Under a Warrior's Moon

by C. L. Scheel

  Kitarisa glanced back at the knot of men clustered around Assur, studying the map he held in his hands along with the reins to his own horse, Adzra. The great horse had taken a sudden interest in Assur's long fluttering hair and began nuzzling him, taking tentative bites of it as if he might find the black strands a tasty diversion from grass. A few hairs became caught in the bit ring and when the horse stepped back, they pulled sharply, causing Assur to yelp in pain. He flung his arm up to try and dislodge himself from further damage.

  "Get off of me you–-" he bellowed.

  Kitarisa covered her mouth, trying to smother a laugh. It was the first time she had seen this stern barbarian in such a disheveled, undignified state.

  Assur shoved the map at Brekk and turned on the horse.

  "Make a meal of me, you worthless--" He didn't finish, but flung the reins at Kuurus. He pointed a warning finger at the unperturbed animal. "You are meat for the dogs, horse. When we return to Daeamon, I will walk on your flea-bitten hide!"

  Kitarisa could not contain herself. She laughed out loud a bright, happy laugh. Even Assur's men looked down to cover their own smiles. The incongruous picture of their lord shouting at his horse was too funny even for them. Young Courronus spun away, hand over mouth and hurried off from the group.

  Assur nodded at all of them, looking severe. "I am glad I amuse you--perhaps I should juggle my knives and dance on one foot."

  Kitarisa doubled over grasping at Nika's neck. Her infectious laughter soon had the rest of them laughing, too. It felt wonderful to laugh again after all the terror and endless days of uncertainty. She looked up at Assur through tears of unfeigned happiness. He too, finally gave in to the moment and smiled, and then laughed. The stern lines fell away revealing a generous, beautiful smile and a new warmth in his eyes.

  Kitarisa gulped and brushed at her damp face. Perhaps everything would be all right and perhaps life with him would not be so frightful after all. He did not look quite so fearsome now, in fact, for an instant she thought she saw Rhynn laughing and full of love for her. Maybe there was more to Assur than stern resolve and a warrior's ruthlessness. Maybe there was a gentle man behind the glittering swords.

  Abruptly all humor ceased as Brekk raised his hand for silence.

  "My lord, someone comes."

  Kuurus jumped to his saddle pack and pulled out a long, glass eye and dropped to one knee, looking in the direction to where Brekk was pointing.

  "A rider comes."

  Assur dropped next to him behind a low rise in the ground overlooking the vast valley below. Far into the distance they could see the form of a lone rider heading their way. Kuurus handed him the glace.

  "Can you seen any others?" Assur asked.

  "None, lord," Brekk answered, squinting in the distance.

  As the horse and rider came closer, Kitarisa saw that the animal was being ridden hard. In the stillness of the late morning, they heard the horse's heavy panting as the rider drove him toward the hill where they were standing.

  Assur lifted the glass again.

  "It is Captain Mar'Kess," he said, surprised. "He is without a patrol or a single man."

  "Marglims, my lord?" Kuurus asked, drawing the hand sword from his back and taking a protective stance in front of Kitarisa.

  "No. It is too open here for marglims. Something else--"

  The blood-bay horse struggled up the hill and slid to a stop on trembling hind legs. The animal was drenched in sweat, his sides heaved with exhaustion.

  Mar'Kess slid from the saddle, collapsing to his knees in front of Assur. "My Lord Assur, I beg your protection. I have just come from Gorendt...something too terrible..." he panted.

  "How do we know he has not been sent as a spy?" Kuurus growled.

  "I am no spy, Kuurus. I am here because my own life is in grave danger. I have killed one of them, maybe two."

  Assur scowled at the new information and at the exhausted man. "Who?"

  "Sisters, White Sisters, my lord. They are in the Keep, with their Reverend `Fa Malgora. They are with Kazan in some great scheme. I am--" Mar'Kess panted. He leaned over his knees, palms flat on the ground.

  "Get the cord, Brekk."

  Brekk hastened to comply and returned momentarily with the stained white cord he and Kuurus had found on Reddess' body.

  "If you are not a spy and not sent by the `Fa, you will have no difficulty cutting this cord in half. It is sacred to the witches--a Wrathman would rather die before betraying them. If you are, I will cut you down before you take your next breath."

  He tossed the cord on the ground in front of Mar'Kess. In one smooth motion he drew the long sword from his back and leveled it in front of the Captain's throat.

  From his belt, Mar'Kess drew out his own knife. Without hesitating, he picked up the loathsome cord, cut it, and flung the two pieces in the dirt.

  "May Verlian burn them!" he spat.

  The Captain looked up and saw Kitarisa. He offered her a respectful nod.

  "I have renounced all oaths and bonds to Kazan and would offer them again to you, my Lord Assur, and to our High Prince."

  Assur nodded and re-sheathed the sword, satisfied. "Get up, Mar'Kess. And someone get him and this poor beast some water."

  The hardy captain recovered quickly and once restored, he relayed the terrible events of the previous night. Assur listened, his face becoming more and more grim with each word.

  "You killed the girl?" he asked.

  "Yes, my lord. It was she who informed on the princess and Lady Falla. I have no remorse in doing it. She was as evil as her mistress."

  "Done like a true Siarsi," Kuurus rumbled approvingly.

  "And Prince Kazan? Does he know?"

  "About you and the princess? I am certain he does. He must know about Lady Falla and the others. There will be a price on my head and the witch will no doubt want my head for her own use."

  "What does the witch want?" Assur studied Mar'Kess' face as if hoping to find any other shred of information from his features.

  "I do not know, but what I did hear, I did not like. She wants power of some kind and you are part of it."

  Kitarisa listened to Mar'Kess' story and turned away, tears smarting at her eyes. Lady Falla dead! Holy Goddess! It was her fault, she new it. If she had not gone to her that night, she would be alive now.

  She found Nika and pressed her forehead against his neck. She must not cry. Assur and the others had seen enough of her tears, but it was hard--so hard.

  Beautiful, sweet Lady Falla, tortured to death.

  Too many dead on her account--her mother, and Rhynn, and now Lady Falla. Who would be next?

  Kitarisa buried her face in Nika's mane and cried silent tears of grief, where only moments before, her tears had been of joy.

  TOWARD THE END of the day, they crossed a fast-rushing stream at a place far north of Gorendt. The stream was shallow enough for the horses to cross without having to swim, but Kitarisa tugged up her skirts as high as was considered decent. She had no desire to get anything wet particularly since there was a thin coating of ice near the shoreline where the water remained shaded long into the day.

  The icy water swirled around the gelding's knees and twice he slipped on the slick stones under his hooves.

  On the far side, Assur allowed them to stop and rest in a thick grove of tall birches long since stripped bare of their summer foliage.

  "May I stretch my legs, my lord?" she asked when he helped her down from the horse. "It seems safe enough."

  He nodded and took the reins from her.

  The stream took an abrupt bend and in the wide curve, a birch grove grew on the banks, forming a gentle canopy where she could rest.

  Kitarisa strolled through the thick carpet of newly fallen leaves, kicking them along with each step. It seemed an eternity since she had left Gorendt not the few days that had past--and she did not miss it. Now free of any responsibilities she found herself wondering what would happen to her. What if Riehl did
not want her to rule, particularly now that she had publicly renounced both Riehl and Gorendt? Perhaps she could appeal to the Ter-Rey. Would a man like that, a barbarian, even listen to her?

  Kitarisa glanced back at Assur and the others. Did they know the Ter-Rey? Maybe they would take her to him? She frowned to herself. She doubted it. They had no reason to take her to Daeamon Keep. She had no means to repay them, but Assur had kept his promise and helped her escape from Gorendt. And, she could not forget Mar'Kess' bravery.

  A chill breeze blew up from the river and she clutched her cloak more tightly about her shoulders. In a few weeks the snow would come turning this valley into a land of soft whites and brittle trees. The river would freeze over and all the wildlife she had seen in such abundance, would be gone.

  Kitarisa suddenly realized she had walked much farther than she had intended. At a thick clustering of bushes growing near the river she turned to go back, when she nearly tripped over something.

  At first she thought she had caught a root of a fallen log with the toe of her boot until she examined it more closely. Kitarisa felt herself go weak with horror.

  It was an arm and near it, a bloated face, ghastly white--the eyes were still open, staring up through the fallen leaves. Bitter bile rose in the back of her throat as she stared down at the dead face looking up grotesquely into her own. She looked again and saw the others--a contorted pile of arms and legs, dragged into the thicket in a hasty attempt to hide them.

  Kitarisa's scream came from the base of her belly, shattering the cold stillness of the place. She did not stop until she felt Assur's hands turn her away and pull her into his arms, shielding her from the grisly sight.

  There were twenty of them, after Jarad and Del and Mar'Kess had untangled the sickening pile of bodies from the thicket. Twenty men of various shapes and ages--and tribes.

  Assur squatted down next to Mar'Kess and the others to examine them more closely.

  "They were all running from something, my lord," Kuurus observed. "All the bolts struck them in the back, here and here." He touched the shoulder of the nearest man to show the numerous wounds riddling his back and legs. "Some were struck down with long-bows but all of the arrows and bolts have been removed and retrieved. There are none to be found. All these men have the mark of the liet'fa on their necks."

  "They are all from different tribes," Assur muttered as if confirming Kuurus' observation.

  "Six Qualani, four Riehlian farmers, five Huons, and three I would guess to be Oduns--one I do not know, and one Siarsi," Jarad said solemnly. The big man glanced at Assur, looking for his reaction at the mention of the Siarsian.

  "Do you recognize him, Kuurus?" Assur asked, as he turned the body over.

  "No, lord. He is an old one, an elder and his scars are of the old style. I have not seen scars like this since I was a boy."

  Assur tugged at the edge of his jaw, perplexed.

  "Why were all of them together? The Qualani will have nothing to do with a Riehlian. The Huons have been known to kill Qualani for sport, and why is a Siarsi--an old one that--this far east? This does not make sense."

  "My lord, look at this," Brekk called from the thicket. From the underbrush, Brekk pulled something out. It was dirty and blood-stained, but there was no mistaking what it was: an intricately braided white cord.

  "A jirs'kial," Mar'Kess whispered. "I found one near Lady Falla."

  Even the deeply-tanned Kuurus went pale. "Just like what we found on Reddess at the old keep and on that boy, that Qualani boy."

  Assur turned back to the bodies stretched out before him.

  "What do they want?" he growled at no one.

  "Their dogs did this, my lord," Kuurus answered him. "The Wrathmen. There is a fragment of an arrow in one of the Huons--the fletchings are white."

  Assur turned back on Kuurus, his marked eyes glittering with rage. "What do they want?" he asked again.

  "Perhaps the Wrathmen are searching for someone, or something?" Mar'Kess suggested. "Perhaps these few were to be used in some way and then they decided to escape. I remember what that woman said in the tower passageway, `...it is the strong ones' she needs."

  Kitarisa, who had been listening to the entire discussion from a safe distance approached Assur.

  "Captain Mar'Kess is right, my lord. All of you have strong wills and much power. Somehow she needs or wants this power."

  Assur scowled. "And kneel to that abomination she worships? When Verlian Herself summons me," he said heatedly.

  "Precisely what I said." Mar'Kess grinned wryly. "But that is what Lady Falla tried to do and failed, my lord. She died like these, in agony and utterly broken. I found a cord in her room, just like that one," he said, gesturing to the one on the ground.

  Kitarisa nodded. "My old nurse told me once that the Sisters use another's will for their own purposes."

  "But not for this kind of butchery. They have been a nuisance on this land for generations, but they have never resorted to this kind of torture." Assur folded his arms across his chest, pondering the situation. "There is something connected with Kazan's plans to take Riehl and that witch. It is clear he intends to use the weapons stored at Sherehn to arm his men and the Maretstanis. The Riehlians will not stand a chance."

  Mar'Kess' brows shot up in surprise. "Weapons in Sherehn? When did you find these?"

  "The night we rescued Alea and Kitarisa, we discovered them hidden in the cavern stables."

  Mar'Kess shook his head in disbelief. "I did not want to believe it, but now it is true. The Maretstanis will be arriving soon with the Princess Dahsmahl. It will be a great show of diplomacy and mutual peace, but those weapons will arm them, when the time is ready."

  Kuurus looked up at the sky noting the position of the sun.

  "We do not have much of the day left. There is a village not far from here, to the north. We must hurry, my lord, if we are to reach the village by dark. So many funeral pyres will take time."

  "No."

  "My lord," Kuurus gasped at him. "It would be indecent to leave them like this."

  "Verlian takes Her own, Kuurus, and She will forgive us. The smoke from a pyre will only reveal our presence. We cannot risk that."

  "At least let me attend to the Siarsi. I will take him into the woods and then catch up to you later."

  Young Courronus stepped forward next to his uncle, his face as red as his hair. "Please, lord, allow me to assist him."

  Assur nodded curtly. He motioned for the others to mount up.

  Kitarisa did not like leaving the dead men without attending to them properly, but she had no desire to wait for the Wrathmen to reappear...or maybe marglims. She hastened to obey and clambered onto the gelding's back without any help.

  There was a new grimness reflected in the Talesians' faces as they continued to ride north. As they drew closer to the little village Kuurus had mentioned, they began to notice more things that did not seem right. Field after field of grain stood unharvested--there was no one in the orchards to pick the ripening fruit and no wagons laden with crops to be taken to the markets. There appeared to be no one in sight. They heard nothing, except the sound of their own animals.

  A chill wind passed through the village, riffling Kitarisa's cloak and scattering the leaves in the street. A tense, eerie feeling ran through all of them--the streets were completely deserted as if the inhabitants had seen them coming not five minutes before they entered and had fled for their lives.

  They passed cottages with doors left wide open, revealing kettles bubbling on fires, wet laundry left in baskets waiting to be hung out to dry, and even mounds of fresh dough still on the breadboards collecting flies and other hungry insects.

  A shutter banged suddenly causing Kitarisa's gelding to jump. Slinking from behind a watering trough, a terrified dog scuttled across the street in front of them only to find another refuge behind a dense cluster of bushes.

  "Where is everybody?" Kitarisa whispered.

  "It appears they h
ave run away," Captain Mar'Kess answered softly.

  "Yes, but to where?" Assur added.

  "They cannot have gotten far," Mar'Kess said pointing to the open doors of the nearby smithy. "I believe I saw a horse inside and the fire is still hot."

  Assur halted them in front of the smithy and dismounted. Handing the reins to Jarad, he approached the doors, sword drawn. He stepped into the gloom of the forge and disappeared.

  "My lord," Brekk called out, "let one of us search!"

  Assur re-emerged from the dark interior of the smithy.

  "There is no one in there, but the coals are still hot. Someone did not finish shoeing the horse."

  Jarad jumped down and disappeared into the forge. He too returned into the bright sunlight, a frown on his broad features. Apparently, Jarad knew all about horse shoeing and appeared not to like what he had just seen in the forge.

  "The poorest shoeing I have ever seen. Whoever is trying to shoe that horse knows nothing. Forgive the comparison, my lady, but the princess here could do a better job herself."

  The others dismounted and found convenient places to tie their own horses.

  Cautiously, they all fanned out, swords drawn. A low chill shot up Kitarisa's back. Nothing felt right--it was as if they were being watched.

  At the very edge of the village, standing under the near leafless skeleton of an enormous oak tree, was a large communal barn. Jarad stepped forward and pulled open the heavy door. Like the smithy, it was dark and stifling--a startled pigeon fluttered over their heads, making all of them duck in surprise.

  Kitarisa thought she heard a faint sob and soft scrabbling noises against the wood like mice rustling in the walls.

  All of them, Mar'Kess included, crouched low, swords drawn and wary.