Slave of Sondelle: The Eleven Kingdoms

by Bevan McGuiness

  The forest of Uprecht, stretched along the coast of the Silvered Sea, beckoned with deep shadows and a thick canopy. Aesla led them into the forest and once they were out of view of the city walls they changed direction to a more westerly heading.

  The trees did not last long and soon they were again out under the open sky. The sounds of horses drifted softly on the breeze and Slave saw several of the animals tethered nearby, together with a single carriage.

  ‘Mount up,’ Aesla said. At the sounds of surprise, she grinned, her teeth flashing briefly in the moonlight. ‘What? Did you think you were walking to C’sobra?’

  A few chuckles greeted her words.

  As they made their way towards the horses, Aesla laid her hand on Ileki’s arm.

  ‘A moment,’ she said softly. Ileki stopped and waited with Aesla until the rest of the troop had passed them. Slave, as appointed bodyguard to Ileki, waited with him.

  ‘Ileki, I want you and Slave to travel on the carriage with the San and Sana,’ Aesla said.

  ‘Why?’ Slave asked.

  Aesla regarded him with silent anger. ‘It is not for you to question my directions,’ she hissed.

  Slave felt a surge of his own anger at her words, but quelled it, preferring to shrug as if unconcerned.

  ‘Can you handle the reins?’ Aesla asked Ileki.

  The Reader nodded.

  ‘Good. The San and Sana will ride in the back with their personal baggage. You are not to engage them in conversation or treat them with anything but the utmost respect. Clear?’ The last she directed at Slave. He shrugged again and went to walk away, but Aesla grabbed his arm. Slave stopped and turned to stare at her with a quizzical look.

  ‘Be careful,’ she said, her tone softening. ‘You are still new and don’t know our ways yet. I know how you react to orders, but on a job like this, we need to work together.’ Aesla held his gaze for a little longer before looking away.

  ‘At least you won’t have to ride,’ she said.

  Ahead was a wide road, but Aesla led them away from it into a copse of trees to the left. Once inside, the light of the two moons was dimmed, plunging the group into near total dark. Slave’s senses came alive. He heard the rustling of small animals as they scurried about, the sighing of the wind through the leaves, the breathing of the others and his own steady heartbeat. Strange scents wafted over him, scents he assumed were woodland odours, as well as the more pungent traces of his companions.

  They rode until the small moon, Grada, reached her zenith, and Aesla called a halt near a huge, spreading tree. She gave quiet instructions to the team about setting camp and saw to the comfort of the San and Sana.

  Slave finished his allotted tasks quickly and started walking around the campsite. Despite his best efforts, he had not been able to shake the slowly building sense of foreboding. At every sound he tensed, gripping his Claw tightly. He heard the mutters of the other mercenaries as they worked.

  ‘… kill us all …’

  ‘… dangerous to everyone around …’

  ‘… I heard he’s not even human …’

  A woman’s low voice caught his ear as he passed the Sana’s tent.

  ‘… he from?’

  Slave paused, listening.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said another voice, a man’s.

  ‘He’s like no one I have ever seen. And those eyes.’

  A chuckle came from the man. ‘One of them at least.’

  ‘That other one makes me shiver. Can he see out of it?’

  ‘I think so. Certainly he has no problems shooting or throwing a knife. Or with that Claw of his.’

  ‘Does he know what that weapon is?’

  ‘No. He couldn’t, not the way he carries it around. If he had the slightest idea… What was that?’

  Slave had heard it too. Something was coming towards the camp from the darkness. It was walking on four feet and making no attempt to hide its approach. Slave hefted his Claw and advanced on the sound. He heard someone behind him, but continued, only stopping when a hand grabbed his arm and jerked him back.

  ‘Don’t be a fool,’ Hari hissed. ‘Do you know what that is?’

  Slave shook his arm free of Hari’s grip and shook his head.

  ‘It’s a barin,’ Hari said softly.

  Slave’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. He had read about the large predators, but of course had never seen one. He frowned.

  ‘A barin, this far south?’ he asked.

  ‘Strange, yes,’ Hari agreed. ‘But — ice and wind,’ he gasped.

  Slave spun around to see the huge shaggy form of the barin approach. When the barin saw the men, it rose up on its hind legs and roared at them. Slave looked up at the animal that towered at least twice as tall as a man.

  A massive head looked down as slavering jaws gaped open. Its front paws were bigger than a man’s head, with claws as long as a man’s forearm. Its body was covered in long brown fur with white patches, and here and there on its body were old wounds where the fur had been ripped off.

  ‘Ice me,’ Hari cursed. ‘Run!’ He turned and fled in the face of the barin, leaving Slave alone to face it.

  The light of Grada barely penetrated the shadow of the large tree and when Slave held his Claw up, its own faint radiance spilled out, casting an eerie glow on his face. The barin hesitated slightly, before lowering itself back down onto all fours. A sense of destiny, of fate, seized Slave. He stared at the massive animal which held his gaze and stared back.

  ‘I have no quarrel with you, animal,’ Slave murmured. ‘Go back to the woods. Hunt prey that will not fight back.’

  The barin shook its head and roared, but stopped advancing. Slave held his Claw in front of his face and stepped forwards.

  ‘Go back,’ he said softly, his voice scarcely above a whisper. ‘Do not die here.’ The barin continued to roar, but took one step back. Slave continued towards it, speaking softly as he walked.

  The distance between them reduced as Slave kept taking slow steps until they were face to face — the barin and the man.

  Slave stared into the eyes of the massive predator. He felt the hot, foetid breath of a carnivore wash over him. A rumble emanated from deep within the barin’s chest and it opened its mouth wide to reveal twin sets of worn teeth. Slave regarded the fearsome weapons, noting the broken teeth, the missing, the discoloured, and wondered about the life of this barin. How long had it been hunting these woods? How many men had it killed? What battles had it seen? Grey tinged the barin’s muzzle and its eyes were watery and slightly dim.

  ‘You are an old master of your world, aren’t you?’ Slave said. He reached up a hand and stroked the venerable warrior’s head. ‘Go now,’ he whispered. ‘Hunt again.’

  The barin rose to its full height, towering over Slave, and roared before dropping back down onto all four legs and shambling away into the dark.

  The meal around the campfire was silent as everyone sat and stared, either deeply into the small fire, or openly at Slave. They ate their simple fare quickly before retiring to their beds.

  The Sana and the San slept in the carriage, the rest of them slept on the ground between their watch periods. As they had left late and marched deep into the night, there was not long before dawn, and each had only a short time on watch.

  The morning dawned, crisp and clear. They packed the camp quickly and headed north, but away from the coast so that by the time the sun was high, they could no longer see, hear or smell the water. The sense of foreboding, of growing tension that Slave had noticed the previous night had not faded. If anything, he became more on edge the longer the day went.

  It was while they rested at noon that Ileki noticed Slave’s agitation.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked Slave as he joined him. Slave was eating alone, out of earshot of the others. They sat with their backs to a tree, only half watching the rest. About to dismiss the question, Slave hesitated, reconsidering.

  ‘Have you noticed anything strange?’ he sai
d quietly.

  Ileki shook his head. ‘Not really,’ he said. ‘Not unless you count what happened last night, of course.’

  ‘What happened last night?’

  Ileki gave a quiet snort and shook his head as if in disbelief. ‘You, the barin — remember?’

  ‘Oh, that.’

  ‘What was that all about?’

  Slave shrugged. ‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. ‘I just knew it wasn’t ready to die. And I wasn’t ready to kill it. I explained that and it seemed to understand me.’

  ‘You know what the others are saying,’ Ileki said. ‘They think you are only part human.’

  It was Slave’s turn to snort derisively, but the look on Ileki’s face stopped him.

  ‘I am wondering myself just what you are,’ Ileki said. ‘You told me you were a slave all your life before you escaped, but you haven’t told me anything about what that entailed.’

  Slave shrugged. ‘I lived in a cell underground. It was more of a cave with a door, really. My master kept me in there most of the time.’

  ‘And the rest of the time?’

  ‘He would take me to another room. A large room with a fighting mat and books. Lots of books. He would bring specialist trainers in to instruct me in different fighting techniques and then, as a reward when I did well, he would let me read anything I wanted.’

  ‘Anything?’

  ‘He taught me to read himself and gave me access to every book in the library.’

  ‘What can you tell me about the kind of training you had?’

  ‘It was all night fighting and blind fighting. I often fought blindfolded, and always in either very dim light or near total darkness.’ He stopped eating and looked up at the sky. ‘I had only been out in the open five times before the day I escaped.’

  Ileki drew in a hissing breath in surprise. ‘Five times?’ he asked.

  ‘I remember each time clearly. The first time was after I had killed my first trainer. She was a tough knife fighter; an assassin, I think. My master sent me into the training room with no weapon. He had told me there would be a reward if I killed her.’ He shrugged as he took another bite of his meal. ‘She was not as good as I was in the dark.’

  Ileki shuddered. ‘I cannot imagine what that must have been like.’

  ‘The reward was worth it. My master took me out into his garden. I saw a flower for the first time that day.’

  ‘How old were you?’

  Slave shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I still don’t know how old I am, but I was not quite a man then.’

  ‘And the other times you saw the sky?’

  ‘Tell me more about your wife,’ Slave asked. Even though Ileki had already told him the story, he wanted to hear it again. There was something about what he knew that did not seem right.

  If Ileki was taken by surprise at the abrupt change of subject, he did not show it. He took a sip of his drink, then stared out into the distance. ‘She is beautiful,’ he started. ‘Or at least, she is to me. Ima is not a classical beauty, but she has a delicacy, a kindness to her that makes her beautiful. She is part Mertian, so she has some unexpected skills.

  ‘We were married six Crossings ago and were, I thought, very happy. Ima is a Reader, too, and we worked together on our research until one day another Reader, Fraunhof, arrived at our door. I knew of him, but had never met him. He had a reputation for being a brilliant, if ruthless, Reader.’

  Slave chuckled.

  ‘What?’

  ‘A ruthless Reader,’ Slave said. ‘It sounds funny.’

  Ileki tilted his head to one side to consider this for a moment before smiling. ‘I suppose to someone who does not know the society of Readers, it could sound funny. But the title Reader does not convey exactly what we do.’

  ‘And what do you do?’

  ‘We study the magicks,’ Ileki said simply.

  ‘What did this Fraunhof do?’ asked Slave.

  ‘He bewitched my beautiful wife and stole her from me.’

  ‘And what do you want me to do about it?’

  Ileki did not look at Slave as he spoke softly. ‘I want you to hunt Fraunhof down and kill him. His death will free my lovely Ima from his spell and she will come back to me.’

  ‘Why should I do this thing?’

  Ileki tore his gaze away from the distance and looked at Slave. ‘Because I ask it,’ he said.

  Slave shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Not just because you ask it. I will not do this thing.’

  Ileki looked away from Slave and stood up. ‘I can only ask,’ he said.

  27

  Myrrhini’s Contemplation was longer than normal: six days of Contemplation in the Mertian village nestled between two of the three radial arms of the Place of the Acolytes. After the first day with its dramatic revelations and Hinrik, Myrrhini felt restless and uncomfortable. She even tried more of the daven ink, but to no avail. The powerful drug gave her nothing but disturbing dreams and a bad headache — a headache that could only be relieved by thoughts of Hinrik and their nights together.

  After that first night, Myrrhini had awaited Hinrik’s return with anticipation bordering on hunger. Her mind was fractured, unable to focus or concentrate, spinning with images of their lovemaking. She relived so often every second of their time together, revisiting each moment he touched her, each place he kissed her, the feeling of his skin pressed against hers, the warmth of their embrace afterwards.

  When his soft footsteps came again after dark, she was overjoyed and after they had finished, they lay together in the warm afterglow, talking about everything. Myrrhini had been alone for so long, she had not realised how she hungered for conversation. She told Hinrik about her life as the Eye, what little she remembered about her life before being taken into the Place and what she had recently discovered in the very hut where they lay.

  Hinrik was a very good listener. He gave every appearance of being fully interested in everything she talked of, but he really came alive whenever she spoke of her research into the Mertian language. She thought he would leap to his feet when she told of the strange Seeing she’d had with the symbols adorning the hut’s walls.

  ‘And all this is on these walls?’ he asked, gesturing with his arm.

  Myrrhini nodded, her pride building with his evident pleasure.

  ‘The ink is daven juice?’ he asked again, as if still not believing it even after being told so often. After she laughed and answered again, he sat up. ‘And just a scraping was enough to bring about a Seeing?’

  Myrrhini tried to pull him back down beside her. ‘Yes, I have told you that. Now come and lie down, you’re letting the cold air in.’

  Hinrik shook her hand off his arm and stood up. In the cold night air he shivered but seemed to ignore the temperature as he walked naked to stand close to the wall. He raised his arms and held them wide, as if attempting to embrace the old hide wall. After standing motionless for a moment, he turned to face Myrrhini.

  ‘Thank you, Eye of Varuun,’ he said. ‘You have been most useful. We have been trying to penetrate the secrets of the Acolytes for more Crossings than you could possibly know. You have given us the final clue, the last link in a chain reaching back into antiquity.’

  Myrrhini stared at Hinrik with wide eyes. A part of her mind knew exactly what he was saying and what it implied, while another part refused to accept it.

  Hinrik smiled at her patronisingly. ‘You are not surprised, little Myrrhini. I am impressed. I was astonished at how easy you were, but I guess those who are weakened by the Acolytes so hunger for companionship that any hint of humanity was enough.’ He walked towards her. She cowered from him, pulling the blankets tighter around her body. Hinrik laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. ‘Do not flatter yourself, Eye of Varuun. I took no pleasure in your embrace. It was like coupling with a lizard — cold and fleshless.’ He stooped to pick up his clothes.

  Myrrhini’s mind was working feverishly. Who could he be spying for? What did he really want? What would he d
o to her now?

  She had no answers to any of the questions, but the last was frightening. He surely could not risk her exposing his duplicity. Which meant he did not think she would. Which meant …

  An image flashed through her mind — an image of her lifeless body lying as if frozen to death in the scant protection of the hide hut. Anger, pain and fear lent her strength as she lashed out with her foot, kicking Hinrik hard on the side of his head. He lurched and fell to the ground. Myrrhini scrambled off the bed and kicked him again. There was a loud crack as her toe broke and she yelped in pain, but Hinrik started to get up. Unable to kick him again because of the pain in her foot, Myrrhini jumped on him, driving her knee hard into the back of his neck.

  Hinrik cried out in pain and slumped to the ground, motionless. Myrrhini rose unsteadily to her feet, never taking her eyes of Hinrik’s body. He stirred restlessly, as if having a bad dream, and Myrrhini felt red-hot anger boil within her. With fury overriding sense, she lashed out again with her injured foot and landed a vicious kick just below his ear.

  ‘Ice and wind!’ she gasped as she staggered back and fell heavily on her bed. The pain was intense, unlike anything she had known. She risked a look down at her broken toe. Already it was discolouring and swollen. ‘Ice and wind,’ she repeated. ‘That is going to hurt for a long time.’

  Hinrik did not move. Cautiously, Myrrhini limped across to kneel beside him. She rested her hand on his back and felt for his breathing. He was still alive.

  ‘More than you deserve,’ she hissed.

  Myrrhini rocked back onto her heels and looked up at the images, the words, the story on the hide wall and made her mind up.

  ‘The Scarred Man,’ she said softly. ‘Where are you?’

  After that, it was easy. She dressed warmly, silently thanking Hinrik for bringing the extra clothes, blankets and food each time he came. His motives so shockingly revealed, his gifts now looked like what they were — tawdry coin with which to buy her. But they were warm, and she could discard them all when she reached warmer climes. For now she needed them more than she needed her virginity.