The Forgotten Tribe

by Stephen J Wolf

  She really didn’t think he was dumb enough to try, but he pulled his swords out and he lunged for her, blades spiraling in the air. With a sigh, Kitalla side-stepped the attack and kicked high, turning her body downward so she could catch him in the back. Merrlis went down in the one hit.

  “Would anyone else like to challenge my decision?” She waited while Merrlis regained his footing. “So? Shall we continue our debate or would you like to assume command of the Eagles now?”

  “What do you expect from us?” asked Ferithor, a lanky fighter who preferred an ax over any other weapon. “We’ve never led a battalion before. Tasking us with this is asking us to die.”

  “Maybe that’s the goal,” Darch suggested.

  Kitalla waited and the five captains proved to her then that she had a challenging road ahead, for they bickered back and forth for a while before they even let her speak again. “If you don’t think you’re capable of following my orders, then by all means, return to the castle and tell King Prethos that you couldn’t abide his command. I’m sure any consequences for that will be far less than my own. So take this chance now while I offer it, for if you make any effort to desert me on this task, I will not only have your head, but also any other part of your body that you hold most dear. And when I say ‘have’ it, I’m not sure if I’ll want it as a trophy or as lunch.”

  Everyone cringed at the thought, but she was going for absurd. They all waited in silence, each staring at Kitalla in confusion. She seemed so different to any of the fighters who had ever known her, but they had to admit that none of them knew her quite that well to begin with. Perhaps she actually did nosh on the intestines of men who failed her. They shuddered at the thought.

  “Great, then,” she said with a clap of her hands, breaking the silence. “Spread out some and take your positions. We march toward the east and toward the fighting. Just remember, all of you; you’re under my command now, so you may not join any battle unless I permit it. Especially if it involves other people. Is that understood? I’m glad. Move out.”

  The five sets of fighters broke apart and then ventured east, with Kitalla bobbing along as if she were strolling through a park toward a picnic. Carrus stared at her, biting his lip, wondering if he should ask about her antics or play along with them. In the end, he kept true to form and remained silent.

  After some time, the desert creatures became aware of them and started to attack. Kitalla hopped in excitement and withdrew a short sword she had taken along with her. She preferred fighting with daggers, but when facing sandorpions and eaglons, it was better if the weapon had some reach to it.

  “Eagles and Ravens, attack! The rest of you, hold back and keep wary of others.” Then, with a strange grin on her face, Kitalla charged ahead, metal flashing in the sunlight like a beacon. Four sandorpions scuttled toward her, tails raised and ready to strike. She didn’t care. Kitalla bounded into the air and stepped lightly on one creature, twisting her torso aside as the tail whipped at her. She leaped backwards, flipping onto the next sandorpion and arousing its attack. As the tail lashed toward her, she reached out her left arm and snagged the appendage, then jumped and spun around as if the tail were a pole, landing on the sand behind the beast. The confused creatures swept their tails out again, inadvertently striking each other instead of their intended prey.

  It only angered the beasts, but Kitalla was off to her true quarry, the eaglons. The feathered birds swept rapidly toward her, and Kitalla inadvertently shuddered in recollection of the last time she had been in such a situation. Then, she had depended on Gabrion to assist her, but he was gone now—in more ways than one—and she would not be bested by them again.

  Her sword swept upward, whistling in the air. The eaglons swerved aside, cawing aloud and focusing on her. Poisoned talons flexed as their wings pounded angrily. Kitalla felt no threat today, however; if only the eaglons had understood the implications of that, they would have fled for some other battle.

  With a twisting leap, Kitalla brought her sword about and down, then up again. The tip of the blade caught the chest of one eaglon, rending it from the sky. Enraged, three more banded together to bring her down, but she merely used their new positioning to her advantage. Kitalla ducked low, cowering under their assault, but once they were close enough, she sprang into the air, throwing sand in their eyes with one hand and swiping across with her sword in the other. Blinded, the eaglons did not see the onset of her fatal blow.

  Only three other eaglons remained and she was eager to destroy them before the others could reach her. With a cursory look over her shoulder, it seemed the rest of the fighters were having difficulty with the sandorpions. She could see Merrlis hacking away with a panicked look on his face and there were more cries of panic from the soldiers than from the beasts. Once she was finished, she would turn and offer them a hand. But, first things first.

  She knew she couldn’t repeat her recent tactics with this final set of beasts, for they wouldn’t likely fall for it if they had witnessed the defeat of their comrades. Eaglons weren’t nearly as smart as lupinoes, but they were nonetheless intelligent. They had to be in order to hunt for food or to mate without poisoning themselves with their toxic talons. It was accepted among the bestiaries that eaglons were susceptible to their own venom and that they couldn’t prevent the poison from escaping their claws. As she considered this, it gave Kitalla an idea.

  Turning on the spot, Kitalla pounced for the eaglons she had already felled. With a few well-placed swipes, she cut the talons off the birds and then used a corner of her tunic to lift the severed digits for her next feat. Kitalla had always excelled at throwing daggers and had used her skills to earn meals and lodging when times were bad; although, she had never tossed knives dipped in poison before. Taking one talon from her protected hand, Kitalla held it carefully between her fingers and then snapped it toward the nearest of the three remaining eaglons. As expected, the bird maneuvered aside, but that was its undoing, for Kitalla had sent a second talon after the first. The sharp nail bit into the eaglon’s face and the venom did its work moments later.

  She was lucky enough to take down a second eaglon with the remaining talons, but the last bird eluded her attacks. Undaunted by the deaths of its flock, the final eaglon shrieked and then tucked its wings in tightly, turning its body into a rapidly plunging spear. Kitalla had no time to devise an elaborate defense. She merely dropped and rolled aside. The eaglon barely missed her, then it fanned out its wings and came about swiftly, prepared to fold in again and seek her heart.

  Though the creature spun with great haste, it was no match for Kitalla. As soon as the eaglon had swept overhead, Kitalla had launched her sword into the air and it sailed effortlessly toward its goal, slashing one wing off the unsuspecting bird and bringing it crashing to the desert.

  An awkward pain rose from within her as she looked around. It was an awful feeling and she frantically checked her skin for wounds, but she found none. The wrenching agony made no sense, but it knocked her to her knees and caused her to double up in pain, anxiously trying to escape its clutches. There was no specific source of the anguish. It was simply there, paralyzing her.

  Then out of nowhere, Gabrion stepped toward her and he knelt beside her and stroked the hair out of her eyes. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  She looked up toward him, and then she grabbed him, pulling him in and wrapping herself around his massive torso, pressing her lips to his and drawing away his breath. He held her firmly and returned her kisses, his strong hand stroking her hair and trying to calm her down. She wilted in his arms and cried against his powerful chest. He quietly held her there, keeping her cheek against his heartbeat to instill her with peace.

  “What happened to us, Gabrion?”

  “Shh,” his chest rumbled in response. “It’s all okay now.”

  “Where did it all go wrong?”

  He held her as she wept amidst the fallen eaglons, his warmth seeping into her soul. “Be still,” he whispere
d.

  She pulled away and tried to look at him through teary eyes. “But Gab—”

  Yet as she looked at him, she realized that it wasn’t Gabrion at all. It was Carrus. Her thoughts tumbled madly for a moment but as she saw the look in his eyes, she understood the truth. He didn’t see her as weak, nor was he taking advantage of her pain; he was merely being for her what she needed. He didn’t take his eyes away from her as she stared at him and he didn’t pull his lips away when she pressed hers against his a second time. They remained there, locked together until she was able to rise up on her own.

  “Carrus,” she started.

  “No need,” he dismissed. “The battle is over. We should move on.”

  “I don’t know what came over me,” she admitted.

  He looked at her and shook his head. “Yes you do, Kitalla. Don’t lie to yourself.”

  She made a face. “I saved his life,” she said. “And he hates me for it.”

  “He may come around,” Carrus offered, though he didn’t sound convincing. “But we don’t have time for it now.”

  She firmed her jaw. “You’re right, of course. Usually it’s Gabrion going off on some rant like this. I’m supposed to be the one who’s all business.”

  “You’re hurt,” he said. “Dealing with that will take some time.”

  “As you said, we don’t have time for it now.” She punched her fist into her hand. “I’m just so… frustrated and angry. And hurt,” she confessed with a whisper.

  He looked at her for a moment and then he placed his hand on her shoulder. “Then use me.”

  “What?”

  “Use me as if I were Gabrion. Just so you can get through this.”

  Kitalla’s eyes opened wide. “You don’t realize what you’re offering.”

  “I’m beyond scorn and jealousy. Even if I weren’t, we need you to be sharp and to be yourself. If that means a bit of… unconventional medicine, then so be it.”

  “Well,” she muttered, “just be certain. I can be exuberant.”

  “Don’t worry. I don’t bruise easily.”

  Before she could respond, Merrlis approached, his eyes lowered somewhat. “Forgive my intrusion, but will we be off soon?”

  “Yes,” Kitalla answered curtly, annoyed at the interruption. She noticed his averted gaze. “What is it?”

  “Perhaps another soldier would be a better leader for the Eagles? I barely did anything at all.”

  She examined him intensely and then shook her head. “No, I chose you and you will rise up to the challenge.”

  Carrus looked ready to argue but then he clamped his mouth shut and waited.

  “But there are others who would rather have my position,” Merrlis said. “All I’m going to do is get someone killed.”

  “With an attitude like that, you’re certain to make it happen,” she retorted. “Or are you looking for a second round with me?”

  Merrlis gestured at the dead eaglons strewn upon the sand. “You did all that single-handedly. I wouldn’t stand a chance at defeating you.”

  “Precisely, and now that you know how good I am, then you have cause to trust that I know what I’m doing by putting the lot of you in charge. We will not have this conversation again, Merrlis. Lead the Eagles well or go back home. Decide now.”

  He pouted. “Both options will lead to my death.”

  “Not if you lead well,” she argued. “Back in line, soldier. We move out momentarily.”

  When the troops were on the move again, Carrus moved around to each pack and offered some constructive advice to each captain. Along the way, he also assuaged the discontent of his original fighters, ensuring them that Kitalla had it all worked out, though he kept to himself that he doubted the truth of that. When his rounds were complete he found Kitalla and walked with her.

  “Are you trying to get them all to rebel?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Even you don’t get it.”

  “Then enlighten me.”

  “Gladly… after we take care of those sand rodia.” She whistled aloud and called for the Sparrows to lead the assault against the new menace.

  Carrus watched Kitalla as she pulled out two daggers and joined the Sparrows. To no one in particular, he muttered, “I think she summoned them just so she wouldn’t have to answer my question.”

  Chapter 17

  Entrance to the

  Laboratory

  It took Dariak and Randler three days to reach the small farm where Dariak grew up. A few families milled around, tending to the land and keeping the place in working order while the mage was away. Their horses were taken to the barn for washing and feeding, while Dariak cautiously escorted the bard to the main house. On foot, Randler struggled even with the magic crutches. He accepted Dariak’s support without word.

  “Master Dariak, you have returned at long last!” an older woman greeted. “Come inside, dear. There is some soup brewing if you are hungry. It will be ready in no time!”

  “Thank you, Keela. We could use a meal. We’ll await in the sitting room.” He took Randler away from the entrance to a large wooden room with a massive sofa and three well-padded chairs. The walls were lined with bookcases and windows. A hand-woven carpet covered the floor, its colors somewhat faded, but the pattern was just as intriguing as he remembered. He used to spend time as a child tracing the patterns, wondering if they were representations of great magic spells that would unlock the keys to the world.

  Randler hunkered down into a chair with side arms to better prop himself up. Keela brought in some tea and set it on a table next to the injured bard, after which she poured the first cups and then bowed herself out of the room.

  “I had no idea you grew up with servants,” Randler noted.

  “Don’t start.” His voice was empty.

  “It’s an observation, not a criticism.” He gestured to the books on the wall. “That’s a lot of reading material. Will we find what we’re looking for here?”

  Dariak shook his head. “These are the common histories and fantasy tales that anyone can own. My father prided himself in having full collections of things.”

  “Like the jades.”

  Dariak nodded solemnly.

  “Then the rest of the books?”

  “So now it’s all business, then?” the mage asked in annoyance.

  Randler furrowed his eyebrow and sipped his tea. “I guess you don’t want to talk.”

  “What’s the use? Every time we talk, one of us gets hurt.”

  “Look, just because I pointed out the importance of your quest—”

  “Not now, Randler. Please, I beg you.”

  They stared at each other in silence for a time, then Randler couldn’t take it anymore. “Does your mother still live here?”

  Dariak swirled his teacup a few times before taking a lengthy draft and nodding. “Yes.”

  “Should we go see her, then?”

  “There will be time for that.”

  Dariak had never spoken ill of her, so Randler was confused by the response. “Surely you two get along better than I do with my mother.”

  Keela entered then with the promised soup and a tray of small sandwiches. She turned her eyes from Dariak to Randler, sensing the tension in the room, and instead of lingering to serve them, she set the tray down and left.

  “Let’s eat,” Dariak suggested, taking one of the bowls of soup and two sandwiches. He noshed quietly, hoping Randler wouldn’t keep asking questions. The bard took the hint and kept silent, though he struggled to reach the food from his seat and he moaned slightly with each motion. He ignored Dariak’s offered assistance and managed on his own.

  Once they were sated, Dariak stood up and stretched. “Come.”

  “Yes, sir,” Randler muttered under his breath, pushing his body to stand. He squeezed his crutches, afraid he would topple over any moment. If only he hadn’t fallen off the horse, he would be able to move about much more freely. Dariak seemed impatient with all the delays and it only made Ra
ndler feel worse.

  They stepped from the room and walked down the main hall. Wonderful smells wafted from the kitchen and Randler’s spirits rose despite the rest of his mood. They pushed on down the hall and Dariak escorted Randler into a dark room at the end.

  It took a moment for Randler’s eyes to adjust to the darkness and, as he gazed around, he noted that the walls were all draped in thick tapestries. Even the windows were covered, effectively blocking out the sunlight. A large rug spanned the floor, and Randler glanced at the ceiling, surprised that it was bare. He thought for sure there would be another tapestry on it.

  The furniture was sparse. One dresser stood against the far wall. A small table rested nearby, and next to that was a child-sized bed. In it was a woman with deep gray hair, mangled as if it hadn’t been washed in years.

  “Hello, Mother,” Dariak whispered, approaching her. He knelt beside the bed and took her hand in his. Her skin was leathery and cold. “How do you fare today?”

  Essalia was not nearly as old as she appeared to be, yet her body was terribly frail. Her breath came in rattling gasps and her eyes held such dimness that she barely seemed alive. “The weather makes she.”

  Randler’s brows creased in confusion but he didn’t say anything.

  Essalia blinked slowly and then moaned softly. “When the three forests sank up to the sand, it said nothing of the red joy in your pride. Even under the wisest bush, they sing anger into the ancient wind.”

  Dariak listened intently as if anything she uttered made sense, though Randler was baffled. Clearly, the woman had lost her mind, and Dariak was just there to be by her side. Essalia continued to ramble and Randler watched as her son held her hand in silence, speaking only to prompt her to continue. Feeling like he was intruding upon them, Randler held his breath and then quietly tore himself away.

  Step by step, Randler made his way to the kitchen, seeking out Keela for some form of company. The woman was tending to a roast chicken and several side dishes and she offered Randler a taste of each one.

  “This is absolutely delicious!” he raved.