Altaica

by Tracy M. Joyce

  Ratilal groaned, still struggling to regain his breathing. His hearing was dulled, but he knew he was making animalistic sounds as his body desperately sought air. At last he drew one shuddering breath, then another. Time appeared to move slowly, yet as his senses returned, he realised little time had passed. With the clearing of his head came the sounds of screaming horses and men. Still on hands and knees, he looked around to see the road littered with the bodies.

  His horse lay dead, ten feet or so behind him. Another horse must have collided with it and now lay half sprawled over its rump, also dead. Men, thrown clear as he was, were on either side of him. Some were clearly dazed and striving to regain their wits, others lay unmoving. Beyond him, horses who must have jumped the bodies were limping; most were panicked. Those still riding were frantically bringing their mounts under control.

  Ratilal heard a dull whoosh, then a whump as an arrow embedded itself in the ground near him. Still dazed, all he could do was stare at it stupidly.

  ‘My lord? Ratilal?’ Niaz’s face filled his vision, before he hauled him upright and dragged him away. ‘We must seek cover.’

  ‘Aargh!’ Something pierced his boot and foot.

  ‘Caltrops!’ Niaz shouted as he shoved Ratilal down behind the belly of his dead horse. Whump! An arrow implanted itself in its carcass as they dived for cover. Blood trickled down Ratilal’s face from a gash on his forehead. He raised his hand to wipe it away in irritation, but Niaz quickly grabbed his arm. ‘No, my lord, look!’ A metal spike was sticking out through the top of his hand. Turning it over he noticed the three other vicious spikes underneath. ‘Can’t you feel it?’ Ratilal shook his head, causing blood to drip into his eyes.

  He held his hand out to Niaz. His tongue felt thick and useless. ‘P, p, pool … it … oout,’ he managed with difficulty. Niaz gripped Ratilal’s wrist and concealed his hand from view. He pulled the caltrop firmly and quickly. Ratilal groaned at the sucking, tearing sensation, grateful to his current stupor for the dulled pain.

  Niaz nudged a nearby body. When the man didn’t move, he cut the cloth of his pants, tearing a section off and wadding it in Ratilal’s palm. ‘Hold this, my lord.’ With another section he wiped the blood from Ratilal’s eyes.

  Dimly, Ratilal remembered standing on something. Shit! His hand and head were beginning to throb; the pain brought him out of his daze. He elbowed Niaz, who was peeking over the side of the horse, assessing their position and status. Niaz slunk down, grim-faced.

  ‘Th … therors.’ Ratilal scowled and ran his tongue around his mouth, before trying again slowly. ‘There’s … one … in my … foot.’

  Niaz slid down on his belly and wriggled backward to examine the foot. He grabbed the caltrop and looked apologetically at Ratilal. An arrow found its mark in the corpse near them. Alarmed, he wildly yanked the caltrop from Ratilal’s boot, before wriggling in close to the horse. Ratilal hollered in pain. ‘Sorry, high lord. There was no easy way.’

  Ratilal glared at him, though he nodded. ‘Status?’

  Niaz shook his head. ‘I can’t tell exactly. The moonlight’s too fleeting and when there is enough to see by …’ Another arrow whizzed overhead, followed by the dull thump of a body hitting the ground.

  ‘We can’t stay here.’ Ratilal waited for the moon to slip behind a large cloud, then slid to the shoulder of his fallen horse. Lying flat and perfectly still, he peered over its neck into the darkness, waiting. The cloud passed and the moon revealed the road before them. The men he had earlier seen trying to control their horses were now dead or dying, as were many of their mounts. The remaining horses had either bolted or stood in a frightened, shaking cluster beside the road.

  A distant, plaintive whinny drifted on the night air from the direction they had come. One of the terrified horses broke away and led the others in a panicked dash toward its calling friend. Some were able to run freely, others tried brokenly, their fear the only thing propelling them on woefully injured hooves. They were headed directly toward Ratilal. He rolled across to Niaz, both of them cowering close to the belly of his horse, as the first flew by him. Several followed; he prayed the uninjured ones would not impale themselves on caltrops in their flight.

  ‘Bloody bastards!’ he spat. ‘When the moon is covered again, we’ll make our way toward the rear. Check who’s alive. Get as many as we can out of this damn valley.’

  Baldev watched the chaos unfolding beneath them with grim satisfaction. ‘I hate caltrops.’ His captain said nothing, they both knew it was necessary. ‘Get the archers out when clouds cover the moon again. We’re leaving.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  RATILAL, THOUGH LIMPING badly, walked amongst his men, giving orders to those who remained able-bodied regarding the care of the wounded. He refused aid for his injuries, making certain that his men knew that their commander regarded their welfare as paramount. He promised revenge for this cowardly act that had laid them low. Ratilal controlled his rage and pain, determined to prove his strength and resilience, yet in his heart and mind he felt a burning black fire that he longed to surrender to. He swore that he would hunt down Karan and his dog Baldev, and mount their heads over the main gates of Faros. He would annihilate their forces, and enslave those left. He had a vision of a new kingdom. Under his rule, they would not only regain their lost glory, but surpass it.

  Ratilal paused beside two young men who were situated a little apart from the others. One was prone and the other held his hand, yet was wounded himself, with one arm resting uselessly across his lap. Ratilal sat beside them. ‘Your friend?’

  The young man nodded, replying distractedly, ‘Yes, my lord. Forgive me, high lord.’

  ‘There’s nothing to forgive. The title sits new and unfamiliar with me as well.’ Ratilal reached out with his good hand and felt the brow of the prone man. ‘Has anyone looked at your friend?’

  ‘My brother … Yes, but there’s nothing to be done, high lord. His horse … it fell on him. He couldn’t feel his legs when I found him. I dragged him here with my good arm, but since then he’s just faded. I think his insides are damaged.’

  ‘I’m sorry. My need for vengeance upon the loss of my father has led to this. I am honoured by his sacrifice …’

  Niaz approached with an older warrior and interrupted him in an urgent tone. ‘My lord.’ Ratilal quirked his brow at him. ‘High lord, we have assessed our losses.’

  ‘In a moment, Niaz.’

  ‘High lord, we …’

  Ratilal’s face grew rigid as his composure slipped; he held up his hand imperiously. ‘Later. First you can assist me best by helping me tend to this one’s injuries.’

  ‘What of your own injuries, high lord?’

  ‘Later.’

  ‘My brother?’

  With a dismissive flick of his head, Ratilal indicated Niaz should check the youth.

  Niaz saw through Ratilal’s games. He knew Ratilal did not care for the life of the fallen warrior and was surprised by the distaste he felt toward his friend at that moment. Niaz assessed the prone figure and shook his head.

  ‘He’s gone,’ Ratilal said sympathetically. ‘Now, we must help you.’

  The young man was rendered mute by the knowledge that his brother had slipped into the afterlife without him even noticing. A look of dismay crossed his features.

  Ratilal didn’t think he could tolerate it if this whelp cried. He kept his temper in check, as he was now aware they had an audience. ‘He is gone now, with Rana and Jalal. There was nothing to be done, but you were with him, holding his hand, comforting him, which is more than many of us get. Now Niaz and I will tend to you.’

  ‘Thank you, high lord.’

  The warrior smiled half-heartedly, trying to be stoic before his lord. ‘In truth, high lord, I don’t know what I’ve done, other than the forearm is broken.’

  ‘You must be tough, lad. I think this shoulder is dislocated.’ Ratilal thought for a moment. ‘Give me some arrows,’ he ordered Niaz. �
��Bind several into two lots. We’ll use them as splints.’ While Niaz worked he explained, ‘This is temporary. We will treat your arm properly when we are out of here. I regret that I have nothing to give you to ease your pain.’ He proceeded to splint the forearm. ‘Damn, Niaz. I can’t quite use my fingers properly.’ He ruefully held up his injured hand for all to see. ‘You’ll have to help me.’ Niaz dutifully bound the arm. ‘Now, for the shoulder …’ Ratilal gritted his teeth, putting his hands in place.

  ‘High lord, I shall do that for you.’

  Ratilal cursed, but nodded. Niaz loosened the young man’s cuirass, managed to put his hand under the outer tunic and felt the shoulder, grimacing as he did so. Ratilal made a show of checking the shoulder himself before allowing Niaz to commence. Even then he pretended to correct the position of his hands before allowing him to continue. ‘Watch me,’ he told the young man. ‘Not Niaz. Do not take your eyes from me.’ The young man’s body jerked as Niaz popped the shoulder back in. ‘Well done indeed!’

  ‘Thank you, high lord.’

  ‘No need, we are all warriors together and must help each other.’ There was a murmur of assent from those present. ‘Now, Niaz, you may report.’

  ‘High lord, perhaps …’ Niaz began in a near whisper.

  ‘You may speak freely before my men. We have no secrets and they will likely already know what you are going to say.’

  Niaz cleared his throat. ‘High lord, we have lost half the horses. A quarter were killed in the falls, and the rest are badly lame. It is difficult to tell in the dark, but …’

  ‘Many will not recover.’ Ratilal allowed his frustration to bubble to the surface in his righteous indignation.

  Niaz nodded, half bowing. ‘Half the men are either dead or wounded. Some in falls, some by the enemy arrows.’

  ‘The enemy. Yes, they are our enemy, make no mistake. I warned my father of this, yet his generous nature denied it. He wanted peace. They betrayed him.’ His gesture encompassed his depleted forces. ‘Look what they have wrought now. Barbarous! Too cowardly to fight us openly.’

  ‘High lord, your orders?’ Niaz asked.

  A keen young voice spoke up. ‘We can still pursue them. There are enough of us able, high lord. We can still stop them.’

  Ratilal smiled indulgently at him, appearing to consider his words carefully. Many of the younger warriors waited eagerly. The older ones stood at the edge of the crowd, waiting, saying nothing, yet knowing the stupidity of another heedless pursuit in the dark. They were not interested in glory, but in what the next few moments would teach them regarding their new clan lord. Ratilal longed to chase the enemy down and personally gut them, but he could see the folly in this. Their headlong, careless pursuit was precisely how they were ambushed.

  ‘No. I will send two scouts out to keep track of them and report back to me. The Four Ways is the only nearby way across The Divide and they must rest before they reach it. I will not risk another ambush in the dark. They have shown us the level they will stoop to. We need to get these horses and men tended to and this is not the place. I want two riders to return to Parlan and fetch the wagons left there; we can transport the wounded in them. Bring those two Kenati, they will have extra supplies and can tend the men.’

  ‘The horses, high lord?’

  ‘Find the nearest farm. In the light of day, we’ll get the horses and men there and treat them properly.’ He singled out two soldiers. ‘You and you—to Parlan, now. I need two scouts.’ The earlier eager youngster and his friends stepped forward. Ratilal chose the one who had spoken. ‘You get to show your mettle. But I want you with an experienced hand.’ He chose a seasoned warrior, placing him in charge. ‘You,’ he pointed to the younger man, ‘listen. He has seen many more battles than you and survived. Do as he says—you will live longer. Both come with me.’

  They approached the opening of the small valley, yet stayed hidden in the shadows. To the warriors on watch Ratilal asked, ‘Any movement?’

  ‘None, high lord.’

  Ratilal nodded, deep in thought. ‘Why haven’t they attacked us? We are vulnerable.’

  ‘Perhaps—the caltrops, high lord. Once scattered on the road, they would not be able to get their own horses through without risking them.’

  ‘They could have come on foot, along the sides of the hills.’

  ‘Begging your pardon, high lord, but our archers would have seen them—now that cloud is gone and the moon is fully out. The rock cover would only hide a few, not a whole force. Maybe it would have been too risky. They’ve got too far to get home if they had many wounded and none to ask for aid in this land.’

  Ratilal nodded. ‘Doubtless, you are correct.’ So they just wanted to slow me—why? He could not shake the uneasy feeling that he had overlooked something. He stepped out into the moonlight, certain the enemy was gone. He heard the objections of his men with grim satisfaction as he walked further along the road to the far side of the fallen horses. Reaching them, he theatrically raised his arms out wide and bellowed to the empty night. ‘Well! I am here! Shoot!’

  Niaz walked up beside him. Ratilal looked at him smugly, knowing he had just given his men a good show. His back to his men, Ratilal pulled a metal flask from inside his tunic. ‘Good thing this couldn’t break.’

  Niaz did not care for shadebell tea. His disapproval must have shown.

  ‘Wipe that look off your face. I know what I am doing. This and the bloodroot are the only things keeping me upright and on a horse.’

  ‘How can you stand the taste?’

  ‘Honey and lots of it. I’m only sipping it.’

  ‘You know you can’t take it for long.’

  Ratilal glared at him. ‘Once the marks of my father’s love are healed, I’ll stop. Get the men to clear a path through this shit for the scouts.’ He dismissively indicated the bodies of horses and men. Niaz moved to obey. ‘Oh, and keep the caltrops they clear. We will have our revenge.’

  * * *

  Karan and a few men entered the barn via the loose boards in its rear wall. Umniga and Asha waited inside. Honey was saddled and Umniga’s mule was hitched to her wagon.

  ‘We’ve emptied everything out to make it lighter,’ Umniga said.

  ‘Good.’

  ‘How do we do this?’

  ‘I need you two to go out there and attempt to take the strangers away.’ Asha looked disconcerted. ‘My men are in position, all will be well. I need to see who will side with you. If your guard follow you, things will go much easier.’ He motioned his men into the wagon, then followed them.

  Asha opened the doors and led Honey out, with Umniga following in the wagon behind her.

  Vikram tensed as the two women approached. ‘Be alert,’ he instructed the soldiers nearest to him. ‘You lot over there,’ he bellowed at Ratilal’s soldiers lounging around the fire and under the tree in the square. ‘To me!’ The command in his voice snapped them out of their lackadaisy and they hastened to the lodge. He trusted his instincts and if he was right, two split forces was not what they needed right now.

  The wagon halted before the lodge; Umniga clambered down, using her staff for balance. Asha looped Honey’s reins over the saddle and the mare stood patiently waiting.

  ‘Asha, Umniga, are you leaving us?’

  ‘Yes, but not just yet,’ Umniga said. ‘We’ve come for the villagers who Shahjahan agreed could go to the Horse and Bear.’ Āsim, flanking Asha, gave a subtle hand signal and Asha’s guards dispersed amongst the others.

  ‘Shahjahan is dead.’

  ‘Nevertheless, I think he would want his wishes carried out. Wishes he felt strongly enough about to formalise in a binding peace treaty.’

  ‘The peace treaty,’ his words dripped sarcasm, ‘was broken by Karan and Baldev the moment they murdered Clan Lord Shahjahan. It no longer stands. These strangers are the property of High Lord Ratilal.’

  Asha wanted to scream. What has happened to you? She moved forward to push past Vikram and enter t
he lodge.

  ‘No!’ Vikram barked, as he shoved Asha back.

  Āsim leapt to her side, pulling her back, sword drawn. Ratilal’s men drew their weapons to confront him, only to engage with Asha’s guard. Karan and the others vaulted from the wagon to fight Ratilal’s men. The rest of the Horse warriors poured forth from between buildings, surrounding their enemy. Swords gleamed dully in the moonlight, as the clash of metal filled the air.

  Umniga swung her staff with a speed and skill which belied her age. She grinned widely as she thundered her staff into knee caps and bellies, then finished with crashing blows to backs and skulls as her opponents fell. She looked for Asha, finding her on the edge of the battle. Āsim was disarmed and Vikram was closing on him. Asha stepped between them and fought Vikram savagely. Fihr screeched indignation, but did not have the room to help her in the crush. Her blade flashed. Vikram grunted as she cut him and he doubled over. She stepped back, unable to place a killing blow on her friend.

  ‘Vikram, yield.’ He did not answer, but his sword fell from his hand. Asha moved toward him. ‘Vikram?’ As she moved, he lunged toward her, felling her. Her ribs screamed in protest as his weight bore down on her. Then Asha felt the unforgiving point of a dagger against her throat as he hauled her up before him.

  ‘Stop!’ Smiling cruelly, he continued, ‘That’s it. Now drop your weapons.’ No one moved, but every eye was upon him. ‘Do it!’

  Karan nodded to his men. With deliberate slowness Karan bent his knees and began to lower his sword to the ground, never taking his eyes from Vikram, but not yet letting go of his sword. They glared at each other. Slowly Karan’s men did the same thing. Ratilal’s men relaxed slightly. Vikram’s eyes darted around the crowd, and he licked his lips nervously.