by S. A. Hunter
A great sense of urgency caused Thera to tense, uttering a small sound under her breath. Sirra Alaine was quickly beside her.
As movement and speech among the troop stopped, Thera strained to read what she yet only sensed. She heard the water dripping from Alba’s hair onto her boots and the sudden cry of a bush skree streaking past them, its wings snapping the air.
The Sirra, her hand clenched on her sword hilt, whispered hoarsely, “Lady, what is it?”
“The Elanraigh,” Thera said. “Something’s wrong! I’ve felt something like this before. It was the Memteth, then.”
The Sirra was gone, moving down the line of her troop. With a hushed efficiency, weapon harnesses were retrieved from the discarded packs; the women shrugging into the leather straps and buckled iron-studded belts. Silent as smoke, four of the troop disappeared to scout the forest around them.
Thera stood, as if bespelled, awaiting word from the Elanraigh. Alaine, Alba, and four others formed a protective loop around her. Then like the approaching rumble of an earthquake, she felt the Elanraigh’s attention turn to her. A wind bent the top branches of the trees.
“Memteth! At Elankeep!”
The Elanraigh’s anger made its words an almost unintelligible burr in her mind.
Thera was struck with horror. “Elankeep! How many?” she asked.
The ground shook. “Two ships anchored in the Spinfisher River. They climb the rock face at Bridal Veil Falls.”
Thera’s mind worked furiously, “How long before they are in position to attack Elankeep?”
“Before sunset.”
“Can you stop them?”
A silence. Thera hung, waiting.
“Water elements rule there, at the falls. However, they must pass through a grove of Old Ones to reach Elankeep.”
“Lady, does the Elanraigh speak to you?” Sirra Alaine’s voice penetrated Thera’s preoccupation.
She grasped the Sirra’s leather-cuffed forearms with the strength of urgency. “It is Memteth! Memteth are preparing to attack Elankeep!”
A hissed curse broke from someone in the troop.
The Sirra’s amber eyes locked on Thera’s face. Like wind-tossed flame, they flickered from Thera to the troop behind her, and back to Thera.
Thera remembered her father’s words, ‘A leader is both heart and head of the people.’ She drew a deep breath and in calmer voice, continued, “The Elanraigh tells me they climb a rock face alongside a place called Bridal Veil Falls. The Elanraigh can do nothing against them there, it is the domain of a water elemental apparently, but they must pass through a large grove of ancient trees before they reach the clearing around Elankeep.
“What can the Elanraigh do exactly, Lady, to help us?”
“I do not know,” murmured Thera, dropping her grip on the Sirra’s arms. “I do not know. It pains it to do harm, but it will do what it can.”
A breeze swirled around her, “Therra. Therra, I will help.”
“Sussara! Blessings be”. Thera smiled, deeply touched. How fond she had become of this childlike elemental.
She searched, but could not touch the mind she sought.
“Sussara, could you find Farnash, the grey wolf?”
Sussara swirled joyfully. “Yess! Wise wolf keeps nose to wind.”
“Tell him we need him. Tell him our clan is in battle against the Memteth.”
The women’s yellow longbows were strung and strapped across their backs, as were the short, curved swords. Some stretched and flexed, some shifted restlessly, though their eyes continually returned to their Sirra and the young Heir of Allenholme.
Alaine drew on a tapered leathern helm, reinforced with iron bands. Her eyes glittered at Thera from behind the nasal, as she buckled the waistband of her harness.
“There are usually a dozen Memteth to a ship. Is that how many you encountered at Shawl Bay, Lady?”
Thera’s voice flattened. “There were ten on that ship, Sirra, unless they had lost some crew before they encountered us.”
“Well. So…” Sirra Alaine continued, “The odds be not so bad, providing we get there in time. We are ten of us here and ten at Elankeep. Some of the Salvai’s ladies can draw bow.”
“We run,” she said to the troop at large. “Our companions’ lives depend on our getting there in time. Pace yourselves accordingly. Remember too, you must arrive with breath to swing a sword.”
She turned to Thera, “Lady Thera, we cannot wait if you fall behind, or spare any to stand guard over you. We must again entrust you to the Elanraigh.”
“I will come with you and I will not hold you back, any of you.” Thera’s voice was muffled as she was pulling her red wool tunic over her head. She dropped it beside Alba’s pack. She turned back to the Sirra, her jaw set. “I have fought Memteth before.”
Thera watched the Sirra’s glance slide over her kidskin Ttamarini garments and touch at the graceful emerald-hilted Sha’Lace dagger at her belt. Heat crept up Thera’s neck under that scrutiny.
Some emotion Thera could not read, worry or doubt, shadowed the Sirra Alaine’s eyes.
Feeling impelled to do so, Thera spoke the Liege Lord’s Oath, “I defend this land and those pledged to my care with my heart, my blood, and all gifts granted of the Elanraigh.”
Blessings be, her voice had not quavered though her heart felt as if it had been wrung.
Of their own accord, the troop drew blades and with the traditional cry of affirmation, their swords clashed in a salute to Thera.
Alba cleared her throat, “By the One Tree,” she muttered to Alaine, “it makes me maudlin as an old Sirra at a troop review.”
“Aye.” The Sirra’s rare smile twisted on the pale scar that crossed her lip.
Sirra Alaine gave the signal for the troop to move out at a quick march. Alba positioned herself behind Thera. The Sirra observed them all as they passed. A snap of fingers and hand wave sent her four scouts back into the forest. Then their Sirra ran easily to the head of the column, and the small troop lengthened their stride into a steady jog.
Chapter Nineteen
They ran in silence. The trail switch-backed upward now and the air was blessedly cooler. Far below, on her left, Thera could hear the rushing of the Elanraigh River. She had fallen behind, even though the women kept to what had first seemed an easy jog.
Thera tried not to think of Elankeep and what might be happening there. Yet, there came the memory of Nan’s body at Shawl Bay. Her chest tightened. “Oh, Nan!” The last Elankeep soldier glanced back at her.
So, run then. Focus only on breathing, mind carefully empty of thought. Soon she could see the troop ahead of her, stretched along the upward-climbing trail. The Sirra Alaine and Alba must already have topped the crest of the hill.
When Thera turned the last bend before the hillcrest, two of the Elankeep soldiers were waiting for her. One offered her a hand up a final tumble of rocks and shale, while placing a finger to her lips in a signal for silence.
Bracing her hand against a cedar tree, Thera struggled to catch her breath and waited for her vision to clear of dancing sparks. Sirra Alaine saw her and beckoned.
She crept to where the Sirra and Alba lay at the cliff’s rough edge. They were several horse strides past the edge of the tree line, on a high rocky promontory.
For the first time, Thera saw Elankeep. It rose above the black sea cliffs like a natural formation of the rocks. Around the keep was boulder-strewn pasture. The grassy apron lay at least five pike lengths below the cliff edge where Thera lay. What Thera had thought were scattered grey boulders, she now saw the bodies of sheep.
Dark smoke rose from a huge rolled bundle of wood the Memteth had piled against the iron plated oak of the main gate.
A faint rumbling from the east was Bridal Veil Falls, where the Elanraigh River plunged to meet the Spinfisher. West of the plateau was a sheer drop to the ocean below. At the base of that black-rock cliff, white plumes of surf broke, dissolving into mist and foam.
Thera noted grimly that the Memteth avoided taking shelter in the trees.
They relied on the smoke from the fire to confuse the defenders, and their shields to protect against arrows as they kept to the clearing around the keep.
“I count only twelve raiders,” whispered Alba. “Where be the rest?”
The Sirra shaded her eyes against a sudden glare of sun as the clouds broke overhead. “There are only twelve. Lady, does the Elanraigh speak of the others?”
Thera communed with the Elanraigh, then relayed, “There are ten raiders dead in the ancient grove by the falls.”
Astonished, both the Sirra and Alba swiveled their heads and stared at her.
“Ten dead?” Alba’s jaw dropped, and then snapped shut. “Cythian Hell!” she muttered.
“The Elanraigh says the ancient tree elementals are very powerful and are roused against the Memteth.” Thera added, “Blessing Be.”
“Hnnh.” Sirra Alaine returned her gaze to the besieged keep. She watched as several arrows shot from the western turret fell abysmally short and wide of their Memteth targets. The raiders jeered.
“It wonders me that Berta has left the Salvai’s Damas alone to defend the west side.”
“Berta must be short-handed,” surmised Alba.
“Hnnh.” Alaine shoved herself back. “It is time we move.”
She and Alba edged back from the cliff edge and then jogged to the tree line where the others waited.
“Lotta, Eryn, Mieta, and Rhul,” the Sirra designated each with a glance, “you are the best archers. I would have you remain here.” She glanced sunward. It was riding low in the sky.
“They will not be expecting us,” said Sirra Alaine to the rest of the troop.“Descend with all haste to the plateau, then spread yourselves out under cover of the forest.
“Rhul, allow us time to get in position, as you judge it, and then send them a steady hail of arrows until we engage them. Then you must join us as soon as may be.”
The senior archer nodded.
“Remember,” the Sirra gathered all eyes, “if you fight hand to hand with a Memteth, they will use their teeth if disarmed.”
All but the archers rapidly disappeared down the trail.
Sirra Alaine turned to solemnly regard Thera who determinedly followed her.
The Sirra sighed heavily.
“Lady, I would that you remain here. Let those of us trained to fight deal now with the Memteth,” she forestalled Thera’s protest with a raised hand, “you have done well, more than well.” Her voice was low and her gaze somber, “The Salvai Keiris…does not thrive of late.” The Sirra’s brindled brows drew down and she looked toward the black smoke rising against the sky, “she is not tranquil of mind, and her body fails now also.
“I have seen how you put the heart in these,” she gestured after the departed troop. “You commune with the Elanraigh and it treats you as its own. You have the gift of joining, and of reading hearts, I do believe.” As Thera opened her mouth to protest, the Sirra raised her hand in an open-palmed plea, “You are too valuable to put at risk.”
“Sirra! I will not sit aside and let all the others risk themselves.”
“Lady Thera,” The Sirra Alaine fixed a stern gaze upon her and it was as if a hand were laid firmly across her mouth. “You do yourself no discredit with any here. You know I am right in this.”
Thera flashed a fulminating glance over the Sirra and read much. Impatience, yes, but also, disconcertingly, a very genuine concern for her.
The Sirra’s impassive features would reveal nothing to most observers, yet Thera read that the Sirra burned to be with her troop. Here she was, detained by a headstrong young noblewoman who might choose to use common sense.
Thera felt her neck warming. Why, I have fought Memteth, and destroyed their ship! A thought came unbidden, As Duke Leon’s daughter, and Heir, I could take command of this troop and have my way.
Sudden shame overcame her. Thera chewed her lip. I take command? Oh? When I almost killed the sea hawk in my single-mindedness when attacking the Memteth leader? Look at the Sirra, an experienced fighter, who knows how to protect those in her charge.
Thera folded her arms behind her back, at parade rest, a stance and gesture she unconsciously copied of her father.
“Then Sirra, at the One Tree we will meet, if not before.”
The Sirra bowed slightly at receiving the ritual sending and bestowed her rare smile.
Chapter Twenty
Sirra Alaine jogged down the path, sliding on loose scree. She leapt a rocky ledge, and disappeared into the trees far below.
Thera turned and walked back to the archers. Rhul nodded to her, then waved her group forward to the cliff edge. Thera hesitated, and then joined them. Hunkered down behind the lip of rock, the women quietly exchanged words as they checked their weapons.
A Memteth’s triumphant cry suddenly echoed over the plateau. Thera scrambled to her knees in time to see a soldier fall back from position on Elankeep’s east battlement, an arrow lodged in the breast.
Frowning, Rhul silently bent over the contents of the small leather bag she had detached from her belt; extra string, fletch, chamois.
Lotta, though, thumped her fist against the rock and cursed. Rhul’s fingers locked on Lotta’s wrist, restraining her. The look Lotta gave Rhul was strange and staring. Finally Lotta crumpled, sliding down the rock, the iron studs in her leathers grating against the stone. Giving Lotta a piercing look, Rhul released her and bent again to string her bow.
Lotta tugged off her helmet and jabbed her hands through the sweat-dampened tangle of her hair. Lying back against the rock face, she rolled her head to face Rhul. “That was Avra struck.”
“Lotta. You cannot know that at this distance.”
“I know it.” Lotta raised herself to glare at the besieged keep again. “When do we strike?” She plucked her bowstring, “I will give that winding horn a new hole to blow through.”
The raider whose arrow had struck Lotta’s friend continued to yowl at the defenders. Then a many-voiced howling and banging of shields arose from the Memteth.
Thera and her companions scrambled again to the ledge. “There!” gasped Thera, pointing. On the west tower battlement, stood a tall woman, robed and veiled. She was flanked by a slender figure bearing a bow. The woman disregarded the Memteth below, and was facing the cliff where Rhul’s small troop lay hidden.
“Blessings be!” moaned Rhul. “What can possess our Salvai to so expose herself?”
Thera was barely conscious of those beside her; she had fallen into deep rapport. She saw in close detail the face that was only a white blur to her physical eyes. To her inward vision, the Salvai stood before her; pale complexioned, her grey eyes glittering like steel shards. There is not much resemblance to mother! The sharp features of this face glowed with feverish interest as the Salvai similarly examined her. Thera read satisfaction, and underlying that, a wistful sadness. She felt the sensation of a cool, thin hand caressing her cheek.
“I have long been expecting you, Thera ep Chadwyn…niece of mine.”
“Aunt Keiris?” Thera’s surprise at her aunt’s gentle tones must have registered in her mental voice.
A rueful smile twitched the Salvai’s thin lips, then her face sobered and her lips parted as if to use physical voice…
Jarringly, Thera was again fully present in her physical body; the Salvai only a distant blue-robed figure on the northwest parapet of Elankeep. Aware that it was the Elanraigh who had abruptly parted them, Thera’s startled exclamation died unsent as she now saw the Memteth arrow arcing its trajectory toward the figure of her aunt.
Surely the Elanraigh has warned my aunt, why then does she remain unmoving?
With a thin scream, more like the keening of a hawk than human voice, Thera cried aloud.
Sound broke out all about her. Memteth heads swiveled, and from their mouths came hoarse cries of alarm. Rhul barked commands and the archers rose to their feet to send a sleet of arrows down upon the Memteth.
A wind shouldered past her, “Therra, Therrra.” Whether Sussara was scolding or encouraging, Thera was too stricken to consider. The small elemental flung itself toward the arrow, but its energy deflected it only slightly. Thera saw her aunt stagger from the blow. Gasping, hands clenched at her own breast, Thera wavered where she stood on the precipice as her aunt half-turned, and then fell.
Thera pressed the back of her hand against her lips. “Elanraigh forgive! I have betrayed the presence of the troop, and still did not save the Salvai from injury.”
“Rhul…?” she cried.
The archer, frowning furiously, spared a quick glance at Thera. “I do not know...” she muttered, then her expression cleared a little, “Ah, look!”
Below, Thera saw the Memteth now clumped together, their shields over their heads, forming a rough square as they tried to escape the deadly rain of arrows. The archers’ rapid fire impressed her, for she knew what strength it took to use the longbow. Their movements were fluid and sure.
Thera saw the jeering raider fall sprawled on the grass, an arrow through his throat. Another nearby was struck through the eye and fell heavily, dead before he hit the earth. The Elankeep troop charged from the tree line.
“Hold!” commanded Rhul of her archers.
The Memteth were forced from their sheltering to engage the Elankeep swords. The clash of steel echoed off the cliff face. Thera heard a few faint cheers from the Elankeep battlements.
Young Edred, small and quick, was yipping fox-like cries as she swung her sword, dancing in and out of her opponent’s reach.
Thera saw Sirra Alaine slam her small round shield inside a Memteth’s larger one and she plunged her sword in his side. Pushing him away with her foot, Alaine freed her sword and turned immediately to assist Alba, who was hard pressed.