Fire And Ice (Book 1)

by Wayne Krabbenhoft III

  “They’re coming,” one of the sailors announced.

  If they caught up and saw his clothes under the coat they would know. Would the Captain hand him over to avoid a fight? He had trusted him this far and it was proven a good decision again. A hundred yards from the ship he looked back, the Karands were closing.

  “Run!” the Captain ordered.

  They raced for the safety of the ship. At the boarding plank they became jumbled together as everyone tried to cross at once. Coran did not like being stuck in the pushing crowd of men with an enemy closing from behind. He couldn’t see, and if necessary he couldn’t draw his sword. Thankfully, they all made it across before the Karands reached them. The Captain was last on board, and the plank was drawn up after him just as the Karands arrived. The crew that had been left on the ship gaped at the sight of running men; when they saw what was happening they reached for the nearest weapons and manned the rails. At the sight of an armed crew ready to defend their ship the Karands faltered.

  The one who must have been the leader stepped to the front. “We need to search your ship for a renegade Karand,” he said in his Karandi accent.

  The Captain spread his arms to indicate everyone on board his ship. “There are only Midians here, that I can promise you. But if you wish to search my vessel you only have to come aboard.” The crew grinned wickedly at the Karands.

  With no real choice the leading Karand turned and left with his comrades in tow. Coran was relieved to have gotten away without a fight. He looked to the Captain who was fingering his beard with an expression tinged with regret.

  “Problem Captain?”

  “No. I was just thinking how long it has been since I’ve had a good fight. About four years I think. Pirates out west.”

  “We can go back if you want,” he said, amused.

  The captain glanced at him and appeared to think about it. “No, I guess not. I have to deliver your letters remember.”

  “And I need to get back to shore.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” the Captain assured him. “I know a small beach a couple of leagues down the shore. I will put you in there.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” he said sincerely.

  “Call me Treska,” the Captain replied with a grin.

  The sun was sinking in the western sky by the time he found, and followed the passage back to the camp. The first person he came across was Shirri. She was sitting where the passage widened out into the walls of their camp as if she had been waiting for him. She didn’t say a word. She only looked at him, first with relief, that quickly changed to anger before she turned her back on him and went to her makeshift shelter. The second person he met was Miko who gestured to a spot by the fire he was laying.

  “Mission accomplished?” he asked while fanning the flames he just lit.

  “Everything went as well as could be expected. The letters are on their way to Summerhall.” He slipped the sword out from his belt and sat down cross-legged. Without the sun it was starting to get chilly and he regretted giving up the coat. Of course it wasn’t his to begin with. “You are not mad?”

  “For what? Going on your own?” He shook his dark-haired head. “Not really. We all do what we have to do even when it is foolish. The important thing is that it worked and you are well.”

  Coran nodded at that. That was the important thing. He changed the subject. “Is she still angry with me from what I said on the boat?” He didn’t have to say who.

  “I do not think so. She is naturally angry.”

  “Then why is it always worse around me?” he said. He didn’t think it was his imagination.

  Miko stared at the growing flames. “I could be wrong, but it is probably because she does not know how to act around you, so she reverts to her natural way.”

  He thought about that. He didn’t think he was that complex a person. What was so hard to understand about him? “I don’t understand.”

  “Let me try another way. Do you find her attractive?”

  He frowned, not sure where this was leading. “Yes, she is an attractive woman.” There was no denying that. It was the truth.

  “Are you married?” It was a rhetorical question since Miko knew the answer.

  “No.”

  “You saved her from a life of slavery, you are not married and you admit that you find her attractive. Most men would have accepted her thanks by now.” He said it significantly. “You do not act like other men she has known. You do things for others without concern for yourself, or expecting anything in return. I have been lucky to live where I do, but many Karands have had to fight for what they have.

  “Take Crecy and the lands around here. Twenty years ago this place was thriving with people. Happy, well fed people. Then came the wars. Across the narrows to the south live the Shiomi under Tammaz. He is independent of the southern Zahrs. He fought with Crecy for control of the narrows. For over ten years they fought until there was little left to fight over. Crecy was run down by war and finally all leadership collapsed, along with the economy. Tammaz’s lands were the same, but he remained in charge. He took Crecy and now tries to rebuild his fortunes by controlling the trade between East and West. It isn’t enough and so he lets others raid the land for slaves and whatever else they can find. On the other side of the mountains they are having enough problems of their own to help here. It is a tough life growing up around here.”

  Miko took out some bread and offered half to Coran which he took. “The point is that all the men she has known look out for themselves first, or at least they expect something in return. You remember she said that she was to be married?”

  Coran nodded. He didn’t trust himself to speak until he had given the situation more thought. His decision to help liberate the Novelah was more justified than he had first believed.

  “I talked with Ruan a little bit today. Apparently, she did not grieve very much for his demise. He was one of those bully boy types.” He bit into the piece of bread he held.

  Coran knew the type himself. He remembered a boy from his training days. Aric, or Aldric, or something like that. He was bigger than the other boys. Coran was ten or eleven at the time and Katelyn was nine. She was well into her stage of wearing boys clothing in preference to fancy dresses. Aric made the mistake of calling her the little Prince of Summerhall where Coran could hear. Even after he got used to the missing teeth he was still a bully. He just made sure who was listening before he spoke. Aric was sent home a few months later. He wasn’t as careful as he thought.

  “So you are saying that she doesn’t trust me? That is why she gets angry with me?” he asked.

  “No. Shirri knows that she can trust you now. The problem is that the idea of trusting is difficult for her.”

  He could understand a little better now. “When she teases about her being a better match for me than Katelyn, then that is a test to see what I would do?”

  “Yes. She wanted to know your intentions.” He smiled thinly. “I think she enjoys it too.”

  Coran had to smile too. He ate the rest of the bread thinking that maybe things would be a little better now that he understood why she acted like she did.

  The sky behind them was filling with smoke from the hundreds of fires started in various parts of the city as Terk and his wife passed through the gates of Lornth. They were only two in a long line of thousands who had been ordered to abandon their homes. All the horses and carts had been confiscated by the army so people carried what possessions they could on their persons, or in packs strapped to their backs. Terk knew they would not get far if he tried to carry too much, so he had only brought the necessities. He and his wife each had one pack stuffed with food and little else. Around his waist Terk had tied a bulging money belt, the contents would see them to wherever they were going. He could see the side of the road ahead and the possessions that had already been found too cumbersome to be carried, and had been left behind.

  Just outside the gates stood Makkuran soldiers wearing thos
e helmets that hid everything but their eyes. One of them was counting people as they passed by, and he would pick one out from time to time to be dragged away from the road. By Terk’s count one in every ten was being taken aside. It wasn’t until he was outside the gates themselves that he saw the one’s unfortunate fate.

  The Makkuran pointed a finger at Terk. “Eight.” Then his wife. “Nine.” He counted the man in the tattered clothes directly behind them. “Ten.” Two more soldiers grabbed the man roughly and pulled him off to the side. The poor man struggled briefly but it was no use. About fifty yards away, where the land dipped to hide the gully from sight, the man’s throat was cut and his body was pushed into the gully.

  Terk gulped and thanked She’al for his good luck. He had given up on Sha’elt.

  “Where do we go now?” Shia, his wife, asked him. She was shaking from the sight they had just witnessed. “To my sister’s in Sha’Etra?”

  “No.” He had already decided that it was too dangerous to stay in Daes Shael. Also, he had no more desire to stay there. “We are leaving Daes Shael.”

  “What?” his wife asked in alarm. “To where?”

  “I do not know yet.” He wasn’t sure, but knew that they would start by going west.

  Chapter 23

  Tears of Joy

  Coran spent the next few days starting to train those who would be doing the fighting. There were boys starting from fourteen, up to gray-haired men who had come here in response to Ruan’s summons. Unfortunately, the young and old made up a majority of them. He started with those who were armed, if you could call old, rusty, swords proper weapons. He taught them to block and strike, trying to keep it simple. Only one of the older men had any experience at all, he was once a guardsman but his training was sorely lacking. Some of the men had short tipped spears and he did his best with them. No one there had bows so that was out for now. He spent as much time as possible at the task, usually from sunup to sundown. Finally Ruan came to him and suggested that he let up on the training. The men were being worn down by the long hours he had them practicing. The reason he pushed so hard was easy. He needed to be doing something, anything to get closer to his goal of getting home. He couldn’t just stand around and do nothing while he waited. Because of Ruan’s suggestion, Coran decided he could be of more help if he visited the other camps. It would also give him a better idea of what kind of army he had overall.

  There was another reason he had for leaving too. The people here made him uncomfortable with their deferential attitude towards him. It was much like the way they treated Neheya, except that they talked to her. Him they didn’t speak to unless he spoke first. They acted like they were afraid to draw his attention to them. When he asked Miko or Ruan about it they put him off by saying the people were nervous around strangers. Then why the deference? Whatever the reason, he had to leave.

  Ruan led him from one camp to another across the land of the Novelah. Coran stayed for a few days in each one to oversee the training. The camps he encountered were much like the first one; they contained mostly older men and boys.

  Leaving did not help as he had hoped. The people gave him the same silent deference. He asked Miko again and was put off again while the trader failed to meet his eyes. The man knew something. The one person he didn’t ask was Shirri. He wasn’t about to risk her wrath asking anything that might touch a nerve. He didn’t even ask why she chose to accompany them on his tour. He assumed it was to be with her brother.

  As they got further from the coast the land started to change just as Shirri had once told him. The bare, rocky hills turned into green woods. As they continued to travel the green leaves turned to red, orange, and brown as autumn slowly progressed.

  They came to their eighth camp, in a long valley where a stream ran down the center and where a waterfall was located at one end. There were over seven hundred Karands gathered there. Three hundred were of an age to fight. They reacted the same way towards him as the others, but he did his best to ignore it. He concentrated on training for the next three, vigorous days. On the fourth he decided it was time to move on again.

  The grass of the valley was green and brown, trees were scattered about the area, and along the hills to either side. Campfires burned in among the trees. Karands moved about, preparing meals, doing chores, or scrubbing the rust off weapons. That last was at his insistence. He finally found the man he was looking for talking to two Karands. The two moved away at his approach.

  “Ruan, it is time to move on to the next camp,” he stated.

  “Tomorrow,” the young man countered, “we have time.”

  “All right, but we leave at first light.”

  Ruan nodded agreement. “Oh, my sister was looking for you a while ago.”

  What did she want now? He was sure she had been avoiding him lately. “Where is she?”

  “She was headed for the waterfall when I spoke with her.”

  Coran left Ruan and followed the stream across the valley floor as it rippled and gurgled over rocks. The water meandered its way down the center of the valley, twisting and turning to follow the course of least resistance. Bushes and trees shielded the pool of clear water at the base of the ten foot falls. Where the water fell to meet the surface of the pool, a fine mist rose to obscure the base of the falls.

  Because of the bushes he didn’t see her until he was at the water’s edge. What he saw was only her head sticking out of the water. If the water had been any clearer he would have seen much more than that. He spun around and noticed her discarded clothes lying across one of the bushes. A cascade of laughter reached him from behind.

  “Are all Midians so modest, or is it only you?” she asked in her rich voice.

  He felt his cheeks heating. “Ruan said you were looking for me.”

  “I was on my way to bathe and I thought you could use one too. When was the last time you were clean?” The voice was nearer. She had to be coming out of the water.

  “I wash,” he protested hoping the slight breeze would cool his face. True, it was only to clean off the excess sweat and grime of the day, nothing as thorough as a real bath.

  “You stink,” she announced. She had to be standing right behind him now. He thought he could hear the water dripping off her skin and had to clear his throat. “Would you hand me my clothes?”

  He took them from the bush and held them out to her without turning around. She laughed again. “Was that the only reason you wanted to see me?” he grumbled.

  “Yes.” He could hear the rustle as she pulled the shirt over her head. “But since I have you here, there is something I would like to ask.”

  “Go ahead.”

  She finished dressing and turned him around by the shoulders to face her. Her long, dark brown hair hung wet off one shoulder. “Come on.” She led him across the clear area directly around the pool to a fallen log lying on its side. She sat and pulled him down beside her. She no longer appeared amused. “When you are done here will you go back home?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you take me with you?” she asked nervously.

  He was surprised by the question. She had shown no real interest in his company, and now asked to continue traveling with him. “May I ask why?”

  “It is not because of you if that is what you are thinking,” she said. The thought had crossed his mind. “I am not out to steal you from your woman.” She smiled mischievously. “That is not to say that I couldn’t if I wanted to. I want to see Summerhall. It is important to me.”

  “All right,” he replied. He couldn’t think of any reason why she shouldn’t. “If you really want to go, then ok.” He wouldn’t mind the company on the way home either. “Is there anything else?”

  Her brow wrinkled and her tone became scolding again if not as harsh as it had been in the past. “Yes, as a matter of fact, there is. I see you working yourself hard. You do not let up at all. Every place we go you work them almost as hard as you do yourself.”

  “Is there a
question coming?” he asked nicely.

  Instead of getting upset she replied in a softer tone. “I wonder if your motivation is from a desire to do your best or from a need to keep your thoughts from home.”

  “I think you know me better than you realize,” he replied.

  She put her hands in her lap and fiddled with the thin robe she wore. “Tell me about her, about Katelyn,” she said the name awkwardly.

  That caught him off guard. He was also surprised to realize that this whole time they had been talking she hadn’t raised her voice or given any sign of anger once except for her momentary scolding. Maybe she was becoming more comfortable around him. “I don’t know where to begin. What do you want to know exactly?”

  “Hmmm, I hear that Midian women sit around cooking and cleaning all the time. That they spend all their days waiting on men. Is she like that?”

  From what Coran saw that seemed to describe Karandi women as well, but he didn’t comment. “Not even close. When other girls were wearing dresses and learning how to embroider, she was training with the sword.”

  Shirri was surprised by that. “Is she strong then?”

  “Very. She is one of the most strong-willed people I know.”

  Shirri thought a moment for the next question. “How can she do those things? Be strong and learn to fight? Did her father not have any say in it?”

  “He did, but he chose to indulge her. How can she do those things? She is a princess.”

  “You did not tell me that,” she protested. Then she stopped as if a thought had just come to her. “Is she from Summerhall too?” He nodded. “She is a Princess of Summerhall?” she gasped. “She will be the High Queen?”