by Jon F. Merz
Gunj shook his head. “No. It wouldn’t make sense for them to do so since they’d need to be able to haul away whatever they stole. Burning things usually means something far worse than mere bandits.”
“Like what?”
Gunj eyed him. “Slavers.”
“They take the caravans as slaves? For what purpose?”
“Does it matter? They’ll throw you in chains and march you anywhere they can sell you. Out here on the road, things aren’t necessarily as civilized as they might be in the safe confines of a city. At the trading posts along the route, you can find just about anything you might want to purchase. That includes humans.”
“I can’t imagine it.”
“Imagine what? Being a slave?” Gunj took a drink of water and then let the water skin fall back against his saddle. “Most people probably can’t. I don’t imagine very many picture themselves being a slave when they’re young. But the nature of the world works in mysterious ways. The gods have their own plans. And so often they don’t tell us what they are. It can happen to anyone, I’ll tell you that.”
Ran thought about his own life. When his parents were killed he had wandered for months before finding his way to the fog-enshrouded peaks of Gakur and the shinobujin school that became his home for the next nearly twenty years. Was he slave to the whims of the clan elders back in Nehon? Ran wasn’t locked in chains and unable to move about, but there was a part of him forever indebted to the Nine Daggers clan for saving his life and giving him the skills he possessed now.
He sighed. And yet he’d already shirked that duty in favor of following the whims of his heart.
“My parents were slaves,” said Gunj. “I was born into it.”
“You?” Ran shook his head. “How can that be?”
“It just was. My father and mother were taken when their town was captured. They were sold into slavery. Fortunately, they worked for a wealthy family who treated them fairly well—at least as far as slaves go. And when my mother was pregnant, they took care of her. I grew up friends with the head of the family’s son.” Gunj paused. “We were close friends. And while I was not permitted to attend the training he received as a warrior, I always made it a point to steal inside and watch him going through his lessons. It got to the point where I started mimicking the movements until I could hold my own with a sword.”
Ran sensed there was more to the story, but Gunj fell silent. Ran wondered whether it would be wise to press him for more information. But then Gunj cleared his throat and chuckled a bit.
“You all right?”
Gunj nodded. “Just remembering. There were some good memories in those times. Bad ones, too. Unfortunately.”
“If you were a slave, how did you get free?”
“I ran away,” said Gunj. “But it wasn’t that I wanted to. I had to.”
“Had to?”
Gunj sighed. “After a while, I got cocky. Young boys always do. I started lecturing the son about the proper way to hold a sword. He didn’t like that I’d been watching his lessons and boasted that he could best me in a fight. I knew I could beat him so I accepted the challenge. We got two practice swords and went at it. I never meant for it to happen. I just wanted to teach him a lesson. But as we fought he talked down to me. Called my family his pets. I lost control. On his next attack, I countered and struck him in the side. It was deep. Mortally so. I was sixteen at the time. And my friend was the same. He died on the end of my sword, staring into my eyes as all the life spilled from his body.”
He grew quiet again, and Ran knew he shouldn’t say a thing.
“I was a coward,” said Gunj. “Worse, I was a well-trained fool. I let my pride get the better of me when I should have simply shut up and gone home, such as it was. But I couldn’t do that. I was insulted, and I felt that I had to do something to save my family’s honor. Not that we had any, mind you, but I always felt like we ought to be entitled to at least something.”
“It must have been tough being friends with him when his father owned your family.”
“Exactly. I must have been feeling like that for a while because when I snapped, I truly snapped. Of course, I was then faced with the reality of the situation. I ran. I would have been killed for what I did, and I knew it. So without even telling my mother and father, I ran off into the woods and never looked back. Not once. Not ever.”
“But your family . . . ?”
Gunj shook his head. “I assume the worst. No doubt the master of the house would have been so overcome with grief and fury at what I had done that he would have extracted his vengeance upon my mother and father. I don’t kid myself into thinking they somehow survived that. After all, look at what Yasseh did to the bandits in the camp.”
“How did you find your way into his employ, anyway?”
Gunj nudged his horse. “I wandered for what seemed like weeks. Living off the land, that sort of thing. Luckily, my father had taught me a lot about how to survive in the wild. Occasionally, I would come across a farm where I would bed down with the animals for a night. But I kept moving. Always moving. I knew that I would be hunted. Somehow I had to find a place to hide. I’d heard rumors about a temple in the south, so I headed there. No idea why. It wasn’t like I knew what they did there, but it seemed as good a place as any. When you’re panicking, anything can look like it makes sense.”
“Did you make it?”
“A couple of close run-ins with the hunters who had been dispatched to find me, but yes, I managed to find it. From the outside, it looked like a terrible place. Just one tall tower built of dark rocks that seemed to pitch at an odd angle as it reached for the sky. They called it Han-dul-yo. I stood outside the wall that surrounded it and simply stared.”
Ran smiled. “Did they let you in?”
Gunj cocked his head. “As I was standing there, the hunters finally caught up with me. I heard the sound of their horses and saw them galloping toward me. I ran for the wall and somehow—I still don’t quite know to this day how I managed it—climbed over. The hunters demanded that the monks inside release me. The monks told them to leave. That whoever I was on the outside world no longer mattered. I had gotten inside and therefore they afforded me sanctuary.”
“That must not have gone over very well.” Ran thought about the similarities in their upbringing. Not quite the same, but not entirely different, either.
“It didn’t. The hunters attempted to attack the monastery. No doubt they thought that a few old monks would prove to be no trouble for them. They were wrong.”
“What happened?”
“It turns out the temple trained boys in an old fighting art called Han-dul. When the hunters attacked, they were met with an opposing force of men who easily killed every one of them. I’d never seen such skill before. They were masters of both unarmed and armed fighting. I knew then that I wanted to learn whatever they could teach me.”
Ran nodded. He could understand wanting to have such power. It was what had made him excel in his own learning in Gakur. “How long did you stay with them?”
“Ten years,” said Gunj. “They told me they had nothing left for me to learn and sent me back out into the world.” He smirked. “I have to say that I thought for sure that I would be met outside the walls by the hunters. That they had waited for me somehow. Of course, that was ridiculous. And I had little to worry about. I was twenty-six years old and a far different person than when I had gone inside. The only thing that had remained the same was my small stature.”
“And you found no one waiting for you.”
Gunj smiled. “No. So I took to resuming my wandering. For some reason, I had no desire to go back and visit my former home. It was as if that part of my life was no longer accessible. Maybe I just didn’t want to face the memories. I’d come to peace with the fact that I’d acted like a fool and a coward. But I didn’t know how to deal with the guilt I might feel knowing my actions had caused my parents’ death.”
“You were young,” said Ran.
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“I was old enough,” said Gunj. “But no matter. As I said, I resumed wandering the countryside. I walked everywhere, testing myself when the gods saw fit to put opponents in front of me who thought they could defeat me. I saw small towns and big cities and just kept moving. I don’t know what I was searching for. Peace, maybe? Probably not. More likely I was looking for something I could call a home.”
“You could have done anything,” said Ran. “Why not travel the world?”
“I needed money,” said Gunj. “And I wasn’t going to start my new life by stealing. So I started looking for work. The trouble was, no one wanted to hire me. Because I’m smaller than most men, they never even gave me a chance. It was around that time I found my way to Chulal. I met Yasseh one day when he was arguing with another merchant who was trying to cheat him. I saw right away that Yasseh was being cheated. But this other merchant thought that since Yasseh was an outsider, it somehow gave him the right to rob him.”
“You stepped in?”
Gunj smiled. “Let’s just say I managed to convince the other merchant that cheating Yasseh was not the best thing to do. He agreed.”
“And Yasseh hired you?”
“Not right away. While he was grateful, he wasn’t completely convinced. So he set up a bit of a gauntlet for me. Ten men all offered a big bag of gold if they could best me. None of them were successful, and I took the bag of gold for myself.”
“Yasseh must have loved that.”
“I’ve been with him ever since. He treats me fairly, and I have no complaints. Until you arrived, I was pretty confident that there wasn’t anyone better trained than me out there. You certainly put that theory to the test.”
“My teachers were always fond of telling me that there is always someone out there who has been training longer, harder, and better than you. It’s tough to remember that, but I’ve found it to be true. Humility can keep you alive.”
“Confidence isn’t always a bad thing,” said Gunj. “Provided you know how best to use it.”
“Indeed.”
Kuva’s voice rang out from the head of the caravan. “Smoke!”
Ryu’s squawk overhead came a moment later.
Gunj frowned. “It seems we have arrived even earlier than I expected.”
“Or the traders had their distances off,” said Ran. He eased his horse forward until he was next to Kuva and Yasseh.
In the distance, Ran could see the smoldering husks of wagons. His right hand dropped to the hilt of his sword.
Gunj frowned. “Be on your guard. Kuva, put two riders out on our flanks. We don’t want any nasty surprises coming up on us.”
Kuva signaled for two men to branch out from the convoy. The rest of the caravan eased closer to the scene of devastation. As they rode closer, Ran spotted two bodies amid the burning wrecks, but their skin had been incinerated somehow. They were as black as the smoking wood that remained of the wagons.
“Not as small as what the traders led us to believe,” said Yasseh. “It’s possible this is another caravan?”
Gunj shrugged. “It’s possible, but they would have been seen by the other convoy. More likely they got the distance wrong and we were closer than we thought.”
Ran scanned the area. Something felt strange about this. As his eyes swept the ground, he caught something twinkling underneath a wagon husk. He slid from the saddle and walked over. As he did so, Ryu swooped down and squawked once before settling on his shoulder. Ran looked at the falk. “You sense it, too, don’t you?”
Ryu squawked and took flight again, leaving Ran with his thoughts as he drew closer to the gleaming object. It caught the sun’s rays as it lay partially buried in the dirt.
“What is it?” asked Gunj.
Ran knelt in the soft earth and plucked it free. Bits of earth clung to it, but he brushed those aside.
And then felt his stomach lurch.
The ring was small. Too small for any of his fingers. It had been made for a smaller hand. Ran remembered seeing it as if it had happened only yesterday, when, in fact, it had been nearly two months ago in the forests back in Nehon.
“Ran?”
He glanced back at Gunj. “Yes?”
“Are you all right? You look as if you’ve seen the dead.”
I hope she’s not dead, thought Ran. He glanced at the ring he held and then squeezed it tight. It belonged to Princess Cassandra
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“What is it?”
Ran turned, aware that Gunj had seen his reaction. “A ring I think belonged to a friend of mine. But she should have many leagues to the west by now.” He paused. “At least, that’s where I thought she’d be.” He shook his head. “Something must have delayed her. And apparently she was with this caravan.”
“Are you sure it’s hers?” Gunj gestured around them. “There might be others like it. Someone could have stolen it from her even.”
Ran smiled. “Not this woman. She would have fought a thousand men to keep it. She would have killed them all, too.”
“That must be some woman,” said Gunj. “In any event, just because you found the ring doesn’t mean she’s . . . dead.”
“Where could she be then?”
Gunj pointed at an arrow jutting out of the burned framework of a wagon. “You see the fletching on that arrow?”
“I don’t recognize the feathers they used,” said Ran studying the end of the arrow.
“That’s because they don’t use feathers. They take their fletching from an animal called a laraxae. It’s a bizarre creature with fanlike protrusions near its head. That’s what they use for their arrows.”
Ran eyed him. “Who?”
“Mung slavers. That’s who attacked this column.”
“You sure about that?”
“I’d stake my life on it,” said Gunj. “I’ve seen enough of their handiwork over the years since I started working for Yasseh. This is definitely one of their attacks. It’s their custom to burn everything they can’t take with them to sell elsewhere.”
Ran felt the ring in his hand and saw another image of Cassandra in his mind. “Where will they go? With the people who were in this caravan, I mean.”
Gunj sat down on his haunches and rubbed his chin. “Could be any number of trading posts along the route. Or they could make their way farther north. There are outposts and towns along the mountain border that would no doubt pay handsomely for a fresh load of slaves.” He sighed. “Mung slavers are quick and ruthless. They appear out of nowhere, strike, and then vanish before they can be tracked.”
“No one’s ever tried to stop them?” asked Ran.
“A few years back one of the merchants got tired of their attacks. He tried to put together a group. They rode out convinced that they were going to be victorious and come back as heroes.”
Ran glanced around. “What ended up happening?”
“I don’t know,” said Gunj. “No one ever saw them again.”
Ran looked back at Gunj. “I need to find them.”
Gunj shook his head. “You don’t find the Mung; they find you.”
Ran ducked without thinking as his senses detected the sound of the arrow being fired. He felt the air break around his head. The arrow passed through where his skull had been a half second before. Ran’s hand went to his sword, and he ripped it free of his scabbard in the next half second.
“Riders!”
The call came from Kuva. Ran glanced back at Gunj.
And nearly froze.
The arrow meant for Ran’s head had embedded itself in Gunj’s chest. The smaller man was rocked back on his seat, staring down at the thick shaft of the arrow jutting from his upper torso. Ran rushed to his side and knelt by it. The force of the impact had sent the arrow nearly all of the way through Gunj’s body. Just a few inches of the shaft showed in the front. Dark red blood was already pooling at the entry point.
Ran glanced behind and saw the barbed tip jutting out of Gunj, just under his shoulder.
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br /> Gunj put a hand on Ran. “Don’t worry about me. Get to them before they arrive. Strike first.”
Ran didn’t wait. He leaped back into the saddle and swung about. Kuva was right there with him.
“Plan?”
Ran shook his head. “Don’t have one. Just kill the bastards.”
Kuva grinned. “My kind of plan.” He wheeled about and galloped toward the approaching band of riders. As Ran raced to join him, he could see the riders all clothed in black mail adorned with animal skins. They wore head caps of mail instead of helmets, and they appeared armed with short swords and compact bows. As one of the guards Kuva had sent out to the flank came racing back to join them, he was shot by one of the mounted archers. Another arrow appeared in the man’s chest a moment later, sending him toppling from his saddle and into the ground. Two more arrows pierced him there as he tried to stand. He slumped back to the ground and lay still.
Ahead of Ran, three riders zeroed in on his position. Ran waited until he was close, then wheeled about to his left, using the farthest rider to his left as cover from the other two. As he swerved, he cut horizontally with his long sword and gutted the man on the horse. Fighting with his long sword on horseback wasn’t the best use of the weapon, but as with every other skill he possessed, his elders back in Gakur had made sure he was able to fight regardless of the condition or environment. Ran gave silent thanks to them and whirled about to meet another attacker.
Kuva’s roar sounded across the battlefield as he clashed with more riders. Kuva used his broadsword and cleaved two other attackers before they could punch their swords into him. He paused and then turned about to try to get closer to Ran.
Ran had little time to appreciate how well Kuva fought. Another rider came screaming at him, and Ran narrowly missed having his head sliced off by the slashing cut of the short sword. As he ducked, another arrow zipped past. The Mung slavers apparently didn’t care about injuring their own in the process.
Ran brought his long sword overhead and cut down on the mounted attacker. The rider ducked right, but Ran adjusted his cut midway and sliced into the black mail. His blade only paused a moment before severing the mail links and biting deep into the clavicle of his attacker. Ran twisted his blade, and it sank deeper into the man’s neck, spraying blood out into the air. He slid from his saddle as Ran yanked his sword free.