Pawns (The Wielders of Arantha Book 1)

by Patrick Hodges

  “Jerril?” Sen inquired. “He was High Mage, what, three hundred years ago?”

  “Three hundred fifty.” He met Sen's gaze again. “What you just said matches Jerril's prophecy almost exactly.”

  Sen's eyebrows raised. “Do you remember anything else from the text?”

  “No,” Mizar said, running his fingers through his beard. “It was right before he died. Many historians have tried to interpret its meaning. Most agree that Jerril was not referring to an actual tree, but a metaphorical one.”

  “Merdeen called it the 'Mother Tree',” Sen said. “There's even an ancient word for it, which he graciously provided, as there likely wasn't an Elystran symbol in existence to represent it. It was written at the bottom of the page in regular Daradian script.”

  “Mother Tree?” Mizar asked. “That also sounds familiar. And I think I remember the word you speak of. What was it … Ix … Ixtro –”

  “Ixtrayu,” said Sen.

  “Yes, that's it.” He glanced sidelong at his apprentice. “Nothing about female Wielders, I take it?”

  “Not so far, Master. But like I said, I have a long way to go.”

  “I understand. Keep on it Sen, you have my faith.”

  “Thank you Master,” Sen said. “There was one other thing: I found several letters hidden, rather poorly I might add, in the back binding of one of the volumes. It would seem that Merdeen corresponded regularly with a scholar from Barju. His name was Miro. They spoke at length about many of Merdeen's visions, but nothing that included female Wielders. If there were letters regarding that subject, I haven't found them yet. Perhaps it was at that point that Sardor had Merdeen locked away, thus ending his communications with Miro.”

  “That's certainly possible.” Mizar smiled. “You've done well, Sen. That's more than I was hoping for in such a short time. When we return to Dar, I will help you with the rest of the translation. I'm convinced the answers lie within.”

  At that moment, a deep rumbling sound drifted through the darkness of the forest. Both men turned in its direction. “Master?” Sen asked fearfully.

  “I hear it too,” Mizar said, rising to his feet. He waved his hands at the fire, reducing it to mere embers. He strode forward, scooped up two handfuls of dirt and tossed them onto the coals. “Hurry, Sen, help me put this out.”

  Sen joined Mizar in shoveling dirt on the campfire until it was reduced to nothing more than a few wisps of smoke. Their task completed, Mizar pointed to a large rock that jutted out of the ground twenty yards away, behind which the merychs had been tied. “Sen, go hide behind that boulder,” Mizar said. “And don't come out until I tell you to. If things go badly, take your merych and head for the garrison as fast as you can.”

  All the blood drained from Sen's face. “Master?”

  “Just do what I say, Sen!”

  Sen gave no further objections. Gathering up his belongings, he made his way behind the boulder, disappearing from sight.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  V axi slowed her chava, Tig, to a halt, glancing furtively to both sides of the forest path they now occupied. She hopped off and led her mount to the side of the road. Tig immediately began to snack on the narrow-leafed plants growing at the foot of the trees that towered hundreds of feet above their heads.

  After leaving the village, she rode through the night and part of the morning before stopping for sleep and food from her saddlebag. Susarra told her to put as much distance as possible between her and the village before the tribe discovered she was missing, and she'd done that. Vaxi was confident she was far enough away now that they wouldn't catch up with her. Only Susarra knew where she was heading, and she assured Vaxi she would keep that knowledge secret no matter what.

  Over the centuries, Ixtrayu women had Sojourned to all six of the other countries since their tribe was founded. Political climates changed, often without the Ixtrayu's knowledge, but even so, Susarra knew where to send Vaxi with the best chance of completing her Sojourn and returning unharmed.

  On the eastern coast was the land of Vanda, whose men were known to be crude, rough, barbaric anarchists with little or no regard for the welfare of the women they bedded. The Ixtrayu had deemed Vanda off-limits centuries ago.

  Also off-limits was Barju, a mountainous land due north of the village whose people were, in one way or another, involved in the country's mining industry. The men there were hard-working and known to be excellent breeding stock, but Susarra explained that Onara had forbidden any further Sojourns there when, thirty-two years ago, an Ixtrayu named Proda journeyed there and never returned.

  Susarra eliminated the lands of Rhys and Imar from contention because, in her words, the men there were “sluggards and ruffians.” The point of the Sojourn was to mate with a man whose strength and vitality was worthy of adding to the Ixtrayu, and her grandmother assured her that the best chance of finding such a man was either in Agrus or Darad. In the end, Susarra chose Darad for the simple fact that she'd Sojourned there herself forty years before, a Sojourn that ended up producing her mother, Ilora.

  It would take two or three days to travel from the village to the Daradian border, Susarra had explained. First Vaxi would traverse the Plains of Iyan, which would likely be mostly devoid of life as the herds of kova had migrated to the south by this time of year. Men rarely ventured outside their borders to hunt, as they generally bred cattle and other animals for the purposes of supplying their food and leather. Besides, the Plains of Iyan were governed by no kingdom, which meant anyone who traveled through it did so at their own peril.

  Tig was a strong, healthy chava, only ten years old according to Olma, and had enough food stored in its body to give it the energy to run for two days without eating. As they reached the point where the Plains of Iyan ended and the forest began, however, Tig began to complain from hunger, as evidenced from the loud gurgling sound coming from her stomach. Thankfully, there was plenty of plant life within the forest that she could feast upon.

  “Okay, girl, we can rest here for a while,” Vaxi said, patting Tig's neck. Tig acknowledged her with a grunt before continuing her meal.

  Vaxi reached into her saddle-bag and brought out the bundle of food Aarna gave her the night she left, which was a goodly amount of dried, salted kova meat. She selected two large strips for herself, and returned the rest to the bag.

  She sat down by the side of the road, wrapping one arm around Tig's thick foreleg as she ate. A soft, cooling breeze blew through the forest, raising gooseflesh on her arms. It was pleasant to be out of the hot sun, but she wondered how cold the evenings would get. Her ears perceived the rustling of the branches of the reesa trees, which were the largest living things she'd ever seen, nearly three times the height of the huxa trees that grew in the forest just north of the village. Apart from the wind and the calls of distant birds that nested in the uppermost branches, she heard nothing. It unsettled her.

  As a huntress, Vaxi possessed a heightened sense of self-awareness, and for the first time since leaving the village, the full scope of how alone she was hit home. She was farther, much farther, from everything and everyone she'd ever known and loved than at any other time in her life.

  Her grandmother had prepared her for the dangers she might encounter, but knowing the perils of traveling alone in a strange land and being able to overcome them were two different things. She could die out here. If she did, her people would never find her. They probably wouldn't even look for her, after what she did.

  The thought turned to acid in her stomach. She'd disobeyed Onara's directive, maintained for the past thirteen years by Kelia. The Protectress, Arantha's vessel. She was disobeying the divine, generous being that had watched over the Ixtrayu for eight centuries.

  She closed her eyes, remembering the look on Nyla's face when she rode past her and away from the village, sneaking away in the dark of night like a coward. She imagined the same pained look on the faces of Sarja, of Runa and her sister huntresses, and of Kelia, who had been
her mother's companion and who had watched over Vaxi since she was a little girl.

  Vaxi had let herself be dominated, bullied by her grandmother. But why? Susarra was old, overweight, and crippled. She was no match for Vaxi physically. But Susarra was her family. She was the only blood relative she had left. She was also a Councilor, and Vaxi felt obligated to listen to Susarra's voice over everyone else's, even Kelia's. Like she was no more than a scared little girl.

  What would happen if she turned back right now? When word got out that she'd gone on Sojourn, her grandmother would be questioned. Maybe Susarra would be removed from the Council. Maybe she'd even be shunned, forced to live out her days as a pariah. And perhaps, Vaxi thought with a shudder, the same fate would befall her. Even if she returned to the village, safe and with child, would her people welcome her back into the fold?

  Vaxi stood up, swallowed her last morsel of meat, and took a swig from her water-skin. Then she led Tig, who had also apparently sated her hunger for the time being, back onto the road.

  Susarra said it was Vaxi's destiny to usher in the newest generation of Ixtrayu. Whether she believed it at the time, or whether she believed it now, didn't matter anymore. She'd made her choice. She had to go on.

  She climbed back into the saddle, nudging Tig into motion. The road ahead was long, but if she kept a good pace, she could reach the border of Darad by nightfall. Another kick to Tig's flanks, and her chava burst into a full gallop.

  * * *

  Though the canopy of leaves above her head was thick, there were plenty of spots where the sun shone through, providing ample light for Vaxi to continue her journey. However, as the afternoon wore on and the trees' massive shadows grew longer and longer, she realized there was a chance she might not reach the forest's edge by sundown. She had no way of knowing just how far away the border was, as the winding path through the forest seemed to have no end. There were several other smaller, narrower, more overgrown paths that intersected with the one she was on, but she was confident she was going the right way. The path widened the further she went, to the point where three chavas could travel side-by-side on it without wandering into the undergrowth.

  The sound of a distant branch snapping echoed through the trees, causing Vaxi to slow Tig to a canter. It had come from somewhere ahead of her but still distant, based on the clarity of the sound. Vaxi gripped the handle of her bow, unslinging it from around her body. Then, she reached over her shoulder and grasped the fletching of one of the many huxa-wood arrows in her quiver. She expertly nocked the arrow between the second and third fingers of her left hand, but didn't draw back on the string; instead, she kept the arrow pointed at the road as Tig ambled forward. Vaxi's eyes darted from left to right, scanning the forest on both sides of the road and wondering if this forest, like the one near the village, was home to packs of large nemza cats that would tear her apart if they had the chance. Nemzas generally preferred to live in the lowlands where it was warmer, so it was unlikely they inhabited this particular stretch of forest, which was at a much higher altitude. Still, there was always the chance. Hopefully Tig's size would intimidate any predators into thinking twice before attacking her.

  Progressing down the trail, Vaxi felt some reassurance that the trees seemed to be thinning out. She hoped this was a sign that the forest's end was drawing near.

  She forged ahead, keeping a vigilant eye all around her. She had seen nothing more threatening than a group of burrowing rodents scampering through the trees. No large animals, or people to fear. Once again, the loneliness of her situation crept in on her.

  As Vaxi rounded another bend in the path, she heard another twig snap. This one was much closer than the previous one, and it was behind her. Vaxi whipped her head around, catching a flash of movement behind a cluster of trees to her right. Then she heard more movement to her left, and she saw something. It looked like a person, atop a large, four-legged animal. They were riding through the trees, parallel to the road she traveled.

  Keeping her hands securely fastened on her bow and arrow, she gently nudged Tig into quickening her pace. With a snort, Tig obliged.

  Tig continued around another bend in the path, and Vaxi had to call, “Stop, girl!” There was something in the road ahead of them. Several somethings.

  Standing still, facing her, were four people, each one sitting atop a saddled animal that Vaxi assumed, based on its appearance, was a merych. The beasts, much like their riders, had colorful marks upon their bodies, streaks of blue and red that looked to be made from some form of dye.

  These riders were men. The first men she'd ever seen.

  Susarra had taught her the physical differences between men and women. She'd even shown Vaxi some rather crude drawings of the male anatomy. Vaxi now knew what needed to happen for her to become pregnant, and she wasn't relishing the idea any more than the pain she would feel the first time it happened.

  She was prepared to endure this pain for the good of her tribe. One look at these men, however, and she knew it wasn't a pain she wanted to experience at their hands. She suddenly became very afraid as the men silently eyed her, scanning her body as if it was their next meal. Their looks made her feel dirty, soiled. She knew she was not in the company of friends.

  All her life, she'd been taught that Elystran men would not hesitate to victimize a woman, particularly a young one riding alone through the woods. Vaxi found it hard to believe that all men had such callousness in their hearts. If that were true, far more Sojourns would have ended in disaster. But it would seem these riders were exactly the type of men she'd hoped to avoid.

  When she began her journey, Vaxi was confident that her strength, her archery prowess, and Tig's ability to outrun any merych would carry her through. She prayed it would be enough.

  All four men bore beards of different lengths, along with pieces of metal that pierced the skin of their cheeks and earlobes. Their clothes were various shades of brown, and from their smell it appeared they didn't bathe much. She silently cursed the wind; had it not been blowing in the same direction she was riding, she would have picked up their stench a mile away.

  She searched their eyes for even the faintest trace of amicability, but saw none. Two of the men, upon seeing the weapon in her hands, produced bows of their own.

  The leader, a short, burly man with beady eyes, a ragged black beard and a nose that looked like someone had squashed it against his face, spoke. “Well, look 'ere, boys, at what's come'n delivered itself right to us.” The other men's faces cracked into ugly, toothy smiles, and Vaxi felt her stomach churn.

  “Let me pass,” Vaxi said, showing them her weapon but not pointing it at them yet. She hoped her voice wouldn't betray her anxiety. “I am on my way to Darad.”

  “Oh, izzat right?” the man said. “An' where izzit you're from, gell?”

  Vaxi had anticipated being asked this question, as it was one that was regularly asked of Ixtrayu going on Sojourn. The story they'd told for centuries was that they were members of a nameless tribe of nomads who eked out a living in an area close to the southern wetlands. This would dissuade men from attempting to locate them once the Sojourn ended.

  Vaxi had practiced this cover story for hours. However, these men were most assuredly not potential mates, so she didn't feel like wasting her time telling it. “Where I'm from is none of your concern. Let me pass.”

  She heard more movement behind her, and turned to see two more riders emerge from the forest behind her, cutting off any possible retreat. They, too, had bows with nocked arrows in their hands.

  “Be my pleasure, gell,” the leader drawled. “But first ya gotta pay a toll.”

  “Toll?”

  “Yeah. We'll start with any coin or valuables ya got on ya.”

  Tig began to stamp her hooves nervously, and Vaxi gently patted her neck in an attempt to calm her. “I have no such things.”

  A flash of annoyance crossed his face. “What'cha got in yer bags, den?”

  “Just food and
water.”

  The large man on the leader's right broke out in an ugly, lascivious grin, “We'll be takin' dat too.” He ran his eyes over her body again, making her skin crawl.

  She'd had enough of this. “I have no quarrel with you,” Vaxi said, a tremor entering her voice. “I will ask you one more time to step aside. I will not ask again. Do not force me to kill you.” She raised her bow, aiming it at the leader.

  He didn't seem the least bit fazed. The large rider on his right turned to face him. “Well, dat's jus' rude, innit, brudda?”

  “Sure is. Mebbe we'll jus' take the toll in some other way.” He gestured with his arms, and the two archers riding alongside them pulled back on their drawstrings, the arrows pointed right at her.

  “Ya thinkin' what I'm thinkin', Voris?” the big man asked.

  “Sure am. She looks young 'n healthy. I bet she could go for hours.”

  Vaxi knew exactly what he meant, and she knew equally well that she would die before she let herself be subjected to such treatment. She felt the hair on the nape of her neck rise as she calculated the best possible ways to escape. There were six men in all, and four of them were armed with bows. There was no way to know if they were as skilled as she was, or if they were skilled at all. The other two, the leader and the grinning man, wore swords at their sides as well as a couple of bone-handled knives stuck into their belts. If she could get past them, Tig would easily outdistance them. She just needed to survive the first volley of arrows.

  “Dis' your last chance, gell,” Voris said. “Get offa your beast and come wit us, and mebbe you'll live to see mornin',” the leader said. “Though ya might be a bit sore. My brudda tends ta be rather rough wit his women. Ain' dat right, Steff?”

  The grinning man nodded. “Yeah, Voris. Though dey always thank me after'ards.”