by Jasmine Walt
She had to get out of there.
The girl gripped her arm. "Don’t leave me here." Her face was white with fear in the dark.
"I can’t take you."
Alaysha studied her, thinking. She could quench this entire fire pit of madness within seconds. And the world of Drahl, and of this fighting. She could safely get away to Barruch and be off to free Aedus without worry of being followed.
But this girl would die.
Did that matter?
She would probably die anyway; either from hunger or at the hands of these ruffians.
"Can you ride?"
The girl nodded.
"Then get on a horse and make your way back to the west. A day straight along, maybe a day and a half past a small stream to a place of unusual desert. You’ll see a grove of trees. Go there. It’s the best I can do." She set to spring off into the undergrowth, hoping she’d not already been seen, when the girl clutched at her arm again.
Alaysah shook her head. "I can’t take you."
"They’ll catch me."
"What do you matter?" It was blunt, but there wasn’t time to play at diplomacy.
"I’m Yuri’s daughter."
The bald statement took the air from Alaysha’s lungs. She knew her father had children besides her, but except for the tiny heir, she’d not been allowed near any. This girl couldn’t be more than eight or nine. Aedus had to be around the same age—maybe a season or two more.
She grabbed the girl by the hand without saying a word to her and pulled her along as she crouched, and ran to the trees.
She couldn’t believe her good fortune that they found shelter behind a copse of trees without being noticed. She turned to the girl, knelt in front of her.
"Tell me."
The girl stammered, and worked at her eyes with her palms, but she managed a few words of nearly unintelligible speech. Alaysha had to be patient. She held onto the small shoulders in the darkness and tried to ease the girl’s shivering.
"Tell me about Aedus."
"I told you, she’s gone."
"Why do they have you? How could they have managed it?"
The girl’s shrug stole Alaysha’s last ounce of patience.
"You know something. If you’re Yuri’s daughter you must know why you’re here."
She could tell the girl was trying to be brave. She could feel the effort the girl made to stop trembling.
"I was playing. A man slipped out of the bushes. We rode for days from Sarum. That’s all I know."
"But you’ve seen Aedus?"
The girl nodded. "We were kept together for the whole day we were here."
"Was she okay?" Alaysha wasn’t sure she could stand the answer.
A voice came from behind her in answer. "She gets less okay each day."
Alaysha froze in her spot. She knew she’d waited too long. Now she was caught. She sensed at least one man behind her. She took her time getting to her feet.
Too bad about the girl, but now that she had her, had met her, she couldn’t let her die the same death as these bastards, she'd have to refrain from using the power.
She turned slowly. Yes. Two. She once more thought of the sword she’d left with Yenic, hoping to be fleeter of foot. Now she wished she’d been smarter.
"Tell me about Aedus," she told the men.
The both looked at her and laughed at the same time. One came forward to wrestle the girl from her arms.
"Don’t touch her," Alaysha had gone to the trouble of getting her safely away from these men, she wasn’t about to give her back to them.
The man didn't back off, but neither did he make a move toward the girl. Alaysha took that as a good sign.
"You were waiting for me," she said.
"Edulph was sure you would come."
"And Aedus?"
"She believes her brother is saving her from us. Stupid girl."
Alaysha looked at the girl—her half-sister—if she could be believed. "Why her? What does she have?"
He snorted. "Questions you should ask Edulph."
"What about Drahl?"
He laughed and his companion slapped his thigh with his palm in warped humor. "That dog? He has slunk back to his den."
He didn't need to say what would happen when he was found. Alaysha sighed. Should Drahl manage to live and return, he would find Alaysha with these people. He would believe, rightly so, that she'd let him walk into a trap. He just wouldn't know why. Had he known about the girl? Surely not, or he wouldn't have ordered their deaths so blithely.
"The girl and I want to sleep by the fire. And we want blankets. And I want a sword. A sharp one."
The sky had turned crimson and the whole campsite looked bathed in blood. She prayed to the Deities they could make it through the night without having to shed any more.
It took a few moments, but the man nodded and shuffled off. He returned when Alaysha and her sister were feeding the fire to make it good and high, it's light casting a few good horse strides in each direction.
She tested the edge of the blade he brought and nodded at him.
"Fine. Now you and your men will sleep beyond where the light rests. If you so much as come within a few steps of it, I will kill you without thought."
He smirked but said nothing. He would test her, she knew that. Maybe him or another, but she would be tested. She hoped she could get through the night without having to use her thirst, but she would use it if she had to. Better the girl died at her hand than be subjected to a horde of callous men.
She spread the bearskin he'd brought as close to the fire as she could and bid the girl crawl beneath it. Then she covered her with the other and sat next to her, sword in hand, facing the fire but painfully aware that her back was unprotected.
"What's your name, girl?"
"Bronwyn."
"Well, Bronwyn, sleep if you can, but if you can't, don't speak to me unless I speak to you first. I need to listen to the night."
There was a short pause, and Alaysha thought her bluntness had hurt the girl, but then her voice came and made Alaysha's eyes sting.
"She was brave," Bronwyn said. "When Edulph took her. She didn't cry at all."
"Thank you," Alaysha whispered.
They came when Alaysha felt the weariness the most. They must have been watching her, waiting for her head to nod, for her shoulders to slump. If she had been cleverer, she would have thought to fake the fatigue while she was still sour enough to add the fury to her fight.
As it was, they got well within the light before she jarred awake, and it took several awkward seconds to get her feet. She swayed once before the adrenaline kicked in and the hesitation gave them the time they needed to bound across the fire.
There were two to begin the attack. The rest, the last seven or eight stood off in the shadows, moving and shuffling there.
The first managed to get close enough to Alaysha that she had to jump back to gain the distance to swing her sword. She had to shout at the girl to find her feet and keep her back as close as she could to Alaysha's.
To her credit, the girl's response was instant and Alaysha could feel the heat of her, dancing with her, sidestepping as she took the measures of the men.
Her mentors had taught her to say nothing when she fought, not to waste a single breath on words. She kept her sword low, but close to conserve the energy it took to hold it aloft. She took long, slow breaths; her skin hummed. She felt the air against the flesh of her eyes, so wide were they, taking in everything she could. She could hear the breathing of the man to her left. It was ragged. Excited. Too sure of his own confidence and the outcome to be even. The other one was measuring his breaths, taking slow inhales like she was.
The one to the left would be dead in seconds; the other would try for her then, she knew. She had to find a way to make both of those things unexpected so the second would not gain from the stupidity of the first. That meant she had to strike and she'd have to strike for the one who was prepared to use his comra
de's misfortune to his advantage.
She made no sound, just filled her lungs as best she could and lunged. And swung. And twisted in the circle, prepared to make the loop even if she contacted nothing.
She aimed high. And stepped to the right. The first swing connected with something that caught and held her blade. A stab met pure air. A force struck her legs and rolled her over twice. She barely held onto the hilt, and twisted awkwardly. Hot coppery liquid trailed down her wrist.
So. She'd got the first, but the moron had her on her back. She needed to find her feet or she'd be finished. And the girl would be finished.
She felt a blade against her throat and a clammy hand against the inside of her thigh. "I was glad to see you," he said. "We see so few women."
The blade was so hard against her throat, she could smell her own blood, but she wasn't afraid. She knew he'd lose interest in the knife soon enough. All she had to do was let go the sword where she could grab it again. Let go. Let go. Her fingers finally obeyed her and dropped the hilt noiselessly on the ground. She waited, so patiently, ’til he pressed his hips closer to hers, all his weight going into working at pulling down his breeks.
And she jammed her fingers as hard as she could into his eyes. A scuffling sound came from her left where she'd dropped the blade. She had to get him off her before whoever had the sword could use it.
Too late. She heard the whistling sound of it eating air, and she braced herself to feel it slicing into her.
There was a meaty thunk as his weight went dead on her. Someone in the shadows cursed.
Alaysha pushed at the body atop her and rolled to her side when it fell away. When she gained her feet, she saw Bronwyn standing framed in firelight, the sword hanging at her side, tip pointing to the ground.
"You did good, little one."
Bronwyn nodded, mute. Alaysha took the sword from her. She held it high and shouted at the shadows, watched them disperse.
"Careful, dogs. Yuri's daughters are trained like men to be warriors. You would do well to remember your pitiful lives when next you think they can be used for sport."
She put her hand on the girl's shoulder. "We can sleep now."
The girl gave a lingering look at the blanket. "I don't think I'll ever sleep again."
14
Alaysha suffered dreams that seemed more memory than night visions. In them, she traveled like a drop of water through fibres and muscles and tear ducts. She fell as dried fruit from eye sockets of dying men, laid down roots into arid sand and waited for the whispering song of rain. Once or twice she woke to the sounds of wolves snarling, and in her drowsiness told herself they were just after the man Bronwyn had killed—that they'd leave the camp alone.
When she felt the sun on her face and heard squirrels chattering to each other, she got up and woke Bronwyn who had fallen asleep after all.
None of the men spoke to them. She carried the sword in plain sight anyway.
Alaysha had been given plenty to eat when she and Yenic had traveled with them the first time; this last leg of the journey found the stores wanting. The fire provided heat for those rousing before dawn—and Alaysha watched them with wary eyes—even those men who kept their distance but shot her hateful looks. Some of the men eventually came forward with squirrels that they'd skinned and stuck to the ends of sticks. These they poked into the hottest part of the embers, and Alaysha realized then the full extent of the wear on the stores.
If they'd not been so gluttonous, they might have more to eat among them than a few squirrels, snakes, and overripe gooseberries.
She watched a few of them come and go at the fire, some of them throwing in whole, un-skinned snakes, others large hairy spiders that stank when they cooked. Most squatted and leaned in, avoiding her eye. One man, a thin strip of leathered frame with so much hair she thought he could stand to go a night without a cover, came within spitting distance and threw a handful of yellow wriggling things onto a flat rock at the edge.
She immediately perked up.
"You eat those?" she asked him.
He shrugged. "Never did before, but Edulph said to try it."
"They taste like roast boar," she said.
He watched them sizzle against the stone in the juices from the dying bodies. Once, he even grimaced.
"That's not nearly enough to make a meal," she said, trying on a sympathetic tone. Bronwyn was gagging discreetly as she sat next to her.
He met her eye. "Edulph didn't want to waste many if they weren't edible."
"Oh, they're edible." She tried to smile her encouragement. The real truth was she'd left the entire mess for Yenic back at the oasis because they were too disgusting to think about eating, but if Edulph was down to eating his tribe's dreamer's worm, then she knew their food supply was indeed gone. Not great planning for a potential leader. Maybe not such a potential leader, then. She scanned his crew, who were all either rummaging through the bushes, trying to catch and skin squirrels, or beating the bushes for snakes.
Fierce fighters, maybe, but untried in true campaign.
For the first time in days, she felt the stirrings of hope.
The swarthy fellow scraped stiff grubs into a wooden bowl and Alaysha caught him shivering in disgust.
"I can take that to him if you like."
He gave her a patronizing look across the short flame. "Who else do you think was going to bring it?" The man nodded in the direction of two men who stood at the edge of the tree line. "He's just beyond." He grinned and showed a broken front tooth. "And leave the girl."
She pulled Bronwyn close. "I won't leave her alone."
The man whistled and Greetha rose up from a pile of furs. "Watch the girl," he said and Greetha groaned. "Edulph wants to talk to the witch, and I don't think the witch trusts us with her little girl."
Alaysha didn't trust the woman any more than the men. "Here." She passed the sword to Bronwyn. "Don't be afraid to give that one company." She nodded at the remains of the body from the night before lying on the edge of camp.
Bronwyn clenched the sword in white-knuckled hands and only then, did Alaysha make a move toward the trees.
The man grunted at her. "Don't forget his breakfast."
She took the bowl to where the men waited. Without a word, they ushered her past the pines and spruce into a small clearing devoid of vegetation. The needles on the ground softened any noise.
"You're hungry," she said to the lump at the base of the tree. He was wrapped in fur against the early morning chill. Alaysha scanned the clearing for Aedus.
"She's safe."
Alaysha eased the bowl onto the ground at the statement. There was tension in the air that she could taste in the back of her throat, and she wanted her hands free just in case.
"You say she's safe."
"If I say it, it must be true." He unfolded from the blanket and got up. "She tells me you eat these." He stabbed his finger at the bowl.
Alaysha lifted a shoulder. "Some do."
He grunted and for the first time she noticed his fingers were a wriggling mass of yellow. A handful of them in his hand, came from a pile of roiling grubs on the ground next to his fur.
"Someone's been busy."
"There's a pond near my site," he said. "Aedus and I have been fishing."
"But you caught nothing?"
He sighed. "Just these worms; she seemed fairly excited."
"Have you been feeding her?"
"Of course. She's my sister."
Alaysha was tired of the game. "What do you want?"
He slunk forward, dropping the grubs with a pitter-pat to the earth and reached for a lock of her hair that he then trailed across his fingers. He smelled of old sweat and sour dirt. "Feels nice," he said. "If only you weren't ruined by that hideous tattau." He grimaced in pity.
She jerked away and his expression hardened. "Did you like my present?"
"Present? Those severed heads, Aedus's finger, or Yenic's battered body?"
A smile slith
ered across his face. "All of them were one large gift."
"I liked it as much as I like you."
"Oh, you're harsh, even for a witch. Do you know how you came to receive those heads?"
"I was there, wasn't I?"
"Not for the first of it, the wrapping of the gift, so to speak."
She refused to encourage him by speaking. He stepped away from her, letting a finger trail down her arm. She had to work at not shuddering in revulsion.
"My best men," he said. "Your Yenic shows such promise as a warrior. Spate—he was the first, my good cousin—he caught the traitor stealing up to Aedus in the early hours, after our meal. We had drunk a fair bit, I must say, and it made us all a little off our play."
"So you only thought it fair to pitch him against three?"
He pooched his bottom lip into the top, making it look like a slug had nestled in his beard.
"Wouldn't you think it fair? One drunken man would never be able to hold his own against a sober one. Although, I must admit also, that Spate kept his grog pretty well. Some have even said it made him that much fiercer a fighter."
He settled down against a tree. "Sit," he told her. "You will hear it all."
She didn't want to hear any of it, and yet she wanted more than anything to. She wouldn't move closer, though, and selected a rock with enough moss on it to add comfort, far enough away that she didn't have to concern herself with accidentally touching him.
"So," she said. "Go on."
He smiled then, and leaned forward as though he were telling an exciting tale to a sleepy child. She thought him completely mad.
"Your Yenic had no weapons at all, poor thing. He had to weave and bob like some thief in the marketplace. He's quite skilled in defense, even without a sword—even against one." He smiled, but there was no humor in it. "Used his body like a battering ram, knocking poor Spate down and crashing his forearms over and over onto his face."
He cocked his head. "I heard his nose break. That's when I knew Spate needed help."
"So you sent the others." She forced her tone to sound unimpressed. "I know this."