The Star Of Saree

by A. J. STRICKLER

  Kian couldn’t be found anywhere, and Ashlyn was of little use. It was clear the female mercenary was drunk, and shameless. She sported two men from her company on each arm, flirting with both like a common harlot. When Katrina asked where the swordsman had gotten to, the woman had snickered and told her to figure it out, then the wench disappeared into the camp without another word.

  She wanted desperately to talk to Vladimir, but the warriors surrounding the wagon didn’t look like they were going to let her anywhere near their prisoners. The men of the rebellion were rough, forced to become warriors to save their country. These mercenaries were a different breed, hard and merciless. The rebels would return to their homes when the fight was over. War was a way of life for the sellswords. They fought for the highest bidder, moving from one battlefield to the next. No loyalty or ties to those they fought for, their only care was the gold they spilled their blood for.

  “How did you meet Kian?”

  Turning around quickly, she found the dark-eyed mercenary captain staring at her, a large jug in his hand. He looked her up and down, appraising her figure as she was sure he had been doing before she turned around.

  His hair was cut close to his head and a dark beard covered the lower half of his face. The armor he wore was dark except for his sword arm. The steel there was the color of blood. He was handsome in a dangerous sort of way. Strangely, the man looked familiar to her, then abruptly it all made sense. The Toran whose wife had died at the church and this captain were two of those who aided Kian that night in her village.

  Katrina thought it best to keep her revelation quiet for now. It seemed this mercenary could not get enough of serving Baron Serban. Katrina thought it best to try and be cordial. It would help when Kian asked him to free Vladimir and the others.

  “He and I share a common friend. One of the men you have locked in that cage,” she finally answered.

  He smiled like a hungry wolf. “So that is why you have come. You thought to free the shapechangers.”

  This mercenary had discovered Vladimir and Julian’s secret, or Serban had told him. “They are fighting to free this land from the grip of the tyrant you serve. They use what they are for the good of our people,” she said, more hostile than she intended.

  “Serban said you are subversive vermin. Angry because you were too lazy to work for the taxes you owe,” the captain said with a wave of his hand.

  Katrina’s face reddened. “Serban is the vermin; do you know that thing that you aid is a blood drinker?”

  The man frowned, and she could almost see his mind working. Perhaps he didn’t know the true nature of his benefactor. “I have heard the stories, but blood drinker or not, I have a contract with the baron and my prisoners are worth five thousand in gold to him. On the other hand, Serban did let my people get snatched up by the Church, and I am soft when it comes to beautiful women, so if you wanted to pay the same sum the baron offered, I could see fit to release them to you.”

  “I have no such sum,” she railed. “The entire rebellion doesn’t have that kind of gold.”

  He took a long draw from the jug and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Come with me back to my tent. We can share some wine and talk it over. I am sure we can come to some kind of solution.”

  “I don’t drink with mercenaries, especially those that are my enemy.”

  “We could rectify that situation, if you weren’t so ill-tempered. Give me a chance; I am sure if you parted those legs of yours, I could make you see things my way. When I’m finished, you might even want to join my company.”

  Katrina was so angry, she wanted to punch the sellsword captain right in his arrogant face. “Go to hell,” she said, her voice shaking with fury and embarrassment.

  The captain burst out into a great laugh. “By the gods, you are a brave wench. Let me think on you for a while.” Smirking, the captain rejoined his men at one of the many cook fires.

  She wanted to go over and get warm, but Katrina thought she would rather freeze to death than share a fire with any one of those ruthless bastards. Pulling her cloak tighter, she fumed at the situation. Vladimir and the others were thirty feet from her and she could do nothing.

  Later in the evening after most of the warriors had eaten, Kian and Endra returned to camp. The dark-haired woman kissed the swordsman on the cheek and ran up to the large fire where the ill-mannered captain still lingered.

  Kian came to her, his golden eyes reflecting in the fires light like those of an animal. “Well, Katrina, let us see about freeing your friends,” he said confidently.

  “It’s about time. They have been sitting in that cage freezing for hours.”

  “I had matters to attend to. I am sorry it took longer than I thought.”

  She lowered her voice. Katrina was still angry at the captain, and she was taking it out on Kian. “They won’t even let me near them and that shit of a captain said if we give him five thousand in gold, he would consider letting them go.”

  Kian glanced to where the mercenary stood warming himself. “Let us go find out what K’xarr has to say.”

  Drifting over, Kian and the captain looked at each other but no words were traded. Kian properly introduced his woman, Endra, to her while the captain shooed off his men. The mercenaries cursed under their breath and reluctantly moved off to join another of the many fires that lit the camp. The heat from the large blaze felt good, warming the front of her body and heating her cheeks.

  Before the discussion could start, the Toran came staggering into the fire’s orange glow. He was shirtless and carried a huge knife stained with the cursed black blood.

  Katrina could see a deep gash on the giant’s chest. Ebony blood ran down his bare torso and soaked into the waistband of pants. Katrina gasped at the hollowed-eyed warrior’s appearance, so terrible was the wound he bore. The others remained silent as the Toran lumbered up to Kian. Sheathing the knife, he put his hand on the swordsman’s shoulder.

  “Forgive me, Arradar.”

  Kian grabbed the warrior’s forearm. “There is nothing to forgive, brother.”

  “If the Slayer could not save her, Fane must have set Morgana’s fate, and even you, my friend, can’t thwart the war god’s will. I have performed the ritual of the wounded heart,” he said, glancing down at the fresh wound on his chest. “As my blood flows, it will carry the pain from my heart with it. Now I need only vengeance to satisfy my loss.”

  Kian said nothing. His golden eyes met those of the Toran’s, and the nature of the exchange between the two warriors was clear even to Katrina. She would not want to be Archbishop Lech for anything.

  A shorter man with a large scar that ran the length of his face joined them, stationing himself on the opposite side of the fire.

  The mercenary captain looked at the Toran’s wound and shook his head, but said nothing. He took a drink from the jug he carried and focused his attention on Kian. “So this pretty redhead tells me you want my prisoners?”

  “Aye, they are friends, K’xarr,” Kian said simply.

  “Well, they are worth five thousand in gold to me.”

  “That is what Katrina told me. You know we have no such sum.”

  “If it were just me, I would hand them over to you right now, my friend, but I have my men to think of and our numbers grow by the day. I can’t afford to let that much coin slip through my hands.”

  “Let them go, K’xarr. Serban promised us Morgana and the children would be safe behind his walls, we owe him nothing,” Cromwell said, his eyes as cold as the winter air.

  “It’s not about what we owe, Serban, it is what he owes us,” the scarred man said, his voice low and hostile.

  “I was talking to K’xarr, Kattan, not you,” the Toran spat.

  “Kago’s right, Serban owes us, and I intend to collect unless someone offers men the same figure,” K’xarr said, glancing at Kian.

  Cromwell jabbed his finger at K’xarr, the cords extending in his thick neck. “I don’t know w
hy we are arguing this. Kian is our brother. If he wants those shapechangers, give them to him. We owe him much more than five thousand pieces of gold. Besides, the baron is going to be upset when I ride into Brova and burn it to the ground.”

  “You can’t do that,” Katrina shouted, “There are good people in the city.”

  “I can do as I please, wench. My woman died at the hands of those bastards and I will see her worth taken out in blood, girl. Morgana was worth more than every Trimenian dog in that city.”

  “We are not attacking Brova, Cromwell, and you can’t do it alone,” K’xarr said, shaking his head. “We will make those responsible for Morgana pay, but these continual clashes with the Church must end till we are ready to destroy it once and for all.”

  “When will we be ready? You keep telling us that same thing, all the while we thirst for revenge. Those responsible for Morgana’s death are murderous pigs. If you won’t aid Cromwell, I will,” Endra said, her voice carrying though the night.

  K’xarr shook his head. “Your endless feud with the Church is costly. Every time we cross swords with them, they take a piece of us. I told each of you, when we were strong enough then we will have our revenge, till then it is a fool’s errand.”

  The scar-faced warrior ran a hand through his dark locks, staring into the flames. “I hate those pompous dogs as much as anyone, but K’xarr is right. Fighting them now will only weaken us. Be wise. Wait for the right time to strike. Then I will help you kill them all.”

  Cromwell’s twohanded sword whistled towards Kago’s neck, stopping inches from the man’s throat. “Who asked you, cur? It was not I.”

  Katrina watched as the man called Kago jumped back, drawing his sword with blinding speed. “That is a mistake you will never make again, Toran.”

  The two warriors began to circle each other like hungry dogs.

  “Damn you both, put those swords down,” the captain shouted. Men from the other fires glided toward the two warriors, sensing a fight.

  “Cromwell, please,” Endra beseeched the dangerous giant.

  Glaring at one another, the two lowered their blades. Katrina knew this wasn’t the end of it. There was hate in the two mercenaries for one another, and sooner or later, one of them would die.

  Kian stood with his arms folded across his chest, acting as if nothing at all had happened. “I will pay the five thousand, K’xarr,” he said with certainty.

  Captain Strom turned his attention away from his bickering men, his eyes narrowing at the swordsman. “I thought you didn’t have it?”

  “I don’t, but I will get it. You have my word.”

  “Your word is worth little here, half-breed,” Kago hissed.

  Kian’s golden eyes regarded the man as if he had just noticed him.

  Kago scowled at the swordsman, a naked blade still in his hand. Kian didn’t move and Katrina held her breath. She had seen what the Slayer was capable of.

  K’xarr stepped between them, catching the swordsman’s eye.

  Kian remained motionless for a moment then sighed. “My word is all I have, Kattan.”

  “I will take it,” K’xarr said quickly. The relief on the captain’s face was evident. “Serban is a piece of dung, take the wolf men and the princess if you like, but I warn you, if I see them start to change or if they present any danger to my men, I will have them all to killed, understand?”

  “I promise you there will be no trouble from us,” Katrina said. “I don’t think you will get the same vow from Serban, though. He will not take what you have done very well.”

  “To hell with that bastard. The only reason we fight for him is he has an abundance of gold. If he doesn’t like what I have done, he can find someone else to chase down his enemies.”

  K’xarr moved away from the fire, motioning Kian to follow. She allowed the captain to take her arm and led her away as well. They walked a little distance out of the others’ earshot. “Katrina here says Serban is a blood drinker. You know anything about that, Kian?”

  “I have not seen the man, but if Katrina says he is undead, I believe her. If he is, K’xarr, then you should put the baron down like a dog.” The swordsman took two steps and stopped. “I will deliver your gold as soon as I can...brother.”

  K’xarr started to reply, but Kian had already walked away.

  * * *

  Pepca’s trembling hands covered her mouth when she saw Katrina coming with the one-eared mercenary. Closing her eyes, she said a little prayer of thanks. The disfigured man swung open the squeaky cage door for Julian and the others. Reaching down, he jerked her arms up and unlocked the iron manacles around her wrists.

  “There you go, little princess. The captain says you and these freaks are free to go,” the mercenary said without emotion.

  Pepca ignored the insult and launched herself at Katrina, hugging the woman as hard as she could.

  “Get off, you’re filthy,” the redhead said, wrapping her cloak around Pepca’s shoulders.

  “Thank you, Katrina. I won’t ever forget what you have done.”

  The woman scoffed and gave her an almost friendly shove. She, Vladimir, and Grigore shared a quick embrace then the trio helped Julian down from the nasty wagon.

  “The Goddess of the Wood has smiled on us, Katrina. How did you manage this?” Vladimir asked.

  “It wasn’t me or your pagan goddess Octavia, it was Kian. He knows this foul lot, and he promised them the bounty Serban placed on your heads.”

  Pepca couldn’t believe the swordsman helped them. He had seemed so determined to leave Trimenia last time she saw him. She wondered if Tempest was here with him; maybe he had even decided to stay.

  Katrina led them to a dwindling fire and shushed them. “Listen and I will tell you what has happened since we parted.”

  Pepca yawned and stretched her arms. The warmth of the fire and comfort in knowing she was free made her sleepy. Katrina’s story sounded fascinating, but she was exhausted and she fell asleep before the tale was finished.

  When Pepca awoke, she was still wrapped in Katrina’s cloak with the smoke of what remained from the fire swirling around her head. The mercenaries were loaded up and making ready to leave. Some were already on their horses. She saw Kian talking with the cruel captain and the beautiful woman that had led the group that captured her.

  She waited until Kian and the woman walked away from the mercenary before approaching. “Kian, do you remember me? Pepca?”

  “Of course I do, Highness,” Kian said with a slight bow. “This is Endra Korlest.” Kian gestured to the woman.

  “The princess and I are already acquainted,” Endra said with a sly look.

  Pepca gave the woman a thin smile and continued.

  “I want to thank you, Kian, for helping me and the others. If there is ever anything I can do, please don’t hesitate to ask. I owe you my life.”

  “Do you have five thousand gold coins handy?” Endra asked.

  Pepca shook her head. “No, lady, but if I did, they would be yours.”

  “There is nothing you can do, Highness,” Kian said, glancing at the Korlest woman from the corner of his eye.

  “Is Tempest with you? I would dearly love to say hello,” she said hopefully.

  “No, she is not.”

  The princess sighed, disappointed by her friend’s absence. “Tell her I said hello, please.”

  “I plan on leaving Trimenia, Princess. As soon as I gather the children, I will be gone, but I will give her your message.”

  “Where are you going? I want you here with me,” the mercenary woman declared. It was clear she was taken back by what Kian had said.

  “Come with me. We can take the children to the mountains, and keep them out of all this.”

  “The mountains, you can’t drag them up there now. By the gods, Kian, it’s winter.”

  “She is right.” Pepca interrupted before she thought. “The mountain passes will be full of snow already. Why don’t you both come south with us? I’
m not sure exactly where we are going, but you are welcome and so are your children.”

  “We are going to join Constantine and his army,” Vladimir said, walking up with Katrina on his heels.

  “And you are welcome, Kian, and so is your woman, regardless of her affiliation.”

  “Her company rides with Serban, Vladimir. How could we trust her? I mean no offense, Endra, but you are the enemy,” Katrina pointed out.

  Vladimir shook his head. “Trina is right. If you come, you will know our troop strength and be privy to our movement. You would have to choose if you come with us. Serve the baron or stay out of the fight.”

  Kian looked at Endra. “From what you say, it is best if I wait till spring to go into the mountains. It would be best if we wintered with the rebels, but you would have to leave the company till this was over.

  Endra’s lips pressed tight together and she glanced over her shoulder at the warriors as they began to form a column. “K’xarr can do without me for a while. I don’t want us to be apart any longer, we have had enough of that. I don’t think K’xarr will mind as long as we aren’t fighting against him. I will go find him and tell him my plans.” Kissing Kian, Endra hurried off into the crowd.

  “Thank you for the invitation,” Kian said.

  Pepca grinned, wiping her dirty hair out of her eyes. She was pleased; she would get to spend the winter with Julian and Tempest. The princess was happy, but she had no idea what hell would befall her before the spring thaw ever came.

  * * *

  K’xarr didn’t know who was angrier, him or Kago. Endra had left with Kian. They planned to winter with the rebels after they retrieved their children from some farm. Endra had given her assurance that they had no intention of joining the rebellion, and when spring came, they would take their leave of the Trimenian renegades.

  When Cromwell heard of their plans, he readily joined their exodus, and of course his little pup Ashlyn had followed her surrogate father. Cromwell wanted revenge for Morgana and there was no talking him out of it, and the Toran would spend the winter trying to talk the others into helping him get it.