by D. L. Kramer
Bear nodded and clasped his father's hand, then handed the little fox to him. With a slight nod from his father, Bear turned and walked to the waiting horses with Nahtan. Nahtan unbuckled his sword from Tyran's saddle, then rebuckled the belt and swung it over his head and shoulder, positioning it over his cloak. Pulling himself into the saddle, he nodded to Adie and Bear, then picked up Tyran's reins and led the way out of the camp and towards the garrison.
When they reached the hills surrounding it, the Mo'ani and Mowik spread out, taking up positions on all sides. Just as every night since their arrival, the fog had crept over the hills in the early evening. It hid them now, letting them stay in their saddles. They waited tensely for the sounds that would be their signal. Not long after, the garrison's gates creaked open and they heard the BishopLord's carriage and guards on horseback as they rode out onto the road. He would be heading for the services in Bear's village tonight. Those who had stayed behind to secure the village were to wait until the services were concluded and the BishopLord had left before they made their attack. The church guards would remain around the cathedral for some time, making it easy to trap them there.
"It's all up to Adie now," Nahtan said quietly as the gates creaked shut again. The fog seemed to absorb the sound of his voice.
"Provided she even got inside," Bear added from beside him.
"She's inside." Nahtan knew that much for a fact. He tested the archer's brace he wore on his left wrist, making sure it was tight enough. Buckled over the cloth wrapping, the leather held his wrist practically immobile. Testing it that morning, it limited his flexibility with his sword, but let him fight like he wanted: using a second weapon or throwing punches.
Bear watched the garrison for a moment, then muttered a curse. "I'm going down closer," he announced, taking the crossbow and quarrels from his saddle. "I won't be able to hit anything from here and Lady Adiella is going to need some cover until some of you can get up to her." Since the crossbow took precious seconds to reset, he also carried a longbow and quiver of arrows across his back.
"All right," Nahtan nodded. "Be careful." He took Chase's reins from Bear as his friend dismounted and disappeared into the fog. Reaching for Chase's mind, he told the big horse to stay with the others when they charged. Even without a rider, his huge hooves would do immense damage to any church guards in his path.
Several minutes passed before the fog around the garrison burst into light. A torch had been thrown from one of the upper windows by the gate, reflecting off the fog as it fell. Almost immediately after, the gates creaked open and the sound of shouting could be heard. Nahtan was vaguely aware of the sound of a crossbow as it fired, followed by a solid thud.
"Let's go!" Nahtan ordered. As Tyran exploded into a gallop, Nahtan raised up in the saddle and pulled his longsword from its sheath. Chase kept pace beside him, his hooves thundering.
The horses cleared the hill with long strides, the ground invisible beneath them. The garrison's entry was wide enough for them to ride through five across, and the Mo'ani cavalry poured inside. The Mowik ran with them, having used the fog to move closer to the garrison than the hills allowed.
Most of the church guards were alerted to Adie's presence when the gate opened, but weren't expecting such a heavy attack to come so quickly, let alone through their gates. While the Mo'ani fought their way through the church guards on the ground, the Mowik took to the stairs, clearing out the archers along the walls.
Nahtan and the Mo'ani beside him made the BishopLord's manor and the stables against the far wall their goal.
The stables presented too close of an area to fight on horseback. Nahtan dropped quickly to the ground, driving his sword down through the shoulder of the church guard beneath him. The heavy, sharp blade cut through the guard's armor with a loud shriek and into the flesh beneath it. Nahtan twisted sharply to his side, pulling the blade free in time to block a swing meant for his back from a guard behind him. He kicked backwards, forcing the guard to the ground as his sword caught another swing from a third guard.
Reaching down, he pulled the skinning knife from his left boot. Turning it around in his hand, he parried a second swing, then stepped forward on the next opening and drove the razor sharp knife into the narrow space between the buckles of the church guard's breastplate. The guard was obviously surprised and stumbled back, dropping his sword. Nahtan dropped the skinning knife so he could use both hands on his longsword, finishing the guard he had kicked with a swing for his neck. As that guard's body fell, Nahtan bent over and picked up the skinning knife.
The archer's brace supported his wrist perfectly; he hadn't even felt a twinge through his fingers. Wiping the skinning knife on his leg, he resheathed it and turned to his next opponent.
Nahtan wasn't sure how much time passed, but when he was finally able to lower his sword for the last time, his arms and back screamed their protests at him. A quick search of the BishopLord's manor showed it was empty, and Nahtan was somewhat relieved to find no sign of him having a family. He left the manor untouched after securing it, and walked back out to the center of the garrison's yard. Planting the tip of his sword into the ground, he leaned on it, catching his breath.
There were still a few fights going on, but the Mo'ani and Mowik archers on the walls were quickly putting an end to them. He scanned the walls, and quickly found Adie and Bear standing near the gate's wheels. Tuketu stood on the ground below them, holding one arm, but otherwise unhurt. Ignoring the weight of his own arm, Nahtan raise his hand to Adie and Bear. Bear smiled and raised his hand in return.
Nahtan turned to those around him.
"All right," he said. "Let's get our wounded into the manor and the church guards' bodies behind one of the storehouses."
The warriors around him moved in response to his voice. Nahtan paused long enough to wipe the thick blood from his sword, then resheathed it and began dragging bodies toward one of the storehouses. There were several Mo'ani or Mowik who were killed and quite a few who were wounded. A few church guards had survived, and several Mo'ani were escorting them out of the main yard. The Mo'ani's superior training and the surprise of their attack gave them every benefit Nahtan hoped for.
It only took a short while to hide the bodies and restore some look of order to the garrison. Fresh straw from the stable was tossed on the blood-covered ground and any damaged buildings were disguised. Several of the Mo'ani were chosen to take up the church guards' positions on the walls while the Mowik and other Mo'ani waited below.
Nahtan and the others found their horses and moved to hide between the manor and stables. Adie was waiting once more by the gate's wheels, and would open the gate when the BishopLord returned. As soon as they were all inside, she would close the gates behind them, sealing them in.
The minutes passed slowly, and Nahtan found himself pulling his arms behind his head to keep the muscles from tightening up. After what seemed like hours, he heard the gates creak open again. Tyran tensed under him and flicked his ears, but didn't make a sound. Nahtan patted his neck, knowing the young stallion was anxious to charge again.
Several long seconds passed before they heard the gates close. When they slammed shut, he pulled his sword from its sheath and let Tyran have his head. The stallion jumped forward, the rest of the cavalry right behind him.
The BishopLord was just stepping down from his carriage as the Mo'ani cavalry stormed around the stable. He turned startled eyes on the armored men and horses thundering down on him. The cavalry trampled the first few church guards beneath them before turning to confront the honor guard. Most of the guard had dismounted, and their horses started in the sudden attack, running for the far end of the garrison.
The honor guard fought better than the other church guards and Nahtan saw several of his army fall. He eventually dropped from Tyran's back again, facing his opponents on ground level. There weren't as many honor guard as there were regular church guards, and the few guards left were quickly brought down, either by th
e Mo'ani and Mowik on the ground, or the archers along the walls.
As the dust settled, Nahtan pulled himself back into Tyran's saddle and rode to stand in front of the trembling BishopLord. He was almost disappointed to see the man was no fighter, despite the gold-hilted sword at his waist. Perhaps at one time he was, but his years here had spoiled him.
Tyran snorted towards the BishopLord and pawed the ground anxiously. The BishopLord looked at the battleworn and bloodied faces of the army surrounding him and tried to back against his carriage.
"What's your name?" Nahtan asked the BishopLord, his voice even.
"The Archbishop will hear of this," the BishopLord stated, trying to keep his voice steady, but failing. Nahtan was reminded for the briefest moment of Rena's foster brother, Jorrin. He wondered if it was something the Archbishop's priests taught in their schools.
"Then don't tell me your name," Nahtan shrugged. "I will however, let you guess mine." He paused for a moment as a chuckle moved through those near enough to hear him. "The Archbishop's time is ending, and I'm here to usher those changes in."
The BishopLord looked at him, his eyes growing wide, then began to shake his head. "Nahtan's not real," he managed. "H-he's a myth--a story made up by the apostates."
Nahtan jumped down from Tyran's saddle and walked to stand in front of the BishopLord, his sword resting over his shoulder. With his left hand, he backhanded the BishopLord.
"Was that real?" he asked, not bothering to hide the threat in his voice. Tyran stepped up beside Nahtan, snorting at the BishopLord. "I will tell you, though, that I'm not the one who's going to kill you." He paused to wipe his sword on the BishopLord's cloak then resheathed it and took Tyran's reins. Nahtan looked up to where Bear sat on the wall, his longbow ready and aimed. He turned back to the BishopLord. "About seventeen years ago, you christened one of your altars with a Mowik woman named Notaku." Nahtan paused, giving the BishopLord time to remember the name. "I'd like to introduce you to her youngest son, Sewati." Turning once more, he saluted his friend and led Tyran out of the way. Nahtan heard the arrow whistle above him, and knew it hit dead center of the BishopLord's heart. The army around him erupted in a cheer as the BishopLord's body fell heavily to the ground.
"Let's see to our wounded and get litters built for the dead and those who can't walk or ride." Nahtan turned away from the BishopLord's body and looked out over the army. "I want volunteers out tracking down the church guards standing watch over the smaller villages, preferably archers. We leave here at first light to go back to the city."
The Mo'ani and Mowik quickly began looking through the bodies covering the ground. It was only a matter of seconds before Nahtan heard his name called. He turned to look at the Mo'ani motioning to him from inside the gates.
"What is it?" he asked, leading Tyran over to the Mo'ani. A body lay on the ground in front of him, a red cloak pulled over it.
"I thought you might want to be the one to tell your friend," the Mo'ani said quietly. He leaned over and pulled back the red cloak, revealing Tuketu's body. He had been hit in the heart with one of the honor guard's crossbow bolts.
Nahtan closed his eyes, emotions surging through him. "All right," he said after a moment, opening his eyes again. "I'll take care of it. Leave Ke here, Bear and I will see to him."
The Mo'ani nodded and went back to looking for survivors. Nahtan knelt beside Tuketu. Gripping the crossbow bolt, he pulled it out. "I'm sorry, Ke," he apologized, tears coming to his eyes. Though he had known this could happen, he was hoping he could return from here with all his friends. Laying Tuketu's cloak back over him, Nahtan stood up and stepped back to look for Bear. Seeing him still on the walkway overhead, he whistled sharply to draw his attention. When Bear looked at him, he waved him down.
It only took Bear a few seconds to reach him and Nahtan knew he'd seen the look on his face. Even before Nahtan could say anything, Bear saw the cloak-covered body and rushed to his brother's side.
"I'm sorry," Nahtan said, kneeling beside his friend. He put a hand on his shoulder.
Bear trembled as he pulled back the cloak and Nahtan could see him fighting back his tears.
"This wasn't supposed to happen," Bear managed after a moment. He clenched his teeth and turned angry, injured eyes on Nahtan. "He wasn't supposed to die like this!"
"Everyone who came here with me knew the chance of dying was very real," Nahtan said evenly, knowing Bear's grief was fueling his anger. He took his hand from Bear's shoulder and stood up. If Bear wanted to direct his anger at him, that was fine, but he'd also allow his friend time to grieve. Nahtan knew that people would die in the battles and he also knew each death would weigh heavily on him. Tuketu's death would weigh more than most. "I'll be around when you want to talk," he said after a moment. Turning away, he went to help look for wounded.
In the end, more than seventy of the Mo'ani and Mowik had been killed and over a hundred wounded. Most of the wounded would be able to ride back to the camp, though, making the number of litters or carts needed significantly less. Bear refused to speak to Nahtan and the silence hurt him more than Tuketu's death.
They left the next morning, some of the Mo'ani and Mowik leaving to track down the church guards standing watch and the rest heading back to the Mo'ani's camp. Nahtan and Adie rode toward the front while Bear rode towards the back with his brother's body. Nahtan rarely spoke, even to Adie. When they arrived back at the camp, he left his armor in his tent, then excused himself and left with Tyran.
Without being aware of where he was going, he soon found himself in the city. From the cheering and celebrating, it didn't take long for Nahtan to pinpoint the area by the cathedral. Listening to the Mowik's conversations, the Mo'ani and Mowik had surrounded the church guards at the cathedral and overcome them by sheer numbers. The bodies of the church guards were being taken out and deposited in the hills, denying them any sort of burial. While he was glad the Mowik villages were safe again, the heaviness in his stomach kept him from coming too close to anyone. He felt no guilt for Tuketu's death; the young Mowik had died for what he believed in. The pain of losing someone he knew, however, would always be there. It would also take Bear time to understand, and Nahtan would keep his distance until then.
Nahtan steered away from the crowded village center, letting Tyran choose the way. He wasn't surprised when Tyran stopped at Jensina's temple. There was no sign of Yenene, and the temple and yard looked undisturbed. Nahtan left Tyran to graze and walked around to the back. Pushing on the old door, he was surprised when it opened easily.
Leaning over, he pulled the skinning knife from his boot. The hallway was too narrow for his sword to do him any good.
"Yenene?" he called, waiting inside the door for an answer. After several seconds of silence, he closed the door behind himself and moved carefully down the hall.
When he reached the central room, Yenene's still form on the stone floor drew his attention. Nahtan paused for a moment to scan the rest of the room, but saw nothing out of place. Keeping the skinning knife out, he hurried to Yenene, kneeling beside her.
Nahtan turned her over, pulling her long hair from over her face. He was relieved to see no marks or blood anywhere on her.
"Yenene," he called her name, trying to get a response from her. When she still didn't move, he looked around again. Not seeing anyplace else to put her, he picked her up and carried her to the altar. Nahtan gently set her down on it, and almost as soon as he pulled his arms out from under her, she stirred. When her eyes opened, they filled with tears. "What happened?" Nahtan asked. "Why wasn't the door barred?"
Yenene blinked her eyes several times, sending the tears coursing down her temples. After a second, she focused on Nahtan, then pulled herself up, flung her arms around his neck and began sobbing.
Nahtan held her tightly, setting the skinning knife on the altar beside her so he could use both hands.
"She was here," Yenene whispered against his neck. "She brought so many souls here--" she gasp
ed, new sobs catching in her throat. "Tuketu--?"
Nahtan smoothed her hair, then gently pulled away from her. "He died in the battle with the honor guard," he answered, searching her eyes. "What happened here?"
"Jensina," Yenene answered, her voice faltering. "She brought them all here."
Nahtan pulled her to him again, holding her while she cried. The old priest had spoken of seeing Bear's mother. Like him, Yenene had obviously seen the souls of everyone killed in the battle at the garrison.
When her sobbing had slowed, Nahtan pulled away from her again.
"Tell me what you saw," he suggested, drying her cheeks with his hand.
Yenene bowed her head. "She was here, I could see her," she began quietly. "Jensina brought them all here as they died, healing them, then taking them away." She paused when her voice caught, then continued after a moment. "Tuketu was one of them. She spoke with him for a long while, then he disappeared like the others. When the last had gone, she turned to me, and that's all I remember until the altar woke me and you were here." Stray tears coursed down her cheeks and she shook her head slowly. "So many of them--"
"Yes," Nahtan agreed.
"What about Sewati?" Yenene turned her eyes up to meet Nahtan's.
"He's blaming me right now," Nahtan answered. "But I'd probably do the same if I was him."
Yenene nodded. "And Liwanu?"
Nahtan shook his head. "I don't know. I haven't seen him."
"They'll be burning and burying Tuketu probably tomorrow night," Yenene said after a moment. "Even though he's angry, Sewati might appreciate it if you're there."
"I'll just keep my distance from him," Nahtan said. "Will you be all right?"
Yenene nodded after a moment. "I think I want to stay here for a little bit," she replied. "I'm not sure what everything I saw means, and I'd like to sort through it."
"The village is safe now," Nahtan told her. "So you won't have to be careful when you leave."
Yenene nodded. "Thank you," she said as Nahtan picked up the skinning knife and put it back in his boot.