Blades of the Old Empire

by Anna Kashina

  Raishan looked down at Mai, who hadn’t moved since their fight. Then he leaned down and touched his neck.

  “He’s cold,” he said after a pause, “and his pulse is very weak. What did you do to him, Magister?”

  “I don’t think it was me. Things just went a bit faster than they should have. There’s nothing else we can do for him anymore, so let’s just get back to the fire before anyone catches cold. Whatever happens now, we must ride out at dawn. Staying here any longer won’t help.”

  “You mean, we just leave him here for the rest of the night?”

  “Believe me, Aghat,” Egey Bashi said. “That’s the best we can do.”

  “But he’s soaking wet. It’s a damn cold night. And his wound needs a fresh bandage.”

  Egey Bashi’s gaze didn’t waver. “In this particular case, cold’s exactly what he needs. As for his wound, it can certainly wait a couple of hours.”

  Raishan hesitated, looking down at Mai. Kyth came over and stood by his side.

  Mai’s face was pale and drawn. He lay on his back, arms out. Finger-shaped bruises marked his wrists, similar to those darkening on Kyth’s own skin. He lay very still, and it looked like he wasn’t breathing.

  “Are you sure he’s… all right?” Kyth asked in a trembling voice.

  The other two men gave him a strange look. Then they turned and walked toward the fire.

  They spent the rest of the night in preparations for the early start. Raishan picked up the saddles lost by their attackers and repaired the straps, fitting them onto the two horses that Kyth and Mai had used to escape. Egey Bashi built up the fire and Kyth huddled closer to dry off. They put on the kettle, warming up the remainder of the previous day’s meals.

  Every once in a while each of them threw glances at Mai, stretched a small distance away on the riverbank. He was very still. Kyth was sure he didn’t stir or change position even once. Clearly the Majat was either deeply unconscious, or…?

  Kyth didn’t want to think of any other possibilities. After the last two days he felt a strong bond with the Majat. This man had risked his life to save Kara. And Kyth, not knowing that, almost let his hatred bring Mai to irreversible harm. It would be unthinkable if Mai died now, when they were safe, Kara was alive, and they were going back to the Cha’ori camp to set things right.

  Kyth sat, looking that way until the sky became gray. He watched the golden glow at the horizon paint the scarce clouds yellow and pink and shoot long arrow-like shadows off every rock and bush in sight. They all pointed toward the river, where Mai lay on the tall, flat bank, very still among the wavering grass.

  Kyth couldn’t take it anymore. When Egey Bashi and Raishan turned away to tend to the horses, he hurried over and knelt beside the outstretched body.

  Mai’s face was so pale it was hard to imagine it belonged to a living man. His bare torso was stained with dirt and grass, the bandage on his chest hanging in rags, soaked with blood and pus from the wound. He lay in the same position he was the previous night, arms out, head turned to the side, just the way Raishan and Egey Bashi left him after the fight. He hadn’t moved all night.

  “Mai,” Kyth called softly. “Wake up. It’s time to go.”

  There was no response. Kyth leaned over and touched Mai’s face. It was cold and still wet from their swim in the river.

  He couldn’t be dead.

  That would be just too unfair.

  Kyth leaned closer.

  “Mai,” he called. “Wake up, Mai!”

  It seemed that there was a movement, a barely perceptible ripple of the muscle on Mai’s outturned arm. Kyth sat back on his heels, watching.

  Mai’s eyelids trembled and slowly opened. He met Kyth’s gaze with strange recognition. For the first time in the past few days, Mai’s eyes looked sane and normal, the way Kyth remembered them back at the King’s castle. There was laughter in their blue-gray depths, and just a touch of arrogance that made men around him bristle up.

  “What did I miss?” Mai asked weakly.

  Relief washed over Kyth, his face relaxing into a smile. He was only vaguely aware of Raishan and Egey Bashi who approached and stood on the other side, watching.

  He looked down into Mai’s eyes.

  “Not much,” he said wholeheartedly. “Really not much.”

  42

  THE PLEDGE OF A MIREWALKER

  The snakewood raft waiting for them at the shore was bigger than than last time. Alder counted at least twelve leathery logs, forming a structure strong enough to hold their entire group and comfortable enough for them to space out as it steadily propelled itself against the powerful flow of the Elligar waters.

  Alder stood next to Garnald, conscious to keep a clear distance from the creeping spiders of Ayalla’s dress. He was amazed to see that the other Mirewalkers didn’t seem in the least disturbed by it. They stood close, some within touching range, so that the hairy bodies swept against them as the Guardians moved around in constant turmoil. Alder wondered what kind of training it took to stand next to the deadly spiders, almost as big as a man’s hand and capable of dissolving an entire body with a single sting, and not to be bothered at all.

  When the raft reached the bank, the snakewoods took hold like last time, by digging their roots into the wet earth next to the water. But they didn’t stop at that. As Ayalla and her suite stepped ashore, the trees pulled themselves upright. Glancing back as he walked up the steep path toward the Cha’ori camp, Alder saw a small snakewood grove that wasn’t there when they came. It moved as they walked, following Ayalla and her suite at a steady distance.

  A welcoming party gathered in the Cha’ori camp to meet them. Dagmara’s neat shape made an unquestionable center of the group. Her deep amber eyes met the indigo of Ayalla’s in a long, private glance.

  “Welcome, Forest Mother,” she said solemnly. “It’s an honor of a lifetime to greet you here in our camp.”

  Ayalla merely nodded, running a slow glance around the gathered men and women.

  “Please make yourself at home,” Dagmara said. “We’ll have our council later in the day.”

  She beckoned to Ayalla and her suite, but before anyone could move, Alder pushed forward to Ayalla’s side.

  “Where’s Kyth?” he demanded.

  Dagmara’s eyes widened in anger, but a glance at Ayalla froze the words on her lips.

  “He’s worried about his brother,” the Forest Woman said with an indulgent smile, the kind a mother reserves for her favorite child.

  Dagmara let out a sigh, her shoulders relaxing as she gave Alder a reproachful look. “Go to my tent. Your friend Ellah’s there. She’ll tell you everything.”

  “Ellah?” Alder stared.

  She couldn’t mean Ellah. Ellah was miles away, with the King and the Mother Keeper. He opened his mouth to question it, but Dagmara’s look warned him off.

  Better to find out for myself. He brushed past the Cha’ori group, heading for Dagmara’s tent that stood aside from the others on the higher ground.

  Hot air enfolded him as he pulled aside the door curtain and stepped inside. He wiped his sweating brow, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the semidarkness.

  A lone figure crouched in the far corner, next to the glowing coal pans.

  Ellah.

  Alder gaped. Despite Dagmara’s words he simply couldn’t believe his eyes. There was no way Ellah could be here, when they’d left her back in Tandar weeks ago to follow quite another path. Yet, there was no mistaking her thin angular shape, her short brown hair that draped around her face and neck making her look a little like a boy.

  Alder smiled and rushed to greet her, but her look warned him off. He paused a few steps short, his skin creeping with horror as he realized that Ellah wasn’t alone.

  A body stretched on the floor beside her.

  Kyth? Alder leapt forward, covering the remaining distance to sink down by Ellah’s side. Relief mixed with horror as he recognized the short golden hair, the dark Olivian skin, the
face, barely familiar in its deadly stillness…

  Kara.

  He meant to say it aloud, but his voice caught, his lips moving mutely as he stared at her with stinging eyes.

  During their mad rush to the Grasslands she had tried to warn them of the danger close on their heels, but Alder never listened. She seemed invincible with her Diamond ranking and her amazing skill. He couldn’t bring himself to believe that any enemy could possibly defeat her. And now…

  “Who did this?” he asked hoarsely.

  Ellah didn’t respond. She turned away abruptly, dipped a cloth into a pail by her side, and wiped Kara’s forehead. Then she reached over and covered the body with a blanket up to the chin.

  “Where’s Kyth?” Alder insisted.

  Ellah kept her silence. Has she gone deaf? Is she–

  Leaning closer, Alder realized her lips were trembling and she was pursing them closed, trying to control her contorting face. He reached over and put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. She held back for a moment, then relaxed against him, dissolving into sobs.

  “Kyth’s been captured,” she cried. “After you left… they… they…”

  He held her, fighting a sinking feeling in his gut. Back in the forest, Ayalla had told him it was safe to go back. While he never had a chance to question her, he had assumed she meant the danger was over and Kyth was safe. But now he realized with renewed strength that she had never said anything of the kind.

  Was Kyth–

  He bit back the thought, cradling Ellah in his arms. After a long moment, she pulled away and sat up, brushing the tears away.

  “We were attacked,” she said. “By Reverend Haghos, and some man called Nimos, and another one with strange powers.”

  Nimos? Reverend Haghos? Alder stared. Was Ellah delirious? But if so, how could she know about Nimos? And if the man did indeed attack Kyth, why didn’t Kara interfere?

  “Did they do this?” He nodded at Kara’s body.

  Ellah shook his head. “No. This happened before they arrived.”

  This made no sense at all.

  “Who did this?” Alder insisted.

  Her eyes fluttered, meeting his gaze with a helpless expression.

  “Mai. The Majat Guild sent him after her.”

  Alder sighed. She had to be out of her mind. “Mai? The King’s bodyguard?”

  Ellah held his gaze. “Not anymore. He…” Her lips trembled. “He tried to defend Kyth and they captured him too.” She covered her face with her hands and broke into sobs again.

  Alder put both arms around her, gently stroking her hair. He held her until her shivering died down and she drew away, looking at him in the semidarkness of the tent.

  “You don’t believe me, do you?” she said quietly. “You think I’m out of my mind.”

  He hesitated. “I think you’re in shock.”

  She shook her head. “I came here with Mai, and another Majat, all the way from the Illitand Hall.” She paused, controlling a twitch in her mouth. “They made me believe they wanted to help me find you and Kyth. But in truth they were after Kara. They used me to get to her. And they killed her. As soon as they did, those men came and took Kyth and Mai away. Without Kara, no one here could really resist them.”

  She bit her lip, giving Alder a challenging look he knew so well since they were little. He held her gaze, realization dawning. It all made sense now. Her drawn, determined face as she kept vigil over Kara’s body as if her life depended on it. Her defensiveness as she told him what had happened. Her tears. She felt guilty about what had happened, and this guilt was eating her from the inside.

  Alder reached over and took her hand.

  “It’s not your fault,” he said quietly.

  She went stiff and slowly drew her hand away. “How do you know?”

  The way she said it sounded so much like the Ellah he knew, a girl who wouldn’t admit her fault even if it screamed at her from the nearest tree branch. She could be stubborn as a rock when she was like this, and ever since childhood Alder knew of only one way to deal with this kind of mood. He had to carry on the conversation as if he was oblivious to it, if he wanted to find out what happened.

  “How many men were there?” he asked.

  “It seemed like hundreds. But I think in reality it was not that many. Dozens.”

  “Did anyone go after them?”

  She nodded. “Magister Egey Bashi and Aghat Raishan. They arrived very soon after it happened. The Magister was confident they could catch up with them. If only…” She hesitated.

  “What?”

  “I don’t think a Diamond can do anything against them.”

  Alder shook his head. “Of course he can. You saw how Kara took down those men, didn’t you?”

  Her eyes lit up with a strange gleam.

  “You don’t get it, do you? Kara was special, and now she’s gone. When they attacked us, Mai was trying to fight them, and they took him down in moments. Raishan’s no different. They’re so powerful, they can kill a Diamond. I think they did.” She covered her face again, shaking with sobs.

  Alder put a comforting arm around her and drew her close again, stroking her hair. He finally caught the special way she said it. Mai. Was he the real reason she was so flustered? Had she developed an attachment to that strange man?

  Alder searched his feelings, trying to understand how he felt about it. He and Ellah had always been close, and everyone in the Forestlands where they grew up assumed they were sweethearts. He always thought that one day, after their adventures were over, they could consider settling down together. She was a girl any man would be happy to have. But did he truly feel this way about her?

  As he thought about it he suddenly realized that nothing really stirred his soul. Ellah was a good friend. No matter what happened, they would always be friends. But when he thought of more, Ellah was not the one that came to mind. Her image was overpowered by another, perfect in its ageless beauty. He was Ayalla’s man. There couldn’t be anyone else.

  “I’ll talk to Ayalla,” he said quietly after Ellah’s sobs had died down. “If anything can be done about this, she’s the one to do it. I’m sure she can. She’ll find a way to bring them back safely. Both of them.”

  She met his gaze and Alder saw deep gratitude in her eyes. She gave him a hug. Then she sat back and watched as he got up and walked out of the tent.

  The outside air seemed much too cold after the blazing heat of the tent. Alder shivered as he stood for a moment looking around the camp.

  The council seemed to be over and the Cha’ori had resumed their usual activity. Off in the distance the Mirewalkers were setting up camp. Beyond stood a small snakewood grove that wasn’t there before. As Alder looked closer, he realized the grove actually looked more like a hut. The trees formed a circle folding their intertwined branches into a roof and walls, leaving a small gaping doorway covered by the drooping branches in the likeness of a curtain.

  Alder made his cautious way toward it. As he approached, the leathery branches moved away, inviting him inside. He entered and stood, his eyes adjusting to the semidarkness.

  Ayalla was sitting on the floor in the center of the small space, the crawling mass of spiders draping around her like the skirt of a real dress. They covered up her breasts, but left the shoulders bare, making the outfit seem like some of the less modest dresses Alder had seen at the King’s court.

  He stood, looking down at her, unsure of what to do. He was intruding. He should probably leave. Except that he simply had to talk to her.

  He took a deep breath. “Kyth has been captured. You knew about it, didn’t you?”

  Her large indigo eyes beckoned like two bottomless pools.

  “Yes.”

  He hesitated. “We have to do something to rescue him.”

  Ayalla bent her head to the side, as if listening to something inaudible to Alder.

  “He has it within him to defeat these men,” she said quietly. “It’s up to him now. The
re’s nothing any of us can do for him beyond that, but I believe he’ll manage. Your brother is very powerful, Alder. These men are no match for him.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She smiled. “Do you trust me?”

  “Yes,” he said even before he had time to think. With surprise he realized that he had spoken the truth. Despite how absentminded she seemed, despite how frightening her powers were, he did trust her. He knew she would never bring him or his loved ones to harm. He knew that if she said Kyth could defeat these men, he would.

  Ayalla held his gaze. Then she brushed a hand against the grass beside her, swiping a large group of spiders out of the way to make room next to her on the tent floor. It looked natural, as if she was moving the fold of a skirt out of the way.

  She beckoned. “Come, sit with me.”

  Alder hesitated, looking at the crawling spiders of her dress. Even from where he stood, he imagined he could hear the faint crackling as their hairy legs touched each other.

  Ayalla followed his gaze. “You’re afraid of the Guardians.”

  Alder swallowed a lump. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be afraid of them. But seeing the mass of them crawling around so close to his feet was simply too much.

  “It’s all right,” she told him. “They don’t have to be here.”

  She looked down to her living dress. There was a short pause. Then the spiders streamed down her body and out of the tent. In a few moments there wasn’t a single one in sight. She sat back, stark naked, and looked up at him.

  “Is this better?” she asked.

  Alder gaped. Her pose was easy as she curled on the floor, hugging her knees with her slender arms. Her long hair streamed down her back in smooth, silky waves. She looked so natural as if there was nothing out of the ordinary in being naked in front of a man. And she was so beautiful it was almost painful to watch.

  She met his dumbfounded gaze and laughed.

  “You are afraid of me,” she said. “Aren’t you?”

  “No,” he said, hoping that he was telling the truth.