Blades of the Old Empire

by Anna Kashina

  He threw another glance at Garnald walking by his side. He was dying to know more about why all the Mirewalkers were looking at him with such strange expressions, and why they thought it was so important for him to leave the Cha’ori camp and come out to meet Ayalla.

  Garnald understood the unspoken question. “You’re wondering, aren’t you?”

  Alder nodded. Now that he saw Garnald’s eyes on him, he suddenly had a suspicion where this conversation was going. Back in the Forestland, Ayalla had once taken him for a mate, a privilege also extended to the Mirewalkers and some of the more adventurous villagers. She was a beautiful woman and she had made him very happy that day. But it didn’t make him different from any of these men, did it? He held Garnald’s gaze, feeling the color creep into his cheeks.

  Garnald smiled.

  “She’s never been the same since the time she was with you,” he said. “She’s more… sane, if you will. And the trees in the Mire – they’re becoming different now. Tall and straight, with airy crowns that reach far into the sky. We all think they’re yours.”

  Alder’s blush deepened. He had heard Garnald say such things before, but it just didn’t fit into his head. “Forest Mother” was a name woodsfolk had called her in their fireside tales, nothing more. No living woman could possibly give birth to trees. Especially not after being with a normal man. And yet…

  “I know exactly how you feel,” the Mirewalker said. “When it first happened to me, I was like that too. These things just blew my mind. And, in a way, even the fact that you get to be with the most beautiful woman in existence doesn’t make the rest of it any easier to accept.”

  Alder didn’t respond. It did blow his mind, even to consider the possibility that Garnald was right. He hadn’t stopped thinking about Ayalla since the brief time he had spent with her, but he never thought she’d want to see him again. She was not only beautiful beyond reason, but also powerful and ancient, more so than Alder could ever comprehend. She could have any man she wanted.

  “When you think of it,” Garnald went on, “you must always remember one thing. One doesn’t choose to become a Mirewalker. The Mire chooses you, and all you can do is follow its call. Don’t resist it, boy.”

  A Mirewalker? The question froze on Alder’s lips as the path in front of them suddenly opened into a glade surrounded by tall birches. Thick grass covering its floor looked as if no foot had ever walked upon it.

  In the middle of the glade stood a tall, slender woman. She had a perfect oval face and deep indigo eyes. Alder shivered as he met her gaze.

  Seeing Ayalla in the flesh made his memories of her beauty seem pale by comparison. She was perfect down to a single touch. Her face, as if carved out of a precious gem; her soft skin, whiter than birch bark and smoother than the silky grass under her feet; her body, slim and tall like a young pine singing to the sky.

  When she saw him, her full lips folded into a smile. She beckoned.

  “Welcome, Alder.” Her soft, deep voice reached down to his very soul.

  Her skin had a faint smell of honeyed ivy buds and river water. As he approached, it made his head swim. He reached over to take her hand and drew back as he caught the movement on the bodice of her dark velvety dress that traced all the curves of her tall, slender figure down to her feet.

  In horror, Alder realized that this dress was not made of any cloth he had ever seen. It was made of live spiders that clung to her, covering every inch of her skin. Each was large and hairy, creating the soft velvety look of the garment woven of their creeping mass. As Alder watched in fascination, one of the spiders moved over, opening a glimpse of her bare skin underneath. Then its place was taken by another, closing in the gap.

  The Guardians.

  Alder edged back. He couldn’t stand spiders, even ordinary ones. But these, almost as big as a man’s hand, were not only horrifying to look at, but also deadly. To imagine anyone walking around wrapped in spiders…

  She laughed. “Don’t worry, sweet one. The Guardians won’t harm you. You are at one with the forest.” She lowered herself down to the grass, the spiders hurrying to spread around her legs like the hem of a real dress. Then she signaled for the Mirewalkers to join her. They settled around her, forming a circle in the center of the secluded glade.

  “Before I come out to meet with the grass people,” Ayalla said, “you must tell me what you learned when you were out there.”

  “The Wanderers are disturbed by the dark order,” Garnald said. “The trouble we had – that’s nothing compared to what they did in the Grasslands. They attack the Cha’ori horts and take their horses. They bend people to their will. They kill. They’re a threat to everyone. The Cha’ori say they come from an outpost in the south, at the outskirts of the Bengaw Crest.”

  Ayalla looked past him into the forest. “Why should we be concerned about them? My children can protect themselves. Those that came through the Hedge will never do it again.” She looked around the group, a chill in the depths of her indigo eyes. Alder shivered. He could only guess what had become of the intruders that crossed the Hedge. The forest was a peaceful place, but it had ways to protect itself.

  He realized everyone was looking at him.

  “Tell me, Alder,” Ayalla said in her deep, melodious voice. “You have been to the north, all the way across the lakes. What goes on there?”

  Alder cleared his throat. “What do you want to know?”

  Ayalla smiled. “Tell me about your foster brother. Son of a king, is he?”

  Alder nodded, unsure of what answers she was looking for.

  “His gift is so strong it echoes all the way through the realm,” Ayalla said. “It shouldn’t be possible, but I saw this with my own eyes. Did his father pierce him with a sword?”

  Alder swallowed. The royal succession ceremony, where a father had to run a sword through his son, was difficult to forget. “Yes.”

  Ayalla nodded, her eyes aglow with a strange light. “Then, it’s time for a change. It’s time for your priests to reconsider their ways.”

  “I think,” Alder said, hoping that it was the right thing to say, “that’s exactly why the King sent Kyth and me here. He wants to ally with the Cha’ori and change the Ghaz Shalan law.”

  “A noble cause. Is your foster brother the one who is going to bring this about?”

  Alder thought about it. He hoped it was going to happen this way, but too many things were going wrong. He couldn’t stop thinking of Nimos and his men who had followed them all the way from Tandar. He suddenly had an urge to go back right now, to make sure Kyth was all right.

  Ayalla watched him with an intent gaze that seemed to penetrate his thoughts.

  “Your foster brother is in trouble,” she said quietly.

  How could she possibly know? Alder’s heart raced. Somehow, he didn’t doubt Ayalla knew what she was talking about.

  “I summoned you here,” she went on, “because I couldn’t allow you to share his fate. You weren’t meant for it.”

  “Meant for what?”

  She rose to her feet in a quick, powerful move. The spiders crawled around, quickly rearranging themselves back into a long narrow dress but, for a brief moment, Alder could see her bare leg, slender and tall, all the way up to the hip.

  “You’re anxious to go back, aren’t you?” she asked.

  Alder nodded.

  “Then, let’s go. It’s safe now.” She led the way in the direction they had just come from.

  Safe? Is he safe now? Alder wanted to scream, but the words froze on his lips under Garnald’s heavy gaze. He picked up his pack and followed.

  The path opened in front of Ayalla with a rustle, trees moving aside with nearly visible speed. It looked as if a gust of wind blew into the airy mass of birch crowns, pushing them to a standstill a small distance away from their original spot. It was dizzying to watch but Alder was too preoccupied.

  Something horrible had happened in the Cha’ori camp. Ayalla had known about it and sum
moned him here so that he could avoid that fate. But Kyth…

  Alder’s hands balled into fists. He wasn’t going to let anyone mess with his foster brother. Whatever danger Kyth was in, Alder was going to do everything in his power to save him.

  35

  NEWCOMERS

  “We should move Kara to my tent,” Dagmara said. “At least there we can keep her warm. She’ll need that, if she’s really alive.”

  Ellah nodded, too tired to talk. She reached over and touched Kara’s hand. It was cold. As far as she could tell, there was no pulse and her chest wasn’t moving. She saw no chance that Kara was still alive. No one could possibly survive such a blow.

  At Dagmara’s signal Cha’ori warriors came over and carefully picked up Kara’s body to carry it back to the camp. Dagmara followed, and Ellah fell into stride by her side.

  When they were halfway there, Ellah saw movement on the other side of the camp. A group of riders milled behind the main tent, with more Cha’ori hurrying toward them. From this distance she couldn’t tell what it was all about, but she saw glints of drawn weapons and heard voices raised in heated argument.

  “Take Kara to my tent,” Dagmara said to her escort. “I’ll go look what’s going on.” She peeled off from the procession at a fast walk. Ellah hurried to catch up.

  When they approached, the fight was about to start. In the center were two newcomers, the apparent focus of the turmoil. Ellah recognized them at once. Magister Egey Bashi’s scarred face flared with anger, his whip-like weapon ready in his lowered hand. Raishan looked calm, but the tense set of his muscular body showed that he was about to charge.

  Dagmara’s raised hand froze the action as she strode through the parting crowd toward the newcomers. Ellah did her best to stay close behind.

  “Who are you, and what do you want?” Dagmara demanded.

  “Who wants to know?” Egey Bashi asked, his voice on edge.

  Dagmara’s hand wavered, ready to signal the attack.

  Ellah took a breath. “Wait! I know these men!”

  All heads turned to her.

  “They’re friends,” Ellah said. “This is Magister Egey Bashi from the Order of Keepers.”

  “Your friends, you mean? Just like the other ones?” The young Cha’ori who spoke was one of the archers that had escorted Ellah, Mai and Sharrim into the camp. Only yesterday, but it seemed like an eternity ago.

  “Are you also going to say they bring no danger, just like the men that came with you?” another voice shouted from further away.

  “Maybe she’s at one with them?”

  The crowd rippled, voices rising in anger. But Dagmara’s hand stopped them.

  “Go on,” she told Ellah.

  Ellah met Egey Bashi’s gaze.

  “Magister Egey Bashi risked his life for Kyth’s sake,” she said. “And Raishan used to be Kyth’s bodyguard. Last time I saw them, a few weeks ago, they were traveling with Kyth and Kara. I don’t know why they’re here, but they deserve to be heard, Dagmara.”

  “Dagmara?” Egey Bashi’s dark eyes lit up with a deep glow.

  The foreteller gave him a calm look. “You’ve heard about me?”

  “Yes. You’re the one they call Cha’ori Overseer.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Very few know of that. How did you come upon such knowledge, Keeper?”

  “I have my ways.”

  They looked at each other in tense silence. Then Egey Bashi broke the contact and turned to Ellah.

  “What danger are they talking about? Where are Kyth and Alder?”

  Ellah shivered as she kept her eyes on him. “Kyth’s been captured.”

  Egey Bashi’s gaze wavered, his eyes reflecting both shock and acknowledgment at the same time. He didn’t look surprised. “Then Kara’s dead?”

  Ellah lowered her head, aware of the sudden silence around her.

  “Who was the one that came after her?” Raishan asked.

  Ellah looked at him, trying to control her trembling lips. “Mai.”

  “I thought so.” Raishan exchanged a glance with Egey Bashi.

  “Can you ask your men to stand down so that we can talk?” Egey Bashi asked Dagmara.

  She hesitated, then raised her hand and held it up in the air with an open palm. Weapons lowered everywhere in sight.

  “You must surrender your horses,” she said.

  Egey Bashi nodded. At Dagmara’s signal, their horses were taken away. The Cha’ori crowd dissipated, leaving a few warriors that formed a semicircle, showing firm intention to follow the newcomers everywhere they went.

  Dagmara led the way to the center of the camp. Ellah and Egey Bashi followed side by side, with Raishan close on their heels. As soon as they started moving, Egey Bashi turned to Ellah, his scarred face holding concern.

  “Tell me what happened.”

  Ellah tried to recall the horrible events of the past few hours. She wasn’t sure where to start.

  “These men – they appeared out of nowhere, only a short time after Kara was down. They blasted everyone in sight with some horrible power. Kyth was immune to it, but he couldn’t fight all of them. Mai tried to stand up to them, but they–” she swallowed, forcing herself to go on. “They hurt him really bad. And then, they took both of them away.”

  “Both Kyth and Alder?”

  Ellah gave him a blank stare. It took her a moment to realize what he meant.

  “Both Kyth and Mai,” she said.

  A gleam lit up in Egey Bashi’s gaze. “What happened to Alder?”

  She shrugged, unsure of why he was so insistent on changing the subject after the horrible things she had told him. “Alder wasn’t here. I think he went across the river to meet with the Forest Mother.”

  Egey Bashi nodded. “At least we have one less person to worry about now. And, if Mai was captured with Kyth, they would have more hope of escaping, wouldn’t they?”

  Ellah continued to stare. How could he not understand? “I told you. When they captured Mai they hurt him really bad. I’m not sure he’s still alive.” She paused, struggling to continue. She was certain he couldn’t possibly be alive, but there was no way she was going to say it. She couldn’t. She couldn’t even think that way. Ellah lowered her head, unable to hold back her tears anymore.

  The Keeper reached over and patted her shoulder. His hand was so rough she could feel the callouses through the cloth of her sleeve, and so warm it burned against the chill of the Grassland wind. His touch was also soothing. After a few moments her tears subsided. She sniffled and raised her face to him.

  “We’ll go after them,” the Keeper said quietly.

  She nodded. She wished his words could comfort her, but after seeing Mai dragged over the rocks behind a galloping horse, she couldn’t find any room for hope. She was too old to believe in miracles. Yet, she didn’t want to voice the thought. She forced a smile, brushing the tears off her cheeks with the back of her hand.

  Dagmara stopped, halting the procession. With a start, Ellah realized that they had reached the center of the camp and were standing in front of the Foreteller’s tent.

  “What did you want to talk about, Keeper?” the Cha’ori woman asked.

  “I came here to try to prevent what happened,” Egey Bashi said gravely. “I can see I am too late.”

  A dry smile passed through Dagmara’s lips. “The men who attacked us have a power that’s unheard of. They knocked down everyone in sight. The only one who could resist them was Prince Kythar, but his skill was not sufficient to defeat so many men. If you were here, Keeper, you would have suffered the same fate. And if by some chance you could resist their power, I doubt you could have defeated them either. There were lots of them. Each was an incredible fighter and they wielded weapons we haven’t seen before.”

  Egey Bashi nodded. “Orbens. They’re quite exotic, and they do require a lot of skill. You are most likely right, Dagmara, that if I was here I would have suffered the same fate. But your gift must have also told you how impo
rtant it is to rescue Kyth from these men. They threaten our entire existence, and his gift is the only hope we have of ever defeating them. Even though I know I would probably fail, I have to try to save him.”

  She lowered her gaze. “I know how important he is. But I don’t see what any of us can do. I can’t send my men to certain death. The Cha’ori will not help you, Keeper.”

  He studied her face. “A pity. But if this is your decision, Dagmara, then I must go on alone.”

  Dagmara’s eyes flicked to Raishan. “You have a warrior with you, whose skill is evident in his every move. He will probably be useless against those men, but he should provide more protection than my people ever could.”

  Egey Bashi shook his head. “Aghat Raishan is bound by a word to his Guild not to interfere with Kyth’s fate. However much it pains me, I’ll have to leave him behind.”

  “Actually,” Raishan said, “this is not exactly true, Magister. These men have also captured a member of my Guild. I can’t help you with Kyth, but it’s definitely my duty to do everything in my power to rescue Aghat Mai.”

  Egey Bashi grinned. “I’ll be damned. Why didn’t I think of that, Aghat?”

  “You’re quite inexperienced with the Majat Code, Magister, aren’t you?”

  “Apparently so. But now that you made it clear to me, Aghat, we must go without delay.”

  A shadow ran over Raishan’s his face. “Before we go, I would like to see Kara.” He looked at Dagmara. The Cha’ori woman nodded. She turned and led the way into the tent.

  In the semidarkness, Kara’s skin looked even paler than before. Her body, laid out on a cloak, was relaxed, but she no longer seemed asleep. Maybe it was the pose, with her face up and her hands folded over her chest, that made her look dead. Or the way two Cha’ori warriors sat beside her in solemn stillness, keeping vigil. Ellah’s eyes filled with tears at the sight. She didn’t bother to blink them away.

  Raishan slowly approached and lowered to the ground at Kara’s side. He folded away the cloak that covered her, looking at the bloodstained shirt, whose front had been cut off to expose the chest, and the forearm where the arrow had gone through, leaving a ragged wound that nobody had bothered to treat. He moved his gaze down her body and back to Ellah and Dagmara, standing on the other side.