Ardent

by Florian Armas

  The morning came with a bright sun, and I woke to a peculiar fragrance of smoke: Vlaicu was smoking his pipe, sitting on a large stone that marked the small depression.

  “There is a nice spot here,” he grinned. “We might stay for a while.”

  “We just need to ask the Leyonans for permission.” I stretched, and climbed onto the highest rock. The land rose and fell gently, and the valleys were bordered by forests and meadows. The hills were not high, nor too steep, but there seemed to be no end of them. There were dots in some of the distant meadows which I assumed to be deer. To my right, in the east, almost on the horizon, I thought I could see the round tower of a small fortress. Leyona should be in that direction too. But it was a three-day ride away. The hills continued to the north for a while, growing taller, a string of small forests and grass patches marking a high path running parallel with the gorge. Maybe we can use it.

  We ate fast and moved from one hill to another, at moderate speed, on a road that appeared to be without end, where every place looked like the one before, and all the small differences just made it seem all alike. From time to time, we stopped to rest; riding was talking a toll on both Jara and Martin. At noon Jara’s color changed to white, and Martin was livid, yet none complained, and we stopped again. With the spyglass, I surveyed the land in front of us, each hill taller than the previous one. We had at least the luck that we were on an almost continuous ridge that relieved us from descending too much after each top.

  “There is a ruin up ahead,” I said. “Not very far from here. We will camp there.”

  The sun was still high when we arrived, and what looked like a ruin at distance was an old pen, with a hut made of stones for the shepherds to shelter in. No mortar had been used to keep the stones together, and the wind whistled inside, but it looked solid, like a small fortress. A lonely thing, it was too early for the shepherds to bring their sheep so far into the mountains – Vlad and Pintea had already checked the place and found it empty. The enclosure was large enough to keep all our horses. We camped, and I convoked our small council: Vlaicu, Ban and Vlad. I would have called for Jara too, if not for her wound – she had a good tactical mind, and was used to fighting.

  “Even with that botched attempt at an ambush, I fear more the mercenaries than the Leyonans,” I said. “They may be from the far south, but they could have hired local trackers. It would not be hard to pick out our trail going away from the road, and locals know about this pen. The thing will be to guess if they will wait for the Leyonans or if they are greedy enough to grab the reward for themselves. There were ten galbeni in the prisoner’s purse, so they will make at least the same amount after capturing us, if not more. It would help to know how many of them there are.”

  “Fire will make him talk,” Vlaicu gestured toward the prisoner.

  “I will give him time until the evening,” I said.

  Vlad cocked his head abruptly and silenced us. “Something glinted for a moment. There,” he pointed, and we all turned. “Remember that old lonely tree that was hit by lightning? Just behind it, a bit to the right, at the forest edge. I can’t see it anymore, but it was there, and it couldn’t be water. I bet a good round galben that it was steel.”

  Even with my spyglass, I could not see any threat, but I trusted Vlad, he had the eyes of a mountain man.

  “They will come from the right,” I said, as I looked south. “If they cross to the other side, we will see them. On the left, is the precipice, so no attack will be launched from there anyway. Ahead of us, there is nothing to hide behind, and they are not stupid.”

  “They lost too many men to behave stupidly now,” Vlaicu shook his head. “People who have been warned are careful.”

  “That brings to me the thing about a local guide, one who knows the area. The back of the pen is almost safe; an attack could come from there, but the slope is very steep. It can be climbed without horses though. I doubt that they will attack on horseback, though. They will try to surprise us. We must surprise them. These walls will allow us to control much of the fight. And that hillock,” I pointed to an agglomeration of rocks, the size of a small house, and knee pines, a hundred feet from the pen, “controls the path. We can put an archer or two there.”

  “Should we check the slope at the back of the pen?” Vlad asked.

  “Yes, and the forest on the right. Ban, take Geo and see what’s in the forest. Vlad, check the slope.”

  I spent most of the time with my spyglass, viewing the right flank of the hills. There was nothing to be seen, but at least I was sure that no one had crossed on the left of the ridge. From time to time, I flexed my left hand to feel the reaction in my muscles. I could handle a bow, but my aim would be poor. Better than nothing. Keeping an eye out, I asked Saliné to tighten my bandage.

  “I hope that is not too tight.” She seemed worried after finishing it, her hand still on my arm, yet the same coldness I found in her when I returned to Severin in spring was still there, freezing me.

  At least I know the reason. “No, it isn’t,” I said, unable to find the warm words that were chorusing in my mind just moments before. She nodded and left me alone.

  Time stretched from the lack of action, and tension steadily rose – silent and insidious. With mercenaries around somewhere and Leyonans riding the road, there was no way we could leave the pen. The sun was going down behind the hill across the gorge, when Pintea raised his hand from the hillock. He was more or less safe there; we had had to make a human stair to help him climb, and he had one of the captured crossbows and his sword. It was Vlad who spotted his gesture and warned us.

  “Martin, go out and keep watch on the slope behind the pen. Take the second crossbow with you, and keep them at a distance. If there are too many of them, shout.”

  He went slowly through the back door, limping on his wounded leg. We split our inside forces between the front door and the two windows. It was silent outside, and hidden behind the frame of the front door I watched the forest. It took me a while to spot the first attackers; they were moving in spurts, spread across a large front, taking advantage of the thick bushes. I could never see a full man, just a leg here or a hand there, or a helmet. They were the Leyonans; the mercenaries were not yet in sight. I counted ten of them, but I could not trust that number. We did not react. At shooting distance, they stopped, vanishing behind the bushes. We remained still and hidden, Pintea too. He would start to shoot only when they attacked, or if an isolated target presented an opportunity for a stealthy kill.

  “Blast this silence,” Vlaicu muttered.

  “I don’t think they will blow a horn to announce their arrival,” I laughed. “They have to attack. I can smell their fear from here.”

  “You would make a good wine taster with such a fine nose,” Vlaicu grinned.

  A lonely bird voiced her anger, flying away from a thick bush. It startled us; the bush was no more than forty feet from the door. Nothing else moved. I turned and pointed the bush out to Ban, who took up a position with Jara at one of the windows, their bows nocked. I knew he had seen what happened in the bush; but I wanted to make everyone aware that it was his target. At the other window, Vlad and Saliné with their bows, teamed up with Geo, who was mostly a swordsman.

  Through a gap between two stones, I saw Pintea tensing his crossbow. It was more deduction than really observing; only half of his head was visible to me, and a part of the weapon which was suddenly parallel with the ground. A bolt flew and disappeared in the forest. Some leaves fluttered in a bush, and that was all.

  One.

  The forest remained silent. I went out through the back door, and questioned Martin with a gesture. He shook his head.

  “I have a perfect spot,” Martin smiled, sitting on a stone bench that could be manmade or just a natural outcrop. An old tree, half dead, stood behind the bench, providing support for his body. “And I have both my bow and one of the crossbows we captured.”

  As if I did not know, I smiled back. “Be care
ful. I can’t send another man here, but the slope is hard to climb.”

  He just gestured back with his crossbow. In the enclosure, the horses were as calm as Martin, and I returned inside.

  Why are they not attacking? The strain was growing inside the pen, and everybody remained silent. Pintea tensed his crossbow again. He aimed for longer this time, then relaxed, without shooting. Then it was Ban’s turn to aim; a few leaves trembled in that nearest bush. They became still again and Ban relaxed too. The wind? I stared at the bush.

  Then a horn blew in the forest, and from behind each bush a soldier sprang out. That bloody sound delayed our reactions, and bought them a few moments. Those moments which ride you, playing with your life – all our arrows flew, but after a little delay. Two hit their target; only one man fell, at the edge of the forest. Our archers moved in a weird synchrony to nock again.

  “Honorable men; they have announced themselves,” Vlaicu laughed, hiding behind the front door.

  A moment later, the first Leyonan pushed through the open door. Cross-impaled by two swords, he stood up, silent and with wide open eyes, until we pulled our blades from his body. I grabbed his cloak, and aligned his falling body with the door, a small obstacle for the next one to come. Ban dropped his bow when the attackers arrived at the window. The first one trying to enter lost his head, which rolled on the floor with a dull sound. Vlad, Jara and Saliné were still shooting.

  There was noise out back, and Vlad moved fast toward the closed door. With a bang, the back door was smashed open; Vlad was thrown to the floor, and rolled on the ground. A huge man leaped inside. His hand twirled a large spiked hammer with the same ease with which a child would play with a toy; that same toy had destroyed a hard wooden door.

  “He’s mine,” I shouted and left the main door.

  Vlad jumped up, rotated his shoulder a few times, and went to take my place alongside Vlaicu. The prisoner lying on the ground jerked and hit Vlad’s leg, and he fell again, over the prisoner thus time. During his fall, Vlad managed to stick his sword in the man’s chest. Howling a war cry, one man entered through the front door. He met Vlaicu’s sword, and the war cry moved into a faint whimper.

  “Death is yours,” the huge man growled at me.

  His arm moved like a windmill and the hammer tried to find my head. You can’t respond to a falling hammer with a sword; there is no way to stop it with a counter-thrust. You have to move. I slid quickly to one side, but not quickly enough to hit the giant, who was slightly off balance too, as his hammer hit only air before smashing into the floor. He did not try to raise it again, just swung it in a circle to find my legs. I had no time to move aside. I jumped and fell with one foot on the hammer, the moment he tried to raise it again. The impact pulled him forward. I lost my footing and rolled on my back, in parallel with him. Flame slashed his thigh – an anemic hit from a wounded arm in a bad position, but better than nothing. He limped aside before raising his hammer again. Two men burst in through the back door, one after another. Geo moved to intercept one of them, leaving Saliné alone at the window. His place was taken by our guard who had been shot in the back the day before. He was moving clumsily, but it was better than nothing. The other attacker aimed at me, and I was caught between his sword and the hammer. I parried the sword, and rolled on my back. The hammer swung in a wide circle and smashed the hip of the swordsman, making him fly. He wailed like a dying animal and crashed into the wall. I jumped to my feet. Delayed by his own inertia, the hammer man turned toward me again. Shadow slashed. The hammer hit the floor with a dull sound, a bloodied hand still attached to it. The huge man had no time to howl his pain; Flame pierced his gorge. His body turned slowly while falling and blood from his stump sprayed over my face, blinding me for a moment.

  A spear caught Saliné on her chest, and pushed her down. She cried, a muffled sound, as she lost her breath. Ban jumped and hit the spear, then slid his sword up. The spearman lost his fingers and dropped the spear. Before I could react, Saliné stood up and regained her place at the window alongside Ban, and I joined Jara, who was struggling with two soldiers trying to enter through the window. Flame pierced one’s eye before they had seen me. Jara stumbled back, a line of blood flowing down her face.

  “I am fine,” she whispered.

  There were now four rows of soldiers, trying to enter through all the open spaces, doors and windows. They had the disadvantage that they could only enter one or two abreast, and there were two swords waiting behind the walls of each opening. In the corner of my eye, I saw a man falling outside; Pintea was playing his part too.

  The horn blew again in the forest, and all the attackers fell back. Tired, I stuck Shadow into the ground, and leaned on it, breathing hard.

  “Mother!” Saliné shouted, and moved quickly toward Jara. She was sliding slowly down against the wall, her face filled with blood.

  “I am fine,” Jara said both to Saliné and me, when I turned. Her hand was pressed to her eyebrow, blood pouring down.

  “Let me look.” I took her hand away. There was a cut there three fingers long, just under the helmet, but it was superficial. I could see the light pink skull bone; it was only slightly scratched. “It’s fine.”

  Saliné pressed a piece of chiffon to the wound, and I touched Jara’s hand. “Keep it here.”

  “You don’t look much better.” Jara smiled briefly, with all that pain in her eyes.

  “I am just painted. The hammer man’s blood,” I patted her hand again, then turned to see Saliné. Her ring-mail was scratched, but it seemed that the spear had just got caught in the mail and dragged her down.

  Vlad had a slight concussion where the door had hit his head. “My fault for not wearing a helmet,” he shrugged, then rotated his shoulder, which had also been hit by the door. Geo had a cut on his jaw. I went to the door to look for Pintea. He waved his hand, half hidden between the rocks. Not bad… Then I remembered Martin, and I burst out through the back door, my eyes moving fast to cover the slope from left to right: it was empty. Martin was still sitting on his bench. “Martin.” I touched his shoulder, walking around the bench. He did not move and did not fall. Passing through his neck, a bolt pinned him on the old tree. His unseeing eyes wide open over the valley. I crouched to hide myself. Crossbow… The bolt was thicker and shorter than an arrow. Slowly, I closed his eyes, and I trudged back to the pen.

  “Martin is dead,” I said when I was back in the room. “Saliné, take my Assassin kit and stitch Jara’s wound. Ban, watch the slope out back from the door. Be careful, they used a crossbow to hit Martin. The rest of you, keep your places.” I went to take over at the window where Ban and Jara had been stationed.

  Silence fell over on us, and for a long turn we just watched the forest, waiting for another attack. It did not happen, and the sun slowly disappeared over the hills. When darkness fell, Vlad imitated an owl’s call three times, and Pintea came back.

  “We must leave during the night,” I said. “Ban, Pintea, gather all the wood from the back of the pen, and bring it inside, then bury Martin. They were the only ones not wounded in all the fights we had that day.

  We lit the fire inside, and arranged the wood in concentric circles to keep the fire small and alight throughout the night. When the full moon appeared, we left the pen through the opposite side to the attackers, horses at halter, walking slowly toward the point where we had climbed the hill. Jara was the only one of us mounted, Ban guiding her horse too. At the large boulder overseeing the valley, we stopped; it was too dangerous to walk down under the thin moonlight.

  Early in the morning, we headed back toward Valeni. Out of the gorge, we climbed the first hill on the left flank and rode through the forest. The path went down into a deep valley, and from there we climbed the next hill and rode north again. During the night, we camped at the foot of a rocky ridge in a place that was covered on three sides. We lit no fire.

  “Inheritance I wanted, inheritance we’ve got,” Jara sighed, limping toward a holl
ow in the rocks. “She sat, one leg flexed, the wounded one kept straight.

  “It was not a bad decision,” I said. “We’ve learned what lies in front of us. It may even become a good decision if we manage to get home,” I forced laughter. It sounded awry.

  “Tell that to Martin,” Jara shrugged.

  “We did not start this, Jara. In one way or another, the Circle would have come to hunt you. We are not safe, but we are forewarned now.”

  “What is a Black Warrant?”

  “A death sentence.” I whispered to be heard only by her, and I set my hand on her shoulder. Should I tell her about the date…?

  “Are you sure it was not written by Cantemir?”

  “It was written by the Master Sage before him, Orban’s uncle. Cantemir obtained an agreement from the Council of the Circle to keep the warrant dormant until … Saliné and Vio had passed the Circle’s test.” I gently squeezed her shoulder and she placed her hand over mine.

  “They’ve passed it,” Jara whispered, struggling to understand what loomed before her. “Go look for Saliné. She is struggling with the water and I know that her wound is more painful than she is letting on.” A hundred paces back, Saliné was trying to fill a bag with water from a small spring, her tight lips reflecting the pain in her bruised ribs.

  “Give it to me,” I said to Saliné. The spring was two feet down between the rocks, and not easy to reach. “Everything is so different from what I heard when I came back in spring,” I said, returning the filled bag. She nodded, biting her lip. “I will fight for you, Saliné.”

  “No, Codrin, it’s too dangerous.” It was the first time I had seen that awful coldness disappearing from her face, and her warm beauty coming back. Not that the cold Saliné was not beautiful, but it was not the real woman. Her appearance was just a mask I had failed to understand until we arrived in Valeni.

  “I fought for you against Devan, and I will fight for you against Bucur.”

  “Please don’t.” Her hand grabbed mine, and that old spark flew freely between us again.