Blades of the Old Empire

by Anna Kashina

  “Stay away from her!”

  Dagmara’s hand dropped away. “I understand your grief. Believe me, I do. But however shattering it is, you can’t let it stand in the way of her only chance.”

  His face contorted into a mask. His lips trembled. “Her chance?”

  There was a pause.

  “I don’t know for certain,” Dagmara said. “But if she’s really dead, whatever we do to her can’t bring any harm. And if, by a very small chance, she is still alive and we can save her, you’ll never forgive yourself if you stand in our way. Would you?”

  The silence seemed to last forever. Then Kyth drew back and opened his cloak to expose Kara’s body resting against him.

  She curled in his lap, with her head on his shoulder. She would have looked asleep if it wasn’t for the ashen gray color of her skin and the gaping hole at the base of her neck. It was caked with blood, black against the dark skin.

  Weakness rose in Ellah’s stomach as she stepped forward and knelt on the grass next to Kyth. She wasn’t good enough to do this. Yet, both Kyth and Dagmara watched her expectantly, as if she was a skilled healer summoned to the deathbed of a very sick patient.

  She reached out and pulled the wet, sticky cloth of Kara’s shirt away from the wound.

  “We need water,” she told Dagmara. “Lots of water. The wound must be very clean before we do anything.”

  Dagmara nodded and gestured to the Cha’ori standing in the distance. One of them approached her at a fast run.

  “Bring us five skins of water,” she said. “And some clean cloth. And, tell the man who did this to come here as soon as his companion’s off.”

  Kyth’s hand clenched into a fist. “No! Not him.”

  “He made this wound,” Dagmara persuaded. “He’s the only one who knows exactly where it goes and how deep it is. We can probably do this without him, but he can help us avoid a fatal mistake.”

  Kyth looked back at her, his face showing so much hatred that Ellah’s heart ached. It was so unlike Kyth to be like that. She considered telling him that it was Mai who first suggested for her to treat the wound, but decided against it. Seeing the look on Kyth’s face, she felt that this information might actually make Kyth go back on his decision to go along with the treatment.

  The Cha’ori arrived at a run, bringing waterskins and enough cloth to wrap a horse. Ellah took out her dagger and cut away the blood-soaked folds of Kara’s shirt, leaving the top of her chest bare. As she cleaned the skin around the wound, bloodied water streamed down, soaking Kyth’s clothes, but he didn’t seem to notice. His eyes focused on Kara, his face so still Ellah wasn’t even sure he was aware of his surroundings.

  Every time she glanced at him her eyes filled with tears. She had never seen so much grief. It was worse because he didn’t cry, or seek any comfort from those around him. It was as if all this enormous grief was trapped inside him, tearing him apart. Ellah wasn’t sure how long he would be able to hold on. She forced the thought away, focusing on her task.

  When the wound was clean and dry, she took out the small vial from the pouch at her belt and looked at it with hesitation. She still remembered how much pain it caused when Mai’s wound was treated, and how incredible was the healing power of the substance. She doubted Kara would be able to feel the pain, even if by some miracle she was still alive, but she was deeply aware that a single mistake could ruin everything. She wished that she had asked Odara Sul more about how the substance worked, or that somebody more experienced was at her side. She raised her hesitant gaze to Dagmara. As she did, she caught a movement further away and saw Mai coming up to them.

  Kyth raised his head when Mai approached, his eyes so hateful that the Majat stopped dead in his tracks.

  “Stay away.”

  “I can help,” Mai said.

  “I won’t let you touch her!”

  Mai reached up and drew his weapon, sliding his hand along its length to draw the blades from its ends.

  33

  DEVIL’S SQUADRON

  The Cha’ori closed in, shielding Dagmara with their bodies. But Mai didn’t look like he was about to fight. He held the staff out, showing Ellah one of the blades.

  It was covered with dry blood to about two thirds of the length.

  “That’s how deep it went in,” he said, seemingly ignorant to the reaction he caused. “You’ll have to make sure the substance reaches all the way to the bottom of the wound.”

  Ellah glanced at the dark vial in her hands. “But how?”

  Mai looked at Kyth. “You’ll have to convince your friend to let me approach.”

  Ellah nodded and turned her pleading gaze to Kyth.

  “Please,” she urged. “Let him help. I’m not sure I can do it on my own.”

  Kyth’s cold gaze made her shiver. “Then,” he said distinctly, “you and your friend can get out. I don’t need your help.”

  Mai moved another step forward. “You don’t,” he said quietly. “But she does.”

  “Not from you.”

  Mai held Kyth’s gaze. “You do want her to live, don’t you?”

  Kyth went so still that for a moment he appeared inanimate. Then he lowered his eyes.

  Mai approached the rest of the way and knelt on the ground next to Ellah. He took out a narrow dagger and measured it against the blood-stained blade at the end of his staff. Then he stuck it, hilt-first, into the ground, so that it stood in front of him with the blade up. He unfastened a small flat flask from his belt and carefully spread some of its contents over the blade. Finally, he took out a flintstone and struck a spark. To Ellah’s surprise the blade sprung into a blue flame. The Cha’ori, watching Mai’s movements in an entranced silence, drew back in fright, but the Diamond sat still, keeping an eye on the flame as it burned for a minute or two and slowly died out. Then he turned back to Ellah.

  “I didn’t see what Odara Sul did to my face,” he said. “But from the way it felt I believe she put the substance on the inside of the wound, right?”

  Ellah nodded.

  “We need to coat the blade of this dagger with the substance,” Mai told her, “and put it in.”

  “In where?”

  He met her gaze. “Just spread your substance over it, and give it to me.”

  Ellah carefully opened the vial. There was a small brush inside, the one she saw Odara Sul use on Mai’s wound. It was attached to the lid, so that one could use it without touching the sticky liquid.

  Mai took the dagger by the hilt and held it out to her. She leaned over and carefully spread the glistening paste along the entire blade. When it was done, she sat back and looked at the Diamond.

  “Be careful it doesn’t touch the hair,” she said. “Or it will start moving, just like Odara’s does.”

  He nodded, his gaze reflecting a brief wonder. Then he turned to Kyth. “We have to do it quickly. Lift her up and hold her very still. Her body must not move when I’m doing this, do you understand?”

  Kyth carefully lifted Kara to a sitting position. Her head fell back against his shoulder, so that the gaping wound at the base of her neck came into full view. It looked awful. Seeing it, Ellah finally realized how futile their attempts to help were. Why does Mai insist on this cruel charade? she wondered. Yet, for Kyth’s sake, she couldn’t refuse to play along.

  Mai knelt in front and slid his hand inside Kyth’s embrace, giving additional support to the top of Kara’s body. Then, in a smooth, deft movement, he thrust the dagger into the wound all the way to the hilt. There was a collective gasp from the spectators as he held the blade for a moment, then withdrew it and handed it back to Ellah. She took it, looking at the blood-stained steel. It didn’t seem like a proper way to heal a serious wound. Fortunately, like Dagmara said, they were unlikely to do any harm.

  Mai pressed his free hand against Kara’s chest. The movement was smooth like a caress, but by the way her body shuddered under the pressure, Ellah could guess how much force he was applying. When his hand was all
the way up at her throat, he moved it down again, holding a closed palm against her skin.

  “We need more,” he told Ellah over his shoulder.

  She leaned over to him, the vial in hand.

  “I’ll hold her,” he said, “and you put it into the wound.”

  She nodded and started unscrewing the cap. At that moment they all heard a chuckle.

  Ellah raised her head and gasped.

  A row of hooded figures stood shoulder to shoulder just a few paces away. Behind them loomed the riders, wearing similar robes but with the hoods thrown back. They looked just like the strange men that had attacked Kyth back in Tandar and had accompanied the mysterious Kaddim Tolos in Castle Illitand, except that this time there were a lot more of them.

  The man in the center slowly removed his hood, revealing a sharp-featured face framed by short brown hair. His eyes were very dark and seemed to have no irises. They looked like the eyes of an owl.

  “Nimos!” Kyth gasped.

  “Long time, no see, my prince.” He cast his eyes over Kara’s lifeless body. It seemed to Ellah that she saw regret in the owl-like gaze. Then he raised his face back to Kyth, a triumphant smile creasing his thin lips. “We’ve all been waiting for this, Highness. Now that your pretty little friend is dead, there’s nothing to stop us from developing our relationship further, is there?”

  Kyth carefully eased Kara’s body down to the grass. “Don’t take another step.” His hand darted to his sword.

  Nimos smiled. “Don’t be so melodramatic, Your Highness. I brought enough men to make sure we could match your fighting skills. They’re considerable, I’m sure, but still–”

  Mai stepped up to Kyth’s side. He held his staff in a lowered hand, face calm as he surveyed the enemy rows. The Cha’ori warriors slowly gathered behind, their faces grim, curved sabers at the ready. More were hurrying downhill from the direction of the camp.

  Nimos watched the activity, his face spreading into a wide smile. “Aghat Mai, if I’m not mistaken.”

  Mai kept his silence.

  “Allow me to congratulate you on a successfully accomplished mission, Aghat,” Nimos went on. “A brilliant blow, if I may say.” He glanced at Kara’s body again.

  Mai raised the staff.

  Nimos chuckled. “I’m glad you are trying to resist us, Aghat. I thought all our preparations were useless. For a moment there, it looked too easy.”

  Two men next to him removed their hoods. Their confident postures suggested they shared the same command privileges as Nimos. The one on the left looked familiar. Reverend Haghos? Ellah had no time to wonder.

  She moved sideways, shielding Kara’s body from the attackers. Who knew what could happen to someone near-dead if these men started using their powers?

  The three men drew themselves up and spread out their palms. A collective force blast swept over the grass and hit everyone in sight. Ellah shuddered and covered her ears, sinking to the ground. The Cha’ori swayed and went down one by one. Through the mist in her eyes Ellah saw Mai raise his staff, but his movements were not nearly as fast or confident as usual. Half a dozen of the attackers fanned around him, spinning their orbens. He thrust against the nearest one, but his staff wavered, knocked by a sideways blow. A chain hooked around it and tore the weapon out of his hands. He staggered. An attacker in front released an orben straight at his chest. The blow connected with a thud, sending Mai backward to the ground.

  As he landed, one of the riders in the back line lashed out with a whip, hooking it around Mai’s ankles, and tugged, sending his horse into gallop. Mai tried to lift up, but one of the attack leaders stretched his arms, forcing the Majat down. His head hit a boulder. Blood gushed out of the cut at his temple and his body went limp, like a rag doll.

  As his captor urged the horse along the plain, Mai’s body bumped against another boulder on the way, bouncing off and folding away, as if devoid of bones. Then the rider who captured him disappeared behind a low hill, Mai’s body dragging in his wake.

  Tears rolled down Ellah’s face. It was horrifying to see a Diamond of Mai’s skill defeated so easily by just a handful of men. It was also clear that no one could possibly survive being dragged behind a galloping horse through the rough Grassland terrain. If Mai wasn’t dead yet, he was unlikely to live much longer.

  Nimos turned to Kyth and studied him with his dark, owl-like eyes.

  “That was fun,” he said. “And quite easy, as you may see. Now, would you like to surrender, Your Highness?”

  “In your dreams!” Kyth lashed out with his sword, but Nimos leaned out of the way.

  “Why don’t you use your power, Prince Kythar?” he suggested.

  Kyth rushed at him. Nimos evaded the blows with snake-like speed as he backed off, luring Kyth deeper into the enemy’s line. The hooded men surrounded him. An orben hit his blade and Kyth swayed, twisting his weapon out of the lock. He dodged another blow and darted to the edge of the attackers’ circle. The air around him filled with spinning orbens. One of them brushed Kyth’s shoulder, throwing him off balance. Another one hit the back of his head. He shuddered, sword sliding out of his hand, and collapsed face-down onto the grass.

  Ellah screamed and rushed to his aid, but a blast of force sent her down to her knees. As if in a nightmare she watched the hooded men bend over Kyth, deftly tying his ankles and wrists with wet straps of leather. They threw a cloak around him and wrapped it with a length of rope on the outside. Lifting him like a sack, they flung him over the back of a spare horse and tied him to the saddle with a couple of quick knots.

  Through her tears, Ellah could see another packhorse with a similar bundle flung over the saddle. Strands of dirt-stained blond hair were visible at one end. Mai. She hoped he was still alive, but after the way she saw them drag him over the ground it seemed hard to imagine.

  The attackers mounted and rode off, their large group slowly subsiding into a cloud of dust in the distance.

  Ellah painfully struggled to her feet. Dagmara crouched on the grass next to Kara’s body, a thin streak of blood running down from her nostril. Ellah and the Cha’ori hastened to help her up.

  Dagmara’s smile was strained as she leaned heavily on Ellah’s arm. “I’m too old for this. Their powers are indeed enormous. And it seems that Kyth is the only one capable of withstanding them.”

  Ellah nodded, looking into the distance. “Kara was immune to them too,” she said in a hollow voice.

  They looked down at Kara’s body. It was still, and, to Ellah’s relief, appeared undisturbed. When she leaned closer to inspect the wound, she realized that it had actually closed, and only a deep scar remained at the base of the neck where the gash had been just a short while ago.

  “Are you sure this liquid only works on living flesh?” Dagmara asked.

  Ellah hesitated. “No. I’m still not sure why Mai told me to do it.”

  “Asking him about it might prove difficult.”

  They stared at the distant cloud of dust. Elah felt empty inside. It was true that Mai had shamelessly played with her feelings to get his way, but she found herself intensely wishing she could see him again.

  34

  THE FOREST MOTHER

  The road from the Cha’ori camp descended steeply down to the water. Alder threw his pack higher onto his shoulder and hurried to catch up with Garnald at the front of the line.

  “How are we going to cross the river?” he asked. “The current’s too strong to swim over. And the ferry’s more than a day’s travel upstream.” He looked down to the water, words freezing on his lips.

  A raft was waiting for them down by the shore. It was a flat platform composed of intertwined leathery branches of snakewood trees, the kind that to Alder’s knowledge grew only very deep inside the Mire, in the heart of the Forestlands. As they approached, he could make out several trees, complete with roots and earth stuck in between, huddled together inside the woven leathery mass. Looking down at them, he had an uncomfortable feeling the tr
ees were watching him. He forced the thought away as he followed Garnald on board.

  As soon as the last man was on the raft, it pushed off the shore without any visible help. The river Elligar was wide in this place, and the current powerful, but the raft headed to the other shore in a straight line, toward a spot almost exactly opposite to where it had started. Alder tried to imagine what this strange contraption could possibly use to propel itself, but the thoughts were too uncomfortable to dwell on.

  As soon as the raft touched the riverbank, the roots of the snakewoods dug into the earth. As Alder watched in stunned silence, they took hold with the comfortable look of something that had been growing there all along.

  Unlike the steep slope of the left Elligar bank, the ground on this side of the river was low. Thick grass pasture stretched from the veil of the weeping willows lining the waterfront all the way to the main road, and the forest beyond. They made their way toward it, and in less than two hours entered the protective shade of tall white birches with thick hazel undergrowth.

  A trail ran off the main road into the forest, wide enough for two men to walk side by side. As they stepped into the tree shade, Alder couldn’t help noticing that the trail had no footprints on it. It seemed as if it had been made especially for their group, so that they could enter the forest in this particular spot, level with the raft’s landing. Looking behind, Alder saw a dense wall of trees with no clearing in between. The trail was closing as soon as they passed.

  He hurried ahead and fell into step with Garnald. For a while they walked in silence. Alder considered bringing up the subject of the trail, but eventually decided against it. He knew Ayalla the Forest Woman was capable of ordering trees to move, opening and closing paths at her will. It seemed quite logical to imagine she had the same power here, in the airy growth of hazel and birch, hundreds of miles to the north.