Ishar’s look was solemn. “Of course. I understand.” She rose and stood. “I believe I will find my bed now.” Ishar flashed a quick smile. “Thank you Eira. It is good to know I am not completely without allies here.”
Eira stood. “You are not. If you need to get a message to me, give it to Audris. She is faithful and will see that it gets to me even under watchful eyes. She can be trusted with any message you send.”
Ishar gave a short bow of her head and made her way to the door. She opened it and turned back hesitantly. “Eira, who was the young Britai you were speaking with when Audris brought me down tonight? She had long hair like yours but it was pulled back with combs.”
Eira frowned as she turned over Ishar’s words. It came to her and she turned curious eyes Ishar’s way. “Oh, that was Isla. She is from the village of Wërn, outside the gates. She helps in the upkeep of the fortress hall during the day before returning to her home at sundown. Why do you ask?”
“She did not appear to be all that happy to see me,” Ishar remarked softly.
Eira nodded and walked over to where Ishar stood. “Remember what I said about patience. All that the Britai have heard of the Haaldyn has come from mouths of the Lute and what they have seen of the battles. It will take time. People are slow to accept change.”
Ishar pursed her lips in thought. “I will try to keep that in mind.” She cast a nod toward her hostess. “Good night, Eira. I will see you in the morning.” Ishar slid out and made her way down the hall toward her own room.
Eira stood in her door and watched as the Haaldyn slipped within her room. The door slid shut with a thud. She frowned and glanced toward the draping as her thoughts drifted outside. Eira sighed and stepped out, pulling her door shut. She made her way toward the stairs and downward. There was a certain second in command with whom she wished to speak. She narrowed her eyes as she went in search of Lysandr.
*
In the lowlight of the single lamp set about, the horse shelter was all but shadowed in darkness. Traevyn worked by the light’s glow although his hands knew what needed to be done. The repair of his horse’s girth belt was almost finished. It was not something he wanted left to the morning dawn, especially if he had to ride out with the Haaldyn woman. No. Not Haaldyn woman. Her name was Ishar. He must think of her as that and not show the disrespect which he heard Ber had shown. Varyk would not have approved of Ber’s actions tonight and Lysandr knew that. But then again, Lysandr did not trust her any more than Ber did. Traevyn wondered if Lysandr would say any words to Ber. His thoughts focused back on Ishar. She was not who he had expected.
Most Haaldyn woman he had seen had been met in fierce combat wearing full battle gear, their faces shielded by a face covering that revealed only their eyes. They had appeared as vicious as their male counterparts. In fact, at times one would be hard pressed to notice the difference between them. Tonight he had seen one close up, deprived of armor and found her, well, pleasing. Not the fierce brutal malevolence he had expected. Her hair accentuated tan skin. Her face, except for the tiny freckles across her nose and cheeks, bore no scars or disfigurement from years of battle. To him, she appeared too small and delicate to fight against a man in battle. But the same could be said of Eira and he had seen her defeat foe after foe in battle with her wild Lute ferociousness.
He had not been pleased with Eira’s decision to give Ishar free reign of the holding, but he also trusted Eira’s judgment, which was the one reason he accepted it. Now, thanks to Ber’s belligerent nature, Traevyn would be forced to watch the Haaldyn and try to maintain his other duties. Because of that fact, he was here when he would have enjoyed another drink with the men before seeking sleep. His thoughts still dwelt on this when he heard the approach of footsteps. A moment later, Lysandr dropped down beside him. Traevyn said nothing. He simply waited for the other man to speak.
The silence stretched.
Finally, Lysandr sighed. “She was wise to choose you. No one has the patience you do. I have seen you wait hours with your enemy within touching distance before you made your kill. No one should be that patient. It is not natural.”
Traevyn smiled. “Perhaps you should try it sometime. You might develop a knack for it.”
Lysandr smiled. “I am too much like Ber, though with more control than he.”
At the mention of Ber, Traevyn frowned. “Did you speak to him?”
Lysandr nodded. “Not that I am certain it will do any good.” He shrugged. “Ber is Ber. He only knows to speak his mind. This is nothing new. Varyk would not have it any other way.”
“Varyk would not want a guest who might very well prove to be an ally insulted. And there is every chance that we will see her more than at the evening meal. Talk to him, Lysandr. I sense that this Haaldyn’s coming is important to Eira, and quite possibly, Varyk.”
Lysandr dug the heel of his boot into the dirt before him. “I do not know why we need the aid of the Haaldyn. The Lute will stand with us and the Britai are becoming more organized every day.”
“Do not lie to yourself,” Traevyn cautioned. “I have heard Varyk and Eira talk at night when they walk the walls. If the reports we are getting are true, the Tourna are building a great number of ships. That means a great number of men. The Lute are strong. We are strong. The Britai are stronger than they have been but I do not know if they can hold up under the brunt of the Tourna force that is coming. They may crumble.” Traevyn studied the belt before him. The stitching appeared good. He continued, “The Haaldyn are no fools. They know if the Tourna overwhelm us they can take their time and work their way into the Haaldyn holdings. Ultimately, there is no place of safety on this island. And we both know the Tourna leave nothing behind in their wake. Remember the destruction we found here? What it took to raise this all up?” Traevyn for the first time looked up at Lysandr. “Whether you want her here or not, there is a truth to Eira’s belief. If the Haaldyn, who are great in numbers of trained warriors, stand with us, the Tourna might be halted even as they land.”
Lysandr’s look was grim. “The only thing is that with the large number of ships, the Tourna will probably make more than one landfall.”
Traevyn nodded. “All the more reason to have the highest amount of fighters we can with us.”
Lysandr sighed. “But they are our enemy.”
“They were our enemy. I know. It is difficult to look beyond that,” Traevyn said with a shrug. “But when we first came to this island, we fought several battles with the Lute before we established a friendship, or have you forgotten?”
Lysandr shook his head in answer.
Traevyn rose and set the girth belt next to his saddle. “Then remember that next time before you look at Ishar with such distaste.” He reached up and blew out the lamp, then turned and walked away, leaving Lysandr in the darkness.
3
A rooster crow broke through the darkness of her sleep. Voices of men shouting commands and the familiar clash of metal to metal brought her fully awake. Ishar opened her eyes and stared around at her strange surroundings. Her mind cleared. Of course, Taryn, Varyk’s holding. The night came back to her and she groaned. What impression had she made? She sat up and shoved the blankets back. At least she had found an ally in Eira and one it appeared also in Audris in her allegiance to her mistress.
Ishar slid from under the covers and stood, naked in the cool of the morning. Her clothes from the previous night lay thrown atop the bottom of the fur cover. The air was brisk, but not frigid. She walked over to her belongs. Her undertunic, padded top and leather pants were missing. “Audris,” she murmured to herself. She reached over and grabbed a pair of black heavy wool pants and an undertunic of light brown wool. Over it, instead of her padded top, she picked up an overguard of woven heavy black leather. It offered light protection. Her two short fighting knives were slid into the scabbards strapped to her calves that disappeared into the tops of her boots. Her dwæn she strapped snugly to her left forearm. Ishar chose to leave her a
rmor in the room. She did not want it to appear that she lacked trust in her host.
A short time later, Ishar found herself downstairs and back in the main hall. Outside her door, as she was leaving Ishar had discovered Audris had already been hard at work. Her clothes lay clean and folded in front of her door. She made a mental note to thank the Lute woman, placing the clothes inside her room before continuing downstairs. The main hall fires were started but had already been banked back so that the room would not grow too warm with the coming of the day. Ishar made her way to the table. A servant noticed her appearance and brought a bowl of what looked like some type of bubbly porridge. Ishar stared at it with a frown.
She heard laughter and looked up. Eira walked her way, dressed in a dark blue wool gown, a bright smile upon her face. “I know. The first time I was served waisu I am quite certain I stared at it in the same manner. However, I worked up the courage to taste it.” Eira motioned to the bowl.
Ishar glanced back down at the pale soft mixture. She took a small spoonful into her mouth and swallowed quickly. Ishar blinked. Then took another bite, this time slowly letting the flavor of the porridge settle in her mouth. She glanced back at Eira with surprise. “It is good.” Ishar tried to puzzle it out. “Is that honey I taste? And there is some fruity flavor that I cannot name.”
Eira nodded and sat down beside Ishar. A servant set a bowl of the porridge in front of her. Eira took a utensil in hand and started eating. In between bites she answered Ishar. “Yes, it is honey and the fruit is called bauli. The funny thing is that the bauli fruit is kind of sweet but with this distasteful chalky taste if you eat it uncooked. But when it is heated and cooked, the bitter taste disappears and the sweet flavor grows. The honey only adds to it. It is really quite good, especially on cold mornings when you have to be outside in the dampness.”
It did not take long for Ishar and Eira to finish their respective bowls. They were accompanied by the same sweet honeyed drink Ishar had been served the night before. She asked Eira about it.
“Another fruit, called paera,” Eira said with a shrug. “The juice is pressed from it and either served warm with honey or fermented as an alcohol. But I should warn you, the fermented drink is also sweetened with honey and taste not much different from this and it is very potent.”
Ishar frowned. “How does one notice the difference?”
Eira laughed. “Trust me, after one cup you will notice the difference.” She waved her hands. “Do not worry. They mainly serve it at the public gathering place where the soldiers go to unwind at the end of the day. Here, unless Varyk requests, I serve this.”
Ishar nodded with a smile. “I will try to remember that. One should be careful when drinking with the men at the end of the day, I understand.”
Eira laughed and then added. “Traevyn came by early. I informed him that I wished to speak with you this morning and he should go about his business. I will have you seek him out when you leave.”
Ishar grimaced. “It is unlike me to sleep so late.”
“The sun is barely up,” Eira stated with a soft smile, “And your journey to get here was no small jaunt. I think you will be forgiven this small measure of indulgence.”
“So,” Ishar questioned with a raised brow, “Was the talk you mentioned just to cover for my lateness or was it real?”
Eira shrugged. “Both answers would be correct.” She hesitated, before continuing. “I noticed you picked at your food last night. Was there something wrong with it?”
Ishar blinked. “Uh, no. I mean.” She paused. “What I mean is that the food had more spice than I am used to.” Ishar hesitated and then added, “And the meat was slightly greasy.” Of course. The perfect way to start the day. Insult your host.
Eira grimaced. “It was boar. I am sorry but it does tend to hold more fat than other meat. That is probably why my cook used the extra spices, to cover the greasy flavor.” Eira let out a soft chuckle. “Our main cook died several months ago. She was old, but excellent. Old Reba could make food for kings from nothing. Since her death I have been trying to find a better cook. The only thing the new woman knows to do to fix the taste of food is to add spice. I am afraid we have become somewhat used to it.”
Ishar felt heat creep down her neck. “Do not do anything different for my sake,” she mumbled quickly, embarrassed now by her remarks.
Eira shrugged and waved away Ishar’s words with a gesture of her hand. “Nonsense. I think tonight we will have deer. It is a light, lean meat. And I will caution Cyrine on the use of the spices.” She chuckled softly. “We shall see what turns out on our platters.” Eira rose. “I have to attend to several duties. If you do not see Traevyn at the personal training area for the Raanan warriors next to the fortress, look for him at the training area outside the inner gate where the Britai train. If he is not there, seek out one of the warriors I introduced you to last night. They should know where to find him.” Eira patted Ishar’s shoulder and walked away toward one of the fireplaces where several servants were clustered waiting to talk to the lady of the holding.
Ishar pushed her bowl away and stood, full and satisfied from the warm porridge. She angled her way out of the main hall and toward the daylight. The heavy wood doors stood ajar, reviving the inside with fresh air. Once outside, she took a deep breath of cool damp morning air that would burn off quickly as the sun rose higher. Ishar made her way down the time smoothed stone steps. She did not recognize the warriors inside the inner gate, so she made her way through the open passageway to the outer area. The guards watched her with curiosity but none offered to halt her passage. She shrugged. They were Britai. What could one expect?
In the outer holding, there was more movement. To her left Ishar saw that Britai soldiers were working in pairs as they practiced grappling techniques. Lysandr and Ber studied and gave abrupt instruction as they moved among the men. Ishar leaned a shoulder against the wall and studied the soldiers’ movements. She tried not to wince at their awkwardness. She hoped they would improve before they encountered the Tourna.
“Ishar?”
She slid a glance behind her and watched Davaris approach from the opposite side, walking from what had to be the public gathering place Eira had spoken of the night before. “Davaris,” she responded quietly with a nod as he came to a stop beside her.
He motioned with his head toward the practice she watched. “What do you think?” His look was impartial. At her hesitation, he added, “No matter what people say, honesty is always valued to a true warrior.”
Ishar gave him a slight nod to show that she understood. She turned and studied the milling soldiers. “They lack the confidence they need. They refuse to put their all into the fight because they fail to trust themselves. They fear getting injured and the consequences of those thoughts will likely cause that very reaction. In battle, their hesitation will ultimately get them killed.” Ishar sighed. She shifted her stance and leaned her back against the wall. “On the other hand these men had to be children the last time the Tourna came. They watched as the Tourna destroyed everyone and everything around them. Those childhood memories have shaped their lives. They must be trembling at the thought of finding such childhood memories all too real.”
Davaris nodded. “These people have not the strength of the Lute or the Haaldyn. But beneath their fear is the desire to not be hauled off by the Tourna as a slave. We must make them understand that death is not to be feared; that there are worst things than death. The loss of one’s freedom and the collar of slavery is one. The stripping of you from your family and removal from everything you know and hold dear is an incredible fear in itself. A fear that can, if you let it, strengthen you. But the Tourna are such hideous creatures in their minds. These peoples’ fear of them is a difficult thing to overcome. They tremble with just the thought of facing such opposition, so we must reshape and channel their fear into something new. It is the hope I build on when I teach them: if they can defeat the Tourna, they can create a world where their
children will not have to fear the sight of ships on the horizon but will meet it bravely and with honor. We have managed to train several groups of these men quite well. Villagers send us more recruits each month. When their training is done, we send them back with the intent that they must pass on learned skills to others.” He glanced back at her. “I saw you leave the fortress. Traevyn told me to guide you to him if I saw you before he returned.”
Ishar stood and glanced around “Where is he? I thought he might have ridden off with Gavin or Glyndwr.”
“Teaching the art of the bow to another group of Britai soldiers and a few Lute. Though the Lute are more than likely just getting in some practice. They seem to be born knowing how to shoot an arrow straight and hard.” Davaris motioned with a hand. “Come. He is outside the gates, between the holding and the village.”
Ishar followed Davaris. They did not have far to walk outside the holding. Taryn was set on a slight hill with the village at its base of the slope. The village was a cluster of mud and stick houses with thatch roofs. The houses surrounded a center area with a well. Gardens and pens of animals were established along the outer edges behind the meager shelters. Traevyn and the men being trained stood off to one side on a part where the slope flattened out. There were about fifteen men with bows shooting to the west. Davaris stopped just shy of the holding wall and turned to her. “I will leave you here. Traevyn should finish soon.” He turned to go, but glanced back. “You will not run off?” He asked this with a gentle smile.
The Treason Blade (Battle for Alsaar Book 1) Page 5