Because of that understanding, I have come to know people who I would be honored to stand with on the battlefield; people I would be willing to fight and die beside. But holding feelings such as this man does,” Ishar pointed toward Fenric, “will only destroy us. Do you not see? If he can keep us at odds with one another, we will never truly unite. What he refuses to realize is eventually the Tourna will destroy us because we are not one people but a divided Alsaar. I have decided I will not allow it to happen while there is life within this body.”
Ishar saw several nods, though many Haaldyn stood visibly uncertain and there were others who seemed impassive and unreadable as to their feelings about her words. Still, she pressed on. “If you believe what Fenric has to say, come now and stand with him. You say you have Haaldyn honor. Then walk and place your loyalty this day where it can be observed by all. I would know the heart and mind of my people for what we are about to attempt. If your heart is not with me, you should not stand beside me,” she demanded. Then silently Ishar waited. The splatter of rain and snort of horses was the only sound to break the sudden silence created once she had stopped talking.
It was broken as people moved through the crowd. Several men and women walked toward Ishar. All bore the wolf crest on the chest of their armor. Her second-in-command, Volker, slipped quietly beside her. He was tall, even for a Haaldyn, with blond locks that hung to his neck, deep blue eyes and a scar that ran the length of the right side of his face. He shook his head abruptly and spoke softly for her close ears, “You have never learned to do anything halfway, have you girl?”
Brya, who joined her on her other side, cast a more gentle glance her way with her wise brown eyes. Her honey hair now bore gray at the temple. “It has always been her way and her strength, Volker. Do not dare to chasten her. Though young at the time, it is one reason we chose her as our leader.”
Ishar kept her silence to their words and waited. Her warband built behind her in strength. Still, more Haaldyn continued to come and stand. The seconds became minutes. Though not everyone stood with Ishar, many raised their swords to her in deference. Yet none took the walk to stand beside Fenric. She watched as the once trusted friend paled and began to tremble. Through it all, she found he still showed no humility.
Fenric looked around in a defiance that slowly grew to anger. He let go of any pretense and glared at Ishar with hate in his eyes before looking at the other Haaldyn around him. “Will no one stand and keep the purity of who we are unblemished?” Fenric shouted to the crowd. “Will no one stand and admit the truth: we are destroying ourselves with this melding, uniting ourselves as one?” he sneered. “In the end these common people,” he stated with contempt, his hand encompassing the holding and the village, “along with the Lute, will do nothing but destroy us. Have they not already done enough? The Lute have slaughtered our sons and daughters. The Britai cannot be held to that. They are only worthless sheep who offer no help and will only drag us down like a great sodden weight.” Fenric pointed to Varyk. “And these people? We know nothing of them except they have no home to call their own. They are homeless vagabonds who have taken root in our soil like common weeds.” He stood and looked around at the men and women who stared back in silence. Fenric shook his head in disbelief. “Will no one stand against this abomination?” He spit out vehemently. When no one answered, his shoulders fell.
He knew his doom was upon him, she realized. Ishar moved to confront him. Standing before him, she pointed her dagger at him and shook her head. “I wish I could make you understand what you offer us is the same path we have followed for the past hundred years.” Ishar glanced back at her people. “Where has this path lead but to war and loss?” She shook her head. “It must not continue.”
She realized her mistake almost immediately. Her enemy was not down. The moment she glanced away, Fenric moved. Ishar felt him step forward but even as she started to turn, he was there. He ripped the dagger from her hand, spinning her body as he pulled her tight against his chest. The blade slipped around her head and was drawn snug next to her throat. It happened so quickly that in her exhaustion, she could not react. Ishar tried to breathe lightly as she kept her balance ready for an opening to counter his attack.
Members of her warband had surged at Fenric’s move. He halted them with his next words. “If you want her to live, you will do as I say.” His eyes glittered angrily at Ryen. “Give me a horse. Now!” he commanded with a snarl.
“I can give you a horse but you will never make it out of the encampment.” Ryen’s eyes spit fire. He stopped several yards from where Fenric held Ishar. She watched as Varyk moved and stood beside her father, his hands clutched tight together as if he wished a weapon. Several of her men had notched arrows aimed at Fenric but Ryen’s raised hand lowered their aim.
“No matter how much you might want my blood, we both know you will not risk the life of your daughter to acquire it,” Fenric sneered. “Give me the horse.”
Ishar looked at her father angrily. She could feel the blade as it gripped her throat. It slid slightly and warm liquid dribbled down. Her rage grew. “Kill him,” she snapped out. Her glance took in several of her warband who stood in the deep mud before her. “So help me, do not let this man leave. Kill him now. I command you.”
Two of her archers, Ishbel and Malin, raised their notched arrows again. Ishar could see they, too, hesitated to take the shot.
“I would not advise any of you listen to her,” Fenric stated, sounded nervous for the first time. “I swear I will cut her throat, so help—”
Thwack! Ishar jumped at the sound. She felt Fenric’s body jerk, then he limply fell from her. His hand relaxed and released the dagger. It dropped into the mud with a plop. Ishar wretched herself away and rubbed her raw throat as she turned. She shuddered. Fenric lay crumpled in the mud, an arrow fixed through his right eye. It had penetrated deep. Ishar looked at the arrow and then followed its path. She glanced beyond her people and saw Traevyn mounted, a bow lowered to his side. Even as she watched he fell forward and slipped from the saddle. He hit the ground with a splash, sliding on his side into the mud and lay still.
“Traevyn,” Ishar screamed. She spared no more thoughts to Fenric but ran across the short space of muddy field and knelt beside the Raanan’s motionless body. He was unconscious. Ishar pulled him to her and onto his back. As she did, she could feel the warm blood under her fingers at his shoulder. The wound had reopened. She could feel the heat radiating from his skin. Traevyn’s body trembled with unstoppable shivers with the sickness from his wound and the constant chill from the weather. She glanced up at the gathering crowd. “I need help. Get me your healer,” she ordered her father. Ryen raised a brow but nodded to a soldier standing beside him. Varyk knelt down beside Traevyn’s head. Lysandr and the rest of the Raanans had dismounted. Ishar shook her head. “We have to get him within the holding and away from this infernal cold rain before it kills him.”
“I agree,” Lysandr said as he kneeled and Varyk nodded in agreement.
“As do I,” a female voice stated calmly as someone knelt beside Ishar. Ishar looked up in surprise. “Serine?”
Her slender, red-haired, green-eyed sister looked at her with a smile that reached not just to Ishar but to Varyk. “I am glad to hear the words spoken by Varyk were the truth.” Serine nodded with approval to Ishar. “I had no idea you could speak with such resolve, my sister.” Serine turned her attention to Traevyn and nodded. “This man needs to be brought into the holding.”
Ryen interrupted and barked, “He may stay here within a tent if you are to tend him.” He did not look all that comfortable with the sight of his daughter showing such great concern for a Raanan. Even as he spoke, the drizzle of rain began to increase in strength. Ryen glanced at Serine in exasperation. “Can we not move the man within a tent before you start your tending?”
Serine glanced up but her attention was to Varyk. “With permission, my lord, my sister is correct. I would rather him be taken ins
ide the holding where a strong fire may help with the cold shakes and keep the dampness out of the air. I can bring what herbs and medicines I have with me to help with his wound and illness.”
“Now wait one minute,” Ryen stated huffily. “What do you mean to do? The terms between us,” he said, motioning between him and Varyk, “are still uncertain. I am not about to let you go into his holding before the matters between us are cleared up. The man will have to stay among us if you are to tend him.”
“And I refuse to allow one of my men to stay in your tents when but a half hour ago you were ready to slaughter me for a misunderstanding between us,” Varyk snapped.
Ishar rose and looked at both. “I cannot believe what I am hearing. You both stand here arguing while Traevyn lies near death. If this is all we are, what will become of us?” She looked at Varyk and stared at him calmly with expectation in her eyes. Let it go, she thought to Varyk. Let go of the hurts made and do it for the peace. I know you have this within you, she thought silently. Ishar could tell Varyk knew what she thinking by the way he clenched his jaw and looked away. When he glanced back, her gaze was still steady.
Varyk closed his eyes and sighed. He glanced across at Ryen with a shake of his head and spoke. “There are no issues between us,” he said tiredly. “You are welcome into my holding. The talks we proposed will continue.”
Ryen looked undecided. “Who of my people is included in this invitation you speak of?” he asked warily.
Ishar turned and glared at her father. She stalked over next to where he stood. “You cannot expect him to invite your entire party within these walls,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “You ask for too much, for trouble. These people need time to adjust to one another’s thinking before we attempt to blend them as one army.” Ishar paused in thought, then turned and spoke with quiet authority. “I will enter as will Serine and of course you and your aids. I am sure Varyk will have no problem with some of my Wörie entering with us as an honor guard. The rest of our people will wait outside the holding and within the camp for further instructions.” Ishar looked between the two men. “That seems fair for all involved.”
Both men frowned. Varyk was the first to ease his expression and nod abruptly. He understands, she realized. The warband would be a show of Haaldyn strength for Varyk to see and give her father a sense of protection without the appearance of being weak and caving. Yet they were people who would only take their cues from her and her alone. In this, Varyk trusted her. Not that he really had a choice if he wanted the peace to ensue.
Varyk nodded again. “It is fair.”
Ryen still frowned even as he nodded. “So be it.” Ishar knew by his features her father was not happy with the situation, but after his earlier actions, another accusation would disrupt the situation farther. Ryen had no choice but to agree.
“Well, if everyone has decided to hold off with more killing,” Serine stated as she rose, “perhaps we could get this wounded man within the holding walls before he dies.” She glanced around and pointed to Davaris. “You. I will need your help. Hurry!” she stated pointedly with furrowed brow when Davaris simply looked at Varyk. Varyk nodded and motioned with his head toward the holding. Davaris moved forward and, grabbing Traevyn, slung him over his shoulder. Serine frowned as if she disapproved of the handling of the injured man like a sack of grain. She rolled her eyes but sighed and motioned Davaris toward the holding with a motion of her arm indicating she would follow. A Haaldyn appeared with a bag in his hands and handed it over. Ishar watcher as her sister spoke several heated words to the man before dismissing him. She smiled. When her sister was on a mission it was sight to behold. Serine slipped the bag over her head and one shoulder and, pulling the hem of her garment up, followed Davaris and the rest of the Raanan men, save for Lysandr who stood ready and waiting for Varyk.
Ishar made her way to Varyk’s side. She turned to her father. Doubt was still in his eyes as he had watched the proceedings. Ryen glowered at her stance beside Varyk. Ishar ignored his offended look and spoke direct and to the point. “You may not understand everything that is going to happen in this new future and not everything may be to your liking, but it is what we need and what you want.” She shrugged. “I cannot say I know what our new future will bring. I can only hope peace and trust will grow out of it. Everything is new and unfamiliar. That is what can happen when a fresh approach to an old problem is sought. But I know trust has to start somewhere if we are to endure and I trust these people. I hope you will come to do so too. I would hope my given word would aid in that.”
Ishar had made her choice to stand with Varyk and Wyn. Her father could see that. No matter his decision, she would stay and work out this plan of unification and the strengthening of Alsaar in preparation for the coming of the Tourna. Never before had she so sought a position without knowledge of her father’s desires. It felt strange but for the first time, no matter his opinion, she felt confident in her choice. Fenric’s words and actions had done much damage. Hopefully it would not prove irreparable. She saw Varyk studying her. He probably wondered how her word stood with her father.
For a second, Ryen watched his daughter with fleeting emotions. Surprise, uncertainty, and doubt flickered across his face. The Haaldyn leader looked at his daughter with narrowed eyes as he tapped his sword against his leg in thought. She was being weighed. Ryen glanced at Varyk and nodded. “Prepare your holding,” he murmured softly, “I will enter within the hour if that is agreeable.”
Varyk gave a brief nod. “It is. We will await your arrival. I will see to the quartering of Ishar’s warband.”
Ryen nodded again. He looked at his daughter and shook his head with a look that hinted at admiration before turning and moving back toward the camp. His personal guard went with him. Ishar glanced at Volker. “Prepare to move within the holding with my father.” Volker frowned but gave a nod and moved away with a steady pace. Brya and the rest of the warband followed. Several soldiers were already dragging the body of Fenric from camp. For a moment her throat tightened. Memories of Fenric and her childhood rose in her mind. Ishar let them slid away. There was no time for that now. She would mourn Fenric in due course and in her own way. Ishar swallowed and the tightness eased.
Varyk gave Ishar a wry look and watched her with a studied glance. “That was a good bluff.”
His words broke her melancholy. Ishar raised a brow, “What makes you think it was a bluff?”
His look turned to admiration. “You would stand with us? No matter the cost?”
“There is a greater cost in not standing together. Our unity has to start somewhere.” She took a deep breath and stared around her at the holding, the village, the tents of her father and the people from each that had stood and watched the activities of the night. She glanced back at Varyk with a growing smile. “You know, we may come from different lands, have different customs, and live certain aspects of our life unique from one another but I know at this moment we are all the same. We are all miserably cold, drenched to the skin, and tired.” Varyk’s lips trembled slightly. Ishar continued, “And right now at this moment we all seek the same thing: a desire to be dry and well rested.” She shrugged. “Perhaps we are not all that different after all.”
Varyk chuckled at her words and together the two of them made their way back toward the holding walls and the main gate that was now open to admit the returning warriors.
*
It was a week before he sought her. Ishar had seen to his well-being on several occasions while he recovered but always within the presence of others. It was easier. Traevyn spoke nothing of his desires, only watched her. She had simply returned a gentle look and treated him as a friend recovering from a near mortal wound, but his never wavering glance had bothered her. So, after a few times, she had kept herself too busy to visit. It was not hard. Between meetings with Varyk, Wyn, and her father and training sessions with her warband, the Raanans, and the Britai, Ishar suddenly found her life quite demanding. So sh
e tucked thoughts of Traevyn to the back of her mind where they stayed until nightfall. She allowed them within her dreams. It was the only acceptable course open to her.
She knew he would come. The fact that it took only a week was a surprise. Ishar knew her sister. Serine could be a tyrant in the sickroom; she worried greatly for those in her care and was loathe to release any who had not regained their full strength. Ishar had actually felt a tremor of remorse for Traevyn, who she knew had to be gnashing his teeth at being tied to a bed. At the same time, she was grateful for the time it gave her to prepare.
She was rubbing down Simi after a long ride when he walked within the confines of the horse shelter. Ishar had developed a sense for his presence. She heard his near silent tread and continuied to brush the mare with smooth, long strokes. Ishar was determined to remain calm and in control for the coming words.
The footsteps halted. “You stopped coming,” he accused softly.
The motion of her hand paused in midstoke. “Maybe I felt you needed the rest.” She continued with her ministrations, the steady rhythm settling the rising flutter in her stomach.
She heard him take a step closer. “Liar.”
How did she respond to that? The warrior in her wanted to take insult, but the woman who had awakened could not fault him for his spoken honesty. Ishar remembered she had once asked for Traevyn’s truth, always. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and turned to face him. He deserved that.
His eyes bore into hers. “Did you hear me?”
The Treason Blade (Battle for Alsaar Book 1) Page 27