by C. L. Scheel
"Ei Teyan Se Verlian," he called in a loud voice. You are called by the Divine Verlian.
From the heights of the Rift Cut, Assur heard a deafening roar, more like a howl of pain and fear.
He trotted Adzra up and down the shoreline and called again, only this time, it was a ringing call to arms.
D'Assuriel, call on them! I have returned them to you.
"Ei Teyan Se Verlian!" he shouted.
The roar was much louder, an agonized scream of terror and defeat. Assur turned the horse in time to look up and see Kitarisa make one last blow at the yellowed worm-like body of Malgora. Kitarisa's black talons raked at Malgora's already bleeding throat, ripping the life from the hideous creature, but not before Malgora made a desperate grasp at Kitarisa.
Struggling to keep her balance on the edge of the great escarpment, Malgora managed to sink her right talon in Kitarisa's ruined left, causing her to cry out in her own pain. Writhing and roaring their fiery breath, both creatures struggled to maintain their balance, fought for a hold, and then slowly, almost gracefully, they fell over the edge. It seemed to take an eternity of time as the horrified warriors from both armies, watched them fall to the valley floor. In a cloud of sulphur and fire, the two beasts hurtled through the night to the earth, still roaring their defiance to each other. When they hit the ground, the impact sent tremors rippling across the land. Horses panicked and bucked their hapless riders to the ground--the river itself shuddered, sending rippling waves cresting the shorelines.
Almost reflexively, Assur called again to the stunned warriors. "Ei Teyan Se Verlian!" he cried at the top of his voice. A deafening roar rose from the warriors in one defiant voice--they answered the call. Their commander was before them, ready to lead them on to victory and glory.
Assur raised his arm over his head: "Follow me!"
As one, the army of captive warriors streamed across the rushing Sherehn, heedless of the cold and swirling waters. The crossing point at the river was not terribly deep and in a short time all of the once caged warriors were across, ready to face a new foe.
It was Achad who galloped up to him and reeled in his overexcited horse.
"I cannot hold them any longer; sound the horn. Verlian calls us, boy!" Achad grinned happily at him.
Assur nodded and the signal was sent. From the base of the great Rift Cut, fifteen thousand howling Talesians and Riehlians turned to the south and answered the call of the sounding horn and war drums. A warrior's moon, Verlian's light, led them on, straight toward the awaiting armies of Gorendt and far off Maretstan.
COMMANDER BOROSA yanked off his helmet and flung it at Kazan's feet. "Your witch is dead. She is a stinking pile of guts fit only for the maggots. And the Ter-Rey will have our heads on the end of a spear if you do not withdraw now."
"You will do as you are told and hold your lines," Kazan said through gritted teeth. "You will hold as you have been ordered!"
"It is treason, Kazan. And I will not risk one more man for this ludicrous scheme." He held up one warning finger before Kazan's face. "Let me ask you something: Have you ever seen what Talesians do to traitors?" Borosa waved his hand irritably before Kazan could even speak. "One is the jarat eis tal--they hang you on a pole by your thumbs with wet leather thongs. You are hung facing the sun, Kazan, and then they tie open your mouth. In less than an hour, you are mad with pain, thirst, and whatever happens to crawl into you!"
Kazan blanched, but still set his jaw more stubbornly. Borosa pressed on, even more determined to convince this unwise prince.
"The sun is not hot enough now, but they have other tortures, far more interesting and excruciating. Shall I go on?"
"We will defeat the Ter-Rey and take Riehl," Kazan said angrily. "Go to your legions! Stand your ground!"
Borosa pressed his lips together in a hard line and glared at Kazan. It was all he could do not to strike him down. He picked up his helmet and jammed his it back on his head, buckling the chin strap in one angry movement.
"No. I leave now to surrender my sword and my life as personal forfeit for this folly. You would be wise to do the same, Kazan, if you wish to see any of your men left alive."
"I will call the Wrathmen to hold you, Borosa. Do not tempt me."
Borosa stopped and looked back at Kazan. "The Wrathmen have fled for their lives. You know as well as I, Talesians have a particular hatred for Wrathmen." He nodded grimly to Kazan. "There is no sun to torment them now, but there are plenty of marglims in these woods and there is also the river. The river is freezing cold and Talesians are quite imaginative. If not for your sake, at least for the sake of your men, surrender."
Borosa dropped the flap of the tent and hurried into the night to seek the High Prince and try in some way to plead for the lives of his men and for the innocent princess that awaited the battle's outcome in Gorendt Keep.
Chapter 21
THE OLD WOMAN had predicted correctly: the Sherehn ran red with the blood of warriors and horses alike. And there was no mercy from either Talesian barbarian or Riehlian warrior.
In one fearless sweep, the combined forces of Riehlians, Talesians and captives, decimated the proud Maretstanis and defiant Gorendtians. Assur's swords, arms and shoulders were soaked in blood--even Adzra's gray coat was now crusted and filthy and he often slipped and stumbled over the blood-slick ground.
Assur barely had time to notice that the brave Mar'Kess was now on foot--his horse cut down beneath him--hacking away like a madman. The once immaculate blue and white surcoat hung in bloody rags and his bright gold hair was now dulled to a dirty gray.
The shouting, the noise, and the stench all added to the madness. Assur's initial rage had cooled to cold hate as he slashed through row after row of Gorendtian warriors. He felt nothing but the steady, mindless drive to punish Kazan and with each stroke of his swords, Assur satisfied that inner demand until he fell exhausted to his knees unable to lift his arms from his sides.
JUST AS THE SUN touched the eastern skies, the legions of Gorendt fell back and from the midst of the seething army, Commander Borosa rode forward, along with two of his officers. His right flanking officer bore Maretstan's banner, flown upside down in the traditional signal of surrender.
Prince D'Assuriel had set up a rude command post with a folding camp chair set in the middle of a black breok hide spread out on the ground. He had not yet taken the time to wash the filth and blood from his hands and armor, but sat in a kind of terrible barbaric grimness that served to remind those around him he was still a Talesian and had not forgotten his savage past.
Borosa dropped to his knees and set his sword on the ground before his High Prince. He fought to control his inner shaking. He had never seen the Ter-Rey face to face and now, kneeling before him, he knew why his old commander had taken such pains to warn him.
The black-patterned eyes were cold and hard as the hardest steel. While Assur gave the appearance of sitting rather casually in his chair, legs outstretched, Borosa felt he was kneeling in the presence of a coiled viper.
"Your Highness, I am Commander Borosa of the High Command of Maretstan. I bring you greetings from my lord, Prince Dahka. I shall be brief: in my lord's name I hereby surrender my sword and all my oaths and bonds and beg permission to throw myself upon my sword and die for the acts of my men and my prince. I would ask only that you forgive them as they were only doing as their duty demanded. I also beg for the life of the Princess Dahsmahl, who is innocent."
Borosa bowed his head and placed his palms flat at his sides. He closed his eyes and prayed that his death would be swift. He fleetingly thought of his wife, dearest Elissa and the children...Verlian have mercy.
There was a long silence, until at last he heard the High Prince clear his throat and shift in his chair. Borosa did not dare to look up.
"Whose orders were you following?" D'Assuriel asked quietly.
Borosa swallowed, still not able to look up. "Those of my Lord Dahka, Your Highness."
"You will tell
me why Dahka was foolish enough to send you on this traitorous errand."
The commander gulped again and cleared his own throat. "Because, Great Lord, my Lord Dahka was convinced of Lord Kazan's scheme to take Riehl and place his own daughter, Dahsmahl, on the throne as wife of Prince Alor."
"And where is the Princess Dahsmahl?"
"She awaits her marriage to Alor; she is in Gorendt Keep."
There was another pause as he heard the High Prince speak in low tones to someone near him. A cluster of Talesians broke away, sent off on some errand.
"You may look up, Commander," Assur said sternly.
Borosa lifted his head and faced the Ter-Rey. He was sitting upright and leaning forward.
"You may not take your life, Borosa--not until I speak with the Princess Dahsmahl. Your surrender is accepted and I will spare the lives of your men, but only when they lay down their weapons in front of me. What is your Field Captain's name?"
"It is Captain Abalt, my lord."
Assur's gaze flicked over the rigid Abalt kneeling next to Borosa.
"Captain Abalt, you will order all of the Maretstani warriors to surrender their swords to me before nightfall. Surrender your own now."
The trembling captain hastened to comply and set his own sword on the ground in front of him.
"I, Jara ab'Abalt, hereby surrender my sword and offer all my oaths and bonds," he said in a voice barely concealing his fear.
"Accepted. Go now," Assur commanded, dismissing the Field Captain. He turned his attentions back to Borosa.
"I have sent for the Princess to confirm your story. Until that time, you will remain in my custody and held as a prisoner of war. And, Commander, where is Kazan?"
Borosa again looked into that hard, unyielding gaze and saw Kazan's death. He shuddered.
"I do not know, Great Lord," he said honestly. "He may have fled. Most of the Wrathmen have already begun to run south. They are afraid--"
"They should be," Assur said bluntly. "I have already sent my warriors after them. They will not get far. Kazan will be caught soon and he will die, Borosa. He will not be permitted to die on his sword either."
Borosa did not miss the ominous tone in Assur's voice. He shuddered again. By Verlian's blade, he did not even want to know how the Ter-Rey intended Kazan to die.
Assur gestured to two of his warriors standing nearby and they stepped forward, each carrying shackles in their hands. They manacled Borosa's wrists behind him and then his ankles, chained just far enough apart for him to walk in a short hobbling fashion. They jerked him to his feet, holding him firmly between them to await Assur's final orders.
"Take him to Riehl Keep and place him in one of the larger cells. He is not to be harmed." Assur studied Borosa for a moment. "I do not believe you are the same fool as Kazan, however, neither am I. If Princess Dahsmahl's story does not corroborate with yours, I will send your head to Dahka. Am I clear?"
Borosa nodded. "Perfectly, Great Lord. I can only praise the blessed Verlian you have permitted me this reprieve and thank you for your mercy."
Assur nodded curtly to him. "Then I pray Verlian you are truly an honorable man." He signaled to the warriors to take him away.
Borosa's heart ceased some of its wild hammering. For now, he had been spared.
NO WRATHMAN found alive, however, would be spared. Without the leadership and direction of the Reverend `Fa, they ran for their lives. Achad and Nattuck led patrols deep into the forests to find them and once found, the Wrathmen did not receive an easy death. Many were left, hanging from the lowest tree branches by their wrists, to await the next pack of marglims. To make sure the marglims did not miss them, their legs were slashed, allowing the blood to drip to the earth and leave a powerful signal for the flesh-eaters.
As Borosa had warned, the Talesians wasted no time in utilizing what was at hand to punish the rest of the Wrathmen they found. The cold, barren face of the Rift Cut suited admirably to stake out the luckless Wrathmen, and for several hundred turns to come, their dried, fallen bones could be found among the rocks at its base along the valley floor.
IT WAS KUURUS who found Kitarisa, twisted and bleeding among the boulders at the base of the Rift Cut. A sob caught his throat as he tried to lift her up into his arms and comfort her. Her back was broken and her left arm was charred and blackened beyond all recognition--damage so terrible he could see the bones of her wrist protruding from her ruined skin. She was alive--just.
"My lady, can you hear me?" He gently touched her brow, hoping for some response. Her eyelids fluttered open.
"Kuurus?" she whispered through cracked, bleeding lips.
"Yes," he answered. Unashamed, tears ran down his scarred face. He bit his own lip till it bled.
"Is she? Is she...?"
"Yes, my lady. Malgora is destroyed. The warriors are free."
She nodded weakly. "I am glad. And Assur?"
"He is well." Kuurus hadn't the courage to tell her that he too, was near the others, hunting for her among the rocks.
They found Malgora's body--a bloody, torn mass of flesh. Assur ordered her head removed and had it jammed on a spear tip. The spear itself, with its grisly trophy, would be placed on the eastern shore of the Sherehn as a gruesome reminder of what had taken place there and to caution those in the future to heed its warning.
Kitarisa clutched at Kuurus' jerkin with her good right hand and tried to pull herself up.
"Kuurus, you must promise me something. Your oath. You promised."
"Yes, my lady. My life is yours to command."
"Take mine." Her voice was now a whisper. "Take it now, quickly. I could not bear for him to see me now like this. Please, Kuurus. Do it now!"
"My lady! I cannot do that." Kuurus struggled with his vow and his conscience. He could honor neither. "Please, my lady. I cannot."
"Yes, you can. I beg you. Spare me this agony."
She looked up at him, beseechingly. Kuurus' heart wrenched within his chest. She was nearly gone anyway--her pain terrible, beyond belief. And Verlian would assuredly Summon her for what she had done for them. Slowly he reached for his short dagger in his belt. He would be quick--a short deep thrust and her pain would be over. Her tears were more of a torture than he could bear. Kuurus held the knife poised over her heart and waited for her nod.
"Tell him I..."
"What, by Verlian's blood are you doing!" Assur's voice roared from behind him. Kuurus looked up only in time to see Assur's fist come crashing down into his face. He reeled away from Kitarisa, the knife flew from his hand, clattering against the rocks.
"She called me to obey my oath!"
Assur stumbled through the rocks and grabbed Kuurus by his jerkin, pulling him to his feet. "By all that is sacred, I will see you disgraced before the Goddess! How dare you!"
"By the Goddess, she begged me!" Kuurus struggled to break free from Assur's grip, but to no avail.
"She killed the witch for us...she--"
"Kitarisa is dying," Kuurus' voice cracked with emotion.
Assur stared at him, uncomprehending. He suddenly let him go and turned to find Kitarisa. When he found her, horror riddled his tired face. She was destroyed. Utterly.
"Kita!" Assur dropped between the rocks next to her and tried to pull her out of the rocks, into his arms.
Kuurus looked away, too heartsick to watch Assur realize the truth, that Princess Kitarisa was almost dead.
"My lord, her back is broken...no."
Assur stopped in time and took up her good hand. He, too, saw the ruined left arm and the blood on her face. She lay so twisted between the rocks, her dark, lovely eyes were now dull with the pain.
"Kita'lara, no!" Assur pressed her hand to his cheek. His hands shook.
Never, in his entire life had Kuurus seen Assur so shattered. Out of the corner of his eye, spotted some of the others, Mar'Kess and Achad approach, but hastily signaled them to stay back.
"Do not punish, Kuurus," Kitarisa begged softly. "He was d
oing as I asked."
"If you wish it. Kita, you must not move. We will get you out of here..."
"No, Assur. No. I will not live much longer." She smiled weakly up at him.
Kuurus knew every one of her tears was like a knife in Assur's heart--the same as for him. In spite of his warnings, Assur could not help but lift her gently into his arms.
"Once you asked me if I could ever love a barbarian?"
He nodded.
"Yes, I can," She smiled again and with her good hand, she reached up and touched his cheek. "I am safe," she whispered.
Kitarisa closed her eyes and twisted against the pain. She turned her face toward Assur--only one soft sob escaped her lips: "Assur", and then...nothing.
Kuurus watched the rage of Ter-Rey's loss roar up through him, like a white-hot inferno of pain. Assur threw back his head and howled like dying animal.
"NO! You can't have her! You can't take her now! Nooo!" He clutched Kitarisa's broken body to his chest and pressed his face into her hair. "Don't take her now!"
Behind Kuurus, Brekk and the others turned their heads in grief. Mar'Kess looked away, trying to hide the fact that he was openly weeping. The sight of the Ter-Rey holding Kitarisa's dead body was too much for some of them. Even Achad was silent.
Assur gathered Kitarisa in his arms and stood up. He turned, to face Kuurus and the warriors gathered around him. Rage, pain, and utter exhaustion twisted his handsome features.
"Find Kazan," he ordered through gritted teeth. "Get him and bring him to me in chains. No one will rest, no one will eat, no one will sleep until he is at my feet. Go!"
In silence the warriors turned to locate their weapons or horses that they might fulfill Assur's wish. No one contradicted the order. Kazan was as good as dead. Kuurus knew Assur would show no mercy to the Gorendtian prince--he deserved none.
"We will make her pyre in Riehl," Assur stated quietly, watching the remaining warriors mount up and leave. "Verlian will take her from the place she was to have ruled."
"My lord, no. Return her to the Catacombs!" Kuurus protested.