The Treason Blade (Battle for Alsaar Book 1)

by Keech, Jenny Rebecca

  Jaya sighed. “I am sorry. She has an anger that has not softened with time.”

  Ishar frowned. “I do not understand. What have I done to cause such offense?”

  Jaya took a deep breath. “It is not you personally. Isla was married once. She lived in a village close to the mountains. There was a skirmish one day between the Haaldyn and the Lute who eventually took over the village. After the conflict, the body of her husband was discovered. It is not known by whose hand he died but in Isla’s eyes there is only one suspect.”

  “The Haaldyn,” Ishar finished solemnly.

  Jaya nodded. “She has family in Wërn. After his death, she came here. But she has no love for you or any Haaldyn.”

  Ishar grimaced. “Will she poison the women against me?”

  Jaya contemplated the view in front of her. “There is a possibility she will try. She has no love of the Lute and Haaldyn peace and I know she is opposed to any Haaldyn being this far south, but the women of the village are not without their own thoughts and abilities to understand. Show them you are worthy of their trust and they will give it.”

  Ishar smiled. “Do you still find me so dissimilar?”

  Jaya clucked to the mare to pick up speed. She studied Ishar. “I trust Eira in that she trusts you. You remain different but I find your appearance less strange each day. I still do not understand the ways of your people,” Jaya commented, “but I am not averse to learning.” Then she added softly, “And what of us, do we appear so outlandish?”

  Ishar studied the surroundings she had so quickly passed yesterday. There were mounds after mounds of damp grassy green as far as the eye could see. The morning mist hung low, clutching the ground. A hint of sun filtered through the haze. She glanced aside at Jaya. “Like you, I am learning to appreciate more of what the inhabitants of this island have to offer as individual groups and as one united people.” Ishar rubbed her hands nervously down the sides of her pants as she watched the path before them and listened to the creak of the turning wheels. “I know it is important that we retain what makes us unique and different, but I am in agreement with my father and Wyn: we must be willing to set aside those differences in light of the war in which we are about to engage. There are things about each other we may never completely understand.”

  Jaya nodded thoughtfully. “That I realize. The first time I saw a Lute, they shocked me even though I had heard stories about them all my life. With their painted skin, body tattoos, simple leather coverings and knowng their woman went to war with their men, the sight of these fierce warriors was unnerving. When they came upon us, we simply stood still and let them pass by, praying they would leave us in peace. I am afraid I did not even attempt to understand them until I met Eira, and by then she had pledged herself to Varyk and begun to adopt certain Raanan traits such as her manner of dress, which mirrors ours. These things made me feel more comfortable being around her. She has always been one to make peace work.” Jaya laughed. “Though if a conflict arises, she will fight very quickly as Lute. My Ber says he will fight side by side with her.” Jaya’s smile deepened. “And my Ber is not one to give praise easily, especially to a woman warrior. At his heart, he believes a woman should not be in battle.” She shook her head. “No, when I first came to know the Lute, I just lived and was glad they were not our enemies, though I am certain many of the Lute looked at us with disdain for our lack of strength.”

  Ishar shrugged. “They have had their woodland from which they are able to strike their enemies and create a defense for themselves whereas the Britai have had to suffer in the most exposed and vulnerable area of Alsaar. You have had very few places to run and hide within, except for the mountains which are not close, and no area from which to create a barricade against the Tourna’s landings.”

  “Talk of the Tourna coming is enough to stir panic in my people,” Jaya stated softly. “We are afraid, though we try to listen to Varyk when he tells us if we do not fight, the Tourna will overrun us and take us away. For that reason we send our men to him for training.” She wavered. “This concept of fighting is foreign to our way of thinking.”

  “Do you remember the last time the Tourna came?” Ishar asked with caution. This was an uncomfortable issue of discussion.

  Jaya’s breath caught. “Yes,” she said roughly, “I was fifteen. My parents sent me to the mountains with my two younger sisters and other children months before the Tourna came. They wanted to take no chances.” She sighed sadly. “When those of us who escaped to the mountains heard the Tourna had gone, we waited another month before we returned. I never found my parents. I do not know if they died fighting or if the Tourna took them away as slaves.” Jaya was silent for a moment. “A part of me would rather they died. If they were alive, it would mean they were slaves and I cannot bear the thought of them lost to us and in a foreign land.”

  Ishar was silent as the wagon trudged through the dark green waving grass. The sound of the river came easily now. It could be heard just past the next rise. Jaya shifted her weight and jiggled the reins of the brown mare before them. “What of you, Ishar? Do you remember the last time of the Tourna?”

  Ishar nodded firmly. “I was thirteen, almost fourteen, and had just taken the tattoo claiming warrior status.”

  Jaya looked surprised. “You were a soldier?”

  “It is the custom among my people,” Ishar answered in a relaxed manner. “At the time I was not sent to this side of the mountains. The Tourna had landed a group of boats along our coast. I was part of one of the warbands sent to defend our coastal villages.” Ishar shuddered. “After we stopped their advance and killed many, we sent the rest scurrying like rats back to their ships. I will never forget the sight as we pushed them back to the ocean, of villages burned to the ground, of bodies of men, women, and children scattered across on the region, left to lie like refuse behind the advancing Tourna.” Ishar shuddered again.

  Jaya stared ahead. “What a horrible sight to see for a thirteen year old.”

  “We were all young then and scarred by the same vicious people,” Ishar said softly. “Now our hope must be to not let it continue as a sight the children of this generation need carry.”

  Ishar enjoyed a comfortable silence with Jaya. The Etu River came into view as they crossed the last rise. Jaya made her way with the wagon down the hill and toward the flowing water. The wagons were halted close to the edge and the women unloaded the baskets and netting and quickly set to work spreading out the strong, thin mesh. Ishar loosened Simi, who she knew would be fine grazing free, then made her way over to Jaya to help. The part of the river they chose was farther down from where Ishar had crossed with Traevyn and the others a day earlier. There were fewer rocks jutting out, only smooth bank from which to fish and the water ran deeper. They set to work, keeping a lookout for any debris that might tear the nets.

  They were several hours into their work before Ishar grabbed a breath of rest. It had not taken her long to appreciate the village women’s resilience. They were hard-working, tough women who did their work with intense focus, but their existence was a demanding one and it required this single-mindedness to survive. Ishar walked back to the wagon and grabbed a flask of the refreshing non-fermented paera Jaya had shown her earlier as they rode. The sweet liquid eased her parched throat and momentarily sated her growing hunger. She took the leather skin and nestled it under the seat before turning around. There were several baskets full of the supai. The women were taking turns drawing in the nets. Ishar looked downriver. Tai had helped her and Jaya pull in the thin mesh. Now, like her, Tai rested. He was playing along the water’s edge picking up small stones and throwing them into the melee that was the center of the river.

  Ishar flashed him a look of concern and looked for his mother. Jaya stood directing the women even during her rest. Ishar hesitated and then moved downriver close to where Tai was playing. “Hello, Tai.”

  He gave her a slight crooked grin, “Hello.” Tai bent back over the edge and picked u
p a stone. He held it up to the light and then threw it quickly out into the river.

  She stopped a few feet away. “Why not come away from the edge, to be safe. The water is very high today.”

  Tai frowned. “I just want find a stone for my momma. She likes the stones I give her.” He bent over and looked along the edge once more.

  Ishar stood still, undecided as to whether to force the boy or hope he would quickly find his rock and come back with her.

  Jaya made the decision for her, her voice rising out from behind Ishar. “Tai! What do you think you are doing, child?”

  Tai looked up brightly. “Coming, Momma. I found it. Wait one second.” He bent back down over the edge and leaned out over the water, reaching.

  Jaya came up beside Ishar. “Tai. Get away from the water and come back with me this instance. I came for supai. I do not have time to be fishing you out of this river today.”

  It happened so quickly. One moment Tai was before them. The next he was gone, as was a notable chunk of the bank. The ground along the river was so saturated with the high-flowing current that the bank had become unstable and therefore, movable. For a second, Jaya stood immobile in shock. Ishar reacted, sharply calling for Simi as she raced for the mare. Even as Jaya screamed out her son’s name, Ishar mounted her mare and dug her heels into Simi’s side.

  The mare’s gallop quickly drew her even and then past Jaya. Ishar made her way along the bank for a second but she swiftly moved away and cut across land. Ishar could see where the land curved far ahead. She made her way to where the bend ended and hoped it would give her the time she needed. Ishar pulled Simi up short and grabbed a bundle of rope laced across the back of her rigging. She tied the end to a loop on Simi’s saddle and quickly looped the other end around her middle.

  “Hold,” she ordered the mare, who stilled and went stiff at the command.

  Ishar knew she had one shot for this to work. Tai rounded the end of the bend like a bobbing bundle of sticks. His arms flailing out of the water and into the air; reaching, grabbing for anything solid. Thankfully, he was still close to the inner edge of the curve. Ishar judged the distance and her timing, then took a running leap out into the river.

  Water gushed over her head and she was shoved downward. She came up sputtering and shaking from the sharp cold even as she looked out over the white froth for Tai. The boy was near, the distance between them closing rapidly. She doubted he was even aware help was nigh. Ishar kicked with her feet and reached out her arms to catch Tai. He was close, nearly within reach when Ishar felt herself yanked up short as the slack in the rope disappeared. She watched helplessly as a pale, blue lipped Tai flowed by, outside the reach of her arms.

  Ishar reacted quickly in desperation. Her hand shook from the cold as she reached for the dæwen tucked in at her waist. Pain rippled from the wound on her forearm, though the chill of the water diminished it to an icy ache. Ishar pulled the blade free and slashed at the rope. In seconds Ishar was thrown rapidly downriver by the stream of rushing water. She secured the small knife and, instead of fighting the current, she swam with it and let it pull her swiftly closer to Tai. Ishar could see the boy’s strength was fading with the frigid cold and rugged strength of the river. His struggles grew weaker. Hold on, she thought as she closed the distance.

  After moments that seemed to last a lifetime, Ishar managed to bring her arms around the boy. Tai was coughing water and struggling for air. “It is okay, Tai,” Ishar ordered. “Stop fighting. Relax and hold on to me. Focus on getting air,” she yelled. The boy was tired, she could see it in his eyes, but Tai wrapped his arms around her and hugged her body. “Good boy, Tai,” Ishar shouted encouragingly. He did not comment, only closed his eyes in despair.

  Then the struggle truly began. Ishar labored to make it to the bank with the boy hampering her efforts by his hanging weight. She fought the current and the debris being pulled down river alongside them. At several points she was bumped and knocked under raging water. She was now trying to swim counter to the current. Ishar kept her arms wrapped tight around Tai and dragged them both back to the surface, sputtering and coughing water. Tai went limp. She clutched the boy with her injured and now half-numb arm and swam deeply in the water with her other while kicking forward with both legs.

  She managed to edge close to the bank. It was then Ishar felt the tops of rocks under the surface as the river channeled its water through several rapids. Her legs and body were dragged across several slick underwater boulders as she moved in toward the rocky edge. She gritted her teeth and tried to gain a hold on the emerging rocks. With one hand she held Tai and with the other, the top of the rock. Water gushed as the river grabbed desperately at her clothing and for a long moment Ishar fought a hard and physical battle for her and the boy as the muscles in her injured forearm screamed and quivered.

  Little by little, she managed to lift a leg up out of the water and slide it partly atop the boulder. She took a deep breath and pulled them out of the raging current, Tai still in her arms. Ishar tucked him under her and protectively surrounded his figure with her own. Her numb body shook. She was beyond exhaustion. For a moment, the thought of letting go and slipping quietly back into the raging current drifted through her mind, then Ishar remembered Tai. Instead, she laid her head on the rock and took several ragged breaths. She eased over the boy and down the other side of the rock into white froth before sliding Tai from the rock face and into the churning water. The water was up to her chest here and although the pressure had eased, the water still buffeted her, making her progress unsteady as she wrestled her way toward the next rock over slippery, large stones.

  Struggling, it took Ishar precious time to make her way to the bank, especially with her throbbing arms and shoulders. Exhaustion draped her like a suffocating blanket as she finally managed to blindly claw her way out of the water and up onto the rocky bank with white, numb fingers. With her feet still in the river, Ishar let Tai’s body slide down beside her. She pushed the boy up higher onto the grass. She could see he was breathing but his lips held the slightest tinge of blue from the cold water.

  Ishar’s body shivered from the cold of the water and air but also from weariness. She tried to crawl up onto the grassy bank but for the first time, her body refused to obey. She did not have time to react. The world around her went gray and fuzzy. Her head slumped forward, touching the sanding soil as she closed her eyes and welcomed the enveloping darkness.

  *

  Traevyn stared at the beach in front of him. Dark dirt merged with gray sand, which ran to the ocean surf and beyond. There was an eerie empty sensation that haunted this lonely stretch of water. No one lived here. That made it an ideal landing area for a Tourna spy. The only presence this beach knew were the people who made the occasional pass looking for driftwood to burn. That was how the boat had been sighted. Traevyn turned and walked the length back to where the rest of the men stood. The boat before them was broken apart, more than likely cast on the sand by a late winter storm. There were no indications as to where the boat had originated. It was only obvious that the boat was not a recent deposit.

  Gavin threw down a stick from his hand. “This was a waste of our time.”

  “Not so,” Glyndwr interrupted. “The boat could have a Tourna origin.”

  “Yes,” Gavin concurred. “But even if it did, the person who rode within its confines is long gone and dispersed among us.”

  Traevyn knelt and examined the wooden sides. “There are marks to indicate the wood might have been struck to snap it like this.” He glanced up. “That might suggest it was a boat escaping from a Tourna raid.”

  “Or it was made to look like that,” Ber remarked suspiciously.

  Lysandr sighed from where he stood by one end. “This is getting us nowhere. There is no story here that we can follow and I will not inflame a story about Tourna spies without further proof than this.” He walked to his black gelding and looked back. “As far as I am concerned we have more pressing m
atters than a broken boat lying scattered on the sand.” Lysandr mounted swiftly. “We have fortifications to build. Let us go.” He applied his heels and the horse snorted and moved down the beach.

  Traevyn stood and swiftly moved to his gray standing steady and silent with head bent. He mounted and was about to turn when something stopped him. Traevyn pulled up his gelding, hesitated, and looked around but he could not locate the feeling of disorder rising within him. He closed his eyes and tried to feel where the sense of wrongness was originating.

  A horse’s snort broke his concentration. Traevyn opened his eyes.

  Davaris had ridden his white gelding close to his side and he now watched Traevyn cautiously. “What is wrong?”

  Traevyn looked around again. “Nothing.”

  “I have seen that look upon your face before. The last time, I remember well. It was the morning that you told Varyk we should return to our people instead of staying to help the Osguaru. We chose not to heed your advice and disaster struck us.” Davaris studied him. “What are your feelings telling you now?”

  “That is just it,” Traevyn ground out. “I do not know. There is no relevant danger here, I would know. They would know,” Traevyn stated softly, pointing to the horses casually nosing the ground. “No, this is something else.”

  “The holding?” Davaris asked quietly.

  Traevyn shook his head. “No. My instincts do not tell me to race back to the fortress, but something—,” He turned his horse around in a circle letting his eyes roam the area, “—is not right.”