The Treason Blade (Battle for Alsaar Book 1)

by Keech, Jenny Rebecca

  Ber snorted. “Eira knows my mind. Besides, Lute woman fight when a war comes upon them. They do not desire to go off into battle for the rest of their life like the Haaldyn women.”

  “Perhaps this is a time to better understand the Haaldyn now that we have one amongst us,” Davaris said. His glance had turned from Lysandr and he stared down into his drink thoughtfully.

  “Understand,” Ber roared. “What is to understand? They cannot be trusted. Ask the Lute! They have been fighting them for over a hundred years, and we have all had our own run-ins with them.”

  Traevyn set the arrow down and picked up another one. He never looked up as he continued the inspection of the weapons. His straight black hair was hacked off at the base of his neck. It fell forward now, hiding his face. “We were at war with them. They were the Lutes’ enemies so they were our enemies. They have kept the peace for two years. Perhaps Davaris is right. We should learn more about this enemy, especially now that another enemy crouches at our door.”

  Glyndwr turned a considerate glance toward Lysandr. “You think that is why she is here? The Tourna?”

  Lysandr heaved a sigh and nodded. “Possibly.”

  “But can they be trusted?” Gavin broke in with a frown.

  Lysandr emptied his cup and set it down with a final thump. He rose and turned to go. He paused and looked back. “That remains to be seen. If you have any more questions, why do you not just ask her yourself at the evening meal? That is if you can stomach sitting across from a Haaldyn and eating at the same time.” With a few words, Lysandr made his sentiments known, and his jaw tightened. “Let us just hope that Varyk returns and soon,” he muttered. Lysandr stalked out of the public gathering place. His black eyes flickered to the main fortress and his thoughts to the Haaldyn within.

  2

  Ishar chose to leave off armor. Wearing protective clothing to the evening meal held great possibilities of encouraging the wrong impression. She decided to change to comfortable clothing that would be more appropriate for an evening meal with intended allies. The loose-fitting but shaped, long blue wool tunic split on the sides to right above the knees. The sleeves dangled flowing and wide and stopped at the elbows. Under it, she wore the same style of pants, as before, but these were made of a finer, softer material. A Haaldyn warrior’s clothing was at all times practical and battle ready. Under the tunic, cinched high on her right thigh was a short heavy dagger called a dwæn. No Haaldyn warrior ever went weaponless. Both the gown and pants had intricate embroidery and delicate beading; an oddly feminine slant to warriors who had turned away from most things that defined them as women.

  Ishar ran her fingers through her short chopped strands, unraveling any snares. Most Haaldyn warriors kept their hair either reasonably short or braided tightly. It would not do for your hair to get you killed in battle, though even a Haaldyn woman who was not a warrior did not wear her hair undone and long down her back like the Lute and Britai but kept it at least braided and, if possible, tucked up. To do otherwise was the sign of a loose woman. Among the Haaldyn, only the Wædym did such things. They were the common and immoral women who sold their favors on the streets to men, and most of them had the common sense to cover some of their length with a veil. Ishar smoothed the clothing and took deep breaths to ready herself. She was prepared when the deep knock rang out.

  The woman who entered was of average height with the pale skin of the Lute and shoulder length light brown hair. She paused at the sight of Ishar. Her deep brown eyes showed no emotion as she spoke. “I am Audris. Lady Eira has assigned me to see to any needs you might have. I will show you to the main hall and then see to the hearth and start a fire to warm the room. She rubbed her arms briskly even as she spoke.

  The room was cool but there was no harsh chill that Ishar could detect. However, she did not want to insult the woman. Eira had said the night could become quite cold. If it did not, she could always undo the draping and let the breeze in when she returned. Ishar smiled and nodded to the Lute woman. “Thank you, Audris.” She added with a cautionary tone, “But not a heavy flame, please.”

  Audris did not return the smile but at least there was no outright hostility in her eyes. There was just the same cool politeness that Lysandr had shown. The woman gave a nod of her head. “Of course. Our weather is much milder than the northern region of Alsaar. I will remember.”

  Ishar motioned to her discarded shirt and pants. “Could I be shown a place to clean my clothes? I have several days of wear on these and while I have a fresh pair, I need to attend to them.”

  Audris gave another nod. “It will be taken care of. Please, think no more on it.” She motioned toward the door. “If you please?”

  Ishar thought of arguing, but simply nodded and followed the woman out the door. As she walked, dread tightened her stomach. Would she be able to even eat? The stirred feeling within her was the same as on the day of a battle. Ishar did not look forward to the coming meal for she was certain Eira would not be the only one in attendance. She tried to determine if she was in the mood for a battle of words. She was not certain which would disturb her more, fighting words or feigned politeness reigning over the evening meal. A thought came to her as she followed Audris down the stairs: perhaps an honest assessment would let everyone know where they stood. Ishar straightened her back and lifted her head as she came to the first floor and turned a corner. On the other hand, she represented her people this night. Ishar took a deep breath as she went through the open doorway into the main hall. She decided the best action was to be gracious to her hosts and guard her tongue. Once inside, Audris gave a brisk bow of her head and a show of her hand toward the part of the room where Eira stood, then turned and left the room.

  The two large hearths now burned with strong fires. Torches lined the walls of the well-lit room. Long tables had been pulled to the middle of the room, and even as she walked toward Eira, food was in the process of being set along the side next to one of the fires by the servants. Benches were positioned by the tables. Eira stood before the fireplace to the right of the doorway where Ishar had entered. Ishar waited a moment until Eira had finished words with another woman, a Britai girl who wore her dark brown hair long like Eira’s but pulled back with combs. The Britai girl gave a bow to Eira and walked toward and by Ishar. As she passed by, her gray eyes flickered to Ishar. Ishar’s eyes widened at the vehement hatred that solidly met her in the short glare. Then the girl slipped by and through the doorway.

  Ishar slipped a neutral veneer over her face. She wanted no troubled thoughts to show and Eira had seen nothing of the exchange. The Lute woman now wore a long red gown with a draped brown belt across her waist. Ishar smiled and gave a short bow before speaking. “Lady Eira. Thank you for attaching Audris to me for the duration of my visit. It was thoughtful.” She said this with a formal politeness. More than likely Audris had been placed to keep an eye on her movements within the holding but it was no more than she herself would have done if the situation had been reversed.

  Eira returned the nod with a brief grimace. “Please, it is Eira, nothing more.” A smile brightened her expression. “I am glad you like Audris. When I came to live here, she was among a group of Lute who insisted on following me to my new home. She is a great source of comfort whenever I have homesickness for my native lands.”

  Ishar nodded. “Your father resides in the dense woodland beneath the deep cliffs of Hwarsträ, the start of the Twyndur Mountain Range.”

  Eira nodded. “Though we have always called the cliffs Swarbua. ‘Soft shadows’ has always held a much better appeal than ‘blood drop.’”

  Ishar winced. Less than five minutes into the conversation and already she had managed to insult her hostess by reminding her of the battle of Lendyr, where the Haaldyn had engaged the Lute and ended up driving many off the cliffs to a bloody death at the bottom. She bit her lip. Perhaps there was wisdom in warriors not being sent as negotiators of peace.

  Eira must have caught her expressio
n. She paused and gave Ishar a weak smile. “Forgive me. The name you call the cliffs has stood for your people for nearly a hundred years. It is a past hurt for my people that has probably long been forgotten by yours.” Eira shook her head sadly. “Nothing is ever as easy as it seems.” She paused and sighed. “And after I swore I would deal with our futures and not the past.” She gave a concentrated glance toward Ishar, her look troubled as she continued. “Let me start again. I wish the conversation between us to be true.” Eira spoke as if finding sure footing. “I am sure the coming days will be trying. I am also certain that I will undoubtedly say or do something in that time without thinking that will probably have the effect of insulting you. Let us start these coming talks by trying to be honest and accepting with one another and more than anything, slow to anger.

  The earlier tension rolled out of Ishar and she smiled. “I agree.”

  Eira relaxed. “Good.” She gave a light laugh. “Then there is only the evening meal to survive. I will apologize beforehand. While there is hope peace might reign on everyone’s mind in view of the coming Tourna, that is not always the case. And while all of Varyk’s Raanan warriors are in perfect control in battle, a few tend to relax and speak what is on their minds here at home. But Varyk would have it no other way. He feels people should always say what is on their mind.” She smiled again; humorous irritation splayed across her face as she finished, “No matter how much trouble it can occasionally cause.”

  Ishar found she could not help but laugh. Eira was an excellent hostess, with the potential of becoming a good friend.

  They made their way toward the table. The servants had finished with the placement of the food and stood at the sides, ready to refill whatever was required. Since Varyk was not at home, Eira made her way to the head of the table and sat. She motioned Ishar to her left side. Ishar moved to join her. Eira leaned over and spoke conspiratorially, “Who knows, maybe they will stay away tonight and we can speak in private about the great hopes we have for the future of our two peoples.”

  That was not to be the case.

  *

  Lysandr was the first to make an appearance. He slipped into the seat on Eira’s right side and gave another polite nod to Ishar. Eira saw Ishar bristle. Movement caught her eye and she watched as Gavin and Glyndwr made their way to the table. Both unabashedly studied Ishar before nodding to Lysandr as they sat. They chose positions about halfway down on Ishar’s side. Jusa entered behind them and sat on Lysandr’s side but a bench down from him. Ber’s entrance was anything but calm. The thud of his hand hitting the door announced his presence, along with his raucous laugh. Jaya and a quiet Davaris entered right behind him. All three sat farther down from Jusa. Ber sent a scowl Ishar’s way as he slid onto the bench. Eira groaned inwardly even as she greeted them and motioned for the servants to begin serving the meal. As the servants came forward, the last of the resident Raanans slipped in. Traevyn, silent as ever, entered and took the chair next to Lysandr. He too, objectively studied Ishar in a forward manner.

  Eira glanced at Ishar. The young woman stared back at the men and Jaya with a veiled expression. She did not appear to be insulted by the intense looks. Eira gave a slight nod in her direction. “Ishar, I will make the introductions.” Eira motioned to her right side. “You have met Lysandr. He is the second-in-command under Varyk and,” she added with a smile, “a fine swordsman. Next to him is Traevyn, an expert archer, then Jusa, our Steward. Next to him is Davaris, a man who can slice through solid stone, so strong is his sword arm. The one beside him, who is anything but quiet, is Ber, who shows an excellent talent for Pwuta blades, and finally Jaya, who is pledged to Ber. She helps in managing the public gathering area.” Ishar gave a nod of silent greeting. Eira continued, motioning with her left hand. “Past you is Gavin, an excellent ax thrower and swordsman, then Glyndwr, another fine archer.” Eira’s glance took in everyone. “And although I am sure you have all heard of her presence, I would like to introduce Ishar, daughter of Ryen of the Haaldyn. She has been welcomed into Taryn holding and awaits the return of Varyk. She brings all of us greetings from Ryen and the Haaldyn people. While she awaits Varyk’s return, I have extended to her freedom of movement within the holding.”

  Eira saw Lysandr’s shoulders instantly tighten. He would have words with her later for not talking with him about this. The rest of the warriors would automatically assume Lysandr had agreed to this and not told them. However she felt the sudden decision was right. If peace was to come to the island, adjustments would have to be made. She watched Ber scowl and Glyndwr and Gavin frown. Davaris, as usual, looked thoughtful. Traevyn gave away nothing. He only turned his dark gaze and watched her for a moment before he glanced back toward Ishar, who did nothing to give away that this was news to her as well.

  Ber could not contain himself. He set his cup sharply upon the table and turned to face her. There was hostility in his voice as he asked, “Do you think that is wise, Eira?”

  “Ber,” Lysandr warned while he stared straight ahead toward Ishar. Eira could see Lysandr was angry by her actions.

  “Do not ‘Ber’ me, Lysandr. It is an honest question.” He motioned toward Ishar. “She is a Haaldyn and a soldier. How do we know she is not some Haaldyn spy sent among us to gather information for her people for the purpose of it being used against us?”

  Anger flared. Eira stood and faced Ber with livid eyes. “How dare you insult a guest I have admitted to this holding.” She turned toward Ishar. “Please, forgive this insult. Ber has no right.”

  Ishar cleared her throat as she calmly reached and took a sip of her drink. “On the contrary,” She said softly, “He has every right to speak.” Eira felt surprise ripple through her at Ishar’s words and she saw the emotion reflected also in Lysandr’s expression. Traevyn remained impassive. Eira watched as Ishar turned her expression down the table toward Ber. “I would expect no less from a warrior of my own people if a stranger came amongst them in such a time of unsettlement. Ber has a care and concern to this holding and to the people who reside within and without its walls.” Ishar faced Eira. “It will not offend me if a person were assigned to keep me company during my stay here. They would also be an able guide when I ride outside the walls. My horse, Simi, will need exercise daily if I am to keep her in working condition.” Eira opened her mouth to argue but Ishar shrugged and added, “At least at the beginning,” her glance took in the entire table, “while we began to comprehend,” she paused, “our differences.”

  Eira frowned. She saw the expression on Lysandr’s face had become one of confusion but he quickly wiped it away and looked down in his glass. Even Ber seemed taken back. Eira thought over the words. If it would help ease tension for the beginning of Ishar’s stay, perhaps it would be wiser. She nodded. “Fine. If it will make everyone more settled I will assign—” She let her glance roam the table. Ber, Gavin, and Glyndwr might be too quick to seek trouble. Lysandr had too many other duties that she could not take him away from. Her eyes came to rest on one of them. “—Traevyn. He will guide you during your days in the compound and out among the surrounding countryside until Varyk returns.” Traevyn’s glance revealed no emotion at her words. He kept close at hand his emotions at the prospect of his new duties. “When Varyk returns, I am sure he will agree with my earlier decision. However, I will leave it in his capable hands, but only if this pleases you, Ishar?”

  Ishar nodded. “This will be fine but I insist Traevyn be a willing guide.” She glanced across the table toward the quiet warrior who watched her with probing black eyes.

  Traevyn looked at her silently for a moment and then nodded. “Eira oversees the holding when Varyk is away. I will do as she wishes.”

  His words appeared intended for more than only her ears, Eira thought, even though they did answer Ishar’s question. Ber scowled again and Lysandr’s frowning gaze flickered to Traevyn. The servants had paused at Ber’s interruption. Eira now motioned for them to continue. The meal progressed. Voices drifte
d from murmurs to bellows with laughter as the men spoke of weapons practice and hunting. Ishar took great detail in her food and engaged Eira in small talk.

  Eira had an inclination that Ishar was slightly irritated at the thought of a guide but had chosen the recourse only to stave off harsh feelings by the people of Taryn and the Raanan warriors. To Eira this spoke of someone who felt the coming talks of peace were necessary and worth the added effort put forth to deflect hostility. She had seen the rage in Ber’s eyes and heavy concern in Gavin’s, Glyndwr’s and Davaris’ eyes at the thought of Ishar’s free movement. With a little time, Eira was certain Ishar could win over the men. There was no need to start the talks with growing enmity. She smiled. Let them watch her. Eira had a sense within her that the Haaldyn would prove honorable. It was necessary. Their future depended on it.

  Traevyn had not spoken again since his words to Ishar but Eira saw that his black eyes watched her intently, studying the bent head of the Haaldyn as if trying to understand her. If it was unsettling, Ishar refused to let it show. Davaris spoke from the other end of the table and she saw Ishar look up with a distracted expression. Perhaps Ishar had been more unsettled by Traevyn’s steady stare than she first thought. Eira looked on as Ishar turned and focused her gaze on Davaris with a raise of her eyebrows.

  Davaris repeated the question. “Do all Haaldyn women wear their hair like you? What few Haaldyn I have seen without a helmet appeared to wear it in such manner.”

  Ishar looked thoughtful, as if unsure how to phrase the answer. She spoke slowly as if choosing her words with care. “The women you saw were warriors so the answer would be no.” She added, “Only a woman who has chosen to become a warrior cuts her hair. And some warriors keep it long, but it must be braided or put up in such a manner as to keep it out of the way in battle. However, in everyday existence a Haaldyn woman keeps her hair long, though she will always wear it braided and, if possible, piled high or even covered.” She paused. “For us, only the wædym wear their hair loose and flowing.”