The Treason Blade (Battle for Alsaar Book 1)

by Keech, Jenny Rebecca

  The man showed a wide grin as he lunged at Lysandr with a roar and a slashed down. Lysandr brought his blade up to block the blow, then moved close and ripped the cutting edge across to get inside his opponent’s defense. The other Raanan laughed, blocked the blade and shoved with his considerable weight. The shove threw Lysandr backwards. He gained his footing and frowned. The men continued to feint and parry blows in fast swift motions, broken only by pauses taken to assess one another as they circled and looked for opportunities to knock each other off balance.

  It appeared by the crowd’s response that either man was a fair favorite to win the match. Ishar watched with critical eye as she studied their movements. They were good. No matter what move one man executed, the other managed to field the blow and implement a response. By the sweat, evident as it ran down the sides of their face, both men had been at this bout for quite some time.

  Ishar felt movement beside her and looked up. Davaris and Ber had come up next to her. Ber had placed himself closest. Ishar was uncertain how to take the move since the stocky warrior beside her seemed to now ignore her presence.

  Davaris glanced aside with a broad grin. “I see you must have won the argument.”

  Ishar turned her eyes upward. “Traevyn has a big mouth.”

  This remark brought a flicker of a smile across Ber’s face.

  Davaris chuckled. “It might have come up over lunch.” His eyes twinkled. “There were wages placed. It is a good thing,” Davaris added.

  She arched a brow. “And how is that?”

  “You have become thought of as a competent, strong-willed warrior who knows her own mind and that is something respected among our ranks.”

  “Did I have a chance against Eira?” Ishar said with a smile.

  “I saw it as an even match,” Davaris answered with a wry grin. “I figured either you would both reach an agreement that was satisfactory to everyone or you would kill one another before it was over.”

  Ishar could not help it, she laughed. “As you can see, we came to a satisfactory conclusion without bloodshed.” Her eyes mused over the circling fighters. “Who do you think will win?” she asked with a tilt of her head.

  Davaris shrugged. “Both are good warriors. Both have stamina. Many times it will come down to a draw. Today may be such a day.”

  Ishar pointed toward the wild haired Raanan warrior. “Who is he?”

  “That is Kagon,” Ber stated with a firm nod, “who is going to win this match,” he roared toward the sparring fighters. If Lysandr heard the remark, he ignored it. The heavier Kagon kept Lysandr on his toes with constant heavy blows. Lysandr countered with rapid, quick grappling blows to the back of his opponent’s knees or protected throat in between sword thrusts. Kagon barely missed being brought down. By now, both men breathed hard.

  Ber chuckled. “Neither of them is going to give,” he said with a laugh.

  Davaris frowned. “Would you?”

  Ber shrugged.

  In the end it was Varyk who ended the bout. He moved through the crowd and brought his sword up just as Lysandr and Kagon came together again. All three swords met with a clash. Lysandr and Kagon backed up and watched their lord warily.

  Varyk’s smile was thin. “I cannot let two of my fine warriors kill themselves,” he remarked dryly. His eyes narrowed. “I am glad to see everyone is in such fine form. It will make this afternoon’s training exercises with swords run so ever smoothly. Kagon, you can take a group, as can you, Lysandr since both of you appear to have such energy.”

  Neither man argued. They gave short bows and nodded. Varyk walked off toward a group in the process of being instructed with fighting daggers by Glyndwr and Gavin. Kagon and Lysandr walked toward the men standing close to them and yelled out orders. The surrounding soldiers merged into two groups.

  Ishar watched Varyk stride away. She turned to Davaris. “I see what you mean. Neither appeared to have a desire to yield.”

  Davaris nodded. “We learn early from training to stand firm and not yield. When one considers yielding, one considers defeat.”

  “I see.” Ishar smiled. She shook her head, “And Traevyn wondered how I had survived so long. It would appear he follows the very same philosophy.” Ishar added gently, “Though I understand all too well. I am afraid I show the same tendency in my own actions.”

  “I have seen,” Davaris spoke up with an amused nod. He looked past her toward Varyk’s retreating figure, his brow suddenly pinched. “Excuse me, Ishar. I have need to speak to Varyk before he is engaged elsewhere.” He gave another nod and turned away.

  Ishar was about to make her way toward Gavin and Glyndwr when Ber cleared his throat. She turned back in curiosity.

  The stocky solid man standing beside her was intent on Kagon and Lysandr’s movements as they began to break the men from a large group into sets of sparring partners. For the moment, Ber was silent. Ishar waited. Finally, Ber glanced over at her. He watched her with steady dark eyes that pierced deep and saw much. He sighed. “I wanted to…” Ber wet his lips. He looked down, his lips pressed tight for a moment. Ber looked up. “I wanted to give thanks for my son’s life, which you have given back to me.”

  “It was—”

  “Please,” Ber’s tone was abrupt. He brought his fierce gaze up to meet hers. “You and I can be honest to one another. We do not know much about each other and we do not trust one another.” He paused. “This is hard for me. I am not used to uttering such words to a stranger, so please, just listen.” Ber paused again. “I owe you.” He held up his palm at her open mouth. “I will repay you this debt. I always pay my debts.” That said, the burly warrior nodded abruptly and walked off in the direction of the inner holding.

  Ishar stared after him. She closed her mouth. Ber had thanked her. Ishar was fairly certain of that. No, she knew it to be true. It had been difficult for Ber but he meant every spoken word. Jaya said her husband was an honorable man and Ber’s actions had given her words truth. Perhaps it was a sign the icy wall the Raanan warrior had drawn up against her had started to thaw. Ishar smiled and walked toward the outer gate, seeking out Traevyn who she knew by now would be instructing the soldiers on the hill outside the holding.

  *

  By evening Ishar held her head steady only by focused concentration. Exhaustion plagued her mind and body as she trudged into the main hall. There appeared to be little in the way of attendance. Eira stood once more by one of the main fires discussing details with Audris and Isla. Ishar made her way over and positioned herself next to the bright burning flame of the blaze.

  Eira broke from the conversation and glanced up with a smile. “I am glad to see you will join us this evening.”

  Audris’ smile was as polite as her mistress’. Isla glanced at Ishar with sullen face and narrowed eyes but spoke nothing as she turned back to Eira with pressed lips. The Lute woman motioned with her fingers and both women excused themselves with short bows and made their way from the hall.

  Eira turned to face the fire, her hands held out for warmth as she, too, gazed within the depths of the flickering flame. “You have the look of someone who might not mind seeking a restful bed. If that is the case, I can relay your absence to Varyk.”

  Ishar shook her head. “I have already missed one meal with your lord. I will not miss another. Let it not be thought of a Haaldyn that we are lazy and feeble.”

  Eira’s smile was soft. “No one would think, much less say, such of you. In the few days since your arrival I have great regard for your strength and bravery. You would not be thought less of,” she added gently, “if you desired a respite. I know you have not fully rested from your experience.”

  “I am fine,” Ishar maintained. “Truly. I wish to dine with you and Varyk.” She looked around. “He is late?”

  Eira gave a wave of her hand. “He is in council with his men. The meeting should be close to ending and then he will join us.”

  Ishar scowled. “Why is it you are not in this council lendi
ng your words?”

  Eira turned and casually made her way toward the long table. She picked up a cup and drank deeply. Placing it down gently, she glanced back up at Ishar, “Because it was not necessary that I attend.” Eira said this softly as she watched with serious eyes across the room.

  Ishar had chosen to stay by the fire. Her frown deepened. “You do not think your word is important in deciding relevant events? These do not sound like the words of a Lute.” She spoke her accusation quietly. “How do you know what words your lord speaks in your absence?”

  Eira took another drink as she spoke. At Ishar’s words she choked on the liquid and sputtered for a few seconds. “Varyk,” she stated after several coughs, “always asks my opinion on matters with which he is about to approach the men. Therefore he already knows my mind before he enters behind closed doors. When I am able, I do attend such gatherings.” She frowned. “You should learn to trust more easily, Ishar,” Eira said, “These are men with whom I would trust my life, and have at times. I know and value their judgments.”

  Ishar walked toward the table, her heart now troubled. “Forgive me. The feeling rises within me constantly that these Raanan warriors of Varyk are not so used to women being amongst them, fighting beside them in battle. They appear to resist the concept.”

  “Resist the concept,” Eira commented softly. A low chuckle rumbled from her throat. “Yes, you could say that.” She sighed. “You must understand, in their culture, women were not fighters in a specific sense. They defended their home and their children if necessary, but did not go into combat.” Eira shook her head, “No, this they did not do; so yes, to answer your question, to see women such as you and I fight in hard conflict is difficult for them.”

  Ishar ran her fingers along the table top. “What happened to their home? I mentioned it to Traevyn, Gavin, and Glyndwr, but none seemed eager to speak of the subject.”

  Eira took another long draught of drink. She sat and heaved a heavy breath. “It is not my story to tell,” she said after a pause. “It must come from one of them. And I would be wary of broaching the subject with them in public. Find a time apart with one whom you have come to trust. Perhaps, Traevyn? Seek it only then. Otherwise, I fear it may always be a door closed to you.” Eira smiled and poured another cup. She passed it to Ishar. “Please, sit. Varyk will be here soon. He did not have much to discuss. One thing was about the Hadwri, I believe.”

  Ishar took the cup, sipped, and frowned. “I have heard Davaris speak of this to Lysandr. What is it, this Hadwri?”

  “The Hadwri is an earthen fortification left from earlier times. It was originally built many Tourna landings ago but over the years has been slowly worn down by the repeat incursions of the Raiders. The Britai have been leaderless and too scattered to rebuild their defenses, so the Hadwri remained a ruined reminder of the power of our enemy.” Eira tapped her finger against the wood as she spoke. “I believe it is a worthy effort to rebuild this fortification. It will speak boldly to our enemy of our readiness to fight, all the while being an excellent first line of defense, along with the watchtowers being constructed at various spots around the southern sections of the island.” She shrugged. “Lysandr believes the Hadwri are insignificant in light of our other preparations. It is one thing we happen to disagree upon. After tonight, it will be decided. Varyk knows my view on this matter and will see that it is voiced in the council. Matters in the holding have kept me away or I would have been within the chamber with them.”

  “Is that all they will discuss?” Ishar asked.

  Eira shook her head. “No. I believe Varyk intends to bring up his plans to extend greetings and an offer of a meeting with your father, Ryen, and my father, Wyn, here at the holding.”

  Ishar mulled over the words. “Do you think the men will agree?”

  Eira shrugged. “We will find out soon enough. Varyk did not ask you to speak because, being here these past days, you have already spoken what words were necessary by your actions. You have expressed what a Haaldyn is by expressing who you are to the people of this holding. No other words in a council gathering would define you more.”

  As Eira finished speaking, there was a thud of doors. A moment later the Raanan warriors, along with Jusa, walked into the hall. Ishar took note that all gave quick bows in her and Eira’s direction before proceeding out of the main door and down the fortress steps. They were quiet; their faces for the most part, indecipherable. Varyk was the last to enter from the hallway. He wearily made his way to their end of the table and sat. Audris and several servants appeared and quickly set the table with food and fresh pitchers of paera, then retreated as quietly as they had come. Eira stood and poured a drink for Varyk. When Ishar would have reached for the pitcher, Eira shook her head slightly and pushed another pitcher in Ishar’s direction with a smile. Ishar quickly realized that Eira had poured Varyk the fermented paera. She gratefully poured her own drink. The last thing she needed was the giddy drink to make her head even heavier than it already felt with the exhaustion.

  Varyk took a long draw and set the cup down with a glance in Ishar’s direction. “I was glad to see you up and about this afternoon.” He looked over at Eira. “I was afraid my lady had somehow managed to trick you into staying in bed for extended time.”

  “As you can see,” Ishar spoke with a smile, “your fears proved groundless, though your lady is a wily adversary,” she added with a grin.

  “I am glad to have her by my side rather than across the way facing me,” Varyk smiled.

  “The men will not be joining us?” Ishar asked the question calmly as she piled meat, bread, and a small reddish root that the cook served stewed onto her plate. It had a soft, sweet taste.

  Varyk shook his head as he took the plate of meat Eira had passed him. “No. They are to leave early in the morning for various duties. There is much work still to be done before the Tourna come.”

  They took a moment to eat in silence. Ishar mulled his words and wondered at what they might mean for her and the Haaldyn. She waited with patience for Varyk to continue.

  After several minutes Varyk cleared his throat and looked straight at Ishar. “I have brought up before the men my desire to have the Haaldyn as allies.” He turned and gazed at toward Eira. “Eira and I had already discussed this necessity before you arrived. It was one of the reasons I met with Wyn, to discuss such a treaty of peace among our people.” Varyk took another deep drink. “He thinks highly of your father, Ryen. Wyn gave me strong words of praise, that he is a man who can be trusted. I take Wyn’s word like I would a brother’s.”

  “How did the men take your comments?” Eira broke in softly.

  Varyk smiled at Ishar. “She is also this impatient when facing an enemy. She does not wish to wait for it to come. She must angle after it and ferret out what does not come gently and quickly to her ears.”

  “Such is the way of many warriors,” Ishar answered, with laughing eyes and a small smile, “This desire to face what must be faced.”

  “Hmmm,” was all that he mumbled.

  Eira groaned. “He is doing this to drive me mad.” She set down her knife and gazed plainly at Varyk. “What did they say?”

  Varyk shrugged. “It was decided. The Hadwri will be rebuilt. We feel it is a necessary defense in many ways. Additional buildings must be built adjoining the village to prepare for larger groups of soldiers as more villages send men for training in the coming months.” At Eira’s exasperated look, he continued, “And it was also decided a rider will leave in the morning to bring word for Ryen of the Haaldyn to come to a council meeting at this holding with Wyn and I in attendance as soon as possible. Wyn will journey when word returns as to Ryen’s mind.” Varyk’s frown was broken only by the twitch at the corners of his mouth. “Does this please you, Eira?”

  “You know it does,” she said gently.

  Varyk glanced at Ishar with a raised brow.

  Ishar nodded. “It pleases me more that your men have agreed with you,�
� she added. “I know my father will come. I will wish this rider a fair journey.”

  “I would like your mark on the letter I am sending,” Varyk said, “if you do not mind.”

  Ishar shook her head. “I understand. You do not want any naysayer to give my father doubt on this trip into the southern part of the island. Do not worry, you will have my name and in my own writing as soon as you produce the communication you will send. I want no delay on my part. You have my word.”

  “This is good,” Varyk spoke with a quick nod. He rose. “I want the rider gone as soon as possible. I will prepare the communication now.”

  “But your meal,” Eira stated in frustration, pointing to the food still spread out and on his plate.

  Varyk leaned over and brushed a kiss across her lips. “I beg my lady’s indulgence. I believe she understands the importance of this letter.” He looked over at Ishar. “I will not be long.” Standing, he strode from the room.

  8

  Traevyn moved down the line of archers, pointing out errors in position and judgment as he made corrections for improvement. All showed some progress. A few had begun to demonstrate a sense of excellence for the bow. He noted their names for additional practice. He glanced up and considered the sun’s movement and as he did, caught a flutter of fabric and mane and saw Ishar watching him from the back of Simi near the eastern wall of the holding. She had returned from what was becoming a daily ride. For the past week, ever since Varyk had given his blessing, Ishar had ventured off in a different direction away from the fortress for her morning ride. Confiding in Traevyn that she wanted to get a feel for the lay of the land. It was a good time to ride. Southern Alsaar was beautiful and green and so full of the life spring seemed to bring forth. Now she calmly watched him from beneath the shadow of a newly leaf-budded tree.