Blades of the Old Empire

by Anna Kashina

  “Where did he hit her?” the Majat asked quietly.

  Ellah cleared her throat. “On the base of the neck over there. It was very bad. But Odara Sul gave me a healing elixir, and Mai told me to use it on Kara, so the wound – it’s not there anymore.”

  There was a stillness of an indrawn breath in the quiet air of the tent as Raishan and Egey Bashi slowly raised their faces and stared at her. Then the two men spoke at once.

  “He did what?”

  “She did what?”

  Their intensity forced Ellah to step back.

  “Odara Sul, gave me an elixir, and Mai told me to use it on Kara’s wound,” she explained carefully.

  The two men exchanged a glance.

  “Do you know at what angle the blade went in?” Raishan asked.

  Ellah hesitated. The question was strange, but there was so much urgency in his gaze that she got caught in it. She tried to remember the way Mai had put in the dagger coated with the healing substance.

  “Straight down. Like this.” She moved her hand, imitating the direction.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  Raishan bent over Kara. His hands moved so quickly that they blurred as he ran his fingers along her neck, pressing against hidden points that made her body shudder. After a moment the Majat raised his face to Dagmara.

  “You must keep her very warm. Wrap her up in blankets. Start a fire. Have somebody stay with her all the time. It’s very important.”

  Dagmara looked at him for a moment. Then she nodded and rushed out of the tent to give orders. Raishan turned to Ellah, who was staring at him in an entranced silence.

  “You can save her life,” he said. “If you keep her warm.”

  “Save her life? But–”

  Raishan’s gaze became impatient. “Do you think Aghat Mai would have asked you to treat a dead body with a precious healing elixir? How stupid is that?”

  Ellah blinked. Stupid wasn’t the word that had originally come to her mind. But with all the recent events she just didn’t have time to give it serious thought.

  “Do what you can for her,” Raishan went on. “Treat that wound on her forearm, too. And be sure someone’s with her, day and night. If she gets worse, here’s what you should do.”

  He moved two fingers along Kara’s neck, pressing symmetric points in the center of the chest and another two, just above the collarbones. Then he rose and touched similar spots on Ellah’s neck. His fingers were hard like steel. For a moment she was scared he’d choke her. She drew back, grasping her throat.

  “Just quick pressure,” he told her. “Don’t hold it any longer than this.”

  “But– How would I know if Kara gets worse?”

  Raishan shrugged. “Use your judgment.”

  Ellah glanced around helplessly.

  “If Odara Sul gave you this elixir,” Egey Bashi said, “she must have thought you have great potential as a healer. She doesn’t just give it to anyone, believe me. And if you’re as good as she thought, you’ll have no trouble with this.”

  He turned and walked out of the tent. Raishan followed, just as Dagmara came in with two women carrying a heap of blankets and a pan filled with hot coals. In a very short time the air in the tent became so warm that Ellah felt overdressed.

  She took off her cloak and sat on the floor looking at Kara. There was no color at all in her ghostly pale cheeks. Her face looked hollow and still. And yet, now that Raishan said there was hope, Ellah started to realize something. Kara’s body wasn’t getting stiff. She was cold, but she still seemed warmer than the outside air. And now, in the glow of the hot coals, her skin started to warm up. Ellah wrapped the blankets tighter around her.

  She suddenly remembered what Mai said to her, just a short while ago. ‘You wish it could all go away.’ She realized how much she wished it right now – that none of this had ever happened, that Kara was alive, that Kyth and Mai were here so that they could all laugh about their fears and enjoy a moment of peace. But wishing was useless. Wishing never did any good.

  She prayed Egey Bashi and Raishan would succeed in their task. And yet, after what they had done to Mai, she was very sure it was impossible. What could anyone do against men who could easily disable a Diamond Majat?

  How could she ever hope to see any of them alive?

  36

  THE THREE KADDIM

  When Kyth opened his eyes, he had trouble understanding where he was. His head pounded, dark mist swimming in front of his eyes. The base of his neck felt as if it was about to disconnect from the skull. To make things worse, someone was shaking him, so that his head rhythmically bounced against something not hard enough to break the bones, but definitely harder than comfortable.

  He tried to move, but after an effort realized that all he could move was his fingers, and even those moved with difficulty, as if not entirely under his control. He couldn’t feel his feet at all.

  Kyth concentrated, trying to recall what had happened. He vaguely remembered being hit on the head with a hard metal object. That must be where the pain at the base of his neck was coming from. After a moment’s concentration, he realized his shoulder and chest were also aching, suggesting that there must have been more blows he had withstood before ending up in his present position. But how did it all happen?

  He strained his ears to catch any sounds that could give him a clue to his whereabouts. The rhythmic pounding that coincided with the frequent bangs to his head sounded like the hooves of galloping horses.

  Horses. Was he with the Cha’ori?

  But if so, why was he traveling in such an uncomfortable way?

  He concentrated, forcing bits of memory back into his aching head. They had found Dagmara and her hort and traveled with them for one day. They had spent a night in a Cha’ori camp. Then he saw Ellah riding downhill. But what happened next?

  He strained his mind to remember more, but just as he seemed to be getting a grip on it, he heard voices and the horse he was traveling on came to a jarring stop. After a while hands took him off the saddle and lowered him to the ground with a certain degree of care. He felt the pressure ease around the middle of his body as someone must have untied some of the ropes holding him. The cloth wrapped around him fell away. Light hit his face.

  “This one’s conscious,” a voice said above him.

  “Tie him to a tree,” another voice responded from a distance.

  Kyth lay on his back, staring into the deep greenery of the tree crowns overhead. Judging by the light it was early evening, right around sunset. The wavering leaves overhead allowed glimpses of the sky, suggesting that this place wasn’t a real forest. More likely, they were stopping to set camp in one of the small groves lining the riverbanks at the edge of…

  The Grassland plains.

  And then, suddenly, he remembered everything.

  Kara.

  Memories hit him with such strength that he shut his eyes, unable to face it. His chest felt so empty he wanted to wail. He clenched his teeth, shutting it away.

  Hands lifted him to a sitting position. After a moment he forced himself to open his eyes. The pain in his chest slowly unfolded, taking over his body so that it felt empty and numb. He didn’t care where he was and what his captors were going to do to him. He didn’t care if he lived or died. He couldn’t face his life anymore.

  A man appeared in front of him and he recognized Nimos. He remembered that just a short while ago, during his capture, he still cared. He even attacked this man with a sword. Now, he couldn’t care less. Whatever this man’s intentions toward him, it didn’t matter anymore.

  “Change his bonds to the regular rope,” Nimos ordered. “Or he’ll lose his hands and feet really soon.”

  Kyth was curious enough to try to move his fingers and realized that by now he couldn’t feel them at all. The wet leather they had used as a bond when they captured him must have dried during the day, becoming so tight that it had cut off the circulation. For all he knew, hi
s hands and feet were dead already. But he didn’t care.

  Men leaned over him, cutting his bonds and putting new, looser ones in their place. Then they tied him to a tree, coiling a rope around his waist. He winced as the pounding in his temples resumed, echoing with the hollowness in his chest.

  Kyth’s captors untied another bundle, revealing a limp shape of a man. His clothes were so torn and dusty and his face so matted with blood and dirt that Kyth had trouble making out his features. The captive lay very still while the robed men bustled around him, changing leather bonds to regular rope, just like they had for Kyth. Nimos stood over them, watching.

  “Are you sure he’s alive?” he asked.

  “Gortos was a bit rough on him,” one of the men admitted. “But how were we to know he’d be so fragile? He seemed unbeatable without your power, Kaddim.”

  Kaddim. So, Nimos had this title just like Tolos. The attacks on Kyth by these two men were obviously connected, but now Kyth didn’t care anymore. Back in the castle, Kara had defeated these men easily. And now…

  He looked at the still shape on the ground, suddenly realizing who it was. Mai.

  Kyth’s hatred boiled anew as he looked at the Diamond. Not only had Mai killed Kara and almost killed him, he had also made a mockery of trying to heal her afterwards. The hope he’d stirred up made the pain of the disappointment even worse when it became clear that the pretended healing, done undoubtedly to win the Cha’ori’s trust, hadn’t worked. Whatever their captors had in mind for Mai, he deserved it ten times over. If, of course, he was still alive.

  Kyth rolled his head to the side and watched one of the men bring a bucket of river water and splash it into Mai’s face. The Majat stirred, a barely perceptible twitch that didn’t say anything about whether or not he was conscious.

  Nimos nodded. “Good. He’s alive. Tie him up to a tree over there. And, make sure his hands are where we can see them. There’s no way of telling what he’s capable of.”

  The men lifted Mai to a sitting position, hanging his tied wrists by a rope flung over a thick branch overhead. Mai looked badly hurt. His face, underneath the mask of blood and dirt, was deadly pale. Blood oozed from a cut at his temple and a black bruise covered his eye and cheek. His shirt hung in rags and a nasty orben wound gaped in the center of his chest. His head lolled when the men leaned him against the tree.

  Nimos stood for another moment surveying his prisoners. The other two leaders joined him.

  “Do you think the Prince needs to be watched, Kaddim Nimos?” one of them asked.

  Nimos’s pale face folded into a smirk. “He’s too weak to do anything, Kaddim Haghos. Ropes should hold him just fine.”

  Kaddim Haghos. The former Reverend of the Church, a Kaddim. In some other life Kyth might have cared. He watched the familiar face with disinterest.

  The Kaddim Brothers headed to where the others had already started a fire. They sat in a triangle, so that at least one of the three could always keep the prisoners in the line of sight.

  Sometime during the evening a man with a closely shaved head, square jaw and bulging muscles, brought Kyth a cup of water and a small bowl of watery grain stew. Kyth didn’t care one way or the other, so he ate it, just so that the man would leave. After he was done, the man brought another share for Mai. He had to hold the Majat’s head up to pour water into his mouth. A lot of it escaped, running down Mai’s neck in a small bloodied stream. The Diamond didn’t take any food.

  Kyth spent the night dozing against the tree trunk. He couldn’t fall asleep, because every time his head dipped forward a sharp pain in his neck woke him up. He was almost grateful for that, because the only thing he could see when he closed his eyes was Kara, her body falling back, arms out, blood gushing out of the fresh wound at the base of her neck. In the end he couldn’t take it anymore. He kept his eyes open, so dry that they hurt, and sat through the rest of the night staring into the wavering shadows, trying his best not to think of anything at all.

  In the morning another man brought him breakfast, which seemed to be leftovers from the previous night. Kyth ate it, keeping his eyes on Mai. Two men were bustling around him with Nimos watching.

  It must have been bad, because they actually cleaned and treated Mai’s wound, dressing it with a crude bandage across his chest. Then one man held his head up while the other fed him the watery meal. Kyth could see that the swelling on Mai’s face had subsided a little. His eyes were closed, but after watching intently it seemed to Kyth that he saw a glint from underneath a lowered eyelid. Kyth narrowed his eyes to see better, but it was gone. He wasn’t sure why he was paying so much attention to the murderer who didn’t deserve to live after what he’d done. It must be boredom, he decided. He couldn’t care less what happened to Mai. He just had nothing better to do.

  They spent another day wrapped in cloaks and flung across the saddles, but the horses traveled mostly at a walk, making the bouncing a bit more bearable. The pain in Kyth’s head subsided and the swelling in the places where Mai had hit him with the staff reduced to simple bruises, painful to the touch but no longer making him feel as if his chest and shoulder were about to explode. By the evening, when Kyth was once again tied in a sitting position against a tree, he felt almost refreshed. He watched them take Mai off the saddle and unwrap the cloak around him with all three Kaddim Brothers in attendance. It wasn’t clear whether these men were more afraid of Mai dying, or being well enough to fight.

  This time they camped in a deeper forest. By Kyth’s calculation they were getting closer to the Forestland Hedge, and the growth of willows and birches became more and more familiar. Here and there, they could see an oak, or even a patch of crawling tentacle bushes, shy and uncertain so far away from the protective shade of the Forestland thickets.

  The tree they tied Mai up to was close to Kyth’s. A thick branch protruded from it at the height of about eight feet, several heads taller than an average man. They flung the rope holding Mai’s tied wrists over it, stretching it tighter than before and securing it around the trunk of the neighboring tree. They tied his ankles with another rope, and left to attend to their camp duties.

  Kyth couldn’t tell if the Majat was conscious, but his face looked much better than the previous night. There was no more swelling, and apart from the black bruise over the left eye and cheekbone, he no longer looked deformed. His eyes were closed, but once again Kyth had a distinct feeling that Mai was alert.

  After a while the robed men brought them food and drink. They fed Kyth his usual fare and gathered around Mai. Nimos stood at the side, watching.

  “How is he?”

  “He’s recovering well, Kaddim Nimos,” one of the men said with satisfaction.

  Nimos peered into the Majat’s face. “Is he well enough to fight if we let him loose?”

  The spokesman hesitated. “Probably. He’s still bleeding here and there, and his chest wound doesn’t look too good, but I don’t think there’s any permanent damage.”

  “Cut off his arms,” Nimos said.

  “What?” The men backed off, expressions ranging from hesitation to shock.

  Nimos shrugged. “If he recovers any more, we won’t be able to keep him captive unless a Kaddim Brother is watching him day and night. Yet, if we beat him again, we aren’t sure he’d survive. But if we mutilate him, he’ll still be alive, but he won’t be able to fight, will he?”

  The men nodded. Some still looked shocked, others relaxed into smiles.

  Nimos glanced at the tallest and strongest man in the group. “Go, bring a cleaver. And call in Kaddims Haghos and Farros. I’ll stay here and make sure he doesn’t attempt anything foolish.”

  He planted himself in front of Mai, surveying him with cold satisfaction. Pulsing force emanated from his still figure. He wasn’t using full power, but from where he sat Kyth could see Mai’s face go pale. The Diamond was definitely alert and knew exactly what was going to happen to him. He could probably defend himself if Nimos wasn’t using the
power to suppress his strength. Kyth was sure that, given a chance, Mai would do anything possible to save himself, but Nimos’s power robbed him of this chance.

  Kyth’s mind raced. This didn’t seem fair. No one deserved to end up like this, not even the worst villain in the world. He would never be able to forgive Mai for what he had done, but he couldn’t just sit here and watch this incredible fighter get mutilated like an animal, tied and helpless, without a chance to stand up for himself. Not even animals deserved to be treated like this. He had to do something.

  Could he help Mai resist these men?

  He was sure that back in the castle he helped Kara gain resistance by sending his emotions to her. Could he do it again? He thought of his recent nightmare, where he was able to protect people from the Kaddim by wielding an invisible spearhead. He wasn’t sure it would work in real life, but he had to try.

  The night was calm and quiet. A slow breeze crept through the terrain, making the tree crowns above their heads rustle as if having a whispered conversation. Kyth opened up his senses and let the breeze in, gathering its combined power over a great distance of the Grassland plains beyond. He focused the force in the calm center of his body, shaping it into a spearhead that cut through the descending power like a sharp blade cuts through a soft smothering blanket. He directed his spearhead toward Mai. With his inner vision he could actually see Nimos’s power, a cocoon enfolding Mai like a fly trapped in a web.

  He was vaguely aware of more shapes coming over. Haghos and Farros stopped by Nimos’s sides, the three Kaddim Brothers combining their powers to enfold Mai. Another one, a huge man whose rolled-up sleeves exposed hairy muscular arms, held a butcher’s cleaver large enough to decapitate a horse.

  “Do it,” Nimos said. “Chop off his arms at the shoulders. We want to make sure he’ll never be able to hold a weapon again.”