Altaica

by Tracy M. Joyce

  Two cautious figures entered the shallow vale below him. Swords drawn, they walked its length, increasingly wary as they reached the exposed ground at the end of the dune. Concealed by the end of the dune, they lay in wait for him. Karan doubted he could slip away behind them, but his options were limited. If he had his bow he could pick them off, then make for the village. It was not far. He could see the light from the fire that had burned outside during their celebration. He could probably kill one of the waiting soldiers with a dagger throw, but a sword fight with the other would attract attention.

  Karan slid over the side of the dune, attempting to slip away unnoticed behind them and find another way across to the village. They turned and saw him, surprise in their eyes. Before they could cry out two arrows sliced through the air and embedded themselves in their chests. Two of Karan’s men stepped out of the dark in the direction he had intended to go. Devi glided silently past them, wheeled and headed back to the village.

  * * *

  Niaz stumbled over the man Karan had killed in the dark. ‘Damn,’ he muttered. Wandering around in the dark alone, he realised he was just as likely to be picked off by Karan as he was by his own men. Why have more troops not arrived from the village? They should have by now. He wavered. Ratilal would be furious if the planned messenger didn’t arrive. Karan may well make it back and escape. There was not much choice—risk death stumbling blindly through the dunes, or return, raise the alarm and face Ratilal. He’d have to go back and raise the alarm or the entire plan could fail, then he would be dead.

  * * *

  Karan and the two men, aided by Devi, quickly made their way back to the village. Hidden between two buildings, they viewed the scene before them. The villagers were tidying up after the celebration, a few men still sat talking around the fire; all seemed normal and calm. Boar troops lingered amongst the locals. There was no haste, urgency, or tension amongst those they watched.

  ‘We’re still in luck,’ Karan said. ‘Follow me. Be calm.’ They moved through the shadows and blended in with the crowd. Outwardly, he appeared relaxed as he returned the greetings of the villagers, but his heart was pounding. Karan could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins. The short walk through the crowd seemed to drag on. Finally, they reached the spot just on the outskirts of the village where both the Horse and Bear warriors had bivouacked.

  The men were ready to ride. Baldev greeted him and calmly handed him the reins of his horse, Mirza. ‘Good to see you back.’

  ‘Good to be back.’ Karan looked at the calm village. ‘I assume you are responsible for this.’

  ‘Ratilal’s messenger never made it.’

  ‘The others?’

  ‘All back safe and sound. Asha is hiding, and Umniga has gone to join her,’ Baldev said as Karan mounted. ‘How long do you think we’ll have to wait?’

  In the distance Niaz ran into the village, shouting, ‘Our clan lord! Our Clan Lord Shahjahan is dead!’ On cue Ratilal appeared. ‘My lord! Your father …’ A crowd began to gather around. The Boar guards were on alert.

  ‘What is it? What has happened?’

  ‘I’m sorry, my lord. Your father has been slain. Murdered!’

  ‘How? By whom?’ Ratilal demanded.

  ‘My lord, it was Lord Karan. I saw him with my own eyes, as did the guards who were with me. He ran, and we pursued him.’

  ‘How long ago?’ Ratilal was livid.

  Niaz gulped. ‘It was some time ago. I sent a messenger back immediately. I fear he is dead.’

  ‘If he is, then Karan had help. He and Baldev always work together.’

  ‘My lord, I returned as soon as I realised the messenger must not have arrived.’

  ‘Where are your men?’

  ‘Still scouring the dunes, my lord.’

  Ratilal’s eyes glinted cruelly. He was displeased. They had taken too long. Karan may have escaped already. Every delay could ruin his plan. ‘Rouse the men. The Horse and Bear have murdered Clan Lord Shahjahan. They have breached the peace treaty. This is war. We must avenge my father!’

  ‘Hail, Clan Lord Ratilal. Hail, High Lord Ratilal,’ Niaz chanted. Ratilal’s soldiers heartily chorused this. The bewildered villagers of Parlan mimicked the words and hastily departed. Boar warriors raced off to pass the news, and to ready themselves for combat.

  ‘High lord,’ Vikram said as he presented himself.

  ‘What?’ Ratilal knew Vikram had been fiercely loyal to his father, but questioned whether his loyalty lay with the office or the man.

  Vikram knelt before him with his head bowed. He held his sword flat in both hands and raised it before Ratilal. ‘High Lord and Clan Lord Ratilal, I swear to you on my sword, my loyalty, my life, I will bring the murderer of your father to justice. I will avenge his death.’

  Ratilal was flattered, though wary. This was a formal, binding declaration and the first he had received. Vikram would not break this oath lightly. To do so would cause not only the loss of his honour, status and possessions, but more likely the loss of his life. He was not sure he could trust him, but he was an experienced commander and Ratilal was smart enough to know that he would need all those he could muster. Besides, if Vikram was truly loyal then his obvious devotion would shore up the loyalty of others.

  ‘Rise, Vikram, it was well said. But you and your men can serve me best by staying here and guarding those strangers.’

  ‘My lord, we would prefer to fight with you.’

  ‘You will remain here.’ Ratilal was stern.

  Vikram nodded. ‘What would you have me do with them?’

  Ratilal’s first thoughts were to have them all killed. However, it was thanks to their arrival that he was now clan lord. Perhaps the gods sent these strangers for this purpose? In which case it would not do to anger them. If he was kind to them and resettled them, they would be unswervingly loyal. He would be responsible for their salvation.

  ‘Your orders from my father were to discover their skills and resettle them around Faros; those orders still stand.’ Niaz rode up with Ratilal’s mount. ‘I will leave some more men to help you.’ And to watch you.

  * * *

  Karan and Baldev could hear the commotion at the other end of the village. Mounted, they waited.

  ‘It’s taking them long enough.’ Baldev sounded bored. Their men laughed.

  ‘Don’t worry. You won’t be bored for long.’ They could hear a distant rumble growing closer. ‘Ready for it,’ Karan commanded. By the moonlight they saw the Boar warriors galloping toward them. Baldev spun his horse and raced off, followed by their combined troops.

  Karan stilled Mirza. ‘Calm now, boy. Just wait.’ Ratilal was in the lead. Karan smiled, drew his bow and let fly one arrow. It skimmed past Ratilal, embedding itself in a warrior behind him who fell from his horse and was trampled by those following. Karan waved and smiled at Ratilal before spurring Mirza away.

  Ratilal, goaded to further fury, screeched, ‘After him!’

  Mirza galloped on a free rein until he caught up with the others. The Horse Clan’s mounts were exceptional. The hills naturally toughened them, they were well fed and kept at the peak of fitness. Their warriors had been chosen for this mission based on their experience and the stamina of their horses.

  Baldev had set a good pace, fast enough to stay ahead, yet allow the enemy not to lose sight of them, and one that could be sustained. Karan merged with Mirza. The horse’s superior eyesight picked out the road more clearly than Karan was able to and allowed him to see behind him. The horses before him parted and they moved their way to the front where Baldev led the group. Baldev nodded in greeting as Karan passed him and galloped further into the distance.

  Mirza was maintaining a ground-eating pace. The edge of the Eastern Forest was now on their right and its ancient giants towered over the road. There was an old track, seldom used, that diverged from the main road to Parlan and headed toward Hunters’ Ford. The entrance was hidden, partially covered by the slightly weeping bra
nches of some sheoaks; there was a massive cherry pine opposite. Karan was looking for it with each stride; it should be nearby. Soon, he told Mirza. However, Mirza was already slowing. His thoughts scolded Karan, reminding him that he knew perfectly well where the turn was. Mirza puffed, snorted and tossed his head. Point taken, my friend. Karan leaned along his neck as they trotted under the branches of the sheoaks. They wandered a short distance before a warrior stepped out from cover, blocking their way.

  ‘Well met, my lord,’ he said. Others filtered out of the undergrowth to join them.

  ‘Well met indeed,’ Karan replied as he leapt from Mirza’s back. ‘Here, wear this.’ He removed his cloak and gave it to the warrior. They were a similar height and build with dark wavy hair.

  Munira, the Kenati of the Horse Clan, stepped forward. ‘All is in readiness.’

  Karan took his bow from the saddle quiver. The warrior mounted. Though an experienced horseman, he looked a little wary. Mirza snorted, pawed the ground and tossed his head.

  ‘Be nice,’ Karan told him as he stroked his nose. ‘We’ll be together soon. You cannot come. You must be seen, darkling. Everyone knows who you are and that only I ride you.’ Mirza lowered his head to Karan’s chest, snuffling gently. Karan looked up at his replacement. ‘Go,’ he said. ‘And may the gods go with you.’

  The warrior gathered up his reins firmly to turn the horse. Mirza baulked, pawed the ground and shook his head.

  ‘I wouldn’t bother with those. You’ll just make him mad.’

  The warrior quickly loosened the reins and Mirza spun about before trotting off.

  ‘I’d hang on, though, if I were you,’ Karan murmured at his departing back. ‘We need to get going while Ratilal is focused on attacking the others.’ Karan turned and led the others at a forced march across country, back toward Parlan.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  KARAN AND HIS warriors travelled the most direct way to Parlan—sometimes using the road, sometimes going across farmland. Having crested a rise in a field, they paused for a brief rest. Everyone was silent, listening intently and trying to peer into the depths of night for any sign of the enemy. Instead, an eerie quiet greeted them, as if the world were waiting with bated breath. Loathe to break this shield of silence, they travelled on.

  On the outskirts of Parlan, while his men rested and waited, Karan went with two scouts to determine how many, if any, guards were left in the village. They separated at the rear of the lodge, with the scouts moving to the opposite ends of the village and where the Boar Clan warriors had bivouacked. Karan crept forward and peered through a crack in the timber shutters. Two lamps burned within and by their dim light it appeared that all the refugees were still inside the lodge. Good. He inched his way along the side of the building, staying back from the corner. He could hear voices—Vikram and Āsim. Karan moved back the way he had come, then circled around the village. He wanted to reach the barn and hopefully find some sign of Umniga and Asha; it would also enable him to view the front of the lodge undetected.

  Karan had to move carefully, for there was limited cover. The village itself was not densely populated, there were few houses and few large trees. In places, the low scrub that dotted the dunes afforded some cover; here he was able to move quickly and stealthily. He waited, crouched behind such scrub, as some troops whom he didn’t recognise filed past. How many has Ratilal left? Karan was now at the end of the village and there was no more cover. He surreptitiously leaned around the bush to see down the centre of the village. The fire in the square was still burning; more soldiers were loitering around it, under the tree.

  Karan edged carefully backward, then skirted well around the small village. He expected patrols around its perimeter, but encountered none. He would not tolerate such laxity amongst his own men. As he stole through some scrub near the rear of the barn, the hairs on the back of his neck rose. He froze. He was being watched. Cautiously, he peered around. Karan’s ears strained to catch any sound. He looked up, then smiled. Perched, silent, ever watchful, on the top of the barn, was Devi.

  Karan darted, half crouching, from his hiding place to the barn wall. He looked down the length of the barn and could partially see the square, the lodge and the guards. Karan needed to get inside the barn, but he had known he could not slip in the front doors. As he turned his attention to the rear wall, several planks next to him moved.

  ‘Give me a hand?’ came Asha’s frustrated whisper. Grinning, he pulled slowly on the vertical timbers, levering them up and loosening their nails. They swung up enough for him to crawl through.

  Karan clasped her arms and hugged her to him. ‘I’m very glad to see you unharmed, Asha.’ She was speechless. Karan was not prone to outbursts of emotion. He released her, smiling warmly. ‘Baldev will be even more happy.’ Asha blushed and looked away.

  Umniga was preparing the body of Shahjahan. He wore a crown of willow and oak, leafless and dry, on his head. His hands and face were adorned with his clan’s symbols.

  ‘I thought you were hiding. How did you do this? How did you get him?’ Karan asked sternly.

  ‘Asha was hiding safely. I just waited until that bastard Ratilal and his men were gone. Then I walked out and told some of those left to get the body so I could prepare him for his final journey.’

  ‘Umniga, you were careless … and lucky.’

  ‘Pah!’ she spat. ‘They objected, but Vikram was out there and he retains at least enough honour to command them to do that. Shahjahan may have been a cantankerous old dog, but he wasn’t always. He deserved a better death than this.’

  ‘Yes, yes he did … I said the words, Umniga.’

  ‘I thought so. Was that how you were seen?’

  He nodded. ‘Tell me, why so vehement toward Vikram?’

  ‘He gave his oath to Ratilal!’

  ‘Did he indeed?’ Karan was deep in thought as he peered through the crack in the barn doors. Most of the troops still seemed to be either guarding the lodge door or huddled around the fire in the square. ‘I count about a dozen men that Ratilal has left in addition to Asha’s guard.’

  ‘How many are still her guard?’

  ‘We’ll soon discover.’

  * * *

  Asha and Umniga walked from the barn toward the square. Asha kept telling herself that Ratilal was gone, but she could not help her anxiety. The men Ratilal left behind were clustered around the fire. They nodded and smiled at the men they passed, a few returned the gesture, but many ignored them. Vikram and Āsim met them outside the lodge. The other members of her guard were nearby.

  ‘Should you be here?’ Vikram asked.

  ‘Why? Am I unsafe?’ Now that you have given your oath to Ratilal.

  ‘No,’ came Āsim’s firm reply. ‘You are not. We can protect you from that rabble if need be.’

  A moment’s silence ensued. Vikram scrutinised them before scanning the darkness intensely. For a moment Asha thought he must have suspected something was afoot.

  ‘Ratilal left no orders regarding you, either of you. For the moment you are, as you have always been, our honoured Kenati.’

  Āsim stiffened at his tone. Asha’s guard were listening; they bristled and moved closer, looking bewildered at Vikram.

  ‘What did you expect? Shahjahan is dead. Ratilal rules. Only a fool would oppose their clan lord, and I have given him my oath.’ Hostile grumblings followed this announcement.

  ‘Asha, come,’ Umniga said stiffly before she pushed past Vikram into the lodge.

  ‘I can’t believe this. What is he doing?’ Asha whispered.

  ‘Believe it. I told you not to test his loyalty. Vikram is loyal to himself and his clan lord. He may not like Ratilal, but he will follow him.’

  * * *

  The headlong gallop down the road to The Four Ways was dangerous at night. The cloud cover had thickened and moonlight was intermittent, making it increasingly difficult to see any potholes and ruts in the road. Baldev’s horse had stumbled several times, but,
surefooted beast that he was, he had not gone down. Mirza was now beside him and Baldev grinned at his new rider, who looked slightly awestruck and a little terrified. Baldev estimated that they had travelled far enough from both Parlan and the old track to Hunters’ Ford. The horses were blowing hard and needed a rest; at some point they would have to find a suitable spot to stop for a few hours. He slowed his troops as they entered a short, straight stretch of road that ran along the base of a small, narrow, rocky valley.

  ‘Spread them along this section,’ Baldev said to his captain. ‘I want archers concealed up in those rocks—now. We’ll cause some chaos, then make off. Have a couple of riders wait in sight as bait.’ Men leapt from their horses to obey, scrambling urgently up the slope to cover. Baldev and the most of the others, along with the riderless horses, cantered out of the valley and hid beyond the final bend in the road.

  The captain returned at a gallop. ‘It’s done. They’re coming.’ He and Baldev dismounted and scrambled up the last ridge to watch.

  Ratilal was still furious. The delayed message had cost him dearly; Karan and Baldev were escaping. Instead of having them in his grasp, they were racing through the night to catch them. Sometimes they had seemed to be gaining on them, only to be eluded at the next turn. The horses were tiring. They were slick with sweat and foam had formed on their necks and sides. Heedless, Ratilal urged his men on. Eventually they must catch the others; they couldn’t be that far ahead. Moonlight broke through the clouds as they rounded the next bend, illuminating the straight road before them. ‘There!’ he shouted. ‘We nearly have them.’

  He urged his horse forward. Halfway along the straight it stumbled and fell, tumbling head first into the dirt then somersaulting onto its back. Ratilal was jettisoned out of the saddle. He flew through the air, his arms out before him, landed heavily and skidded on his belly along the road. Completely winded and dazed, he desperately tried to inhale. Instinct made him haul himself onto his hands and knees. He felt a dull stab in his palm. His movements felt sluggish, as if he was wading through molasses. His vision was failing; filled only with whirling pinpricks of red.