by Dana Marton
As soon as the men left, we climbed up to leave the strange bathing chamber before more came.
I gasped as I came up into the light. My dress, much reduced and soiled during our arduous journey, had turned red. The warriors had washed blood off their bodies onto us.
I helped Leena up and watched the horror in her eyes as she discovered the same. But then she strengthened her will. “Let us find Batumar.”
I gathered my own spirit and nodded.
I opened the door bit by bit and peered out into a dingy hallway. Torches stood in their brackets at uneven intervals, half of them either missing or burned out. I saw no one, so we emerged from the chamber and hurried down the corridor but hardly took a few steps when we heard men talking ahead.
Before we could have turned and run back to the chamber to hide, warriors came around the corner. I froze, for I feared the fate that would come upon us now, but Leena shuffled forward and yanked on my arm until I bent over and followed after her.
The warriors passed us without giving us any notice. My once splendid gown was torn and soiled beyond recognition; my short hair hanging in filthy gnarled locks. We probably looked like those unfortunate souls forced to serve the Kerghi. The men did not seem to think it strange that we were both wet and bloody.
Once the warriors had passed, we hurried forward and descended the first stairs that led down, eager to reach the dungeons at last. We met with warriors time and time again, most covered with the grime of battle and too tired to pay us much mind. But then another group strode through a thick wooden door to the side, carrying heavy bundles.
“You,” one of the warriors called to us. “Come over here.”
We had no other choice but to obey. They loaded up our backs until we were bent halfway to the floor, and ordered us to follow after them. Up the stairs we went, Leena groaning with every step. My own knees trembled by the time we reached a large hall, its floor covered with moldy old rushes upon which we were finally allowed to set down our burden.
We tried to slink away.
“Stay,” one of the soldiers ordered.
Carved wood panels covered the walls; tables littered the room, some broken, some turned over. The room was smaller than Batumar’s Great Hall, but it looked as if at one time it had been richly appointed.
At the head table sat, surrounded by a handful of others on their feet, the most fearsome of men. His red hair shone with grease as it streamed past his shoulders, his wide chest clad in an armor of black leather that belonged to no animal I had ever seen, covered with spiking ridges. The man’s nose was flat and wide, his eyes sharp and cruel, his stare deadly. I looked down at once, not wanting to draw his attention.
One of the men who stood in front of the table bowed deeply with respect as he talked. “Great Khan Woldrom, I shall carry your message to the Emperor with all haste.”
“See that you do.” The Khan spat at the man’s feet. “Neither less nor more if you value your life.”
The man bowed even deeper.
“Know now on whose side you stand. The Emperor might push the Kerghi in front of his troops to use like a whip, but in every kingdom we take, women breed large with Kerghi sons. Before I die, I will see the Kerghi outnumber the Empire’s warriors. And who will be Emperor then?”
The man fell on his knees to kiss the Khan’s boots. The Khan dismissed him, then turned his attention to us.
The warriors shoved us forward and told us to spread upon the floor the contents of the bundles we had carried. We did so with distaste, for the loot still had the victims’ blood on it: golden chalices, swords, fine cloth. My stomach rolled as I saw a large-stoned ring—still on the finger.
I looked away for I could not bear the sight, and my gaze fluttered to the man next to the Khan. He looked familiar, and after a moment, I realized why. He was the spy I had healed at the House of Joreb. He caught me looking, so I cast my eyes down once more. Too late, for with unhurried steps, he strode toward me.
He stuck his fingers under my chin and lifted my head none too gently. “I have not seen you here before.” With his other hand, he fingered my clothes. “You are wet.”
“My work is in the kitchen, my Lord,” I answered, and at once, I knew my mistake, for I spoke in the man’s own language. A local servant would not have known it.
His eyes narrowed then. “I know you,” he said. “But not from this place.” He let me go and turned to the warriors. “Throw her into the dungeons until I remember.”
One of the men grabbed me at once and dragged me from the room. I did not fight them, for they carried me to the very place I sought to reach. Down many stairs we went and long narrow corridors, my heart beating faster with every step.
Then a door fashioned of iron bars opened in front of us, and at last I found the dungeons, a large underground cavern. Leena was not far behind. Shortly after I was thrust into an alcove of rough stone guarded with more rusty bars, the men threw her in after me.
I helped her to the pile of filthy hay in the back that looked like it might have been meant for a bed. She lay weak, bruised, and exhausted from our journey. I made her as comfortable as I could, even as I gagged at the horrid stench of the place. Human waste soiled the floors, its disgusting odor mixing in the air with the smell of unwashed bodies.
Mostly men filled the dungeon, locked in small nooks carved from the rock on which the palace had been built, some hanging from chains in the wall, a few I suspected no longer living. I did not see Batumar but could not bear thinking that he had been already killed.
All night, I thought of nothing but a way to escape, talking in low whispers with Leena, but we could not construct a worthy plan. The cries of others sounded without stop. They begged for death.
Toward morning, we were given water but no food. We gulped that, both weak with hunger and exhausted from lack of sleep. The man chained to the wall opposite from us, whom I had thought dead before, looked up, his body covered in wounds and dry blood, his face beaten beyond recognition, his nose and cheekbones broken, his jaw shattered. He blinked, his eyelids moving slowly as if even that hurt.
“I had the strangest dream.” The weak whisper came out garbled and barely audible, but in the voice of Batumar.
I rushed to the bars as close as I could to be able to hear him.
“I dreamt that you were here with Leena, only she was my mother,” he said and lost consciousness again.
And at that, Leena and I wept, for he had called Leena his mother, and we knew on that day he would die.
We talked to Batumar throughout the day as he passed in and out of consciousness. Leena told him about the time he was born and asked for his forgiveness, but he had not the strength to give it. I told him I loved him, and watched his chest rise slower and slower as his breathing grew shallow.
His shackles cut into his bloody wrists—he could no longer stand; only his chains held him in place. When his head fell forward, I could no longer see his face but could still hear him now and then gasping for air.
And then he gasped no more.
Leena keened next to me, her hands extended toward her son through the bars. The pain in my heart nearly tore me apart. And I understood why my mother had been willing to give her life for my father, and no matter how much it was forbidden, I knew what I had to do.
I closed my eyes and sent my spirit forth, and my pains grew a thousand-fold. His life force was so weak I barely found it in those last weak pulses of the blood. I drew all his pain into my own body; then I surrounded his life force with my own and pushed against it until they merged.
I saw him lift his head slowly and look at me. A lifetime of understanding passed in that look, forgiveness, love, need. Then his gaze flickered as he realized what I had done.
“No!” Like a wounded beast he roared.
And then the eyes of my body could no longer see, and the ears of my body could no longer hear, for I had sent into him the last of my spirit, and the darkness came to claim me.
~~~***~~~
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
(The Battle of the Gate)
Leena wailed, cradling my body while Batumar raged against his chains, fresh blood running down his arms where he ripped his skin. He roared with grief and fury, lurching forth in his restraints, shaking the wall with his great power. I wished I could give them peace, but I could no longer touch them in any way. I had given all I had to give.
I watched from above with my spirit eyes as four guards rushed in at the commotion and beat Batumar with their lances to quiet him. They dared not step close enough to use their swords, but their lances fell upon him mercilessly until he hung limp from the chains. He did not move again.
“Is he dead?” One poked him hard with his lance.
Another opened the bars and eased inside, then kicked Batumar viciously. He did not groan, shift or flinch.
Yet I could sense his spirit, still strong within him.
“Hang him from the castle wall.” Another guard pushed forward and released his chains.
Batumar surged up and used that very chain to strangle the man. He grabbed the fallen lance and threw it hard, instantly killing the guard farthest from him, who had turned to run for the door.
The High Lord’s mighty fist brought down the next man. His boot upon the guard’s head, he crushed the skull on the stones as he leaped for the last. He showed no mercy but nearly ripped that man in half.
The other prisoners watched this in stunned, scared silence.
In a moment, he had the keys in his hand and the door of our cell open. Then he stilled for a breath before taking my body from Leena and cradling it with great gentleness.
Leena moved to him at last and embraced him, tears streaming down her face. “You must leave at once. More men will come.”
“You go,” he told her. “Hurry.”
He kissed me softly and laid my body down, then stood and walked out of the cell. Outside, he picked up a sword, then ripped a torch from its sconce. Black fires burned in his eyes, his bloodied face fierce.
And I knew he meant to take on the castle and die here.
“If you fight, I fight.” Leena rose like an ancient goddess. “I am the mother of the High Lord of the Kadar.” She put her chin in the air and blinked away her tears. “But know this. When you die here a hero’s death, there will be none to defend Dahru when the hordes reach our island. The warlords need their leader. Have I birthed a son who would abandon his people?” Her eyes flashed.
Batumar scowled at her. Then looked over her battered body. He saw what my spirit eyes saw. That she could not walk out of the dungeons unaided. “Fight, you would?”
Leena stood her ground and held his gaze without blinking.
His lips flattened. But then he kicked the keys to the nearest prisoner, threw the torch on a pile of soiled hay in the far corner, then tied the sword to his waist.
“Get out before the fire spreads,” he ordered the battered men who now clamored for release.
He stepped forward and lifted Leena with one arm while he lifted me with the other.
“To the cisterns,” Leena said as he burst through the dungeon’s door.
He thundered up the stairs. This hallway Leena recognized, because she said, “To the left.”
And soon we were at the strange bathing room. He shoved through the door and had enough time to set us down and reach for his sword, while the men inside conquered their momentary surprise. Then he leaped into the fray, nearly slipping on the blood-sluiced floor.
He had his weapon, while they had to scramble for theirs, but they outnumbered him six to one. I wanted to close my spirit eyes against the great butchery, but I could not. Leena picked up a fallen sword and fought like a man. And I wondered if I might have done the same to save the people I loved. Maybe I would have.
At the end, he piled the bodies of his enemies under the old cistern hole in the ceiling and helped Leena climb up, then carried me after her, the space a tight fit for his wide shoulders. But they did escape the castle that way, and I was happy for that.
Outside, at the foot of the walls, he found a charred cart and laid me on it, then lifted Leena, who had used up the last of her strength in the fight, next to me. Night had arrived once again. Few walked the road to the castle, and those gave wide berth to the battle-crazed warrior who was dragging two bloodied women off for some dark purpose, one obviously dead, the other still moaning.
None pursued us from the stronghold. They had other problems. Flames licked the timber roof of the southern tower.
He seemed to know which way the gate lay and walked that road all night, reaching the river by morning. Leena and I had floated far downriver from the gate upon our arrival, then had taken a great detour through the endless forest, it seemed.
A great battle waged over the island. Swords clashed, men called out, tigers roared. I saw Lord Karnagh with my spirit eyes before the others did.
My spirit floated higher now, over the treetops. I tried to return to Batumar and Leena, but I could not. An invisible force pulled me away. One moment I could see, then the next, all turned black, as if my spirit eyes were closing too, at last.
* * *
The next time I opened my eyes, my spirit was inside my body lying upon the bed in Batumar’s chamber at Karamur. Leena sat by the bed, holding my hand.
“What happened?” I could barely push out the words, my mouth as dry as if I had eaten all the dust of the great desert.
Her face split into a smile, and she kissed my hand a hundred times.
She told me all that I had missed. “Lord Karnagh and his warriors were at the gate, my Lady. Their fearsome tigers caused much destruction among the Kerghi. False news had reached Lord Karnagh that our High Lord had been captured and killed. He sought to take the gate and destroy it even at the cost of his own life and the lives of his men, trapping Woldrom, cut off from his vast armies. None can sail the ocean around those lands, not through the hardstorms.”
“Did he? Destroy the gate?”
“He tried.” She patted my hand. “And Batumar joined Lord Karnagh in the fight. Many good men fell, my Lady, but more Kerghi troops arrived. We barely escaped.”
She helped me drink.
“Shartor is gone. Banished,” she said. “When I told Batumar… He nearly cut the old leech in half. But then he said you would not wish a life to be taken on your behalf. He was afraid such an act might yet weaken your barely lingering spirit.”
I wanted to ask for Batumar, but before I could, I fell asleep. The next time I woke, the Guardians were with me.
“Welcome back,” said the Guardian of the Cave.
They had been working some healing, but I still struggled to sit. “How long have I been ill?”
They exchanged somber glances.
“Had my father not given you what spirit he had left before he died, you would not have left the dungeons of Mernor alive, my Lady,” the young Guardian of the Scrolls told me.
“The war?”
“The enemy stands ready. They are but waiting for the Emperor’s orders,” Batumar said, entering.
The Guardians withdrew silently as he strode to me. Tall and strong, a warrior from an ancient myth, he came, his face a map of new scars gained at Mernor. Fierce was his countenance, but he was precious in my sight.
He kicked off his boots, lay upon the bed, and drew me to him. I went willingly into his strong arms that had carried me back from death. I soaked up his love, my body pressed tightly against his. A hardstorm could not have torn us apart.
“You shall not heal anyone. Ever again. You shall not even think of it.”
I held on to his solid strength as I looked up. “I have passed into death and returned. Do not think, my Lord, that I shall grow frightened at the words of a Kad
ar.”
He laughed into my hair and held me fast to him.
“How came you to be captured, my Lord?” I asked after some time.
A low growl escaped his throat, and I did not think he would answer, but he did.
“I found Woldrom’s First Captain as soon as I came through the gate, for he had been charged with guarding the island. I questioned him at once about who had killed my brother. He admitted to the deed, even bragging.” His muscles stiffened.
“My own guard came through the gate then.” Regret and disapproval laced his voice. “We outnumbered the men on the island, for some had gone off to patrol the woods on the riverbank shortly before. I ordered my men to release their weapons and not to engage the enemy.”
“But you could have overtaken them,” I whispered.
“Honor demanded I fight the captain man-to-man.”
“You won,” I said. I had seen him with a sword, not that I wished to remember it.
“He turned the fight so I would stand amidst his men. Then he gave a signal. They fell on me, but I fought them, ordering my own guard still to stand back. I cut them down, and I cut down their captain, but his larger force heard the clashing of the swords and rushed back from their patrol.” His chest rose as he drew a slow breath. “Ten of my most faithful guards killed.”
We lay in silence.
“I upheld the honor of my House,” he said after a while. “And now I find I would rather lose even that than lose you again,” he whispered into my hair.
At least I thought that might have been what he had whispered. My heart swelled, filling my chest. I lifted my head for a kiss. He needed no further invitation to claim my lips.
In the morning, he took me to the Forgotten City so I could once again examine the scrolls. Having seen the evil at Mernor, I knew that Batumar had been right. There could be no peace with such an enemy. We must fight it, or our people would perish.
We went the long way up the side of the mountain, carried by manyinga beasts. The Guardians waited for us at the cave and welcomed us warmly. Batumar stayed outside with his warriors, who upon his orders were not allowed to enter either the Forgotten City or the Cave. Their presence alone caused enough upheaval, although I was told the Guardians had lately spent much time preparing the Seela for such an event.