Redemption: A Malvers War Story

by Tora Moon

  Tedehan nodded in agreement. “Your method is useful for more than just fighting the monsters. I’ll be talking to the keep alphas to ensure that before the end of the lunadar, every Red in my keep, if not my entire territory, will be able to form the fire-ring. I’m tired of having my territory destroyed by those monsters. It’s time to take back our land.”

  Histrun clapped Tedehan on the back. “Good for you! It certainly is a good feeling. In Strunland Territory, we’ve seen the billocks and ducorn herds increase now that they aren’t constantly hunted by monsters.”

  When the women finished burning the monster debris, the group returned to their horses and continued on their way.

  Later that afternoon, Tedehan paused on hill. Below them the forest thinned into the marshy lands of a swamp, with a nest in the center. It writhed with monsters nearly mature and ready to burst out and begin hunting.

  “We have to stop them before they leave the nest,” Tedehan said.

  “Of course we do,” Histrun said. He waved toward the nest. “Well, have at it. You wanted the practice. I’ll watch from here.”

  Zehala glared at him. He crossed his arms over his chest and sat back in his saddle. “What? I’m old and tired.”

  She snorted and threw him Kylara’s reins before loping down the hill with Norvela. This time, though, Zehala stayed on the sidelines and let Norvela take the lead in directing the fight.

  That night when they stopped at the safe house, the Dehanrolos fighters were ecstatic at their success in taking down a nest before it had a chance to do damage to the surrounding landscape—and without any injuries.

  Over the next three days as they traveled through the territory, they fought battles at ten different nest sites, and stopped three more marauding groups. After the third nest, Histrun suspected Norvela and Tedehan were taking a circuitous route in order to get more training, and to finally take the battle to the monsters. He didn’t blame them or stop them. He’d have done the same thing.

  Besides, it prolonged the dreaded meeting with Mendehan.

  “We’ll be crossing into Dehanlair Territory tomorrow,” Tedehan informed Histrun and Zehala as they ate dinner. “Norvela and I will ride with you to the Clan Keep. The other platoons will stay in Dehanrolos Territory and make their way to the other keeps.”

  ““They should be able to teach others the method. They’ve had plenty of experience now, after the roundabout route you’ve taken us on.” Histrun grumbled, putting a hand over his mouth to hide his grin.

  “You knew about that?”

  Histrun rolled his eyes. “Of course I did.”

  “And you didn’t stop us or say anything?” Norvela asked.

  “I didn’t see the need.” Histrun shrugged. “Your people needed the practice, and we’ll arrive at Dehanlair Keep within the specified time frame.”

  “Thank you, Histrun and Zehala,” Norvela said, looking each of them in the eye. “I don’t care what Mendehan says, I’m grateful you’ve come and helped us. This will make our job of protecting our people much easier now.”

  Histrun blinked the gathering moisture from his eyes. He still didn’t like getting praise for doing his job. Saving lives was all that mattered.

  * * *

  The next morning, Histrun and Tedehan’s platoons left the safe house and headed northeast, while the remaining Dehanrolos fighters turned back the way they’d come. Tedehan kept them on the road of crushed sheadash stone. They moved quickly, without stopping at any nest sites.

  By midmorning the trees began to thin as they rode through the cultivated land surrounding Dehanlair Keep. The stone fences around the empty outlying fields were broken, and as they rode closer to the keep, only straggly, forlorn-looking plants occupied the fields, and the pastures held just a few scrawny sheep and cattle. The handful of workers in the fields and pastures looked up at the platoon’s passage. Their eyes were tired and their shoulders slumped in despair. Dehanrolos Territory hadn’t seemed as hard-hit by the Malvers monsters as it appeared the clan-keep had been.

  Histrun’s brow furrowed as he turned to Tedehan. “Is it always like this?”

  Tedehan’s eyes were wide. “No. Something must be wrong.” His head swiveled from side to side, taking in the poor conditions. “Why didn’t he tell us it was this bad? How many people have been lost if they can’t repair the fences?”

  “If they don’t have any other crops or livestock,” Norvela said, “they won’t be able to survive the winter. The fields look like they’ve been poisoned by monster slime. The fighters should have stopped them long before then. No one has come out to clean it up, either.”

  “This explains why Mendehan finally asked for our help.” Histrun huffed out a breath and shook his head. “Damn fool. He should have called us in sooner. But why hasn’t he asked for reinforcements from his territory keeps?”

  “Maybe he’s been ill,” Zehala said, “or injured.”

  “We’ll soon find out.”

  Telen, snorted and danced in agitation. Histrun pulled him to a stop and looked all around. He breathed in deep, then gagged. “Monsters!”

  “Where? Why isn’t the alarm ringing?” Norvela asked, releasing her helbraught from its holder on her saddle.

  Histrun pointed across the field to their left. “There.”

  A middle-aged man with pale green hair, and a woman with sage-green hair stood up and stared at them. Together, they levered an older woman, her face lined and her green hair nearly colorless with age to her feet. Histrun couldn’t understand why such as elder would be out in the fields.

  “Monsters!” Tedehan yelled at the workers, pointing behind them. “Get out of there and to the keep. Hurry!”

  The workers turned, and screamed as a janack’s tentacle quested over the fence. They ran toward the fence’s gate, but the old woman tripped and tumbled to the ground. Histrun kicked Telen’s flanks, urging the horse to leap forward. He galloped toward the fence, praying he’d reach it in time. Other fighters thundered behind him. Using a trick from his younger days, Histrun kicked his feet from the stirrups and climbed onto the saddle. Balancing precariously on the galloping horse, he waited until it reached the fence. Then he leaped off, shifting in midair to his warrior form, grasping for the fence. His claws caught the top of it, and he scrambled over. He ran to the old woman.

  “I twisted my ankle,” she cried, as she struggled to stand up. “I think it’s broken.”

  A brecha sailed over the fence, tossed by the janack, and it raced toward them. Histrun howled and stood over the woman, bracing for an onslaught of spines. Instead, a wall of flames erupted in front of him as Zehala ran to stand next to him. Her helbraught glowed orange, and flames licked the blade. The rushing spines hit the fire-shield and sizzled into ash. With Zehala standing guard over the injured woman, Histrun ran toward the oncoming brecha, flexing his claws to activate his venom.

  He swiped across the brecha’s flat muzzle and across its large nostrils. It shrieked as green ichor poured from the wounds. It slashed out with its claws, and Histrun jumped back before swiping at it again. His claws caught its side, ripping open a large gash. It stumbled, and reached for Histrun again. Its movements growing slower as his venom worked its way through the monsters’ system. Histrun easily evaded it, and clawed the back of its head, nearly severing its neck. It shuddered as it crashed to the ground. Histrun leaped away from its flailing legs.

  He glanced quickly around the field, satisfied no other monsters had invaded it, then reached down, grabbed some dirt, and used it to rub away the few drops of monster ichor on his warrior pelt before shifting back to his natural form.

  The sounds of battle continued behind the fence. He limped back to where Zehala still stood over the injured woman. Sometime during the fight—or maybe it had been the leap from his horse—he’d pulled a muscle in his leg.

  Sweat bathed the old woman’s face, and she panted in pain.

  “She okay?” he asked.

  “Yes. We nee
d to get her to a healer.” Zehala frowned at him, then slapped his shoulder. “What were you thinking? You aren’t a young man anymore. You could have been killed!”

  He shrugged. “She needed help.”

  “You could have let one of the younger men play the hero.”

  “Perhaps.” He frowned, looked at the fence, then back at Zehala. “So how did you get in so fast?”

  “I was smart. I came in through the gate, like a sane person would do.”

  “Oh,” he said sheepishly. “I didn’t think about that. Let’s get her to the keep and a healer.” He bent down to pick up the woman, grunting with the effort. He staggered after a couple of steps, his leg threatening to give out on him.

  “Here, I can take her,” Tedehan said, hurrying up to Histrun and taking the woman from him. Admiration shone in his eyes. “Sweet Mother! That leap off your horse was something! I haven’t ever seen anything like it before.”

  “I don’t recommend it. It’s only for emergencies.” Histrun limped across the field and to his horse. What was I thinking?

  The two platoons couldn’t stop talking about Histrun’s incredible maneuver to save the woman as they remounted their horses and rode into the clan-keep. The other field workers and herders had already returned to the keep. The fighters rode directly to the keep-house, where Mendehan and his co-alpha, Salloreen, stood on the porch.

  Mendehan scowled, his thick forehead shadowing his pale-yellow eyes. He rubbed a hand over his extremely short, light-brown hair before re-crossing his arms over his chest. Red splotches covered his face, a strange black spot marked his neck, and his skin was tinged gray. He was shorter than most Posair men, only five and half feet tall, which Histrun believed, gave him an inferiority complex. Over the years since Histrun had seen him last, Mendehan had developed a paunch.

  Salloreen stood several feet away from her co-alpha. She’d pulled her burgundy-red hair into a high ponytail, and her gentle brown eyes crinkled with laugh lines. At sixty-five, she was over twenty years Mendehan’s junior, and as far as Histrun knew, the two weren’t lovers. Based on the way they stood, they barely tolerated each other.

  “What in the Crone’s fires are you doing here, Histrun?” Mendehan growled. “I didn’t invite you.”

  “I did,” Salloreen said, backing up a step, then straightening her shoulders. “We’ve lost too many people. We need help.”

  “No, we don’t. I’ll deal with you later.” The look he gave her was full of hate and malice.

  Salloreen cringed away from him.

  Histrun felt off-balance, unsure of what his team had stepped into. What is going on?

  “So, Histrun, still trying to be the big man?” Mendehan ground out. “I heard about your ‘heroics.’ Only a fool would do such a thing.”

  “Maybe if you’d protect your people like you’re supposed to do, I wouldn’t have had to.” Histrun leaned on the pommel of his saddle, trying to look unconcerned. “Where were your sentries that were supposed to be watching for monster attacks? Where were the alarms so your workers had time to return safely?”

  Zehala put a placating hand on Histrun’s arm. “Now isn’t the time, Histrun,” she murmured. Raising her voice, she pointed to the woman sitting in front of Tedehan, “Where is your healer? This woman needs attending to. I believe she broke her ankle.”

  Salloreen’s face paled. “She’s on her way. Were there any other people hurt—or killed?”

  Zehala shook her head. “No. She’s the only one injured.”

  “The Zehis method works,” Norvela blurted, then added a quick, “Alphas. We’ve seen how effective it is.”

  “Really?” Salloreen asked, taking a step forward. Hope lit her face.

  Norvela nodded. “Yes, Alpha. We even used it to save a singular of boars from a group of monsters.”

  “Boars?” Mendehan scoffed. “Filthy beasts.”

  “They provide meat and are the Goddess’s creatures,” Salloreen said. “They are just as deserving of life as any other creature.” She turned her head from him and mumbled, “Besides, what else are we going to eat?”

  Mendehan’s fist slammed into Salloreen’s cheek, causing her to stumble. “Watch your mouth, bitch!”

  Histrun sat on his horse stunned, unable to move. He’d never seen an alpha attack his co-alpha before—or, for that matter, a man hit any woman in the clan. Only a rogue would do such a thing.

  Mendehan’s glare at Histrun seemed to dare him to do something. Histrun glanced at Mendehan’s still-clenched fists. If he answered the implicit challenge in Mendehan’s eyes, Histrun would become the new Clan Alpha—the last thing he wanted to do. He shook his head and looked away.

  “I always knew you were a coward,” Mendehan snorted. “I want you out of here tomorrow.”

  After what Histrun had seen already, he wasn’t leaving before he found out what Mendehan’s problem was, and how to help the Dehanlair people. Histrun narrowed his eyes, glowering at Mendehan, and shook his head. “Sorry, I can’t do that. Did you forget the Supreme’s orders?”

  Mendehan’s head snapped up. He didn’t expect Histrun to know of the Supreme’s directive. “Then stay. But keep out of my way, Histrun, and we won’t have any trouble.” Mendehan stomped into the keep-house, slamming the door shut behind him.

  Histrun stared at the closed door, trying to make sense of what had happened to Mendehan. Even for him, this was strange behavior.

  The healer arrived with two strong men and took the injured woman away.

  “My apologies,” Salloreen said. “May I start over? Welcome to Dehanlair Keep. Thank you, Histrun, for saving Betsia.”

  “Zehala helped.”

  Salloreen inclined her head toward Zehala. “My gratitude to you as well, Zehala. Come. Come in and refresh yourselves and tell me about your journey here. Norvela and Tedehan, after you’ve shown Histrun’s people to the guest quarters, please come join us in my office. I want to hear your experiences using the Zehis method.”

  “Yes, Alpha,” Norvela said.

  Histrun and Zehala dismounted, handed their horse’s reins to Maheli, and then climbed the stairs to the keep-house as Norvela led the fighters away from the courtyard.

  Chapter 6

  Salloreen led them to her office, where a platter of sandwiches and a steaming pot of taevo waited. Histrun gratefully sank into a comfortable chair, took the offered cup, and sipped it. In the light streaming through the windows, he could clearly see she had a black eye and a bruise blossoming on her cheek. Other bruises marked her face and arms. Anger ripped through him. He gritted his teeth, carefully set the cup back down, and clamped his hands around the chair arm to keep himself from rushing from the room to find Mendehan and tear out his throat.

  Zehala leaned forward, frowning, then pointed at Salloreen’s black eye. “Did he also do that to you? Does he beat you often?” she asked quietly.

  Salloreen covered her face with her hands and nodded.

  “What happened?”

  She slowly lifted her head, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “He fell off his horse last year and hurt his back. He started drinking to ease the pain, and it turns out he’s a mean drunk. Now he drinks all the time. This spring, things became even worse. At first he only hit me, but then he started beating others. Mendehan became paranoid, and now he doesn’t let anyone leave the keep, which has allowed the Malvers monsters to run amok. You can’t imagine how bad it’s become here.”

  Histrun exchanged a look with Zehala.

  *What in the Crone’s fires have we walked into?* she asked in mind-speech.

  He shrugged. *No matter what it is, we have to help these people.*

  Salloreen, oblivious to the exchange, continued, “He’s become more belligerent and violent the past few lunadars. You’re our last hope. In fact, I’m surprised you received my message.

  “We can’t lose any more people, any more life, because he’s too stubborn to use something you developed.” She huffed. “It’s stupid
.”

  “Why haven’t you let anyone know it was so bad?” Zehala asked.

  “And why hasn’t anyone challenged him, like your second, Lodehan?”

  “We’ve tried!” Salloreen threw her hands up in the air. “He formed the Black Guard, a goon squad, loyal only to him. They stop anyone who tries to leave the keep. After two of my men were returned dead, I stopped trying to send people out. No one here at the keep is strong enough to challenge him. Lodehan certainly isn’t. I think Wendehan, the Dehanreen Keep Alpha, or even Rodehan, the Dehanrolos Keep Alpha could. But they don’t know they need to.”

  “Well, we’ll take care of that,” Histrun said. “When Norvela and Tedehan return to Dehanrolos Keep, they’ll take word with them what has been happening.”

  “If Mendehan allows them to leave.” Salloreen didn’t sound hopeful. “But don’t let them know just yet. They need to act normal or they’ll be killed.”

  Histrun sat back, startled. “A whole platoon? I doubt that.”

  “You don’t know Mendehan’s depravity.”

  A knock on the door interrupted them. Norvela and Tedehan entered, and talk shifted to discussions on using the Zehis method and stories of how Zehala and Layhalya had discovered making the fire-rings. While he listened, Histrun mulled over what he’d seen and heard already, and how to save the people of Dehanlair Keep from Mendehan’s corruption. Too bad he was a Clan Alpha, otherwise Histrun could just kill him as a rogue and be done with it. But killing a Clan Alpha outside of a challenge was the type of crime the Supreme would get involved in, and her punishments were worse than death—or so he’d heard. She hadn’t had to punish anyone in Histrun’s lifetime.

  Histrun could challenge the man—and win, as he was only four years Mendehan’s senior—but he belonged to the Strunlair clan and had had enough of being a clan alpha. He still hadn’t decided what to do about Mendehan when they went to dinner that night.

  The dining hall seemed strangely empty. Histrun scanned the room, trying to discern the problem, when Mendehan staggered into the room and to his seat.