Elephant Thief

by Lia Patterson

Looking for inspiration, I followed his gaze. The waters flowed past us, calm and serene, not bothered with the concerns of us poor mortals, while on the other shore the smoke of cooking fires rose into the air, only to be blown away by the morning breeze. Some of Rhys’s men were just watering their horses: graceful, clean limbed animals of a smoky grey colour that threw back their manes and pranced about. A peaceful scene if it weren’t for the glint of armour and the quivers bristling with arrows.

  I realised they were all watching us, along with other small groups of men assembled on the riverbank. Word must have spread by now that a turning point might be reached. A quick look back showed us being the focus of Prince Bahram and his companions as well, and Taren standing there with his arm around Cerwen’s shoulders. So much was riding on today’s decision!

  “Rhys, I’m not asking you to give up your goal,” I said slowly, feeling my way, “but rather to reach it by another path.”

  He shook his head. “What if your plan doesn’t work?”

  “It will.” It had to!

  His mouth settled into a line of disapproval. “Easily said, but what if it doesn’t?”

  “Then you can still do it your way.”

  “Perhaps.” He nodded at the opposite shore. “Do you think it was easy, assembling all these men?”

  “No.” I knew that nobody but him could have done it, just as nobody but him could achieve peace.

  “Will they follow me a second time if I err so disastrously?” Rhys asked.

  Privately I thought that his men would follow him to the gates of the Ninth Hell and beyond, but it seemed pointless speculation. “I know it would mean taking a chance,” I said, “but surely it’s worth it? You’re the kind of commander who keeps his men alive, do you want them to die for nothing?”

  “Not for nothing!” he snapped.

  “For your revenge then,” I answered. He made a strangled sound of protest, but I pursued my point. “Rhys, I’m Sikhandi and I will not stand by while you kill my friends. The solution I offer is a fair one, but yes, you will have to give up further revenge.” Was that so much to sacrifice? “Prince Maziar is dead.”

  “I know!” Suddenly Rhys bent and picked up a stone, only to hurl it into the river, where it sank with a splash. “He died far too easily!”

  Having his throat cut? Not that he hadn’t deserved it, not least for causing such a tragic mess that years later men were still butchering each other because of him. “Well, you can’t go back and kill him all over again,” I pointed out tartly. “Do you want Maziar to still dictate your actions, even though he’s rotting in his grave?”

  He gave me a sharp look and bit his lip. I thought of Lady Luned and her wish to see her great-grandchildren one day. “Your parents and your sister,” I said more gently, “would they really want all this blood spilt? Or would they wish for an Aneirion where children can grow up in peace?”

  Rhys rubbed his eyes, and I could see him struggling with himself. Suddenly I felt bad for hammering him so relentlessly. If somebody had murdered my family, would I have acted any differently? I would have liked to reach out and touch him, smooth the pain from his face, but he had an inward-facing look that allowed no intimacy. It struck me how he might have been highhanded and peremptory in many of his dealings with me, yet he always listened to what I said and took me seriously.

  “You know, Arisha,” he said with a sigh, “you remind me of something my grandfather once told me.” Rhys paused a moment, staring into nothing. “My father was often away, managing our breeding herds or fighting the Khotai, but Grandfather had a stiff leg from a fall, so he had to stay home. He was a great favourite of mine as he always had time for me. Grandfather…he once told me that ending the feud with Grandmother’s family was the best thing that ever happened to him.”

  I said nothing, just nodded, for this was a struggle he had to win on his own.

  Rhys looked up suddenly. “A great general will win by fighting no battles at all, you challenged me that night. But whatever you might think, I’m not a mindless killer!”

  “I know that!” I exclaimed. “I wouldn’t love you if you were.”

  He took a step towards me. “That’s the first time you’ve said that.”

  At his intense gaze, I swallowed down a sudden lump. “So it is.” I had blurted out the truth just now, I realised. For good or ill, I had lost a piece of my heart irrevocably to the man standing before me.

  Gently he took one of my hands. “Arisha, do you realise what your proposal means? You will have to stay here in Aneirion.”

  “I know.” For some reason I had never considered that aspect of my plan – at least not consciously.

  He turned my hand over and stroked a thumb across my wrist where my pulse beat rapidly. No more than a light caress, but I found it difficult to concentrate on anything else. “And yet…,” he said, “and yet you refuse to be a peaceweaver.” He let his voice trail off and there was a question in it. And uncertainty?

  I shook my head. Rhys uncertain? Surely not. “I won’t be some kind of human pledge,” I said, “valued only as a symbol, not as a person.” And I had certainly no intention of offering myself as some kind of prize to be handed over ceremoniously by Prince Bahram. The thought struck me that Rhys might take that as a refusal. “However, I might give you leave to court me,” I added impulsively.

  Something kindled in those cool, grey eyes. “Oh, you might?” he asked. “That’s very noble of you.”

  What had I awoken? “Only perhaps!”

  Rhys reached up to touch the eagle feather in my hair. “You’re wearing my token. Some might say that’s already acceptance.” His fingers lingered briefly on my cheek.

  “I didn’t accept it!” I stammered. “You never asked me.” This was beside the point! The man really had a gift for confusing me. How had the conversation so suddenly slipped into the personal realm?

  “You’re still wearing it,” he pointed out, moving closer.

  I lifted my chin in defiance. He had no business looming over me in such a manner! “I found it useful. In fact it worked a treat, getting me past Pellyn’s men.”

  “What?” He threw back his head and laughed. “I wish I’d seen that. What a handful you are, my sweet.”

  That was another old grievance I had with him. “And I haven’t given you permission to call me ‘your sweet’ either,” I snapped.

  “No, you haven’t,” Rhys agreed. A wicked smile lit his face. “Lucky that I didn’t ask for it.” The next moment I found myself pulled into his arms.

  I’d forgotten how good it felt! The tension drained out of me when I leant into his embrace. My arms slid round his neck as if they had done so a thousand times. Hard warrior body and tender lips. A soft whisper of endearment and the loud drumming of blood in my ears. Hot breath chasing across my skin, making me shiver. Completely new and utterly familiar.

  I realised how much I had wanted him to hold me. He quenched an ache deep inside me, as if I were only whole in the circle of his arms. To think I’d wasted half the morning talking! His hands pressed against the small of my back, searing me through the thin silk of my robe, pulling me against him, and I responded by wrapping my arms more tightly around him. Why was he wearing his stupid hauberk every time he kissed me!

  His lips began to roam down the exposed line of my throat, ghosting across my skin, leaving a trail of hot and cold flashes behind them. I gasped and dug my hands into his shoulders as a host of new sensations flooded me. Yes! It was a heady feeling, as if drunk on too much wine. I wanted more.

  Suddenly he stopped and straightened up.

  “No!” I protested, fighting for breath.

  “Arisha…” His breathing rang harsh in my ears. “The whole army is watching us.”

  “I don’t care!”

  A chuckle rose deep in chest. I looked up at him and found him grinning down at me like a lunatic. “Oh Arisha, I–”

  “You whore!” The shout rent the air.

  I g
ave a start and began to turn round. That moment a circle of fire enveloped us.

  THIRTY-ONE

  Rhys seized me and hurled us past the wall of flames into the shallows. We hit the ground hard, water splashing all around us. I gasped. Smoke everywhere! Briefly I went under and choked, but Rhys grabbed me and helped me sit up. I shook wet hair out of my face. The shrill trumpeting of Hami nearly deafened me. What had happened?

  A wall of fire and smoke straddled the island, cutting off all sight of Prince Bahram and the others. And almost upon us, sword in hand: Sattar! Still in shock, I could only blink at him stupidly. This couldn’t be happening.

  “Little slut!” he shouted. “But you’re not fooling me!”

  Abruptly I got dumped in the water again as my support vanished. Rhys surged up and rushed forward to meet Sattar’s attack with his own sword. Metal flashed in the morning light, and Sattar had to jump back hastily. He parried the blow, but had to take another step back when Rhys slashed at his other side.

  My mind reeled, trying to catch up with events. Had Prince Bahram betrayed us? I staggered to my feet, unsure what to do. Sattar and Rhys were exchanging blows, their swords sliding against each other with a baneful hiss. Rhys had a distant, concentrated look on his face, almost a trifle bored, and he moved with deadly grace: the Eagle’s mask.

  “Arisha, get back,” he snapped, countering another thrust by Sattar.

  I realised I was handicapping him and gathered up my wet, tattered robe to stagger a few steps away. The Aneiry camped on the other side of the river shouted in anger and alarm. Almost negligently, Sattar tossed a ball of fire their way, and their horses neighed in fright. Couldn’t they do something? But they would not dare shoot for fear of hitting Rhys. Hami’s enraged bellowing still sounded from the other end of the island. What was happening there?

  The two combatants disengaged and began to circle each other. Sattar was breathing hard, all his concentration focused on his enemy. He could not use his magic to kill a man or he would lose it, but he would not hesitate to use it to his advantage in some other way if possible. Rhys had his sword in one hand, a dagger in the other, and now feinted to one side, only to change direction in mid-stroke and swipe at Sattar. The mage cursed and jumped back. He had to realise he was outmatched!

  “Give up, Sattar!” I called to him. “Or surely you will die.”

  Rhys made a motion with one hand, as if wanting me to keep quiet and not attract the mage’s attention.

  Sattar shot me a look filled with hatred. “Shut up, whore!” he spat at me. “I am Sattar tal Kouros, Fire Lord of the Seventh Circle. I’ll never surrender to a bunch of savages! Never!”

  He lifted his hand and muttered something under his breath. Rhys jumped aside, probably expecting another fire ball, but suddenly exclaimed with pain. Sword and dagger clattered to the ground, melted to slag! Sattar attacked.

  I shouted a warning, but Rhys had already rolled away under the blow. My heart nearly stopped when the blade whistled through the space he’d occupied a moment ago. He came up and threw a handful of gravel in Sattar’s face. The mage cursed and lashed out blindly, while Rhys scrambled away out of reach, frantically looking for another weapon.

  I had to help him! Yelling loudly I picked up a stone and threw it at Sattar in order to distract him.

  “No!” Rhys shouted when the mage turned towards me. “Arisha, keep back.”

  Sattar laughed. “Getting desperate for your barbarian lover? Want to watch him die?” He lunged after Rhys, who had to scramble away backwards.

  “Come and get me!” he called to Sattar, stopping just out of reach. Rhys was trying to draw the mage away from me!

  “No!” I protested, panic rising within me. “Sattar, you have no chance. If you kill him, all of you will die.”

  “The Aneiry will die! First him and then his men. That weakling Bahram should have attacked long ago, but he is too much of a coward.” Sattar spat on the ground. “I will lead the Fifth to a great victory. The emperor himself will honour me for it! You will see.”

  “In your dreams,” Rhys growled. He hefted a stone, but hesitated, Sattar having the reach of him.

  “Watch me kill your barbarian, Arisha,” Sattar breathed, swishing his sword through the air. “You thought to betray me for this piece of filth and nearly succeeded. That moron Prince Bahram believes every word you said.”

  “I did not betray you!” The man was mad!

  “You don’t fool me, I saw right through you from the start. How long ago did you change sides? That’s why you refused me and ran away to your lover, isn’t it!”

  “I did not!” He put the completely wrong interpretation on my actions!

  But Sattar wasn’t listening. “ Did you enjoy being taken by him? But just you wait, soon you’ll spread your legs for me. No woman denies me. You’re mine!”

  That moment Rhys jumped backwards and bent down. In a single, smooth movement he swept up the brush that I had seen lying discarded on the ground. The wood whistled round to catch Sattar with a whack against his side. The mage cursed and fire ignited in his hand, but Rhys was too fast for him. Already he had whirled the brush away, holding it in both hands and twisting it round to aim for Sattar’s face. The flames vanished into a puff of smoke as the mage had to jump back and bring up his sword in a wild parry.

  Suddenly the ground trembled. The belt of fire raging behind Sattar got quenched abruptly, covered by earth. It had to be Prince Bahram’s doing! With the pounding of hooves, Taren and the others swarmed across it, but Hami was fastest. Nothing outpaced an enraged elephant! With an angry trumpet he bore down on Sattar.

  The mage flung up his arms, and a circle of flames sprang up around him. Hami squealed in fear. No! Sattar would kill him!

  “Stop!” I yelled, running towards him. Hami!

  Rhys brought the brush round in a narrow circle, sweeping it into the flames, where the end caught fire at once. But Sattar lost his concentration, having to defend himself, and the fire sputtered out. Hami bore down on them. My breath caught. Rhys was right in his path! A wave of rage and confusion roiled down the link connecting me to the elephant.

  “Hami, back!” I shouted, but Hami ignored me.

  With an angry bellow he brushed past Rhys and picked Sattar up with his trunk. The mage cried out and tried to swing his sword round, but Rhys swept up the blackened brush and whacked the blade out of his hand. He acted as if he had nothing to fear at all from the enraged elephant!

  “Tell him to put me down,” Sattar shouted, “or I’ll burn him to cinders!”

  No! “Hami, drop him!” I put all my authority into the command. Another step and I was at his side.

  Hami dropped him.

  Sattar landed on the ground with a thud, momentarily winded. And like an eagle stooping on his prey, Rhys brought down the end of the brush on his head. Time seemed to stretch and slow as the wood descended in its deadly arch. Sattar flung up his hand in a last desperate defence. Flames blossomed forth.

  “Rhys!” I screamed and threw myself at him, pushing him out of the way of a jet of fire.

  Smoke. Flame. Searing pain along one arm. We hit the ground hard, the momentum carrying us on, and rolled over with Rhys ending up on top, knocking the breath right out of me. I gasped as blackness clouded my vision.

  * * *

  “Arisha!” Somebody was shaking me. “Are you all right?”

  I opened and closed my mouth, trying to catch my breath. Everything hurt!

  “Arisha! Answer me!” Panic sharpened the voice, and I wondered why. The man sounded fine. I was the one aching all over.

  As I took deep breaths, slowly the blackness receded. A trunk sneaked past my cheek, touching me softly. Hami! Suddenly all the events came rushing back: Sattar’s attack, Rhys disarmed, the fight!

  I gasped and tried to sit up. “Rhys!”

  He slid a hand round my back and helped me into an upright position. “I’m here.”

  “Sattar?”
r />   “Dead.”

  Some of the tension drained out of me when I realised the fight was over. With shaking fingers I touched Rhys’s face. He looked unhurt. A sob rose in my throat. “I was so afraid for you!”

  He leant his forehead against mine. “And I for you. Don’t ever frighten me like that again.”

  Rhys frightened? I put the fact away to consider at some later point when I felt less muzzy in my head. “Did I lose consciousness?” I asked.

  “Yes, briefly.”

  I nodded and sat up straighter. Looking around I spotted Sattar lying sprawled on the ground nearby, his head a mess of blood and bone. My gorge rose and I quickly averted my gaze. Completely irrelevantly the thought entered my mind that he would hate having met his end by a mundane elephant brush, even if it was of best quality ash wood as befitted the imperial elephant corps.

  “Arisha, can you stand up?” Rhys asked. “We need to get you to safety.”

  With his help I struggled to my feet and leant against him heavily, for I still felt as if Hami had trod on me. Everything hurt. But why get me to safety? Only now did I become aware of our surroundings. Taren and his men formed a protective circle around us, while on the opposite shore men were massing, getting their horses into formation. From the walls of the fort trumpets blowing showed the Sikhandi doing the same. Fresh alarm flooded me. The battle I had wanted to avoid might start at any moment!

  “Rhys!” I clutched his arm. “We need to stop this!”

  He hesitated. “Arisha, I want you to see a healer.”

  “There is no time! Please, Rhys, I’m perfectly fine. We need to act now!”

  He stared down at me and then suddenly made up his mind. “Get up on Hami.”

  I found myself pushed towards the elephant and scrambled up somehow, moving by sheer instinct, for my left arm burnt like fire. Rhys had Hami boost him up and settled behind me, slipping an arm round my waist as a welcome support. “Back to the circle,” he called.

  Though the fight seemed to have lasted an eternity, in reality very little time had passed. My circle of flour lay undisturbed, and Bahram’s Sikhandi guards stood clustered around the prince and the other mage, undecided what to do. On the other side of the ford the Aneiry cavalry was gathering, only held back by the lack of clear orders.