I felt terribly confused and vulnerable. "But Jamie, the stablehands, they're not fighters. What if..."
"I'll warn them, my girl, don't worry about that. You get working on the evening meal, that needs done and it'll keep you inside. I'll post a guard and set a watch." He seemed almost pleased; certainly his eyes were bright and sharp. "They'll not catch us sleeping, not if I can help it. Brew us up some chelan, there's a good lass. We'll need it." He turned to Varien. "And you bring that sword to the tack room just now, Varien, and we'll put an edge on it."
Jamie
Lanen was right, though. The lads weren't fighters. I warned them, but though they nodded and agreed to do as I asked, they all were convinced I was making a lot of noise over nothing. They knew better than to disobey me, but for all that I walked up and startled them several times after darkness fell. And I wasn't even trying.
I kept walking around the buildings, checking the doors, trying to quiet the horses. They seemed bothered by something but I couldn't tell what.
I'd been inside the common room warming up, and I must have stayed longer than I realised. It felt like the middle of the night when I went out again. I could feel the frost crunch under my boots. The quarter-moon was bright, die sky was clear, and it was bloody cold.
All of a sudden the horses in the west stable started complaining, loud and urgent. I turned and was making for the door when suddenly, between one step and another, the noise from the horses changed from restless to flat-out panic. That cry for help is unmistakable and reaches through your gut to get your feet moving without bothering your brain. I was already running.
When I reached the main stable door I threw it open. The smell hit me instantly, stronger even than the noise of terrified horses.
Smoke.
Hellsfire and bloody damnation.
"FIRE!" I yelled, loud as I could. "FIRE, FIRE, FIRE!" Over and over. I had no idea what had happened to the lad who normally slept in this barn but there was no time to wonder. The smoke was coming from the farthest stall on the left. I pulled off my coat as I ran, lifted the latch on the stall, threw the door wide and tossed my coat over the head of Row, our best stallion and one of the founders of Hadron's stock. He was scared stiff and drew back, tossing his head in panic, fighting me. I spoke to him, calm as I could manage, knowing I couldn't spend much time even on him with so many others to get out. I managed to get my coat over his eyes, and thank the Lady, he changed his mind all of a sudden and came out with me.
I was almost surprised to find the courtyard full of folk, busily getting out every horse they could. I caught one of our young stable lads in passing. "Rab, quick, take Row out to the paddock and take any of the others that'll follow. And make sure someone's fetching water to douse the fire!"
I didn't stop to hear his reply. I was already running back into the barn, through the smoke, to the other stall nearest the fire.
Lanen
When I heard Jamie yelling "fire" at the top of his lungs I was up and moving before I realised I was awake. I'd slept in my clothes, for we had expected something, and somehow I managed to slip on my boots. I snatched up a coat as I hurried outside. Varien moved more slowly behind me, but then he didn't understand about fires and horses.
When I emerged after even those short moments, the courtyard was full of our folk. Some were fetching water and dunking rags in it for the others to use to cover the horses' eyes and noses with. The horses were screaming with terror, and I could hardly breathe myself as I grabbed a damp rag and ran into the stable.
The smoke was up to the roof in great grey clouds, lit from below by the flames. The fire seemed to be running along the hayloft as fast as a man can walk.
One of the lads cried out to me as I passed. "She won't come, Lanen! Shadow won't come!"
"Then leave her and save another!" I yelled. I opened a stall at random and found myself facing Jamie's own gelding, Blaze. I didn't stop to think—I hadn't had a conscious thought yet—just threw the damp rag over his eyes, called him by name and spoke to him in as normal a voice as I could, and tried not to panic myself as I led him out. To my immense relief he came with me. As we emerged into the sweet cold air outside the barn I heard Jamie yelling that the horses we'd got out should be taken to the paddock, so I grabbed a passing maidservant who was being no use and told her where to take Blaze. She said nothing but seemed glad to have something to do.
By now there were a fair few horses being led out of the courtyard, but not enough. Not nearly enough. I remembered to grab the rag off Blaze's face and went in again.
The air was torn by the sudden screams of a horse. I tried to get to the sound, but the fire was too hot and burning fragments were starting to drop down from the burning hayloft above. It was sickening and the smell of burning horsehair and flesh made me gag, but I didn't have time to cry. I found myself in another stall fighting with Daft Sally, one of our brood mares, who didn't want to come, when I heard the most astounding thing. It took me a moment to realise that the voice was not coming from behind me.
It was Varien. His mindvoice was calm and he was speaking to the horses in broad truespeech. He was not using words, just feelings, of calm, of sense, of safety outside the barn, of trusting and following the people who were trying to help.
I couldn't be certain, but it seemed to help. Daft Sally calmed down enough to let me throw a halter over her neck and she followed me out, terrified but willing to go. I walked her as fast as I could to the door and gave the lead rope to young Tam. Every soul on the stead was working hard to get out as many as we could, but in the pit of my stomach I knew that the fire was well caught and if we could get any more of them out it would be by the grace of the Lady.
I was heading back to the stable door when on the edges of my mind it occurred to me even in the midst of that mad chaos that there seemed to be an awful lot of folk about, even with every soul we had—maybe some of the villagers had come—I was all but through the door when something fell over my own face, filled my mouth and blinded me, and I felt myself grabbed from behind with my arms pinioned to my sides. The man was big enough to drag me with one arm and keep the other tight around my throat. I tried to scream and got a mouthful of cloth, which set me coughing. I cried out in truespeech to Varien, as loud as I could, and tried desperately to stop coughing and breathe.
I had just managed to take one breath—I know this sounds slow, but it happened all in a moment—when in the midst of trying to kick backwards with my heeled boots, aiming vaguely for a shin, I was pulled off my feet. Only after being dragged backwards for a while did I remember what Jamie had taught me and tried to twist out of my captor's hold. He seemed to have been expecting it, though, and tightened his stranglehold around my neck. It was clearly either breathe or fight, and even at that my breathing was terribly limited.
"Varien, quickly, help me!" I cried, with all the strength of mind I had.
"Lanen, you must focus your thought. Where are you ? Are you in the barn?"
"No, no, some bastard has me by the throat so I can't scream. He's dragging me across the yard!"
"Dearling, be calm if you can. You are casting your speech too wide and I cannot find you," came Varien's voice, strong and calm and reassuring. Send your thoughts to me through the smallest opening you can imagine. I shall follow you." It wasn't easy to think straight—I was furious that I was so easily held helpless, my mind was filled with getting the rest of the horses out of that inferno, and just on the edges of thought came the worry about what whoever it was that had me would do when he got tired of dragging me across the cobbles. However, desperation concentrates the mind wonderfully. I tried to think of a pinhole, just big enough for my mindvoice to get through, as Varien had taught me. "I'm here love I'm here, the bastard's dragging me backwards, even in all this madness I should be easy enough to find— Goddess, that was another of the horses in the barn, I'm going to be sick—damn, we're off the cobbles and outside on the grass damn it I need to breathe—"
We had stopped. The other voices were low and terrify-ingly calm as they tied my hands together. I struggled and tried to scream again, but I couldn't get enough breath to make any difference, and I was kept off balance quite successfully. The word "overpowered" occurred to me, and now I truly knew what it meant. It struck me then that I might just die there, alone and trussed up in the middle of my own field.
Fear always makes me furious. I twisted and fought harder, kicking when I could, but my captor tightened whatever he had around my throat and I had to give over. "Varien, quick, they're tying me up and I still can't breathe," I sent in truespeech. I was terrified and it was harder than ever to draw a simple breath. "Help, help, I'm here, I'm here, please, help me find me get me out of here they're tying my feet I can't stop them help help help."
I could do no more, I was exhausted and now my head was pounding from using truespeech. I felt I was only a few breaths away from fainting for lack of air, so I concentrated on just breathing.
Varien
I summoned my strength and went swiftly over the Kantri Discipline of Calm as I sought her. I knew I could be of no further use to the horses, for Jameth had stopped us all from entering the barn. The fire was raging now and it was plain that nothing else could be done. For a fleeting moment I longed for my old form. I could have simply lifted the horses out, for the fire would not have harmed me.
I noted as I sought the direction of Lanen's voice that Jameth had begun clearing the horses from the other two stables. Ah, there.
Old habits die so slowly. I had spent my entire life being certain of my power over the Gedri, knowing that they could pose no real threat to me. Had I thought about it for even the half of a moment I would have called for assistance, but I did not. I suspect I was not as calm as I believed, for I followed Lanen's thought and hurried after her, my sword in my hand. I was too far away when I finally realised that I had been foolish, but by then I could do nothing but finish what I had begun. I sent a prayer winging to the Winds as I came up to the dark knot of men who were busy tying Lanen hand and foot. We were too far from the walls of the stead for any to hear a cry for help, amidst all the mayhem.
I did not stop to announce my presence, I simply raised my sword and rushed at them. I must have made some sound—I think I may have growled in my anger—but in any case they heard me and easily avoided my ill-aimed blow.
"Kill him," said one quietly, pointing to me. A large man left the others and came to meet me. What little training I had had that morning deserted me as old instincts took over. I nearly dropped my sword to swipe at him with my claws, but I managed to remember at the last moment that I had none, and by pure chance managed to avoid his sword. I was off balance and tried to back away, but he kept coming towards me, menacing in the darkness.
"Akor!" came Lanen's mindvoice, weak now. Just that one word, but the fear in it rang like metal in my soul and fo-cussed my thoughts into cold, calm fury. I leapt back and found my feet, then began to advance, growling, towards the one who stood before me. He struck and his blade glanced off mine and hit my arm, but I ignored the flash of pain.
Time seemed to change around me, for I moved as fast as I could and suddenly the other was slow and clumsy. I was able to strike at his unprotected body before he struck again. He faltered and dropped his sword and I struck once more, putting my body into the blow.
He dropped to the ground and I turned around to face the others, only to find a second body on the ground before me and the others in flight. I turned and slipped on the wet grass, and sat suddenly upon something soft. Another body. This one had a drawn knife in one hand and had been just behind me—but I certainly hadn't killed it.
"Lanen! " I called, shaking my head as I stood and slowly returned to the normal passage of time.
"Here, love, and safe now. I'm here with the horses they left."
I strode over to her. "Dearling, how did you ... ?"
"She didn't. That was me. Good even, Master Varien."
Callum
Well, there's not much left to tell. When Ross has room to swing, it doesn't matter if they parry, he's just too strong and his blow works anyway. It didn't then. That skinny git with the silver hair should have gone down with half his arm lopped off, or broken at the very least, but he stopped Ross's blow with his bare forearm. He didn't even yell, he hissed, and then he moved up and struck out fast as a snake. I've never seen anything like it, you couldn't even see his sword move. Ross was hit, bad. Dev kept trying to tie up the woman, but she was fighting like fury and Dev had to keep tight hold of her. I tried throwing a knife or two, but I was scared witless and my aim went all over the place. This wasn't Old Man Merc, this was something worse: something that couldn't be hurt with steel and moved like the wind. He swung that damned huge sword round again and near cut Ross in two, killed him sure, but while Jaker had come up behind him and was about to knife him, I heard a quiet sound like a butcher cutting meat, and saw Jaker drop to the ground without a sound. Then Porlan, who had come up in front to take him out while he was busy with Ross, dropped as well.
Dev swore and yelled "Run!" He tried to bring the woman along, but she kicked and fought and got out of his grip and by then he just let her, grabbing my arm and hauling me away over the dark ground. I didn't resist. Who had sent those knives through the air from nowhere, in the dark, and killed Jaker and Porlan in the instant?
Well, none of us wanted to wait and find out. We ran like fury. They didn't follow us.
We got back to where Hask was waiting with the horses and stirred up the fire. Dev told Hask what had happened. I hadn't been sick, though it had been a close thing. I'd never forget the sound of that knife hitting Jaker. I wasn't shamed of running, for we'd all run, but the more I thought about it the more I thought that maybe both Dev and Old Man Merc had been right. And Ross and Jaker and Porlan hadn't even been threatened. They were just dead, just like that, with no warning.
I really didn't want my last thought to be where did that knife come from?, and to judge from what had happened that seemed like to be my future, and there didn't look to be much of that future to think about. And you know, just there and then, 'twixt one breath and the next, I decided I didn't give a damn what anybody thought, and there wasn't enough money in the world to lose my whole life over.
I went up to Dev when he had stopped talking. He looked grim. He and Ross'd been working together for years. They were nearly friends.
He'd just told the others that we would wait for them to come out, for he knew Old Man Merc would send a party at some point. I knew I'd sound like a coward, but like I said, all of a sudden I didn't give a fart for what anyone thought.
"Dev," I says, walkin' straight up to him, "you're right."
"About what, Cal?" he said. He sounded awful tired.
"About me bein' slow. I fired two knives at that feller and
neither one came close. And I was scared out my mind, and I ain't going back."
Dev just looked at me, then he did the damnedest thing— he smiled at me. He stood up and put bis hands on my shoulders and smiled. "Well, bless the Crooked One who looks on all thieves, there's somethin' good come out o' this. Cal-lum's off to find a girl, lads, and live a real life."
And as I looked around the fire they all looked as pleased as they were able that I was leaving. Not much good for my pride, that, but in the time since I've come to think maybe they felt like my living would mean something to their dying, and they feared that would come all too soon. Hask even said, "Kiss her for me, lad, whoever you find." I got up on my horse, and Dev give
me a little money to get me to somewhere I could find work. I bade 'em all farewell that very moment, but never a soul among 'em said a single word to wish me on my way.
I've never killed a man, before that night or since, and I've never passed a butcher's stall in a market without hearing that knife cut Jaker's life from him. Old Man Merc was right. I wasn't never meant for that life.
V Endings and Beginnings
Varien
"Lady Rella!" I said, astounded as I recognised her voice. "What wind bloweth thee to this place, in this very moment of our need?"
"Later, Varien. You couldn't take one of their daggers and help me, could you? I'm trying to get the rest of these ropes off young Lanen and my fingers are damn near frozen."
By the time I had found a dagger, Rella had freed Lanen. My dearling was desperate to get back to the stead, for the sounds and the smells that came to us across the fields were terrible. We would have ran at mat moment, but Rella caught me by the shoulder. "A moment, master Varien," she said. "How's your arm? I thought I saw that big bastard hit you."
Her words recalled me to my hurt. "So he did," I replied. Now that my life was not threatened and I could think of it, the wound was indeed painful. "What must I do, Lady?"
"Wait here," said Rella. She ran off but was back in a moment with a dark lantern. She opened the panel and shone the light on my left sleeve, stained dark and damp. "In the
heat of anger I paid it no heed," I said. "What is to be done? I cannot flame it clean."
"Just hold still," said Rella. I was beginning to understand that tone of voice. It indicated forbearance under great strain.
She drew a long strip of cloth from her scrip, and a small pot. Lanen gently pulled back the sleeve of my tunic to reveal a deep cut that still bled. She held my arm still while Rella put a strange paste from the small pot onto the wound, which made it hurt worse than it had before; then she wrapped the strip of cloth around my arm to cover the cut. "Leave that there for at least two days," she said. "It looks clean enough, it should heal well."
The Lesser Kindred (ttolk-2) Page 10