Under a Warrior's Moon

by C. L. Scheel

"That is enough, Father," Assur said severely. "Before you seduce the lady, at least let me tell you who she is. This is the Princess Kitarisa Dar Baen of Gorendt. My lady, in case you have not guessed, this is my father, the Descendant Ter-Rey, D'Achadek Taksma Dar Daeamon."

  Kitarisa made her curtsey. "I am honored, Your Highness. Welcome to Riehl. We are pleased and relieved that you are here."

  The older Talesian prince grinned at her, his delight lighting up his entire face.

  "I would fight a hundred marglims for such a woman. That dog, Kazan, will be cut to pieces for keeping such a beauty like you locked up for so long."

  Both of them heard Assur making a growling noise in his throat. Achad leaned over and winked at her conspiratorially.

  "He is a bore...my son...is he not?" His eyes gleamed wickedly at her.

  In spite of herself, Kitarisa could not help but smile at Prince Achad's playful humor. "He has heavy responsibilities, my lord."

  "Spoken like a true princess!"

  Captain Mar'Kess and Councilor De'Tai had been observing and listening to Achad's banter, and they too smiled at him. The older prince's unabashed humor helped ease their apprehensions about having so many barbarians in their midst. He was obviously a favorite, as all of the Talesians within earshot were grinning and beaming at him affectionately.

  "If you are finished?" Assur glared at his father.

  Achad turned from her, still grinning, and met the captain and De'Tai. Both of them bowed deeply.

  "Your Highness, you are most welcome," De'Tai said formally.

  Mar'Kess bowed his head again. "My sword is yours, my lord, to fight marglims or whatever else comes your way."

  "You and I will have glorious battles, eh, Mar'Kess?" Achad clamped a friendly hand on his shoulder. "And capture pretty women like this one." He nodded toward Kitarisa then spotted Lady Davieta and winked at her broadly. "Or this one. There will be so many, we will not know which of them to chose."

  "Father, enough!" Assur barked.

  "The trouble with you, Assur, is you have no sense of humor." Achad sounded as if he were trying to reason with a small boy. "But, you need not worry. I will not try to take the lady away from you. I will fight you for her," he said gleefully.

  Kitarisa never saw the blow coming--just a dark blur as Achad flew backward, landing heavily on the ground with a loud "oof" escaping his lips. Behind him, came the raucous laughter from the Talesians who had been watching the whole scene. Even Kitarisa had to cover her mouth to suppress a giggle.

  Achad sat up, shaking his head and rubbing his jaw.

  "Finally," he bellowed. "I was beginning to wonder how long it would take before you would lose that iron-willed temper of yours."

  "Get up," Assur said sourly.

  "You see, my lady," Achad said, getting up and shaking out the dust from his fur cloak, "Assur is too serious and he is jealous just like his mother was--Verlian keep her. Now he is worried he will have to fight for you. And do you know why?" His dark eyes danced with mischief.

  "No." Kitarisa laughed impulsively at him.

  "Because he will lose!"

  Before any more damage could be done, Achad took her elbow and steered her away from his glowering son and the amused faces of Mar'Kess and De'Tai.

  "Come. I would see this glorious Keep with a lovely lady at my side, before I am forced to fight this jealous Ter-Rey or traitorous Gorendtians!"

  Achad did not have to fight Assur or anybody else. Everywhere he went, Achad gathered an amused following of Riehlians. He told outrageous jokes to the Council, bantered with warriors and flirted shamelessly with any woman foolish enough to get in his way.

  He ate Riehlian food with gusto, sampled their wine, and when the evenings came, much to Assur's irritation, taught everyone lusty Talesian camp songs. Kitarisa had never heard so much laughter or seen so many happy people.

  However, when it came to the discussions concerning Kazan and the White Sisters, Achad was absolutely serious. The amused light in his eyes flattened to the same kind of cold ruthlessness she had seen in Assur's. Even Brekk mentioned it to her.

  "Prince Achad is the joy of Verlian Herself, but you must never cross him. He was not far from the truth when he joked about fighting the Ter-Rey."

  "Oh?"

  Brekk nodded. "Achad is the best sword in all Talesia. Do not let his humor, or his age, deceive you. He can best my Lord Assur in any three out of five matches."

  "Brekk, why does not Achad still rule?"

  "Talesian custom says that a Ter-Rey may step down, or become the Descendant Prince when he feels it time for a son to take his place. The custom came from making sure no ruler of the tribes became too old and feeble to lead them. My Lord Achad stepped away from his duties ten turns ago, leaving Assur to rule. There is no disgrace in this--he still commands great respect and even my lord seeks his advice. Assur will be the Ter-Rey until he decides he should step aside for his own son, the next Ascendant Prince."

  "He has no wife, does he?" she asked cautiously.

  "My Lord Assur? No. Not even a concubine. I will tell you in confidence, my lady, he has never found a way into a lady's heart. He has never fallen for the temptress or a lady's wiles--not like me," he said with a grin.

  "Do you have a wife?"

  "Me? Ha! Who would have this ugly face? Besides, I don't need a wife, but the Ter-Rey will need one, soon."

  "For a son?"

  "No. For himself."

  FOR HOURS ASSUR sat behind a large blackwood table covered with maps, lists and entreaties while listening to the worries and complaints of the Council Circle of Riehl. They were frightened and doubtful of any peaceful outcome with Gorendt.

  "I would not alarm Your Highness," said Councilor Sur'Mai, with a penetrating voice, "but surely you must realize that Kazan wishes his son, Alor, to ascend the Falcon Throne and he will do this even if he must use force. Already, we have reports from the field of great numbers of Gorendtian soldiers amassing near the base of the Rift Cut. It will only be a matter of days before we receive a delegation from Kazan, demanding our surrender."

  "Is it true, lord?" another added. "We cannot stand against such forces--and we are told he intends to bring warriors from Maretstan to fight with him. How can we hope to defeat an army such as that?"

  Councilor Sur'Mai pressed on, determined not to lose Assur's attention in the matter.

  "If they win, we will be governed by a self-indulgent, worthless boy who will merely be a tool for Kazan. Riehl will be in ruins; the people will revolt. For three hundred sunturns we have kept the peace, your peace. Now everything will be in chaos. It cannot be allowed to happen!"

  "Kazan will not have Riehl while I rule the Eastern Lands. I know what Kazan wants and he will not have it, especially by force. You know that is why I have brought the legions here and you have been fortifying Riehl under Mar'Kess' direction. You will not die," Assur said irritably.

  There was a general sigh of relief among the Council members, but the question of who should ascend the Riehlian throne remained unanswered. De'Tai broached the subject with all his well-known tact and diplomacy.

  "My lord, have you had time to consider who will ascend as rightful ruler?"

  "The Princess Kitarisa is the legitimate heir. It is now for her to decide whether she will accept the throne."

  The Council members shifted uncomfortably and again De'Tai spoke for all of them.

  "We wish no disrespect to either you or the princess, my lord, but we have considerable reservations with having her as our ruler."

  "What do you mean, De'Tai?" Assur asked sharply. "Why do you struggle over the obvious? You came to me not two moonturns ago, demanding I look into this and here I am with your heir."

  Assur stood up, visibly weary and annoyed. "What do you want?" He nearly snapped at them.

  "Lord, the Princess Kitarisa is assuredly an excellent lady, but she has had little experience in leading a people. These are desperate times. We need a ruler who will
lead us with decisiveness and strength. The Princess has no knowledge of our situation, our needs and the complexities of Riehlian law--"

  "Who do you suggest?" Assur interjected.

  Again, there was an uneasy shifting among the council members. None of them had any desire to bring down the wrath of the Ter-Rey--the ancient memory of Talesian brutality was as vivid with Riehlians as with those in Gorendt.

  Assur looked at the Council, growing increasingly disgusted. Until this moment, he had only the highest respect for this handful of men trying to hold together the vast structure of the Riehlian government without the leadership of a ruler.

  "Well?" Assur demanded.

  "Your Highness," De'Tai went on, more hesitantly, "we have discussed this matter in considerable detail and we believe we have a possible solution--of course with your approval. We suggest that for the time being there be no prince in Riehl, but perhaps one of your high-ranking officers to serve as a military governor until our internal problems can be resolved. In this case, we would have the strong leader we need to direct our own warriors and an impersonal judge. The ultimate and difficult decisions of state would be, of course, deferred to you."

  Assur sat down again, studying his uneasy subjects.

  "If I may but add, Your Highness," Sur'Mai said quickly, "the princess would be most welcome to stay here in her ancestral home."

  "You insult the memory of your late prince," he said coldly. "Surely any descendant of his line would be wanted over Kazan's worthless spawn. I am tempted to dismiss all of you, but the reasoning behind your request has merit."

  "Perhaps if the princess chose to stay here and observe and learn our ways, then sometime in the future..." De'Tai continued.

  "You might consider her?" Assur finished for him. "An interesting concept--a council deciding if they want the leadership of the rightful ruler of their own land."

  Abruptly he stood again, ending their discussions. "I will give it thought, but remember, the Princess Kitarisa is your rightful heir. She must be told of your suggestion and if she does not agree, then I am afraid you will simply have to suffer the indignities of being ruled by a woman!" he finished, now irritated by the whole matter.

  Assur strode past the bowing council members and headed straight for the stable yard where he ordered Adzra to be saddled. He was weary of the discussions and papers and deeply upset by the Council's latest demand. How could he possibly tell Kitarisa, even if she had, in fact, renounced her right to Riehl?

  As he swung on to Adzra's back, he happened to glance down at the firemark on his arm, no longer a symbol of a victory in battle, but again, a constant reminder of his oaths and duties.

  For a moment he wished he could take a saddle knife and cut both the marks from his arms, forever eradicating his endless responsibilities. Assur recalled the searing pain when the iron was pressed into his flesh, irrevocably separating him from his boyhood and from everyone else. The burned marks reminded him of Kitarisa and the scars on her back--her terror, the unendurable pain and humiliation she had undergone.

  Beautiful Kitarisa. He was only a hideous barbarian in her eyes, but he would change that, he vowed. Assur made a fist as if to seal his decision and kicked the warhorse into a pounding gallop--a gallop he did not let up until both he and the horse were staggering with fatigue.

  Chapter 15

  FOR FIVE DAYS Riehl teemed with activity. Everywhere were the sounds of shouts and curses as warriors and citizens alike hurried to finish the fortification of the Keep and the city.

  Daily, Nattuck rode out with a patrol to look for Gorendtian spies or to ride to the top of the Rift Cut to check upon the progress of Kazan's forces and with each day he brought back increasingly bad news. Kazan's combined army was as threatening as the Council had feared. Riehlians would be outnumbered nearly two to one by the time they entrenched at the Kor Breach.

  Nattuck seethed for the fight and hounded all the Talesians to improve battle skills already honed to razor-sharp perfection, while Mar'Kess labored long and hard to bring the Riehlian forces back to their former readiness.

  Assur and Achad poured over the maps, making last minute decisions where each Talesian should be placed on the Cut or at the Breach. Kazan's forces had numbers and the deadly cross-bows; the Talesians and Riehlians had high ground and the easily defensible opening at the Kor Breach. Kazan had more men, but he had sorely misjudged and forgotten the will and the ferocity of Talesian warriors.

  Assur had no doubts as to the outcome--Kazan would be in chains and on his knees before him, begging for mercy. And Syunn? There was an ancient Chaliset punishment that involved the sun, water-soaked leather and a very sharp knife--Assur would make the rest of Malgora's trained pets watch.

  By the sixth day Assur had to admit the possibility that both Kuurus and Courronus had been killed or taken prisoner. There had been no news, even Nattuck's patrols could not find a trace of them. If the marglims had killed them, their horses would have instinctively returned to the encampment.

  At dusk, as the last scouting party returned to the keep, grim-faced and silent, he knew his old friend and the young Siarsi were lost. Assur silently offered a brief prayer to Verlian, blessing their memory and hoping the Goddess would Summon them quickly. Surely Kuurus and his young nephew would dine at Her side. There would be no tears for a Talesian warrior, no long grieving. Kuurus had died as he had wished--the brave death of a Siarsi. When Assur returned to Daeamon Keep, he would make certain the Holy Chanter and Wordkeeper said the proper words for Kuurus and burn sacred salt and grain in his memory. Kuurus needed no other tribute.

  Assur dismissed the solemn patrol leader and headed for the Siarsi encampment. Kuurus had a large clan and a tribe of many friends. It would only be fitting that he should bring them the news of Kuurus' and Courronus' death. Knowing the Siarsi as he did, they would enshrine Kuurus' memory in a long litany of his bravery and his deeds, his battles and conquests. And then they would fight the Gorendtian army like demons.

  IT WAS VERY LATE when Kitarisa heard someone knock at her door. She had dismissed Lady Davieta long ago, but still remained awake and restless. When she opened the door, she was surprised to see Del standing in the doorway, blushing and stammering.

  "My lady, can you come quickly and bring your medicines?"

  "Del? What is the matter?"

  The shy Chaliset shuffled uncomfortably. "It is my Lord Assur. He is asking for you."

  Alarmed, Kitarisa flung on the white brocaded robe and found her bag.

  "Is he ill? What is the matter with him?"

  Del looked embarrassed.

  "It was a horse, my lady. While visiting the camp, one of the horses got excited and accidentally kicked him--in the side." He pointed to his own side, showing her where the injury had happened. "He...he can't sleep."

  "I am coming right now."

  She followed Del down the darkened corridors until they came to Assur's apartments guarded by two burly Siarsi. They made no effort to stop her, but eyed the bag warily.

  "It is the Princess Kitarisa," Del explained. "She has come to help the Ter-Rey."

  They nodded and let her pass into his rooms.

  Assur sat slumped in a chair before a blazing fire, his long legs thrust out before him. He was clad only in his small clothes, a shock to Kitarisa as his lack of clothing made him appear somehow more threatening. His head hung back, the long hair draped down behind the chair and his eyes were closed. In one hand he held a goblet of wine. Even in the soft light of the room, Kitarisa could make out the angry, purple swelling under his left arm.

  "My lord?" Del asked tentatively. "Lady Kitarisa is here."

  Assur raised his head, his eyes fluttered open. "I am glad you are here," he said thickly, pressing his arm against his side.

  "Del says you were kicked."

  "Yes. I should have known better, but I found myself caught in a kicking match between two ill-tempered brutes." He groaned softly and bent forward over his knees.
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  Kitarisa knelt down next to him.

  "Let me see."

  Gently she lifted his arm. He winced when she touched the bruise. She could easily make out the crescent shape where the hoof had struck him. Kitarisa carefully probed the tender flesh, loathing herself for hurting him.

  "I don't think you have broken any bones, but you have definitely bruised some of them. Del, please find two towels, soak one of them in cold water and bring them to me."

  The man nodded and disappeared to obey her.

  From her bag she rummaged around till she found the small vial she wanted. She uncorked it and dropped three drops into his wine.

  "Here drink this--it will ease the pain and make you sleep."

  Assur drank more of the wine and leaned back into the chair, his face drawn with exhaustion and pain.

  "You should be getting more rest, my lord. You are driving yourself too hard."

  "A Ter-Rey gets no rest," he muttered. "Only responsibilities."

  Kitarisa stood up and moved behind him. Timidly at first, she pushed his hair aside and began gently massaging his shoulders and neck, but became stronger when he dropped his head and groaned with contentment.

  "I used to do this for Alea when she became tense and fearful."

  "I am certain Alea did not appreciate it nearly as much as I do."

  At that moment, Del reappeared with the towels in a large basin. Kitarisa set the basin on the floor near Assur's chair, then proceeded to tear up the towels into manageable sections and press them against the swollen bruise.

  Assur watched her intently, obediently holding up his arm while she worked on him. She tried not to notice, but could feel his eyes on her.

  "The pain eases already."

  "Good. Now, help me, Del."

  She made a poultice of her herbs in one of the towel sections, folded it into a compact square and pressed it to Assur's side. With Del's help, they bound strips of dry cloth around his chest to hold the poultice against the bruise.

  Assur sagged back into the chair. "Leave us, Del."

  "My lord?"

  Assur waved a weary hand at him. "The lady will be completely safe. I can no more harm her virtue than fly. Go."