by Dana Marton
All those steadfast points of light in the endless dark sky helped me believe that. I pressed tightly against the warlord’s wide chest.
* * *
Dawn came too soon, the excitement of battle filling our men as they prepared. I felt no such thrill. The dread of losing more lives settled on me instead. I might have led an army, but I was no general. While Batumar and the prince sharpened their swords, I prayed for the spirits’ favor.
Our first difficulty of the day became apparent as soon as we reached the blackened harbor.
“There is no harbor,” I said as Batumar found me in the prow. “No docks to pull our two caravels against.” I paused. “I suppose we can drop anchor, then row onto shore in boats.”
“The boats would have to make several trips,” Batumar said. “If any enemy archers are hiding among the ruins, the first wave of our troops would be massacred by the time the next wave arrived to reinforce them.”
My gaze moved to the tall stone walls that had protected the city for centuries but were now collapsed in two places. “Look.” I pointed. “Our fire could not have done that.”
“The Kerghi must have breached the walls when they took the city.”
Mayhap they had found that easier than breaching the massive city gate—poles as thick as my waist held together by wide strips of metal. The last time I had seen it, the wooden gate had stood as tall as a ship’s mast, guarding the entrance of the city, wide enough to allow four ox carts through side by side. Now the two wings hung from their hinges, charred and stilted.
Behind the gate, the city still burned in places, the streets filled with smoke, yet farther in, most of the houses seemed to be still standing. Outside the gate, on the other hand, the wooden structures nearest the harbor had all been reduced to ashes.
“The ruins might hide soldiers, but they cannot be hiding a great many, and they will have to stay in place to keep in cover,” Prince Graho said, coming up behind Batumar.
As our ship neared the remains of the harbor, the warning call of a war horn tore through the morning, then another and another, coming from the city. The enemy was most definitely waiting for us. After a few moments, an otherworldly animal call answered the horns.
The sound was one to put fear into the hearts of men, but my heart swelled with joy instead. “What are the manyinga doing in Kaharta Reh?”
“They might have been hidden here by our warlords when they realized the island’s Gate was open once again and enemy troops were coming through. Or…” Batumar shook his head instead of finishing the sentence.
Or, I thought, Khan Verik might have sent the manyinga here to ship them to the other islands of our Mirror Sea, so his Kerghi soldiers could ride the beasts to battle.
Except, now we were here, and we would save the herd.
The stables stood at the east end of the harbor. I could see the long flat roof from our ship, the wooden roof shingles scorched but not burnt. My chest swelled with hope. The herd could have been slain. I did not care for what purpose the Kerghi had spared them, only that they had been spared.
Prince Graho turned to shout to the captain. “We must run our ships aground on the beach!”
My breath caught. Running the ships aground would mean we would lose the last two ships we had. We would lose all our naval capabilities.
As the captain hurried over, the prince pointed at a narrow strip of sandy beach next to the harbor, where small fishing boats sat both in and out of the water. They had been far enough from the warships to have been spared by the flames. “We can run the ships aground side by side there, then disembark all at once.”
Batumar nodded. “Amass enough soldiers on the ground to protect the rest until all our forces can land.”
The captain stared at the shore, his expression suitably grim. “Running a ship aground is not without its own risks.”
“Can you do it?” I asked the man.
He patted his beard, his brown eyes stricken as if his heart was breaking. “Aye.”
“Send horn signals to the Sword.” Prince Graho issued the order.
I looked from one man to the other. “Will the enemy not catch then what we are planning?”
“Landria has not fought any naval battles with the Kerghi before now,” the prince told me. “They do not know our signals.”
As the captain returned to the wheel, I swallowed my regrets, and they sat in my stomach in a heavy lump. Today, we would lose our remaining ships—the ships that had carried our troops safely through the hardstorms. Any battles we fought from now on would have to be fought on land.
I watched with an aching heart as the sailors adjusted our sails. Soon the caravels’ prows pointed at the shore like arrows ready to be let loose. Then we charged the beach.
“Brace!” Prince Graho called out as we reached the sandy shoals.
The timbers shook, the ship tilted, and I lost my footing. I windmilled my arms to grab on to something, anything. Then Batumar caught me.
By the time he righted me, our men were throwing rope ladders over the railing and climbing down, while others dropped into the shallow water at the ship’s midsection and waded to shore. The Selorm tigers were hitting the waves with loud splashes as they jumped from the Sword next to us.
The first of our forces were on land sooner than I had expected. Volleys of arrows came at us. Our archers responded until all quivers ran empty. Then our forward force charged ahead, ready to fight man-to-man, for the enemy was pouring out of the city, leaving their charred cover.
Batumar hurried down the ladder before me, then jumped, too impatient to climb all the way. When he held out his arms for me, I let go and dropped into them. Kind spirits, keep him safe today.
Prince Graho and his royal guards landed next to us. He immediately ordered two of the nearest men to stay with me: Lison and Fadden. For once, Batumar nodded his thanks instead of bristling, then ordered two more men to my side, Hartz and Atter. When the warlord and the prince at last ran off to join the battle, Marga went with Batumar.
I was moving away from the ladder when a young man fell from above and hit the sand next to me with a thud. He rolled out of the way, gasped, then lay flat on his back. He had the prince’s coloring—blue eyes, blond hair. Probably a Landrian.
“Just had the air knocked out of me, Lady Tera,” he said when I reached for him. He colored with embarrassment as he scrambled to his feet. “I lost my footing.”
When I helped him up by the arm, he hissed. I saw the problem at once. “Your shoulder is dislocated.”
“No time for that now. At least it is not my right arm.” He moved to rush into battle, but I held him back.
“I can set it. It will take but a moment.”
He gave a quick nod, so I put one hand on his shoulder, another on his elbow, manipulated the joint to the right alignment, then pulled hard, down and forward.
As the shoulder snapped back into place, the young man bit back a groan but was running off already with a “Thank you, Lady Tera.”
Urdy and Boscor found me and stayed close to me and my guards. Our small group followed the fighting at a distance. I healed our men but was careful not to take on too many injuries, not to exhaust myself too soon. I helped only enough to get them back on their feet, enough so they could lift their swords once again. I had no time for poultices or to start a fire to boil water to disinfect wounds, nor did I have fresh water to boil. I would do all that once the battle was over, I promised each and every man I treated.
From the corner of my eye, I caught Urdy cutting an enemy mercenary’s throat now and again among the men on the ground. I did not stop him.
Our soldiers fought more fiercely than I had ever seen them fight. We had no choice now but to win. We could not withdraw onto our ships and sail away. We had to win, and we had to reclaim the manyinga. We had to ride the great woolly beasts to Karamur, the fortress city, and engage the main force of the enemy, then close the island’s Gate before more Kerghi could come through and overwhelm us c
ompletely. Before the sorcerer came through and began sending our captured people to distant slave markets. That I would not allow, no matter what I had to do to save them.
Unfortunately, from what I could see of the battle, we did not appear to be winning.
Chapter Eighteen
(Back at Tahar’s Hall)
The last rays of the setting sun painted the horizon red, as if on their way to a feast, the god Rorin’s concubines in their blue-purple cloud gowns had walked through a river of blood.
Crimson stained my own gown as well, and not merely the hem. The tide of the battle for Kaharta Reh had finally turned, and the harder our men fought, the more injuries I had to heal.
Our soldiers advanced through the city, while I advanced from the beach to the paved part of the harbor, for the sand always managed to find its way into the wounds. I stayed there instead of following our troops farther, past the charred stone wall and the giant broken city gate, where they fought from street to street. As we had done in Sheharree, a handful of the prince’s men brought the injured to me. They even set up a small fire with a cauldron of water, which helped a great deal.
I glanced up to see how many more men were waiting for my healing when I saw a group of our soldiers shove a Kerghi in front of them, coming from the city toward the harbor.
“Who is that, do you think?” I asked Boscor, who had not left my side but spent the day assisting me with herbs, hot water, needles, and string.
The injured man under my hands responded, “My lady, he is the Kerghi commander.”
“Where are they taking him?”
The young man shrugged and turned his gaze from mine.
“You should not watch, my lady,” Urdy said gently, at last returning. He had gone off in search of clean cloth for bandages, and now he spilled an armful at my feet, on top of my cloak that I had set on the ground to keep my healing supplies clean.
I had been kneeling next to my patient to pry the arrow from his thigh, but at Urdy’s words, I stood to see the Kerghi commander better. My back needed stretching anyway. I had been kneeling and bending over injuries for most of the day.
I rolled my shoulders and watched as our soldiers marched the enemy commander to the harbor’s flag post that the fire had left unharmed—the wood was encased in studded copperleaf. Even the golden flag of the emperor waved untouched at the top. Since the flagpole stood on a mound and the pole itself was taller than our ship’s mainmast, taller even than the stone walls, that flag could be seen from most of the city. I had seen Lord Tahar’s flag fly up there aplenty during my days of slavery.
I squinted to better see the men at the flagpole. “Why are they bringing a Kerghi instead of Lord Tahar’s flag?”
Neither Boscor nor Urdy nor my patient responded.
So it took me by surprise when our soldiers made quick work of the Kerghi commander. They ran him up the flagpole and hung him by the neck. As he kicked, then went still, I held my breath.
This is war.
I could do nothing for the Kerghi, as I could do nothing for our people whom the Kerghi killed. All I could do was help the living. So I returned to healing, working as quickly as I could, for there seemed to be an endless supply of injured soldiers to heal.
They gave me news on our army’s progress, so I knew when the east end of the city was cleared, then when the last Kerghi troops huddled in the warehouses of the west side refused to surrender and instead fought to the death.
One man bleeding from a chest wound told me that, seeing their leader’s fate, the last of the enemy warriors fled up the coast. He grunted with disappointment as he finished with “Prince Graho told us not to chase them.”
“It is better that you rest. The troops are exhausted.” And so was I. Indeed, by the time I closed the deep gash over his ribs, I could barely stand.
I stretched and drank from the flask on my belt, while he moved on with his thanks. I drew a deep breath, then made the next one shallower, for the air was filled with the smell of blood and spilled guts. Some of the injured men had died on their way to me, but were left with me regardless. Such was the faith of some of our soldiers in me, they thought I might yet be able to bring back even the dead. I hated to disappoint them.
While I rested for a moment, wiping the sweat from my brow, Boscor kept bandaging wounds, instructing Urdy how to go about helping him. When I smiled at the chronicle keeper, he simply said, “The chronicles I studied all my life contained a number of medical texts.”
At hearing this, I grieved their loss nearly as much as he did.
My guards too were helping with the injured at my direction. They worked a short distance away—far enough to have sufficient room, but close enough to come to my aid should I call them.
We were almost finished. I had closed the most grievous wounds, and I could close the rest without my power. I could use ninga beetles. I knew exactly where to find those—in the creek at the end of the fields behind the House of Tahar.
I headed just that way when I was steady enough at last to walk. I left Lison and Fadden with the injured men, along with Boscor and Urdy, taking only Hartz and Atter with me. They were both good men, toughened by war. Atter was missing both ears. He was a man afraid of little. Both he and Hartz had faced death with me more than once on the mainland. In one of our very first battles, Hartz had taken a lance in his side. I had no doubt they would protect me if the need arose for protection.
“Are you certain, my lady?” Atter looked as if he would not mind confirming my order with Batumar, sounding painfully uncomfortable that he had to argue with me. Both he and Hartz had been farmers before the war. Neither was used to questioning a lady.
I smiled at him to set him at ease. “The city is ours. I expect I will be safe, and, in any case, I hardly need an entourage to collect a bucketful of beetles.”
I needed to go to the House of Tahar for other reasons as well. I wanted to arrange shelter and provision for our troops, and this was where I was most likely to find both. Tahar’s compound stood far enough from the harbor to escape the inferno of our fire.
We hurried down narrow streets stained with blood and littered with bodies, then stopped before a familiar hammered-iron door that guarded the entry of the largest cluster of buildings on the street. For a second, I could but stare at the worn metal of the door through which I had been thrust into slavery. There had been a time when I had not thought I would leave the House of Tahar alive.
A dark shroud of memories wrapped around me, tried to suffocate me. I shook off those memories and nodded to my guards. They banged on the door, but it did not open.
I would not be afraid and would not be thwarted. “Lift it off its hinges.”
They did, stepping inside with their swords drawn. I was not far behind.
At first glance, the house seemed empty, but as we moved forward, servants peeked around doorways that led farther in, sticking their heads out, then drawing back. I did not recognize any of them.
“Where is Lord Tahar?” I asked the closest one, a bent-spined crone who was slower to withdraw than the rest.
She kept her gaze to the ground, her trembling hands clutching her apron. “Beheaded by Rapter, the Kerghi commander, the day the commander took the city, my lady.”
I could not say I mourned the man.
A younger servant took a tentative step away from the protection of the doorway where she had hid. “’Tis the House of Rapter now.” She shifted on her feet, her gaze darting to my guards.
“Not anymore,” I informed them. “The Kerghi commander is hanging from the flagpole in the harbor. Kaharta Reh is Kadar once more.”
They did not rejoice. None of them was Kadar. They had the curly blond hair common in the northern countries of the mainland. They had probably been brought through the Gate.
The emperor liked carrying away his captured slaves, replacing them with others who had no connections to or knowledge of the land. It made an uprising less likely. The unfortunate men a
nd women would be unlikely to rise up to take back a strange country. Running away too was more difficult when the servant had no network of friends to help, no knowledge of what landscapes waited ahead.
I moved forward, assessing the damage to the building and finding little. The Kerghi commander had probably saved it for himself during the initial invasion. I was glad the fire hadn’t reached it.
“This will serve as our quarters,” I told my guards. “You can put the front door back on its hinges.”
I needed a safe place tonight. I meant to heal the rest of our injured men. We needed to take as large a force north with us in the morning as possible.
“Prepare what food stores you have and hold nothing back,” I instructed the servants. “What we do not eat, we will take with us on the morrow. When we leave, you may come with us or stay. We go north, to retake Dahru’s Gate. Once the Gate is ours, you may return to your homes, if you wish.”
I moved on, meaning to cross the Great Hall and come out in the courtyard, then cross the fields to the creek, but I was only halfway across the cavernous space when the back door opened.
Kumra swept in, her daughter Keela following close on her jeweled heels.
The air became trapped in my lungs as I watched them. I felt as if I had fallen from a great height, like the young man I had treated in the harbor after he’d fallen from the ship. As if I too suddenly had something dislocated.
When I had been a slave at the House of Tahar, Kumra had been Lord Tahar’s favorite concubine. She had tortured me when she was in a good mood, and nearly killed me, more than once, when she was not. She’d hated me from the moment she had laid eyes on me, for I possessed something she did not: healing skill.
I had not expected to see her here with her daughter. The last I had heard, Lord Tahar had banished both of them from his House for their scheming. They must have returned after his demise and found favor with the Kerghi commander, for they were both dressed in gowns near as resplendent as in the old days. Kumra wore a blue silk richly embroidered with silver, while Keela wore green sateen decorated with seed pearls. The gowns had a foreign cut, the waistline not at the waist, but higher, right below the women’s breasts. Neither of them wore a belt of protective charms in the Kadar tradition. They had adjusted to their new lord’s customs.