Asena Blessed, page 4
part #2 of Altaica Series
We ran from one war, now we’re in another. Isaura looked at the warriors around the fire, noting with satisfaction that there were women amongst them. Her choices were getting easier. No more running.
* * *
The Kenati regrouped away from the main camp. In a grave voice, Hadi said, ‘I’ve never heard of, or seen anything like this.’ No one replied. ‘This is beyond the Ritual of Samara. Umniga, what have we … ?’
Umniga scowled at him. ‘Stop being such an old worry wart! No, it’s not in any history of the damned ritual. It’s new. I told you she was important … I knew she was important. Just look at the boy if you need confirmation that we should’ve helped them. By Rana and Jalal, we have not seen a Bard Kenati in generations. Think about what he did!’
‘A Bard Kenati is one thing, but this …’
Umniga narrowed her eyes. ‘Isaura is different, that is all.’
‘We have never …’
‘Check her aura.’ Asha’s voice was firm. Hadi and Umniga stared at her. ‘Instead of butting heads like two old goats—check her aura.’
Merging with Devi, Umniga examined Isaura’s aura. Her face paled as she broke contact with him. ‘Somebody get me a drink. No, not water—kefir.’ Astonished, they passed her a flask—Umniga never drank alcohol, but she swilled the kefir like it was water. She appraised Asha. ‘You knew.’
‘No, only suspected.’
‘What?’ Hadi barked. ‘Will I have to summon my guardian to see?’
Karan’s younger Kenati, Munira, rolled her eyes at him. ‘Tell us, Umniga, before I strangle him.’
‘Her aura … not only is it at full strength, which shouldn’t have happened for days, maybe weeks, but …’ She took another swig of kefir. ‘It’s totally different from when I found her … It’s totally different from when we returned.’ She took another drink before passing it to Hadi. ‘Here, you’ll need that.’ He looked at her suspiciously.
‘It’s the same as the Asena, isn’t it?’ Asha said.
‘Virtually.’ Umniga nodded absently. ‘It’s almost entirely blue.’ She scowled at the bottle of kefir in Hadi’s hand and snatched it back, taking another long gulp before thrusting it at him again. ‘There’s your answer, Hadi, not that it’s any bloody answer at all. The Asena have always been a mystery, but if they’ve helped her then by the gods we will too.’
Hadi took the flask from her, saying resignedly, ‘We’ll have to. I’ve a feeling we don’t want her as an enemy.’
CHAPTER FOUR
Ratilal stared from atop his mount at the flooded river. Old Deo’s directions had proved sound—though unnecessary. As they had drawn near the hidden entrance, a loose horse had happily whinnied at them and emerged from between the low hanging branches of some sheoaks to greet them. As they’d ridden the winding forest trail to Hunters’ Ford, his men had gathered a string of horses that Karan had stolen then abandoned. For that alone the journey was worth it—even if it was thanks to Karan.
The rising river had submerged the pebbled beach; the crossing was a muddy torrent.
‘It may not rise further, unless there’s more rain in the hills.’
‘It matters not,’ Ratilal said bitterly. ‘We can’t get the horses across that! We’ve no boats handy to ferry men across and, even if we did, we are in no fit state to fight him and he knows it … but we will be.’
Niaz stared across the water. ‘He’ll have troops—waiting.’
‘Of course,’ Ratilal bit out as he spun his horse and headed back along the trail. ‘How many spots are there like this on the river, Niaz?’
‘This is the only ford—if you can call it that.’
‘No, just places where we can get a handful of men across undetected.’
‘In the north there are more, up near the Falcontine.’
Ratilal scowled. ‘They’ll be expecting that—like last time. I’m not thinking of an invasion force to begin with. Small squads might be able to sneak past his patrols and, if we’re lucky, become an itch he can’t scratch.’
‘Hit and run.’
Ratilal cocked his head. ‘Mmm, or an assassination squad. If they don’t cause havoc they could get even closer. Kill Karan and you remove the brains of the operation.’
‘Multiple teams could do both. Have them looking one way while we move deeper into their territory. Though such a blow … Karan is well loved—it may enrage the clans to a full invasion before we are ready.’
‘True.’ Ratilal paused, thoughtful. ‘Though we could hit another target—one that he obviously values. He’s probably got them somewhere safe.’ Ratilal grinned as he mused. ‘Imagine his shock if something were to happen them. It’d be a chink in his armour and tarnish him before his people.’ Niaz looked at him questioningly. Ratilal laughed, explaining, ‘The newcomers. He went to so much trouble to get them, it would be a shame if something happened to them.’
* * *
The air had been still all day and smoke hung low in the cold, shadowed valleys through which Ratilal’s convoy travelled, filling them with misgiving. As they rounded the bend in the road and stared up the straight, the sight of the burnt out fort confirmed their fears. A dead horse lay across the track halfway to the fort and the ground on either side had been trampled by the charge of Baldev’s warriors.
A new encampment had been set up, further back from the remains of the burnt fort, along the road to Faros. Groups of soldiers were finishing digging a trench around the camp. The debris had been thrown backwards and others were building a wall out of it, topped with wooden stakes, to finish the temporary defences. Those at rest were shaking their heads and gesticulating wildly.
Ratilal drew a deep breath, frowning at the sight before him.
‘There’s nothing to defend against,’ Niaz said.
‘Not yet, but I daresay that their commander knows they need a job to do. We’ll rebuild the fort. Morale will be low, anger high. Give them a job and they won’t do something stupid.’
They stopped outside the camp. ‘Report!’ Ratilal demanded of the officer before him.
‘High Lord, I was not here during the battle. I was amongst the reinforcements from Faros. Allow me to summon one who was.’
Ratilal nodded.
A young soldier raced over to stand nervously before him. ‘Don’t just stand there, you dolt—report to the high lord!’ the officer ordered.
With a nervous gulp he began, ‘We barricaded the road as best we could, but they split their force, attacking from two sides at once. Our men fought bravely, but the archers on the walls had to divide their attention. They targeted our archers first, thinning their ranks, then those across the river began to shoot too and attempt to cross. We faced enemies from three sides. With the archers thinning, they assaulted fully and engaged with our shield walls at the road barricade and at the end of the fort where the wall was not finished. Once they broke through there, the archers had no choice but to redirect their fire within the fort. Those of us on the ground fought tooth and nail. The commander …’ Here he paused, drawing a steadying breath. ‘They chopped off his head as they broke through the shield wall on the road. They set fire to everything …’
Ratilal remained silent, staring at charred remains of the fort. Finally he said, ‘I have no doubt that you all fought bravely—no doubt at all. Dismissed.’ He waved the young soldier away. To the commander, he asked, ‘The wounded, have they been seen to?’
‘Yes, High Lord. They left us the wagons. The worst have already been taken to Faros. The others we could treat here.’
‘Very good.’ Ratilal left, signalling for them to stay where they were. He stalked toward the burnt out ruins.
Vikram leapt from the wagon, calling out, ‘High Lord, wait.’ Ratilal spun toward him. Vikram approached, saying quietly, ‘You may be vulnerable to their arrows, now the fort is gone.’
Ratilal’s lips twisted in a parody of a smile. ‘It would be a lucky shot, but you are correct.’ Ratilal stood there, arms folded, scowling at the faint wisps of smoke that still wafted from the blackened stumps of two remaining uprights. ‘What would you suggest at this point, Captain Vikram?’
‘Rebuild the fort, High Lord. It will be needed again one day and while they continue to build their fort across the Divide we need a presence here. In the meantime it will keep the men busy and harden them up.’
Ratilal quirked his brow at Vikram. ‘My thoughts exactly.’ He paused. ‘Captain, I’ll not lie to you. I distrust your sudden change of heart toward me. We have never been “friends” or even of similar dispositions, yet now you support me.’
‘May I speak frankly, High Lord?’
‘I don’t see why not, since that’s what we’re about.’
‘You’re correct. I don’t share or approve of your …’ Vikram paused, struggling for a word that wouldn’t enrage him, ‘… peccadilloes, but I’m loyal to my clan above all else and you are now clan lord. I did not swear my oath lightly.’
Ratilal laughed. ‘Peccadilloes? Vikram, really?’ Vikram’s lips thinned and he looked away. ‘Ah, you’re angry.’
Vikram cursed inwardly; in all the years of working for Karan this was the only time he’d let his emotions rule him. Damn it! I could jeopardise everything. ‘You take what you do … what you have done very lightly, High Lord.’
Ratilal appraised Vikram carefully. ‘My peccadilloes as you so quaintly call them are limited to women who specialise in such things and are happy to be paid for their time. I learnt my lesson when I was younger …’
Vikram met Ratilal’s gaze fiercely. ‘Asha.’
‘Asha? You’ve a thing for her, do you?’ Ratilal scowled, kicked a rock into oblivion and began to pace. His eyes darted to the remnants of the fort, the convoy of wounded and the fresh troops at the encampment. Clearly distracted he murmured, ‘I meant to scare her and have a bit of fun, but she said … she reminded me …’ He rubbed his stomach and let out a frustrated breath. ‘She angered me.’ She and my sister … I thought I’d buried that a long time ago. Ratilal shrugged, returning to the present. ‘We’ve all got tempers. Even you, Captain. How’s the strength of your oath right about now?’ he goaded him.
‘Unwavering, High Lord. You are an able commander, you need only …’
‘Oh, there’s more? Do go on, Captain. Since we’re having this frank discussion you should get this out of your system. Tell me.’
‘You need only control your temper.’
Ratilal’s hand clenched into a fist. He forced it open one finger at a time. ‘Are you done? Anything else you’d like to enlighten me on?’
Niaz had watched them warily from his horse; he now stood beside his friend. ‘High Lord?’
‘All’s well, Niaz. Go on, Vikram, finish.’
Vikram cursed inwardly. I should have kept quiet. If I stop now, I’ll seem weak to him and that’s guaranteed to work against me. ‘High Lord, be discreet. The people will want to follow you. Civilians and soldiers alike want the reassurance of a strong leader now more than ever. They’ll want to trust you, but you must not provide fodder for the rumour mongers.’ What in Karak am I doing? Making my own job harder!
‘Is that all, Captain?’ Ratilal’s tone was blasè, yet his eyes bored into Vikram. ‘Return to your wagon.’
‘High Lord?’ Niaz asked, shocked.
Ratilal smirked and clapped him on the back. ‘Niaz, I asked him for the truth and I got it. I’m satisfied. If he’d said he was my friend and loved everything about me, then I’d be worried.’
‘You trust him?’
‘Niaz, he couldn’t hide anything, even if he tried.’ Ratilal took one last look at the ruins of the fort. ‘Now to work. Time to put on my statesman’s hat and make an inspiring speech.’
Niaz groaned inwardly. The men followed Ratilal because he was their best warrior and a cunning and able commander; the speeches were another matter. Every time Ratilal put on his ‘stateman’s hat’ to make a grand speech Niaz thought he sounded like a pretentious git.
Ratilal spun around, remounted his horse and rode into the campsite. ‘Men, we have work to do and a war to win! This has been a dark day. My father, your clan lord …’ Here he paused, appearing grief stricken. ‘Murdered! Murdered on the very day he signed a peace treaty! Before he was murdered, he told me that he wanted to see our clan return to its former glory. And by the gods we will see that happen! We will see Horse and Bear, relegated back to the far North and the Plateau, back to the wastelands they deserve! We will reclaim our ancient land across the Divide! We will restore our clan to its former glory. We will rise, like never before and we will cut a swathe through our enemies’ ranks and retake what was ours!’
CHAPTER FIVE
Karan’s face became stern as Isaura finished telling them about the enemy they had fled from.
‘Where were you sailing to? Certainly not here, by your state.’
Isaura grimaced and flushed in embarrassment. ‘Er … no. We were hoping to sail down the river and up the coast to Matryan. Nice, simple, tidy plan.’
‘What went wrong?’
She laughed harshly. ‘Everything! Utterly unseasonal winds, ocean currents we didn’t know about, storms … The list is long. The upshot is we were not, are not, sailors—only luck saved us.’
‘Not luck,’ Umniga added. ‘The gods—you were sent here.’ Isaura’s expression grew dark. ‘You don’t believe in the gods?’ Umniga chuckled. ‘Well, child, it looks like they believe in you.’
‘Gods?’ Isaura’s jaw clenched as she restrained herself. The old priestess didn’t deserve her scorn. ‘I’m not sure. I’ve never needed them. My mother never talked about religion—ever. Based on the stories people tell, even if they are real, I don’t think I could trust them.’
Umniga’s eyebrows shot up, disappearing into her hairline.
Karan held up his hand, forestalling Umniga. ‘In order to stay here you and your friends must learn about our culture. You must follow our gods and learn our rituals. The others must learn our language. You all must learn to fight. There will be no exceptions.’
‘If they refuse?’
He shrugged. ‘We have no need of those who refuse, and having been in our clan lands, you will not be allowed to leave.’
She nodded. ‘For me, I agree. I want to fight.’ Umniga narrowed her eyes at her; Isaura smiled back sweetly. ‘And it can’t hurt to learn about your gods.’ Looking at her friends, Isaura said, ‘The men will be fine, but the women … It was forbidden for women to learn skill at arms in Arunabejar.’
‘Why?’
Isaura shrugged. ‘It’s got something to do with the Great War generations ago. They developed a fear of magic and women who could fight well. Some clever woman probably kicked their superstitious arses.’
‘They must learn. You must convince them,’ Karan said.
Isaura sighed. ‘Given the choices I’m sure I can think of something; then they’ll be your problem.’
Interesting, Karan thought, she speaks as if she is not one of them<.
* * *
Ratilal and his retinue rode through the outskirts of Faros along the main thoroughfare. Timber boardwalks had been laid before the shop frontages in preparation for winter; already the dirt road had become churned up and the damp soil stuck to the horses’ hooves as they moved, deadening the sound of their passage. The street was crowded with merchants hawking their wares, and people haggling over prices as they shopped.
At the sight of Ratilal’s convoy, the crowd became silent and the eerie quiet spread like a disease.
‘Not quite what I had envisaged,’ Ratilal murmured to Niaz as solemn faces stared at him. Yet, once one man bowed formally, slowly the rest followed. A ripple of submission preceded them as they passed along the street. ‘Better,’ he quietly commented, ‘but they could look a little happier.’
‘High Lord,’ Niaz said. ‘They’ve just lost their clan lord and we are at war. Should they smile at you on the occasion of your father’s death?’ Ratilal jerked his head around to glare at Niaz. ‘Forgive me, High Lord, I meant no rebuke upon yourself. I merely believe that they’ve had so much news … They’ve already seen the injured from the fort, the bodies. It’s too much for them. Give them victories, then they’ll shout your name from the rooftops.’
Ratilal stared at him for a moment longer before grunting, ‘Doubtless,’ and turning away.
In the courtyard of the citadel, Ratilal and Niaz dismounted beside Vikram’s wagon, thrusting the reins of their horses at one of the men.
It was customary for the Chatelaine and the Chancellor to greet their lord. Other than the soldiers in barracks, no one greeted him. No one had been set to watch for his arrival. The usual guards at the doors were absent.
‘Vikram!’ Ratilal barked. ‘See to the wounded.’ Scowling, he strode up the citadel steps with Niaz racing to catch up.
‘You’re not limping, at least not much.’
‘Can’t feel it.’
Niaz snagged his friend’s arm, halting him. ‘It’s that damn tea,’ Niaz hissed. ‘You must stop taking it. You know what will happen.’
Ratilal grabbed Niaz’s hand and forced him to let go of his arm. ‘Don’t do that again,’ he bit out with a glare. ‘I’m fine. Come, let’s find out what in Karak’s going on.’
Ready to vent his frustration, Ratilal continued down the main hall of the citadel. He threw open the doors to the Great Hall. Rows of camp beds lined the walls; a scream issued from the room at the rear of the dais. Around the hall, women worked with the wounded, cleansing, stitching and bandaging wounds. He lost count of the buckets full of bloodied bandages being carted out. His countenance moved fluidly from anger, to dismay, remorse, then to bitter determination. Damn it! Here was evidence of his failure. Damn Karan.
