4
Ishar woke early the next morning. The sun was only a glimmer on the horizon, the air crisp and cold. She dressed quickly. Ishar slid into her undertunic and padded top. The day would soon grow all too warm, and she would not need the armor riding or hunting. Ishar also grabbed her fighting daggers, her bow and quiver and her sword in its shoulder sheath. The blade felt comfortable and familiar positioned snug against her back. Her burda she threw over her left arm. She would don it to fight the early chill of the day.
Closing her door, Ishar made her way down the hall toward the stairs. She thought back to the night before. The evening meal had progressed better without the presence of Ber. Though Lysandr had been the most reserved, the other warriors had shown a polite interest and had acted with a determination to include her in their conversation, which culminated in an offer of a morning ride and hunt. Ishar had quickly accepted. She was determined to bring down several deer. The meat at the evening meal had proved far superior to the boar prepared the night before. The offer had been made by Traevyn, who had behaved as if their earlier dispute in the horse shelter had never occurred. Ishar wondered if the offer was a concession on his part. It was hard to tell. He had been remote, as unrevealing as ever. It frustrated Ishar that she could not read him as well as the others. He would be an admirable opponent in battle, she realized. But as an ally, his detachment proved an irritation.
As Ishar came into the main hall, she was surprised to find Traevyn waiting for her before one of the crackling fires. He turned as she entered, studying her as was his normal custom. He made no comment at the sight of her with her sword across her back. Ishar frowned at his extended silence. “Do you never just say the first thing that comes to your mind, your first impression?” she asked with a curt tone as she stalked toward him. He always managed to unsettle her with those reserved eyes.
Traevyn came forward to meet her and motioned toward the table. They made their way over to sit and Ishar set her burda in the chair beside her. They were both served bowls of the sweet porridge and the warm paera drink. After the servants moved away, Traevyn spoke. “No.” It was simple and that was Traevyn.
Ishar arched an eyebrow at him. “Really? What happened to the Traevyn I met yesterday afternoon?” She watched his face tighten at her words.
“That should not have happened,” he said abruptly. “It will not happen again. You have my apologies, of course. You are a guest of the holding and I did not show you respect.”
Ishar frowned. “I rather enjoyed meeting that Traevyn,” she stated pointedly. “He felt real.”
Traevyn’s eyes narrowed. “I wanted to wrap my hands around your neck and strangle you into silence.”
Ishar laughed, and then shrugged. “You know, they say it is the closeness of death that makes us see everything else in life so much more clearly.” She smiled.
“You are a strange woman,” Traevyn muttered but it was said with the slightest smile.
They finished the meal quickly. Ishar slid off her sword and donned the burda before slipping her weapon back over her head.
Traevyn motioned her overguard. “It looks warm, but there are no sleeves.”
Ishar glanced down at her bare arms. “Thank you for your concern, but the drape around my shoulders keeps my throat warm and the snug wrapping around my chest keeps the fabric out of the way of my weapons. The lack of sleeves means that nothing prohibits my arm movement in battle. Since this one is also fur-lined, it provides necessary warmth for cool mornings such as this. It is an excellent overguard. We call it a burda.”
Traevyn studied the design. “Do men wear these?”
Ishar smiled. “They wear an overguard that has a slightly different design and is shorter in length. The leather outer covering is durable no matter the environment. Not all are lined. Some burdas are simply plain leather. Besides, you forget, Traevyn, I am used to a far harsher climate than your mild southern region.”
He gave a slight nod of agreement at her words. They made their way out of the fortress and down toward the horse shelter. Gavin and Glyndwr were already there, checking the straps of their saddled horses. Jusa held the reins of her solid black mare and another gray gelding Ishar assumed was Traevyn’s. She quickly ran her hands lightly over her horse, checking the girth belt and the other straps to make certain they were tight. It was not an insult to Jusa. It was ingrained in every soldier to check their gear and their horse themselves. She nodded approvingly to the Britai steward and took Simi’s reins. “Thank you, Jusa,” she said softly.
He gave a small nod and a smile. “Safe riding and good hunting, my lady.”
Ishar nodded another thanks before turning back to Simi. Gavin gave a solid jump from the ground and smoothly mounted a dark brown gelding and Glyndwr executed the same movement on a tall, black mare. Ishar and Traevyn mounted and the group of four made their way through the inner gates and past several groupings of soldiers fighting with drawn swords. Ishar noted Lysandr gave an abrupt nod in their direction from where he stood on the watch tower by the front gate. Ber’s look from where he stood by the soldiers’ barracks was a solid glare, directed at her. Ishar turned her focus forward. They rode out through the outer gates and down the facing slope toward the village. They skirted its edge and continued on. For a while there was only the rhythmic sound of animals and leather.
After a particular long stretch of silence, Ishar noted the groups’ subtle turn of their horses. She commented to Traevyn. “You seek a particular direction?”
Traevyn pointed to the north east direction directly ahead of them. “There is good hunting in the woodland north and just past the river. The deer gather there because of the proximity of water to the woods. They feel safe. It is a good ride but worth it.”
Ishar looked in the direction he had indicated. She glanced back at the three men and raised an eyebrow. “Can these Britai horses run? Or are they only good for a quick dash in battle?” she asked wryly.
Glyndwr stared at her with narrowed eyes. Gavin grinned, showing teeth. Traevyn seemed nonplused as he answered without looking, “And here we were, wondering if we would have to wait for you to catch up at points in the day.”
“Perhaps we should see how she does, this little mare of yours,” Glyndwr’s eyes sparkled as he spoke.
“We would not want to overexert her,” Gavin said neutrally.
Ishar patted the neck of Simi in a soothing manner even though she knew the mare could not understand the words. The banter was more for her than Simi. She flashed a wolfish grin Traevyn’s way. “Lead the way,” she lightly growled before adding teasingly, “If you can?”
With this, Ishar lightly touched her heels to Simi’s sides. The black mare responded at once, surging from a trot to the strong gallop she had desired for days. Ishar understood. She reveled in the feel of the wind blowing down Simi’s neck and across her face. Her hair was thrown away from her face and she thrilled in the sound of hoofs hitting the solid damp soil and the feel of the moving body under her.
The thud of hooves increased. Ishar did not look back. If they caught her, she would know by their matching or passing of her pace. She aimed for the winding Etu River, which had appeared as they crossed over a hill, as an ending point. Ishar felt before she saw Traevyn’s black gelding on her right. She could also sense Gavin and Glyndwr moving up on her left. Ishar leaned forward in Simi’s mane until there was only a blurred mixture of black and reddish-gold strands. Simi responded to her silent urging and Traevyn’s gray gelding fell back a pace.
Gavin and Glyndwr were able to hold to their speed but not budge farther. She settled into the flowing movement as the labored breathing of their mounts mixed with the jangle of leather and metal. The fast furious noise of the river grew; the rushing winter water close to overflowing the normally low banks. The Etu River was not a deep river but it was wide in several spots with winding currents around jutting rock that would become rapids at several points during the next few months. At thes
e spots, it would then become a dangerous changing current, rising and falling as the snows from the passes took their time to melt and run toward the sea. Ishar reined back and leaned up in the saddle. The others caught up with her and pulled back on their mounts. No one wanted to risk plowing into fast moving water at these speeds. They took the next few minutes to let their horses catch their breath before crossing the high water. Simi snorted and blew out air and flecks of spittle
Glyndwr was the first to speak. “She races nicely, this little mare of yours,” he admitted grudgingly.
“Forgive Glyndwr,” Gavin stated with a smile, “He never takes losing well, though he should be used to it by now,” he added on a dry note.
Glyndwr swung his black mare to face Gavin. “That has earned you a match this afternoon,” he said with pointed finger, “And I will even let you choose weapons. I want no words from you when I soundly defeat you.”
“Enough,” Traevyn said quietly, “We did not come out here to fight. We came to hunt.” He glanced at Ishar. “Good riding.”
Ishar felt Traevyn was not a person to easily give compliments. She nodded and glanced toward the water. “How high will it get in the spring?”
Gavin frowned. “It is already higher than many years past, but the winter has been harsh.”
Ishar looked puzzled. “And here I was thinking you had been spared a harsh winter with all the warm weather I have encountered since my arrival.”
“How cold does your holding get in the mountains?” Glyndwr asked with apprehension.
Ishar smiled. “We do not actually live in the high mountains, but near the other end of the island where the sound of the ocean clashing against rock is a constant. The entire region past the mountains is higher than the south with cliffs dominating much of all that is near the water. It is one reason the Tourna seek the south as a landing site. They have tried to invade our highlands several times. They have come to learn, to their error, it is far more difficult than planned. Still, we stand prepared. But as to the weather, Ayden, my father’s holding, was hit hard by several storms this year. The mountain passes have been impassable at times. It is one reason why I have arrived with the touch of spring well upon us. The passes through the mountains have only just begun to thaw.” She glanced around in surprise. “But this area is so green and vibrant and the air so warm. I suppose I assumed the cold missed much of this part of the island.”
Traevyn shrugged. “We will never get what the north has but the mountain snows dictate the level the river will raise. Your words tell me this year, the river will be treacherous. We would do well to gather much meat before crossing proves too dangerous.”
Ishar nodded approvingly. “Then it is good we came to hunt.”
The three men shook their head in agreement. They made their way slowly across the flowing river, letting their horses pick their path since they were still able to feel bottom. Once on the other side, they let their horses move onward in a heavy trot that kept them moving yet still helped refresh the horses from their earlier brisk run. The start of the woodland of the Lute, known as the Daiwen, loomed before them.
“Why do they call it that?” Ishar asked.
Traevyn shrugged. “It means dark safety. The woods have always been a refuge for the Lute, a place to outwit and defeat their enemy. They know every crevice and accessible tree in that forest.”
“It is said that a Lute could be standing in front of you and then disappear before your eyes into the woodland,” Glyndwr noted. “And I would not believe but I have seen it happen in battle. These woods are a second skin to these people. Even to the point that in battle they wear a paint made from a special bush that grows within the wood, smeared across their bare skin. It enables them to blend in with their surroundings. It aids in their ability to disappear.”
Gavin nodded. “No wonder they consider this place sacred. It hides them, fortifies them, gives them their weapons, and feeds and clothes them. Everything they need is here.”
Ishar frowned. “And they will have no problem with us hunting these grounds?”
Traevyn shook his head. “We have a peace with Wyn, the Lute leader,” he stated. “He does not mind that we kill for food as long as we are not wasteful. There is plenty of deer running within the woods for all of us to share.”
“They even believe their grove protects them,” Gavin added with a grin.
Ishar gave him a perplexed look. “Protects them?”
Glyndwr laughed. “Strange as it might seem, their past records, which are of course only spoken, speak of a time when the Tourna landed on the east side of the island and set fire to the grove, entering behind to drive the Lute out of their place of safety. At the time a strong east wind carried the fire inward, but strangely enough, a sudden west wind appeared, driving the fire back out of the grove. It surrounded the Tourna and burned them to death. In the mounting confusion, the Lute poured out of the woods and slaughtered the remaining Tourna as they tried to reenter their boats and leave the island. The Lute set every boat afire and the wind blew them back toward the Tourna homeland. Or, so the story goes,” he added ruefully. “It was before we came to this island.”
That brought up an interesting question. Ishar paused a moment and then spoke softly, “And where do you come from? Eira calls you Raanan warriors, but I have never heard of such a place.”
A silence around Traevyn, Gavin, and Glyndwr grew and their faces appeared so solemn that for a moment Ishar feared she had overstepped her bounds.
It was Traevyn who answered. “It is a place that no longer exists,” he stated quietly.
His words puzzled her and Ishar frowned at their cryptic meaning. “I do not understand.”
Glyndwr kneed his horse past her and entered the wood. “It is not something we speak of,” he said tightly.
Gavin kept his pace to hers. “Forgive him,” he said with sad smile, “Memories are powerful things.” It was all he said before following Glyndwr.
Ishar glanced at Traevyn but he only shook his head and motioned her forward.
They moved deeper into the woods and silence reigned. The hunt had begun. The horses were left soon after they entered. They worked their way on foot through the deeper, more difficult terrain where the deer felt most safe and were less mindful. Throughout the hunt, no matter how focused Ishar was on the pursuit, a part of her mind flickered back to the men’s comments and she wondered even more what had driven Varyk and his men to Alsaar.
It was late morning when Traevyn signaled an end to the hunt. They had each brought down a deer and Gavin and Traevyn had slipped several rabbits into pouches that hung from their saddles, caught inbetween kills. Ishar had heard more than one of them remark about the possibility of a rabbit stew before the day was out. Glyndwr and Traevyn had brought down the first two kills rather quickly, finding the does near a small creek seeking water. Ishar had followed with her kill of a fresh young buck standing proud underneath a hill of overhanging trees. Gavin had been last but had made the finest kill: a large buck with horns that spoke of many years upon his head. As each one made a kill, they backed off to provide support to the others who had not. They had sighted several more deer on their way out but Traevyn had cautioned about being too greedy, to say nothing of the extra weight it would be on the horses.
By the time they fetched their horses and settled the carcasses across their rumps, the sun was nearly high in the sky.
Gavin glanced up. “Do you think we can talk Jaya into making for us a stew of rabbit tonight?”
“Give her a haunch of your deer and I am sure she will glad to,” Glyndwr said with a wry grin.
Gavin shrugged. “I had intended to give the deer to the holding so it matters not where a haunch might disappear. Eira’s table or Jaya’s? Either way I will get fed. Besides, with the four children, Jaya and Ber have use of the meat.”
Ishar blinked. “Ber has four children?”
Glyndwr laughed. “Yes.” He studied her. “You seem surpri
sed.”
“It is just that if any of you might have children, I would not have chosen Ber,” Ishar spoke thoughtfully, before adding, “he seems the wildest among you.”
Now it was Gavin who laughed. “No, we are all wild. Ber is just so full of life he cannot contain himself. It overflows from him. This is why he says what he thinks, and why he is the only one to have children.” Gavin pointed to himself and Glyndwr and Traevyn. “We are all too focused on this war to think of anything else.” He reached behind and grabbed a flask of water, taking a deep swig. “I think I will wait until after this season of the Tourna is over before I bring a child into this world. Ber is more the kind to say, bring life while you have life. He is too alive not to have children.” Gavin nodded, his mouth firm as he spoke, “but if I had found someone like Jaya, perhaps I would think more like he does.”
“Yes, but unfortunately the village girls turn Gavin’s head but only a little,” Glyndwr added wryly.
Gavin made a mock swing at Glyndwr’s head. Ishar laughed to see them relaxed. They appeared to have forgotten her earlier comment about their homeland.
Traevyn swung his horse southward, away from the wood. “Come. It is time we were headed homeward.”
They made reasonable time, riding slow back across the water with their heavier load. Ishar eyed the rushing water with care. At the village they stopped and Glyndwr untied the strapping holding his deer. The villagers accepted it gratefully and the four moved on upward. By the time they crossed through the outer gate, the sun was showing its presence at a little past the high mark.
Davaris was the first to greet them. He walked from the soldiers’ barracks as they passed under the front watch tower and glanced over their kills. His eyes nodded appreciatively. “It seems like we will be having deer tonight.” He nodded with a smile. “Good. It appears to be something that Eira’s cook can handle without ruining.”
Gavin patted his pouch. “We were thinking we might talk Jaya into making us a rabbit stew if a haunch of deer were to find its way into her kitchen.”
The Treason Blade (Battle for Alsaar Book 1) Page 7