A Song of Snow and Ashes

by S.J. Drew

with strange symbols some of which she guessed helped a small number of animals pull such a heavy load. "Well, Davin did say his people are mages. A lot of their magic must go into surviving this land."

  It turned out the land was not quite as flat as it appeared. The area was nothing but dirt. There was not a blade of grass or a single shrub much less a tree in the dark ground. There weren't even rocks. But there was a rather large crater in the ground, a scar of some devastating magical affect created during the Mage Wars. It was perfectly round and shaped like a flat-bottomed bowl about two hundred feet across the bottom with sides that were about twenty feet from ground level. The sides had been dug out and reinforced with stone or wood to make rows and rows of benches with aisles for walking.

  The benches were nearly full. Everyone had the same darkish skin but fair hair as Davin. Many even had the same violet eyes. Their clothes were of the Northern style but looked more patchwork. She guessed it wasn't all just shabbiness; there was so much patchwork it had to be partially deliberate. Around the top were a number of men in leather armor and armed with both a short sword and a pair of knives who seemed to be guarding the perimeter, although Eliora was sure it was not from any outside danger. They were watching the crowd. On one side near ground level was a section that had been cleared of benches and had thin walls and a roof. To Eliora, it looked like a private box at a theater. There were actual chairs in the box instead of crude benches.

  Davin was taken down to the flat area near the private box.

  Eliora silently followed and watched, feeling both apprehensive and a smoldering anger for what had been done to Davin. It wasn't long past dawn but the air was already baking hot, not that it bothered her. She looked at the assembled audience. Most of them looked scared, although some looked bored or unconcerned. These, she noted, seemed to be wearing clothes of better quality and looked less thin and starved. She guessed these were of the Warlord's clan, and the rest were there through some form of coercion. Only the box was empty.

  In a few minutes, it was filled by more men in leather armor, a quite lovely but frightened-looking young woman, and the Warlord. There was no doubt he was the one in charge. His armor was better, his boots better, he carried himself like a leader, and he took the largest chair in the box. He was in his forties and moved with an arrogant ease. Eliora guessed the young woman was his wife and she wasn't too happy about the arrangement, but too scared to do anything. She also noticed that in addition to the short sword and knives on his belt, there was also a black whip.

  "Welcome, people of the Charred Land," he said to the crowd in a loud, booming voice. "Today we are here to try and execute the traitor Davin, a man without clan and without honor, who ran away from the Charred Land nearly a year ago and so was exiled, yet dared to return even knowing he was under a death sentence. Have you anything to say for yourself?"

  "I've been dishonored," he said quietly. "You are the one without any honor."

  One of the guards punched him in the ribs.

  "This is no way to try to get your honor back, boy," he snapped.

  "I came of age seven years ago," he said mildly.

  The other guard punched him in the arm.

  "You're nothing but a child to me."

  "Then why so frightened of me?"

  Both guards hit him.

  Eliora bit her lip nervously but waited.

  "You are a trouble-maker and malcontent. I will restore the people of the Charred Land to the glory and wealth that is rightfully theirs instead of convincing them they must remain in this godforsaken place as some wrong-minded penance for crimes they didn't commit!" he roared.

  "Clearly that's a speech he's given before," she thought with her politically oriented mind.

  "By allying with Dark clerics to sell out our people as mercenaries?" he retorted. This rewarded him with more punches.

  The Warlord waved off the guards, who took a few steps back.

  "I'm not allying with them. I'm using them, just as they would use us. But they'll find they've gotten far more than they bargained for."

  "And you'll only convince the people of the city-states we are nothing more than thugs and thieves."

  "It's better than trying to scratch out a living here."

  "Then why don't you just leave and leave the rest of us alone?" Davin snapped.

  "What, run away like you did?" he sneered.

  To Eliora's surprise, he looked repentant. "I should not have left. I was a coward."

  There were startled looks and gasps of surprise.

  "My dishonor is deserved. My family had been murdered, my clan all but destroyed by yours. I should have stayed and taken vengeance. But I did not. My heart was so full of despair I could not even perform my last clan duty. So I ran."

  "You shouldn't have come back," the Warlord said, grinning. "Stupid boy. You came back and you will die."

  "I had to come back. I heard that the Dark clerics had been sent to these lands to find mercenaries for their cause. I knew it would be dangerous to ally with them, so I came to warn my people."

  "Why fear those clerics? We are mages here. They are but stupid men who pray to a non-existent god for power they'll never receive."

  "I've told you, the gods do exist and they can get power; great power if the god so desires it. It is dangerous to underestimate those clerics and the power of their gods."

  "Your time with outsiders has made you weak and foolish. No one believes in the gods. They've never shown Themselves to us."

  "Did you ever ask?" Davin replied.

  There was a faint ripple of laughter through the crowd.

  "There's never been any need. I've done quite well without the gods. And where has your newfound belief gotten you? It caused you to return, knowing you were marked for death. What sense is that? Surely any gods would have told you to stay well away from here."

  "The gods don't dictate our choices. It was my choice to come here."

  "So it was your choice to die."

  "I knew it was a risk, but all things considered, I'd rather not die," he said.

  "And live with dishonor?"

  He shrugged. "If you are what is now held up as a man of honor, I think I would prefer dishonor."

  The guards advanced again, but the Warlord waved them back. "It's hardly worth my honor to kill you."

  "If you allowed me a chance at a fair fight instead of beating me like a dog, it might have been."

  Again, the guards moved forward but were held back by the Warlord's slight wave.

  "You keep that up and I won't stop them from giving you what you deserve."

  "I thought that was the point of this little show," Davin said wryly.

  "You know, if you should throw yourself on my mercy, I met yet show you some. You are a skilled fighter and I believe you have some intelligence, most appearances to the contrary," he said with a sweeping gesture to the assembled crowd.

  "Mercy? Must you literally add insult to injury?" he snapped. "You have no mercy. And you know I'd never work for you. You murdered my clan. To agree to your terms would only give some legitimacy to my impending execution."

  "After running out on your clan duties, you now choose to die for principles?"

  "I will die for honor. However, I don't plan to die today."

  Now a lot of people laughed. "Clearly you've gone mad," the Warlord said. "You have no weapons. Your hands are bound so you can't cast spells, and you've shown you know nothing of any use in a fight anyway, and you are the last of your clan. You are alone."

  "That's not true."

  The Warlord clearly thought he was referring to the assembled and scared audience. "They are watching, but they won't help you." He addressed them. "Will any of you come forth to defend this traitor to our ways, this dishonored man who dared return from exile and who wants to see us slave our lives away in these wasted plains?"

  There were many worried glances, but no one s
aid a word.

  The Warlord grinned.

  "Eliora, that would be the cue for you to show yourself," Davin said in Northern.

  "Sorry," she said, and took a second to dispell the invisibility.

  Now no one said a word, but it was for an entirely different reason.

  "I didn't want to appear at the wrong time," she replied as she unbound his hands.

  "Kindly put up a shield spell. The men on the perimeter have longbows and offensive spells."

  She quickly did so and started to look over his wounds. "This is awful."

  "What in blazes is going on here?" the Warlord suddenly bellowed. "Who in blazes is this woman?"

  "Such language," Eliora snapped in the language of the Charred Lands, still looking over Davin's wounds. "You should not speak that way in polite company."

  Davin gave her a look much like the Warlord. "You're angry. You're really angry," he said, switching to Northern to talk to her.

  "Of course I'm angry. Look what he's done to you. I don't know if I can fix this. I don't know any healing magic. I don't know if that even works on scars. You were just trying to do what you thought was right. Were you going to try to get revenge?"

  "No. It doesn't matter, does it? My family and clan are gone and even if died, it wouldn't bring them back," he said, noticing the fine dirt at his feet was being kicked up more than their movement explained.

  "And honor?"

  "Those that matter understand and would forgive my transgressions and restore my honor if I asked."

  The guards and people just looked confused and stunned. The guards turned to the Warlord quite helplessly.

  "Kill her," the