“You look like you made it okay,” Coran started. “No wounds?”
“I was luckier than you,” Miko replied. He studied Coran with a sideways glance. “All better? From what I heard you should be dead many times over.”
“I am fine. And I think the events must have been overstated.”
Miko laughed off his modesty. “Let’s see. You were outnumbered a few hundred to one with no way to escape. So you did what? You charged them? Yes, it must have been overstated,” he finished sarcastically.
Coran noticed that the men working were watching them as well out of the corner of their eyes. Or more likely they were watching him. He didn’t want to offend anybody, but it was getting on his nerves. “Miko, why do they all look at me that way? And no evasions this time, I want the truth.” He gave his friend a look as unwavering as steel to get his point across and waited for the trader to explain.
“You will find out soon enough. I suppose you deserve an explanation.” Miko cleared his throat. “I told you that the center of our lives as a people is our division. It is not just between She’al and Sha’elt, but between the tribes as well. In all our time no one has come to unite us to fight the followers of Sha’elt. No one has been trusted enough by all the different peoples. She’al has stated that the day would come when the war would finally be fought that would decide the fate of our people. Afterwards, only one god would be left to guide us all.”
“What does that have to do with me? I am not a Karand.”
“That is exactly the point,” Miko informed him with a waggle of his finger. “In She’al’s wisdom she has said that one would come to unite us. Since we have proven that it cannot be done by one of us, an outsider must be the one to do it.” He paused to let the information seep in, then he indicated the men working. “It is written that those who follow him will know him as their chosen leader, their champion. Those who fight him will know him as M’Shai.” He cleared his throat again and Coran held his stare to await the translation. “Death.”
The word sent a chill through his body. It was too close to what he had been feeling during the fight. He had felt like he was dancing with death, or bringing it. “Well it should be easy enough to set them strait. I am not who they think I am,” he protested. He was no prophecy come to life. He was definitely not about to be any people’s leader in some ancient war. Miko did not answer right away and Coran knew what the man was thinking. “You believe it.” The accusation in his voice was clear. “You think I am this leader of yours.”
The trader shrugged uncomfortably. “I can only base my opinion on what I have seen, and what others have seen.” The last was said more quietly.
“Do you believe it?” Coran asked insistently.
Miko replied reluctantly while staring at the stones at his feet. “I do.”
In all the time they had spent together he knew Miko to be a man not taken by fancies. Maybe he had been wrong all along. Maybe the religious aspect was too strong an influence even for a practical man.
The idea was absurd. “I am done with what I promised to do Miko. I am going home as soon as I can.” Could he leave? How was he going to get there? In all the planning he had forgotten one important detail. An enemy fleet still held the narrows, and no friendly ships have docked here since Treska’s two months ago. It didn’t matter. He would walk if he had to. “I am leaving,” he reiterated to make sure the point was understood.
“No one will try to stop you,” Miko assured him. “If you are truly the one then you will return when we need you. Nothing can change that.”
Coran would like to place a bet on that. Not trusting himself to respond, he left Miko to watch his departing back. His first assessment seemed to be the correct one. Karands were a strange people. Maybe insane was a better word for it.
He tried to find Shirri, but was politely told that she was too exhausted to be disturbed. Apparently, she was being given shelter in someone’s home in the city. The two story residence that had belonged to Tammaz was unsuitable for habitation. In their frenzy the men had set fire to the structure, burning part of it out.
On his return to the barracks Coran was stopped by Ruan and two young men he knew to be Ruan’s friends. Between them they half dragged a large, naked man. Rolls of fat bounced as he was jostled about.
“Coran,” Ruan began excitedly, “I have brought Tammaz before you for judgment.”
“Judgment? Why me?”
“You led the attack,” Ruan stated in a way that said it should be obvious to anyone. “It must be done and only you can be considered qualified.” He leaned closer to speak in Coran’s ear. “She’al believes in fairness and justice. If anyone else were to decide, the result would be tainted by revenge.”
Coran considered the words. Actually, he was impressed by Ruan’s understanding of the situation. Even more so, that the man did not condone acts of vengeance. “Very well, I will judge him.” The man Tammaz appeared relieved that his fate was not in the hands of those who had the most reason to want him dead. A hopeful grin spread across his fat face. “Tell me his crimes.”
Ruan tried to put some formality into his tone. “He has forced women into his bed, including young girls. He has contributed to and encouraged the act of slavery. He has also ordered the murders of innocent people.” As he talked, a small crowd gathered around to listen.
It seemed that Tammaz deserved death. He didn’t doubt the validity of Ruan’s claims, and his sense of justice left little choice in the matter. The question was how it should be done. Excessive cruelty in taking his life would serve nothing but to increase the bloodlust in the populace.
“Behead him. Then put it on a pole where the fleet out there can see it.” Maybe that would scare them off. Some of those gathered cheered his decision; he forced himself to ignore it. The death of anyone should not be applauded. “Ruan, men like Tammaz do not respect life enough to take it themselves. If you will not execute him yourself than I will do it.” Ruan needed to understand that he had taken some responsibility for the fate of Tammaz by bringing the man foreword, and even more so, by asking men to come here and fight. “Killing should not be passed off to others. Leaders have to take responsibility or we end up like him.”
Ruan nodded reluctantly. “I will do it.”
Coran clapped him on the shoulder. “Good man,” he said and watched the condemned babble and bawl as he was dragged away.
From what he could find out it was the second day since the attack. He had slept through the first. Since he had nothing else to do, sleep seemed a good idea after his little walk.
It took a while for the thoughts Miko had put there to go away. His main concern right now was getting home. His earlier determination to walk if necessary was faulted unless he was prepared to swim a great distance since two seas stood between him and home. He wanted to strike out in frustration, but once again he could only wait and hope.
Shirri stood by the window that overlooked the square. She watched as men led horse drawn carts full of stacked bodies out of the compound’s gates and down the street where they disappeared from sight. She did not remember collapsing from fatigue and being carried up here to this room to sleep. Neheya had been by to check on her and informed her how she had gotten here. It was a simple room with a narrow cot, and an old wardrobe for clothes. A thin mattress covered the cot. Thin white curtains framed the cracked window out of which she looked.
She turned towards the door as someone knocked. “Who is it?”
“Your foolish brother,” came the reply, muffled by the door.
“Come in,” she said, and waited for him to enter. Ruan had a seriousness to him that was not there before the battle. “Not as foolish as you used to be.”
His smile was weak. “Is that a compliment?”
“The only one you will get today.”
He approached her as he talked. “So, how are you feeling?”
“Better.” She could see that something was bothering him. “What is wrong
?”
“Tammaz,” he answered simply.
“What about him? I did not know he was still alive.”
“He is not. Not anymore. I killed him.” Then Ruan explained what had happened with Coran and his judgment.
She could tell that while her brother seemed to understand the justice in what he did, the act of execution bothered him. “You did nothing wrong,” she told him. “The decision was the correct one.”
“I know,” he said, and forced a smile that was a little stronger than before.
“It seems that you were right about him.” She didn’t have to say who she was talking about.
“All I know is that there was something different about him. I mean a Midian dressed as an Anagassi? Who would have thought to ever see such a thing?” he said, sounding more like his old self.
“A Midian who can also fight like an Anagassi,” she added.
“No one disputes that. Not after the other night. What he did, attacking them, it was...” He seemed to search for the right word.
“Unbelievable,” she supplied.
“Yes, unbelievable. Did you see the faces of the Shiomi? I think they were actually afraid of him.”
“Would you not be if two Anagassi were intent on killing you?”
“I suppose so,” he agreed before continuing. “Anyway, the story is already spreading. Yesterday, people started to leave to spread the word of what happened here. They are going to all the villages and even across the mountains to the Heventi. I heard that some left for Nav’Narr as well.”
“That could be a mistake,” Shirri stated. “When Crecy fell, Hezkir of Nav’Narr became the undisputed Zahr of the Novelah. He will come here to claim the city.”
“Hezkir is no Zahr of mine or anyone else here,” Ruan spoke fiercely. “He left us to our fate, refusing to send help. He may come, but Crecy belongs to the people who fought for it. There is talk of forming a council to lead us.”
“What will you do if Hezkir does come? Fight him?”
“If we must,” he said defiantly.
“Just when I thought you had grown up.” Shirri shook her head. “Has there not been enough bloodshed for you? Will there not be more than enough to come? Do not forget that the M’Shai has come.” Her tongue stumbled over the word but she didn’t let it stop her. “There will be battles enough without us fighting among ourselves.”
“So what would you have us do? Bow down to him?”
“Put your trust in She’al,” she told him calmly.
Her brother did seem to calm himself. It was something that usually took him much longer to do. She could remember times out among the camps when he would rage for hours against the injustices done to their people, speaking with hate in his heart instead of with his head. Their father did not let his heart alone rule him. That was a lesson Shirri tried to keep in mind even when her temper was at its worst.
After a few minutes Ruan spoke again, but it was not what she expected him to say. “Why are you leaving with him?”
“Because I must.” That was not really an answer, but she did not want to explain everything not even to her own brother.
“What did Neheya say to you? Did she tell you to go?” he asked insistently.
“No. She told me to find my inner self and that through She’al’s wisdom I would know what to do.”
“Do you know?”
“Yes. I must go.”
Ruan frowned slightly at her refusal to tell him more. “Do you have feelings for this Midian?”
She was caught off guard by the question and it took her a moment to respond. “I do not know, but if I do have feelings it is not in the way you think. There is something about him. If he needs me I must be there.”
“If you must,” he said sounding resigned to the fact. “Then may She’al go with you, and the Light protect you.”
“You too,” she replied. I hope it will be enough.
The wave broke against the shore and sea water splashed across the sand, rising to a spot a pace from his soft, brown-booted feet. The beach was nestled between two steep hillsides where the land leveled out on top into cliffs. Behind him sand became rock as another hill emerged to block his sight of the city, or more importantly to block anyone from seeing him.
Coran found this place the day after first waking up from his wounds. The awe and fear in the eyes of every Karand he met was wearing on him. Worse, the looks were becoming more reverent every day. He cringed inside whenever he saw the look of adoration they had for him. It was so bad that he actually preferred those who still eyed him with fear. As a result he spent most of his days here, alone. He only went into the city to sleep in the barracks, which had become home for now, or to eat whatever some of the women who had taken over cooking fixed for those who had come to fight and still remained in the city.
Miko had left five days after the attack. Saying good-bye to the man who had risked his life and guided him, without complaint, into danger was difficult. For those reasons and for being the one person who he could talk to without fear of offending, he would miss the trader. Miko went overland with some people who lived near the mountains. From there he was confident he would have no trouble making it home.
Coran was not so sure of his own chances. The fleet that had been holding the narrows disappeared within a day after a boat was spotted coming ashore where Tammaz’s head was displayed. They got the message that Crecy was no longer theirs. The trouble was that no other ships had been seen since. He thought about trying for another port westward, but some rumors came to them during the autumn that all ports, Midian as well as Karand, were closed. There were no ships traveling the sea except in expectation of a fight. There were also rumors that the Ithanians were getting involved somehow. The world was preparing for war and no one trusted anyone else.
None of that helped his situation. He had two weeks until the first of winter and no way home.
Soelidin had been mortally wounded in the attack. Apparently, he had not stayed back, but followed Coran into the thick of it. Luckily Neheya had found him in time. He left just after Miko did, for the desert to the south. He said he had to advise his people on what was happening.
Coran did spend some time before breakfast and after dinner advising Ruan in his new position as head of the Crecy guards. It was because of his actions in gathering the army that liberated the city that he was appointed to such a post. To the young man’s credit he was taking his duties very seriously. The situation with Tammaz forced him to think more before he acted. Coran gave suggestions on training and how many would be needed for an adequate defense if it should be required. They discussed better defenses and the necessity of gates.
As for the city itself, the people elected four men and a woman to act as a council. Their first act was to distribute food from the city’s granaries. It turned out that Tammaz had plenty of food squirreled away. No one would be going hungry this winter, and with the fear of slavers gone from the land, more land would be cleared and planted come spring.
He thought he could start talking to Shirri, but that didn’t go very well. He asked her about the whole leader thing and she went quiet. In his frustration over that and his need for transportation he said a few choice words about Karands and their reclusive nature. She didn’t take it very well and the conversation quickly degenerated into a trading of insults. That was a week ago and he had hardly seen her since. He wondered if she still wanted to go with him. Would she put up with his loathe company just to see a city? It wouldn’t matter unless he found a way to get there.
A scraping on the rocks of the hill behind him made him turn around. A boy in brown pants and wearing a hole-ridden cloak scrambled down the incline. He could not have been more than eight.
“Sir!” he called. At least it wasn’t M’Shai. He recognized the boy. He was one of the few who dared to actually speak when near him.
“What is it Keren?”
“A ship!” he said excitedly. He knew how important news like th
at was to him. “In the harbor.”
“What kind of ship?” he asked, careful not to let his hopes get too high.
“A Midian ship.”
Midian? What could that mean? “Could you tell what kind of ship it is?”
Keren shook his small head. “They sent someone ashore to find you.”
“Looking for me? Let’s go.” He stood up and quickly brushed off the sand from his pants and stepped lively up the hill. He had to wait for Keren at the top. The boy was having trouble keeping up. As he waited, he ran a hand unconsciously over the handle of his Western sword. One of the Karands had found it and brought it to him a few days ago. When Keren caught up they continued to the city.
They reached the harbor area in half an hour, where he was told that the man who wanted him was in the tavern. It was the same place he had met with Treska. Coran opened the door and entered. The man behind the bar was the same and he was even wiping clean mugs piled on the counter in front of him just like the last time. At the same table as before sat the same curly haired captain.
“Come and sit, My Lord,” he invited. There were two mugs filled with dark ale on the table. “I see that you have finished with your business here.”
Coran took the other plain wooden chair. “Am I mistaken or do you believe in who I am this time?”
Treska laughed openly, as if he was with an old friend. “Your Princess vouched for you.” He lifted his mug and drank deeply, then set it down with a thunk.
“Is that why you are here? Did she send you?” Coran guessed. Why else would anyone be sailing so far in these times.
“She did. Paid me rather well too.”
“Good for you.” Coran drank from his mug. The bitter brew tasted strange after so long with only water to drink. He missed the red wine he preferred. “Do you need time before we go?”
Fire And Ice (Book 1) Page 38