Redemption: A Malvers War Story

by Tora Moon

  The morning sun shone on the fertile fields, and ripening grain waved in the soft breeze. Several vegetable plots had already been harvested and the produce preserved for the coming winter. Various shades of orange dotted the ground as the squashes broke through the covering vines; they’d soon be ready to pick. They passed a crew mending fences, ensuring they were strong enough to withstand any monster incursions. They turned at the first fork in the road that would take them northwest and to Strunlair Keep. The route took them through Strunland’s orchards, where glistening red and yellow apples hung heavily from the tree limbs.

  Histrun couldn’t help noticing the sharp contrast of the well-maintained fences and abundant fields of Strunland Territory to the desolate lands around Dehanlair Keep. He wondered which alpha team had won the competition—or if it had even been settled yet—and if they were having any success in their efforts to rejuvenate the land and repopulate the livestock. It would take many years before Dehanlair Keep would flourish as much as Strunland did now. The Dehanlair people would struggle to survive the coming winter, even with help from the rest of the province. Maybe he should mention it to Felstrun and Tylira, the Strunlair clan alphas, when he saw them in a few days.

  All of Strunlair Province was prospering, not just Strunland Territory. The province had been the first to implement the new fighting method and to reap the benefits of containing the monsters to their nests and swamps. The land wasn’t being constantly attacked by monster slime, and the animals weren’t being eaten by the monsters. They had the surplus now to send aid to Dehanlair. Just because Mendehan had been a rogue didn’t mean his people should suffer more than they already had.

  The sounds of children’s giggles broke his reverie. He turned in his saddle and frowned at the gaggle of children riding in the center. It was going to be a long trip with so many children along. Grumbling, Histrun turned back to the road.

  They passed the last fenced area into a wide meadow. A sudden whoop, followed by the thundering of a galloping horse—no, three galloping horses with teenagers on their backs—running past him and into the meadow had him jerking on Telen’s reins to keep him from joining in the race.

  “Slow down, you imbeciles!” he shouted. This was going to be an extremely long journey.

  “Let them have some fun while it’s safe,” Lorstriel said, coming to ride beside him. “They’ll settle down in a few days.”

  “Days! You mean I have to put up with their shenanigans for days?”

  “Most likely. They’re young and full of energy. This is the first time they’ve been allowed to go beyond the keeps’ boundaries, so they’re excited.”

  Histrun swore under his breath. The racers were getting too far away for his liking. “Maheli! Chestrun! Go catch those fools and make sure they’re safe. And make sure they walk their horses to cool them down.”

  The two nudged their horses from the line and kicked them into a gallop. They both had plains-bred horses that could run faster and farther than the locally-bred horses the children were riding. Histrun was confident they’d soon overtake the youngsters. He scowled, then ordered Alixstrun and Dorstrun to go too. Although the Strunland fighters diligently eradicated the monsters in their nests, there was always a chance for a nest to mature out of phase.

  He looked back at the other children, their faces alight with excitement as they took in the new sights. Scratching his head, he turned back to Lorstriel. “So if this is their first time away from the keep, they won’t be used to long days in the saddle, will they?”

  She shook her head. “Nor are they skilled riders. Those that raced ahead are the older ones, the apprentices. I doubt the younger ones are capable of cantering or galloping—at least not yet.”

  Histrun swore again. This was going to be an excessively long journey. Why did he let Naila talk him into it? He didn’t even like children, and now he was going to have to spend chedans with a whole gaggle of them. He patted his jacket, reassured by the flask in his pocket. When they stopped for the night at the safe-house, he’d fill it with something more bracing than taevo. He’d promised not to drink, but that was before he knew he’d have to deal with not one but ten children.

  * * *

  Seven days later, the spires of Strunlair Keep peeked over the treetops, and Histrun had never been so relieved to arrive at a keep. What normally took three or four days to traverse had been dragged out to seven. Although by now, the children could maintain a trot for several measures and even handle a short canter, and they’d been able to travel more measures the past two days. The journey had been sedate since they hadn’t had to battle any monsters. Histrun felt proud the Strunlair fighters were keeping the monsters at bay, which made traveling safer, especially with so many children, than it had ever been before.

  The trees parted to reveal the familiar massive stone wall surrounding Strunlair Keep. Histrun’s heart squeezed and his gut clenched. Some of his best memories of Zehala had occurred in that keep. You can do this he told himself.

  Histrun’s party had to pause and wait for a flock of sheep to cross as they were herded into their night pens inside the keep. Field workers walked along the road, heading back to the keep from their day’s work. Some of the people waved and called out greetings to him. He’d spent many, many years in Strunlair Keep—sixteen as the Clan Alpha and eight of those years as co-alpha with Zehala. He took a deep breath. By the time they reached the keep, the alphas would be informed of his arrival.

  He didn’t allow his group to linger and gawk at the massive gates, which were wide enough for four horses to ride abreast, but pushed on to the main plaza fronting the clan-house. Built from granite flecked with mica, the building sparkled in the sun. A sweeping white marble porch skirted the front of the building. Black marble columns held up a balcony. Dark ironwood double doors were polished to a glossy shine and had wide bands of helstrim affixed to them, giving them added strength against the monsters. The huge building could hold a thousand people or more in case of an attack on the keep.

  As he’d predicted, Clan Alphas Felstrun and Tylira stood on the porch. A grin lit Felstrun’s dark-brown eyes, and he pushed back the cinnamon-brown hair that flopped into his eyes. Histrun grinned back. He’d always liked the tall, lean man. Felstrun had his arm wrapped around the waist of his co-alpha and lover. Tylira’s vermilion-red hair flowed down past her shoulders and her pale-yellow eyes shone with warmth.

  Without waiting for permission, Histrun slid off his horse, tossed the reins to Maheli, and approached the stairs.

  “Welcome, Histrun,” Felstrun said as he gripped Histrun’s wrist. He looked over Histrun’s shoulder at the cluster of weary children and raised an eyebrow. “I never would have expected to see you riding with so many little ones.”

  Histrun grimaced. “I was tricked into it. I’d agreed to escort Naila’s daughter to the Sanctuary to begin her training, and somehow, it morphed into that!” He waved toward the children.

  “Which one is she?” Tylira asked, craning her neck to examine the group.

  Histrun studied them, then pointed, “That one. The one with creamy-white hair on the blue roan mare.”

  “Oh, she’ll be a powerful White Priestess when she comes fully into her Talent.”

  “She already is. Wisah has seen souls cross the veil.”

  Tylira gaped. “That is unusual for one so young. It’s a good thing you’re taking her to the Sanctuary to be trained by the Supreme.” She glanced to her right.

  Histrun followed her gaze and saw several women with Brown Talent approaching. They wore the uniforms of caregivers. He inwardly sighed in relief. They’d take the children to the crèche and out of his hair while they remained in Strunlair. The women took charge of the children, quickly helping them off their horses, and ushering them away from the courtyard toward the crèche. The three teenagers looked a bit lost, until a woman with chestnut-brown hair and wearing a leather smock turned around the corner. They brightened when they saw her and hurried
to greet her, then followed her away from the courtyard. The two White Priestesses nodded in respect to the Clan Alphas, then wearily tromped across the courtyard to the temple.

  “Your people will be housed in the clan-house,” Felstrun said to Histrun, loudly enough for them to hear him.

  Lorstriel nodded in acknowledgment, then led the remaining group to the stables, each leading a horse or two that had been left by the children, who were too young to be expected to untack the horses and curry them.

  When they were gone, Tylira turned sad eyes on him. “We heard about what happened to Zehala. We’re so sorry for your loss. She will be greatly missed by everyone.”

  “Dinner won’t be served for another half octar,” Felstrun said, putting a hand on Histrun’s shoulder. “Come, let’s share a drink and toast to her memory while we wait.”

  Histrun nodded, and together they strode to Felstrun’s study and settled into the comfortable leather chairs. One drink became several as they reminisced. Histrun and Zehala had worked extensively with the current Clan Alphas, and they were old friends. Felstrun ordered dinner brought to them, rather than interrupt their conversation to go down to the dining hall.

  It was late by the time Histrun found his bed chamber, and he admitted as he flopped onto the bed, he was quite drunk. The next morning as he lay in bed, groaning from the hangover, he considered why he’d broken his promise to Naila to stay sober. After the last chedans of dealing with children, it felt good to talk with an adult. I deserved to relax for the night and reminisce with my old friend. I’m glad we stayed clear of talking about Zehala, mostly. He swung his legs off the bed, sitting up and putting his head between his knees. As he looked down at his trembling hands, he knew that was just an excuse. Even as his head pounded and his stomach was queasy, he craved a drink. He yearned to forget who he was, forget inability to save Zehala, and most of all, forget his pain. He’d never been one to bury himself in a bottle before, but then he hadn’t ever lost the love of his life before either. Zehala wouldn’t approve of his self-loathing, or hiding from his pain in the depths of alcohol. But she wasn’t here, and he was. He slipped off the bed, and huddled on the floor with his arms wrapped around his knees, holding back the grief. After a long time, he resolved to do better, to be the man Zehala had fallen in love with not the contemptible failure he was now.

  They spent the next two days in Strunlair Keep, resting and recuperating from the long ride. They still had several more days of travel before they reached their final destination, and the ride would be grow more arduous as they traversed through the mountains.

  When they rode out the back gate on their way to Strunhelos Keep, Histrun had to continue looking over his shoulder to be sure they had everyone. The gaggle of children was too quiet. Even though they’d picked up eight more little girls with White and Gray Talents ready to begin their priestess training at the Sanctuary—Tylira had given him the same excuse Koriana had. Why waste the opportunity when he was headed to the Sanctuary any way?—they’d lost the three helstramiester apprentices, who had been the most boisterous of the bunch. He shook his head, wondering once more how he’d been chosen to escort so many little ones.

  A narrow sheadash stone road wove its way through orchards with plump fruit hanging from their branches. In just a few dozen measures, the orchards were replaced by a thick forest of tall pine, bushy spruce, and majestic oak trees. The horse’s hooves stomping on the ground littered with pine needles released a fresh, clean scent. The road took them northeast toward the towering peaks of the White Mountains, where the Sanctuary was located. Strunhelos Keep guarded the only pass into those mountains. Once they were through it, they wouldn’t have to worry about Malvers monsters; the mountains were too cold for them, and as far as he knew, no monsters had ever crossed beyond the Strunhelos Pass.

  Every measure north they traveled they climbed higher into the mountains, and even though it was the last chedans of summer, the nights were chilly, making his knees and hands ache. The distance between safe-houses increased as the land grew more wild. Strunhelos Territory was the most sparsely populated territory in Lairheim. A few minor keeps snuggled in the mountains, not much more than permanent logging and hunting camps.

  As they rode deeper into the mountains, Histrun kept a close watch on the shadows near the trail. Although there might not be many Malvers monster nests in the area, there were other, equally as dangerous predators, like paethers and narhili. They would be safe from the nocturnal narhili beasts as long as they didn’t travel after dusk. The paether, though, hunted during the day, and this was their territory. Histrun hoped the large group of fighters would deter any attacks, but he also worried that the children would make tempting targets for the beasts. After three days of watching and not seeing anything, his nerves were strung taunt.

  Two measures from the last safe-house before reaching Strunhelos, Telen shied away from a shadow at the base of a spruce tree. Histrun inhaled deeply and caught a musky scent. He glimpsed a paether, loping beside the road, it’s long, lean, mottled gray body the perfect shade for slinking in the forest’s shadows to approach its prey unawares. Long tusks jutted from the lower jaw of a square head. It had four eyes—two in the regular position, facing forward, and two on the top of its head, to allow it to see its prey as it ran under its belly.

  “Paether!” he yelled as he drew his helstrablade. “Protect the children. Don’t let the beasts get under your horses, and ride! Ride like your life depends on it.”

  He immediately heard the ring of helstrablades being drawn from their sheathes. The Reds in the group unhooked their helbraughts from their saddles, feeding fire magic into the long blades. The light of the glowing blades penetrated the forest’s gloom. They moved to the outside where their longer reach would be more effective against the low-slung paether.

  Wisah squawked when Chestrun plucked her from her saddled and plopped her in front of him. The other fighters did the same with the other young children. Histrun knew the men would protect the children with their lives. The fighters kicked their heels into their horse’s flanks, and the horses leaped forward into a gallop, with the riderless horses keeping up. Histrun debated whether to shift to his warrior form, but he couldn’t ride Telen in that form, and Telen could run far faster than he could.

  Gray shapes surged from the shadows, keeping pace with the horses. Maheli’s helbraught swung through the air, and a yip of pain indicated she’d connected with the paether trying to weave under her horses’ hooves. Telen suddenly kicked out, and Histrun clung to the saddle, as Telen’s hoof connected with a thud. The paether dropped behind them with its head caved in. Another one darted toward them, and Histrun leaned over, thrusting his blade into the ugly beast’s head. He jerked the blade free in time to slash into another beast trying to slide under Telen’s belly.

  Histrun risked a glance ahead to see how close they were to the safe-house. The lead riders, those with the children, were flying through the gates. A paether snapped at Telen’s heels, who kicked out again, nearly unseating Histrun. He turned his attention back to the fight at hand. Only a few beasts remained of the original dozen. Lorstriel drew her horse up at the side of the gate, while Kehali did the same on the other side, their glowing blades dripping blood. With a swing of her helbraught, Lorstriel neatly decapitated a large male, its head rolling to the side of the road.

  “Go! Go!” she urged. “We’ll keep them from getting in.”

  While the fighters still outside kicked their horses into greater speed, Histrun held Telen back, ensuring everyone made it through before him. Ahead of him a horse stumbled, going down and throwing its rider. Alixstrun rolled to his feet. A paether tore into Alixstrun’s horse’s exposed belly and another two paethers lunged toward Alixstrun. But before they could reach him, he shifted into his warrior form and howled. He tore into the paether, who were no match after years of fighting the Malvers monsters. Finished destroying the beasts, Alixstrun raced to the gate, but instead of going
through, he stopped in front of it, growling menacingly at the last paether. It yipped, tucked its tail, and ran into the forest.

  Unsure if there were more paethers hiding nearby, Histrun raced into the safe-house courtyard, followed closely by Alixstrun, Lorstriel, and Kehali. As soon as they were inside, the gates were slammed shut and barred. Telen skidded to a halt, blowing hard.

  “Was anyone hurt?” Histrun asked, surveying the small courtyard. His fighting-pack were walking their horses to cool them down before taking them into the stables. The children had already been ushered into the safe-house.

  “I don’t think anyone was seriously hurt,” Maheli answered as she walked by. “A few cuts and scrapes is all I’ve seen.”

  “Make sure to examine all the horse’s bellies. A paether could have slipped under one of them, and done serious damage with their tusks.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll pass the word.” She saluted. “Do you want me to walk Telen for you?”

  Histrun nodded and wearily slid from his saddle. It had been a long time since he’d fought from horseback. “Let me check him first before you take him.” He squatted down and peered up, then ran a hand over Telen’s belly. It came away dirty but not bloody. He sighed in relief and gave a quick prayer of gratitude. He stood up, groaning as his aching knees protested. “Go ahead and take him.”

  Inside the safe-house, the children were huddled together, their faces pale with terror. “It’s okay, we’re safe,” he said, trying to reassure them. Wisah pulled away from the others and flung herself into him, wrapping her arms around his legs. Histrun blinked, then awkwardly patted her head.

  “I was so scared,” she whimpered, her voice muffled by his legs. “I saw the veil open and was sure we’d all be pulled through.”

  “No one died, except the paether and Alixstrun’s horse.”

  “Oh, that must be who the Goddess was welcoming.”