The Key of Amatahns

by Elisabeth Wheatley

  ***

  It wasn’t long before Lucan had hastily arranged a full charter on a small ship called the Sea Beast.

  “Sea Beast?” Karile scoffed. “It looks more like a Sea Rodent.”

  Indeed it was little more than a skiff, but Lucan gauged that it was all they would need for the three day voyage to the tip of the Rivellis Peninsula. He paid the grungy captain half of what he was to receive in all, then told him they would depart in the morning and to be ready.

  When it came to his personal relaxation, Lucan didn’t concern himself overmuch, but he did concern himself all the same. He chose a comfortable, but aged inn for them to spend the night.

  The inn was one of many buildings lining the street. They were all flat in front and their owners tried to make up for it with colorful banners and hanging shade cloths. The inn was at the end of the avenue, within sight of the well guarded shipyards, and had a stable around back. It was cleaner than most of the establishments surrounding it and wasn’t too disreputable in appearance.

  Contrary to Janir’s expectations, the sight of nine nearly disparate people and their horses did not raise an alarm. They were given only a cursory once over by the innkeeper’s stern wife before being told where their rooms would be and pointed in the direction of the stable.

  Janir and Karile were pulled down from Kalbo and Lucan freed Janir from her shackles. Being allowed to take care of her horse had become a kind of reward for good behavior.

  “Need I remind you that if you run off, I will be killing the enchanter?” Lucan said it with all the emotion of an ice block.

  Janir shook her head, avoiding eye contact.

  “At this point, I can use anyone who’s not an Argetallam. I will not hesitate to slit his throat.”

  Janir didn’t know what that first part meant, but she knew better than to ask. She submissively nodded and took Kalbo’s reins.

  Though they said nothing, it was obvious the other Argetallams disapproved of Lucan allowing her these moments of freedom. She’d seen Lucan and Camak arguing more than once, though they tried to keep their conversations secret from everyone else, at least from the prisoners. Janir had heard Camak grumbling to the other warriors when Lucan’s back was turned.

  Apparently, her brother was a “milk-lipped, cotton-willed mouse.” Lucan couldn’t have overheard that because she was sure someone would be dead if he had.

  Lucan disappeared into the inn with one of the Argetallams dragging Karile and two others carrying their gear. The enchanter mouthed something in her direction, but she didn’t make it out. Realizing she had fallen behind the other Argetallams with the horses, Janir led Kalbo just a little faster to catch up.

  The stable’s thatched roof seemed a direct defiance of the brick and mortar of the rest of the city. Nondescript timbers lined all sides and rough juniper logs divided stalls for the animals.

  The sounds of people milling about on the outside faintly spilled into the relative peace of the barn. The afternoon sunlight filtered through the timbers, flashing frequently as people moved on the other side. Inside, a few donkeys and oxen chewed their cud peacefully while a barn cat cleaned itself from atop a post.

  This place was quiet and serene, as Janir had come to expect stables to be. The sweet scent of hay and manure mixed with animal sweat and worn leather.

  Kalbo followed Janir without argument, obedient and placid at her side. She chose a stall near the middle of the stable, so none of the Argetallams would think she was trying to set herself up for escape.

  Camak and two others were seeing to the horses around her. They worked busily, but she couldn’t help feel that each one of them was secretly staring at her.

  Janir unsaddled Kalbo and tended to the little cuts on his legs best she could. Trustingly, the stallion stood without protest as she dug stones from under his loosening shoes and eased a thorn out of the soft part of his hoof.

  All in all, he was far from irreparable condition, but she still cringed every time she found a new scratch. He’d been traveling for too long without proper rest. She twisted a handful of straw into a short cord and rubbed him down, avoiding the bruises and abrasions where she could.

  “I’m sorry,” Janir whispered. “I know I’m the one who got you into this.”

  The stallion naturally didn’t understand, but probably wouldn’t have held a grudge in the first place. He shook his mane and continued munching on the hay in front of him.

  Janir took her time with Kalbo as much out of concern for him as the desire to enjoy every moment without shackles. A small part of her felt guilty for leaving Karile in his, but she could hardly free him herself.

  After a while, she finger combed Kalbo’s tail, waiting for Camak and the others to finish. She heard them speaking in low voices, checking over and hanging up the tack. The purpled rings around her wrists were difficult to ignore, but she tried her best. They were constant, sore reminders of her bondage, of her helplessness.

  “Come out,” Camak gruffly ordered after about a half hour.

  In all that time, Janir had not left the stallion’s stall. Reluctantly, she patted Kalbo’s shoulder and slipped out under the logs.

  She straightened to find Camak blocking her path. Over his shoulder, the other two Argetallams were disappearing into the inn.

  Janir swallowed a hard lump in her throat. She was suddenly very uncomfortable. She tried to slip past him, but he moved, shifting into her path once again.

  “You’re…you’re blocking my way.” Janir kept her head down, not giving him even the slightest excuse to read defiance in her actions.

  “That’s right,” Camak flatly replied. He had a perfunctory, cold way of saying it that unsettled her even more.

  He fixed her in that look again, the one of a hungry beast. A deep and frightened instinct told her to get away from him as quickly as possible.

  “Lucan wants me to come back,” Janir said hesitantly.

  “And you will.” Camak took a step closer. “In an hour or so. Depending on how this plays out.” He appraised her figure up and down like a butcher inspecting an animal for slaughter.

  Even Janir, having lived sheltered under Armandius’ care, read the intention in Camak’s leer. She tried to dash past him, only to meet a hard punch to her gut. Janir doubled over and he seized a fistful of her hair, jerking her up.

  Crying out, she tried to wrestle his hands away, but it was no use. “Let me go!” she screamed.

  “In good time,” he growled.

  Janir kicked at his shins and clawed at anything in sight. He grunted in irritation as her fingernails raked over his cheek.

  “So you have some fight in you after all.” He grabbed her hair tighter and dragged her toward the pile of hay near the back of the stable.

  “Let me go!” Janir shrieked frantically. She thrashed and kicked and struggled in every way she could possibly think of, but Camak had done this before. He knew how to keep a hold on her and stop her clawing out his eyes.

  “I am the Lord Argetallam’s daughter!” Janir screamed in desperation. “Let me go!”

  “You are not Argetallam,” Camak sneered in disgust. He jerked her up, bringing her to eye level. “You are weak, you are pitiful. You are everything we despise in Brevians.”

  Janir didn’t think it would be wise to remind him that he had to have a great deal of Brevian blood in his own veins. She grappled futilely to extricate his hands from her hair, thrashed and fought, but it hardly had any effect.

  “Now I’m going to show you your place.” Camak threw her on the ground and grabbed a hold of her arm. He twisted up at a sharp angle, making her joints crack. “I’m going to show you what it means to be a feeble, defenseless, Brevian woman.”

  Janir cried out, certain he was about to dislocate her arm, and tried to wriggle free, but to no avail. He stomped a boot between her shoulder blades. It seemed to crush the very beat of her heart and for a moment she couldn’t see or hear.

 
Camak dropped down so his knee was pressing against her spine. He yanked at the tangled laces on the back of her bodice and she shrieked in desperation.

  A wet rip split the air and Camak was thrown off her. The next thing she knew, his body was being kicked to the side and her rescuer was kneeling between them with a bloodied sword.

  “Janir?”

  She was so glad to see him, so relieved for so many reasons. Tears wet her cheeks as she leapt up and wrapped her arms around his neck. Even in the city, he smelled of pine needles and rushing rivers—a soothing, comforting scent. He slid his free arm around her like a shield.

  “I have you,” Saoven whispered. “I have you.” He let her cry into his shoulder for a moment, blocking her from the sight of Camak’s body and the rest of the world.

  Janir clung to him tightly, sheltering in his arms. There was a warmth and safety to his embrace, something she couldn’t quite name. It gentled her into calmness, eased away her terror.

  Once she had quieted, he pushed just enough space between them that he could see her face. “Janir, are you alright? Can you walk?”

  She nodded, wiping away her tears. “Yes, I’m alright. You got here before he—” She couldn’t say it.

  “You are safe now,” he promised. “Come, we have to get far from here.” The elf stood, tugging her after him. “Armandius has spoken with the High Lords and they have agreed to allow you a chance.”

  Janir almost didn’t believe it. It was hard not to be happy, despite everything that had happened. Then she remembered. “We can’t leave Karile,” she said, twisting away from Saoven.

  “What do you mean?” he asked sharply. “The enchanter is here as well?”

  Janir nodded. “They have Karile and they’re going to kill him if I—look out!”

  Saoven spun around to find Lucan and three of the Argetallams blocking the stable exit. The elf shoved her behind him without a second’s hesitation, sword held out defensively.

  With a cursory look, Lucan took in the dead body of Camak. “I see you finished off my second,” he drily remarked. “May I ask why?”

  “I am sworn to protect the girl. Any who seeks to harm her shall meet the same fate, Argetallam,” Saoven flatly answered.

  Saoven knew Lucan was an Argetallam? What else did he know?

  There was no other way out of this stable but past her brother and his mortahns. Janir swallowed, going rigid behind the elf. Fear and hope mingled in her chest until she felt as if they would stop her heart.

  Lucan nodded contemplatively. “Then I suppose I owe you thanks.”

  “Thanks, my lord?” one of the other warriors repeated with offense.

  “Yes. He saved me the trouble of hacking off the man’s head for disobedience.” Lucan sized up Saoven, considering. He all but ignored Janir.

  “Seize him,” Lucan ordered.

  The way the Argetallams advanced, Janir didn’t think they meant to take Saoven alive. Her chest clenched with fear and she fought the urge to cling to him.

  “Stay back and behind me,” Saoven ordered.

  Raising his sword, Saoven met the attack of the trio. Within seconds, one of the Argetallams jerked his arm back with a curse, clutching at a slash over his wrist.

  Realizing his warriors might not be an easy match against the elven warrior, Lucan wasted no time. He swiftly drew Janir’s karkaton from his belt and held them an arm’s length apart before driving them together with all his might.

  A high pitched screaming, screeching wail shook the air and sent tremors through the very stones. Janir doubled on the ground and clamped her hands over her ears.

  The sharp noise was hurtful to Janir, but she couldn’t imagine what it must have felt like to Saoven. His fine tuned senses were used to Lucan’s advantage as the karkaton’s wail grew even louder.

  Dropping his sword reflexively, Saoven fell to his knees, gasping in pain. Without a second’s hesitation, Lucan strode across the short distance and jabbed Saoven in the neck with a karkaton. The elf slumped limply to the ground. Where the karkaton had struck, a blistering black mark appeared.

  Lucan stood over the elf like a young boy who had just brought down a boar. “Put him in chains with the others,” he commanded his warriors. “I may have use for him.”

  “Saoven!” Janir scrambled to his side. “Saoven, no!” He was breathing, but it was shallow and uneven. His blister was already oozing black. Janir had seen so many people die in the past month and the thought of seeing anything happen to—

  “Oh, shut up, he’s alive,” Lucan snapped. “Friend of yours?”

  “You know he is.”

  “Hmm. Then you should be glad of his company.” Lucan spun on the Argetallams. “Why are you just standing there? Take him upstairs and chain him with the enchanter.”

  One of the Argetallams, the one who had spoken earlier, glared at Saoven with a clenched jaw. “He slew Camak,” the warrior protested. “He should die.”

  “Camak disobeyed me,” Lucan lowly hissed. “As you’ll recall, I made it very clear how I felt about anyone touching the girl. Just as I am making it very clear what I want done with this elf.”

  Despite being a “milk-lipped, cotton-willed reed,” Lucan managed a hard, intimidating glare that would have struck terror in lesser men. The defiant Argetallam only held his stare for a few moments before he and his compatriots moved to do as they were told.

  Lucan dragged Janir after them by her arm. She didn’t fight back. If she ran now, not only would she be alone in a strange city, but she would be abandoning two of her friends, right now perhaps her only two friends in the world.

  They were taken upstairs, just as Lucan had commanded. The Argetallams went by the outer staircase to avoid the prying of the innkeeper and the other patrons Janir overheard in the tavern proper.

  When the door to their room opened and Karile saw who was hanging between the two warriors, he gasped. “Goblin! What happened?”

  Janir opened her mouth to speak, but Lucan jerked on her arm. “No talking!”

  Janir was returned to her shackles and shoved between Saoven and Karile. She tried to help Saoven, but she still didn’t know the first thing about karkaton burns.

  “Is he alright?” Karile whispered.

  Janir shook her head. “I hope so.”

  A short while later, Lucan sent out two of his men to deal with the dead Camak. She didn’t know what they did with the body and she didn’t ask, but neither of the warriors seemed pleased by their orders. That evening when she was allowed to see to Kalbo again, there was no sign the corpse had ever been there.