded when she stared at him, obviously not expecting him to have known. "So I'm going to trust this to stay in confidence if you didn't already know it. There are at least five thousand church guards surrounding this city, possibly as many as seven thousand. I have eight hundred Mo'ani and three hundred city guards within the walls. Corydon Hold had almost fifteen hundred Mo'ani. Nahtan hadn't received updated counts yet from the other holds, so I don't know for sure what they have, but I will tell you that even if he returns with the full thousand men he went south with, we do not have enough Mo'ani to break this siege.

  "They've been out there for weeks, and I've received no word from any commanding officer with terms or offering to allow citizens to leave. I don't know who's commanding them. I don't know what their orders are. I don't know why they aren't trying to break down Herridon's gates yet. All I know is right now the biggest threat to this city is the people inside it. I need to keep the people calm, because if rioting starts, it'll tear this city--and subsequently this kingdom--apart from the inside out. They can't see out the gates, and they can't get onto the walls, so all they know is there is a siege going on. They have no idea how bad it really is. They've been told the Mo'ani armies have the invading army surrounded, but they don't know it's by a laughably small ring.

  "So for now, I need to make sure they stay fed, their homes stay warm, and their lives continue on as normally as possible until we can figure out how to break that siege."

  Meda watched
him for a long moment before responding.

  "I can see I'm going to have to have a long discussion with Nahtan when he gets back," she noted. She continued when Gahrit shrugged in response. "You've spent your life doing nothing but delving into the minds of men who waged war," she pointed out. "What you couldn't do with your own two hands, you learned with your mind. Why would you bring a siege force that large to a city, then have them just sit there?"

  "There are a number of reasons," he replied. "Waiting for a particular commanding officer to arrive. Waiting for some other event. It's also entirely possible they know how low the Mo'ani numbers are after the war with the Archbishop and just plan to starve us out. Come spring they could break down the gates, walk in, kill the last few survivors, burn the bodies and have themselves a crown city."

  Meda nodded. "All possible," she agreed. "Why would Thaniel of Basiyr have done it?"

  Gahrit took a slow breath, leaning back in his chair. Valerik and Thaniel had begun their campaign to conquer the southern lands when both men were in their early twenties. Circumstances had brought their paths to cross and they'd immediately formed a bond of brotherhood. The two together had been nearly unstoppable. They had coordinated attacks and battles down to within seconds of each other, planning every last detail. Thaniel would spend weeks or even months learning the weaknesses of any new enemy they approached, and once he'd devised a plan, Valerik would lead his armies through with brutal determination.

  More than once, in order for Valerik to take down another warlord who stood in his way, Thaniel had led a second army against another target to divert some of the warlord's forces there.

  "Thaniel would have done it as a distraction," he stated. "The only time he marched an army separately from Valerik's was to divide an enemy's forces or keep their attention somewhere else so Valerik could get his army where they needed it."

  "Is there somewhere else Thorvald could be trying to get to?"

  Gahrit shook his head. "There are no other strategic points in the kingdom for him. Valin is the only other way in from the south and the city is the hub of the kingdom."