Tahn

by L. A. Kelly

  “Where were they headed?” Samis asked.

  “It seemed to be toward Tamask, Lord. I came to ask of you searchers. He has betrayed me as well as yourself. I wish to kill him when he is found.”

  Samis smiled. “Ah, Tahn. You are pleasantly bloodthirsty. What would you do with the girl?”

  “If anything remains of her, I shall strap her to my horse and bring her here to you. I fault her none in it. I left her sufficiently tied. You will do what you will.”

  The older man nodded. “I will send you with the searchers you need. Rest yourself and your mount and be ready at first light.”

  “My lord, I prefer that you not wait,” Tahn told him. “Send fresh men tonight ahead of me.”

  Samis looked at him in question.

  “I doubt they will find his trail, considering the rain,” Tahn told him. “There may be good fruit in searching the hills and the town nonetheless, but I have another plan.”

  Samis seated himself again on his woven chair. He was intrigued. “What is it?”

  “Allow me to take my students. There is no better time for a first assignment. They are street rats, Lord. They know how to be unseen ears. Darin was not provisioned. He shall have to stop somewhere for that, and I expect it to be in Tamask. They know the merchants and every hiding place in that city. They can be useful to me.”

  Samis shook his head. “They have had too little training. There has not been time to build a loyalty. What is to keep them from slipping away from you themselves?”

  “Fear, my lord,” Tahn answered him. “They cannot hide from me. And they know what shall happen if they try.”

  “You remember well the hold of fear, then?”

  “I do.”

  “I would not have expected you to implement my teaching style so nearly.”

  Tahn did not reply. So many times he had hoped there would one day be the opportunity to give this man the blade of his sword.

  “You have a twofold purpose, then?” Samis was saying. “You wish to find Darin. But you also wish to give your students an active lesson they shall not forget?”

  “Yes, Lord.”

  “And what if you lose some of them? You know you must kill them if they are too difficult.”

  “It is a small loss,” Tahn told him carefully. “As you said, little training has been put into them so far. And there are street boys aplenty. However it goes, I shall return with the same number I parted with.” Terrible words, but Tahn knew they were the right ones.

  “You are cruel.” Samis smiled.

  “I had a good teacher.”

  Tahn chose to leave before the night was through, allowing himself minimal rest. It was the sort of thing Samis would do, forcing the bewildered children out in the middle of the night, and Tahn knew it would please him. By the time he reached the children, they already knew that they were to be part of a search mission. The prospect frightened them, as did everything about this place. Only the youngest were sleeping when he lifted the bolt from their door.

  “Wake your brothers,” he commanded.

  “We go now, sir?” asked a freckle-faced boy with a scar across his cheek. He was seven-year-old Doogan.

  “Yes,” Tahn told them as strictly as he could manage. “There will be no crying nor lagging behind. And you know the punishment for trying to run.”

  More than one of the boys looked anxiously at Tahn’s sword. But only one child dared sniffle, the only girl among them, a tiny thing named Temas, also seven. She was dressed like the boys, her hair cropped short.

  The two sleeping ones were roused, and the children were forming a line. But little Duncan, barely five, was stumbling on his feet.

  “I fear he’s not prepared for this, sir,” the biggest boy said. His name was Stuva, and he was nine.

  Tahn turned to look at him. The pleading in the boy’s face made him want to pound the walls in anguish. But he betrayed no feeling at all. “You’ll have to help him,” he said.

  Stuva jumped to put his arms around the younger boy, clearly relieved for the permission. They were brothers, and Stuva was always watchful for the little one.

  “Carry your discipline proudly as we go,” Tahn commanded the children. Eyes would be watching this unique departure, and Samis could yet call it off. Tahn could not tell the children his intentions. They must be clearly frightened to be leaving Valhal this night, not excited.

  The young warrior and his ragged ensemble made their way toward the central gate.

  “The Dorn’s little soldiers,” someone snickered.

  Four young men were standing near the wall, sharing a vial of the powerful opiate so common to Valhal. “Think you can handle the brats by yourself?” one of them taunted.

  “This many and the four of you as well,” Tahn replied. They were teenagers but ruined already. It plagued him. He would have liked to take with him some of the bigger boys, especially thirteen-year-old Vari, who had never fit in. But the young men had already received so much of Samis’s poison in their minds that Tahn couldn’t trust them. And he had no authority over them anyway.

  Samis was waiting at the gate. “You will be back in a week as we said?”

  “Indeed.”

  In full sight of the children, Samis handed Tahn a whip. “You will know when to use this,” he said.

  It was not easy for Tahn to maintain his steel. But he could not fail. So he nodded. “Crybabies and shirkers,” he said and affixed the cruel thing to his belt. Perhaps this was what he should afflict Samis with one day.

  The children’s fright was tangible. They stood all in a line, their wide eyes watching the teacher and his master.

  Samis was supplying two more horses. Tahn had not known to expect that, and didn’t know that he would keep the animals long. The extra horses would help them, surely, with the distance, but he wanted somehow to make their trail difficult to follow.

  He tied a long line between each horse, with Smoke in the lead. And then he assigned places, Stuva and Duncan in the back, Tam and Briant, and then Doogan and Rane directly behind him. He would share his saddle with Temas.

  Samis watched them leave. The tall man beside him shook his head. “Do you think they will do any good, my lord?”

  “We shall see what they will do.” Samis turned to the group of men at his right and called two of them by name. “Follow them,” he ordered. “Make sure they are going to Tamask.”

  Then he turned from the gate toward his own chamber again, and the waiting bottle of wine.

  For a while the children were quiet, just putting Valhal slowly behind them. Tahn did not take the time to make it easy for them. He was aware of two riders far behind, so he kept the horses moving at as quick a pace as was practical on the slope at night, almost ignoring his young charges. But the tension became too much for them. Little Rane began to cry, and it hit Tahn hard. Their torment had gone on long enough.

  He slowed the horses and led them to a grove of trees.

  “He’s just tired, sir,” Stuva spoke up in the little boy’s defense. Only Duncan was his natural brother, but he was quick to claim the rest as well.

  When Tahn stopped and dismounted, little Rane nearly dove from the horse in terror. But Tahn took hold of him quickly.

  “I’ll not hurt you, boy,” he said. He took the whip from his belt and put it in the little boy’s hand. “You can have it,” he told him. He looked at all of their worried faces. “You will never return to Valhal. Never.”

  They were not sure how to react. What would he do with them?

  “We don’t understand, sir,” Doogan told him, still afraid.

  “Did you ever want to be there?”

  “No, sir,” Doogan answered quickly.

  “What do you want?”

  “Someplace safe. With food,” Stuva answered.

  “I will do my best,” Tahn told them. “Though we will not be forgotten. They will hunt us, and we will have to hide.”

  Tam stared at him. “You’re escaping with
us?”

  He barely nodded in the darkness, but they all saw it.

  “But why?” Tam persisted.

  “It is past time,” Tahn told them. “I could not stomach another day.”

  “Nor I,” Stuva said boldly. “I would not want to be as Vari.”

  Tahn turned to him. “Vari? What has been done to him?”

  “They put him on the wheel.”

  “When?” Tahn asked, his heart sinking. He should have known this would happen. Peaceful Vari would not bear the sword for Samis. He shook his head.

  “Not this night, but last,” Stuva answered him, clearly stunned by the concern he was seeing.

  Tahn looked into the boy’s face but began thinking past it. Vari might be dead already, depending on the position they’d started him in. But he might not be. And Tahn could not leave him, not knowing for sure.

  “Stuva,” he said. “I must go back. Everybody climb down.”

  He secured the horses in the trees near them and gathered the children in a tight circle. He had not expected this, and to try to rescue the boy would jeopardize them all, but he felt he had no choice.

  “Stuva, keep together,” he said. “If anyone comes, tell them I ordered you and you don’t know where I went.”

  “Are you going to try to help him?” the boy asked, seeming unable to believe it.

  “Yes.”

  “They’ll kill you,” Tam told him.

  “It may be.”

  “Then what do we do?”

  “Stay together. If I am not here by daylight, take the horses to Merinth and sell them there. Hide. You are good at that. But sneak away when you can. There is a cave east of the town, about six miles, under the third of four oaked hills. They know you are street rats and will expect to find you in a town. The wilderness there might be safer. And I’m hoping you shall meet a friend.”

  Temas started crying. “I want you to come back.”

  Tahn was not prepared for that. It had not occurred to him that they would actually want his presence, so soon, or ever.

  He touched the little girl’s cheek. “I will do my best. Remember, you are survivors.” He pulled one of his knives from his shirt and gave it to Stuva. Then he gave another to Tam.

  “There is food in the horse’s bags,” he told them. And then he left them on foot. He had a better chance of remaining unseen and unheard without the horse beneath him.

  He could scarcely believe he was doing this. It was suicidal. What would become of the children? If he did manage to get to Vari, the boy would be in no shape to travel.

  Strangely, he wondered what Lady Netta would do when he failed to return. As if she would still be there. That was as unlikely as the idea that his rescue attempt could be successful. But wherever the lady was, surely she would be praying.

  “God,” he whispered as he ran over the rocks. “I know your hate for me, and I’ll not argue. But have a mercy for Vari.”

  3

  Netta was sitting in the cave, feeling frustrated and impatient. Still it rained. The downpour was such that she couldn’t see the trees beyond the cave’s mouth. The entry was flooded. She had retreated because of it and was feeling terribly helpless, not wanting to be in this place. She might have left hours ago, despite the rain, but feelings she could not understand had made her hesitate.

  So she had prayed for the Lord to stop the rain if he would have her go. Rain never lasts more than a few hours anyway, she’d thought. But this rain had lasted all day and now into the night without so much as a letup. She felt like crying. She should not have prayed that way. She could not leave in the storm now without feeling guilty. And what would it avail her anyhow, when she wouldn’t be able to see a path in front of her?

  At least there was time, she comforted herself. Three days, he’d said. If he wasn’t lying. She agonized at that thought. What if he was lying about everything? Perhaps no harm had come to her family at all, or the rectory. Perhaps no one hunted her but those two beastly men who had fought over her with a bloody result. She stood up, feeling restless and agitated. She had no obligation here. She must find out the truth. She should just go and take her chances.

  But the way he looked, just before he left. The memory of it stopped her in her tracks. “Say a prayer for the children,” he’d said. “They surely need it.”

  He’d looked so worried. So … hurt. But how could it be? He was a murderer, and she should be glad to see him hanged. But he was telling the truth about the children, somehow she knew that. Whoever they were, they were young and precious and in grave danger. Odd as it seemed, there was one obligation she did have. She could not deny that request for prayer, no matter who it came from. She sunk to her knees and bowed her head. Perhaps now she’d be able to move on.

  Tahn didn’t take long to find the two riders who’d followed them. He sprang from a tree at the first one and knocked him easily from his horse. One thrust of his sword and the downed soldier was dead. Tahn hardly had time to think on it, except that these men would have no hesitation killing him or the children if they were caught in their deceit. Perhaps one day all of the bloodshed would end. For now it was survival. He turned to face the second rider.

  But that soldier had no desire to face the Dorn in a deadly fight. He turned his mount quickly back toward Valhal, determined to tell of this treachery.

  Tahn pulled his last knife from its place and threw it hard at the fleeing man’s back. The soldier groaned with the sudden pain, slumped forward, and fell from his saddle.

  Tahn killed him as quickly as the first man and was careful to retrieve his knife. He might need it. The jittery horse responded to his whistle, and he tethered it in the trees.

  Now he could concentrate on getting into Valhal. There was always a sentryman on the wall and another at the gate. Both had a good view of the only path, and a signal horn ever ready. But would he have to go that way? Horsemen were so restricted, but he could hazard the rocks in any direction.

  His feet moved fast as he thought it through. Vari was on the wheel, which was at the millhouse, where monks had ground their own flour back in the days when this forsaken place really was a monastery. The biggest of the waterwheels Samis had reconfigured. Vari would be there, still breathing, Tahn hoped. One revolution of the thing could take a full three days before plunging a victim’s head under the dark waters. But Samis did not always give them that long.

  The millhouse was near the back of the complex. He could scale the wall near the water and—

  Tahn stopped suddenly and smiled. The water. It went under the wall. Perhaps he could get in and out without ever setting foot on Valhal’s cursed ground. He continued up the slope at a steady run, angling left away from the sentry’s best vantagepoint. Soon he would need to use the rocks to hide himself as he edged toward Valhal’s back wall.

  The water’s passage was small beneath the stone. But it was big enough. The stream was icy cold, but that was worlds better than flames. He took a deep breath and swam with the current under the wall. When he surfaced, the millhouse was ahead of him, and he could hear voices. He ducked back beneath the water and continued his progress. He did not surface again until he reached the outer wheel on the millhouse wall.

  The water flowed beneath it and right through one huge inside room where Samis’s wheel was mounted. He could see that the paddles of the outer wheel blocked his access through the wall. There was not space between them for a man’s progress, though the hole was big enough. It looked like he would be crunched in the back with one before he could get all the way through. He watched the wheel for a moment as he listened for those voices. It seemed he would have to get out of the water and risk encountering opposition at the door.

  But then he saw what he needed. One paddle of the old wheel had broken off. How long had it been that way? Perhaps it was God’s mercy on Vari. He shook his head. The gap was edging downward. He dove beneath the water.

  His timing was good. He surfaced in the millhouse, where the wa
ter flowed much slower. Vari was bound to the wheel, his body quivering, his head less than two feet from the water. No one else was inside. “Vari,” he whispered. “Don’t make a sound.”

  The boy’s eyes popped open. He looked strange and wild.

  Tahn cut the ropes one by one and caught the big youth as he fell. “You will have to do exactly as I say,” he told him in a whisper, wondering about the paddle gap on their way out. The boy was not hurt. Just scared out of his wits and stiff. “We’re going through this wall and the outer wall. I will take this one first and signal you.”

  But Vari was still shaking, and it was from more than the fear of his near death. Tahn recognized the problem as the boy spoke. “I need my measure,” he said in a trembling voice. “Or I can’t make it. Please.”

  The young warrior supported the youth with one arm and dug into a pocket. Heartsick for the boy’s plight, he pulled out a small bottle. He was dependent already. Another complication. But perhaps it was well for this night, at least. The drug would dull him to all that was happening. But the icy water would surely keep him awake.

  Vari drank what little remained of Tahn’s opiate tincture and dropped the bottle in the stream.

  “You have to make it now,” Tahn told him. “Through the wall when I whistle. You understand?”

  The boy nodded, but he looked confused. “I thought you’d come to put me out of my misery. Why do you risk yourself? Why would you help me?”

  But Tahn only sank beneath the water to the hole in the wall. The paddles were difficult to judge on this side. And then he thought he heard the door.

  It was Johns who faced Vari. He had come often, checking the wheel’s progress for the exact moment Vari’s head would reach the water.

  “What the devil?” he exclaimed. “How … ?”

  Vari dove beneath the water, fearing a knife or sword thrust.

  “Come up, you little devil,” Johns exclaimed. “Samis will surely be interested in such a clever skunk as you.”

  Johns walked toward the edge of the water. “There you are, you—”