Blades of the Old Empire (17 page)

“We can sleep in the saddle,” Kara said. “If we keep the horses at a walk, you two could take turns to sleep, and I’ll watch.”

Kyth looked at the road ahead. The shimmering moonlight painted it white, with pitch black shadows of the trees at its sides. His tired eyes couldn’t distinguish any other colors.

He turned back to Kara. Her posture in the saddle was graceful and easy like always, but her face looked hollow and her eyes had a feverish glow.

“It’s not just us,” he said. “You need sleep too.”

She held his gaze. “Sure. I can take my turn too, and you’ll watch. Just make sure we don’t stop.”

“What about the horses?” Alder asked. “We can’t drive them like this much longer. It’s a wonder they’ve survived so far.”

Kara lowered her gaze and patted her horse on the neck. Then she looked up again.

“I’ve been giving them goat mint,” she said.

“What?”

“It’s a herb that increases stamina and endurance. Very potent. It’s also in the rations we’ve been eating.”

Kyth remembered the heady taste of the herb mixed into their food rations. He always took it to be a mere flavor, to soften the strange combination of salty meat and sweet fruits.

Alder looked at Kara in disbelief. “You’ve been giving us a
drug
?”

She shrugged. “How else do you think we could’ve survived this ride?”

“An excellent question.”

They glared at each other. Kyth wanted to interfere, but his tired mind couldn’t come up with anything to say.
Sleep.
He gripped his reins, struggling to stay upright.

Kara’s intent gaze brought him back to alertness. Her stern expression dissolved into concern.

“All right,” she said. “Let’s get off the road and sleep for a couple of hours.”

“How about a full night of sleep this time?” Alder said. “It’s been five days of crazy riding. We never stop for more than two hours at a time. Even with the drug, we can’t go on like this forever.”

“We only need to go on like this until we reach Aknabar,” she said. “There, we’ll charter a boat and sleep all we want, all the way to Jaimir.”

“How far from Aknabar are we?” Alder asked.

She looked away. “At this pace – another four days.”

“At this pace, we’ll be dead in three.”

Her eyes glinted with warning. Alder bristled, challenging her with a glance.

“Kara,” Kyth said quickly. “How much have
you
slept since we left the Majat Fortress?”

She hesitated. “Enough.”

“How much?”

She averted her eyes.

“Have you slept at all?” Kyth asked quietly.

She gazed at him and turned away.

Kyth rode up to her and took her hand. It was warm and light as it relaxed into his hold.

“It’s not just about us,” he said. “
You
can’t go on like this either. You’re very strong, but you’re not invincible.”

She shivered and drew away. “I know.”

Kyth leaned closer to peer into her face, his heart seized in a tight grip of worry. In all their time together he had never seen her look so vulnerable.

“What is it? There’s something you’re not telling us.”

She met his eyes. She suddenly looked like a child, so lost that he resisted the urge to hold and comfort her. She opened her mouth to speak, but changed her mind and subsided into silence. He waited, but she only shook her head.

“Tell us,” he said quietly. “Please.”

“I… I
can’t
.”

“Look,” Alder said. “You can’t ask us to follow you blindly without telling us what we’re up against. This is crazy.”

Her gaze swept past him, hand darting to the belt and coming up with two throwing knives. Without interrupting the movement, she flicked her wrist in the direction of the trees ahead. Then she dove off the saddle onto the road. Her hand shot up and caught something in mid air.

Kyth blinked, leaning forward in the saddle to take a look at the crossbow bolt clutched in her hand.

There was a rustle in the bushes and a dark shape fell out onto the road – a man, wearing a black hooded robe. As he fell, the hood slid off his head, revealing a closely shaved scalp that glistened in the moonlight.

Kara ran toward him and leaned over. Kyth dismounted and rushed to her side.

The man sprawled on the ground in front of them was tall, with a square jaw and a scar across his cheek. His pale eyes were open, staring into the night sky. One of his hands was still clutching a crossbow. The hilt of Kara’s throwing knife was sticking out of his chest.

Kara reached forward and retrieved her knife, wiping it on the grass before she put it back into its sheath. Then she bent down and opened the man’s robe, pulling something off his belt. A chain clanked as she held it up, the spiked metal ball hanging off its end.

“An orben!” Kyth’s skin crept. Up close, it looked disgusting, a cross between a butcher’s bone crusher and an inquisitor’s tool. It was hard to imagine how one could fight against those and survive. He glanced at Kara, who stood still, facing the bushes.

“Nimos’s men,” she said. “They’ve been following us for days. It’s a wonder they can keep up so well.”

“But why?”

“I don’t know. If they wanted to attack, they’ve had plenty of opportunities. It’s as if they’re trailing us to make sure we get to our destination.” She paused, eyes wide.

“What is it?”

She looked at him, her eyes slowly losing their daze. “We must hurry.”

They returned to Alder holding the horses. Kara swung into the saddle in one easy move and sent her horse into a trot along the road.

“There goes our night’s sleep,” Alder said, looking after her.

Kyth mounted, ignoring his protesting muscles. “I think she’s in danger because of us,” he said quietly. “And I think she doesn’t want us to know.”

Alder nodded. “Let’s hope that we can really keep up. You want to try sleeping in the saddle, Kyth?”

Kyth look at Kara’s rapidly retreating back.

“Why don’t we catch up with her first?”

Alder nodded. They sent their horses into gallop and caught up with Kara before the next road bend. She acknowledged them with no more than a side glance as she kept her pace.

By the end of the third day Kyth was barely able to stay in the saddle. Goat mint seemed to be losing its potency, making their hasty meals less refreshing than before. The horses were also running at the end of their strength.

They didn’t come across any more hooded men with orbens. As they made their regular stops to give the horses food and water, the only people they met were peasants, who looked at their weapons in fear and kept away.

Sleeping in the saddle proved easier than Kyth thought. All one had to do was find the right balance, leaning against the horse’s neck and hanging the arms off each side. They also mastered the use of short feeding stops to catch bits of sleep that, for want of better rest, seemed amazingly refreshing. The only thing that really worried Kyth was Kara. She never seemed to sleep at all, and even when he insisted she lay down and close her eyes, he had the distinct feeling she was alert and ready to jump into action.

On the evening of the third day they stopped in a small secluded ravine. A spring emerged from the ground nearby and formed a pond before running off in a stream along the bottom. Its banks were covered with thick tall grass that seemed perfect for the horses to feed on. Smooth columns of beeches rose up the steep slopes, their transparent growth making it impossible to creep up unnoticed, yet hiding the entire ravine from unfriendly eyes. It seemed like an ideal resting place.

“We’re about five hours away from Aknabar,” Kara said. “We can sleep for four, so that we reach there early in the morning.”

Kyth and Alder only nodded, too tired to discuss it. They unsaddled the horses and let them wander around the small pasture. Then they laid out their bedrolls and saddlebags. The sun set behind the treetops and the ravine submerged into shadows, making their camp all but invisible in the gathering dusk.

Alder went to sleep as soon as his head touched the ground. As Kyth prepared to lie down next to him he noticed that Kara was sitting up, staring into the forest. He rose, looking at her intently.

“Aren’t you going to sleep?” he asked.

She looked at him, her face barely visible in the shadows. “In a moment.”

He got up and walked over, lowering himself onto the ground next to her. The grass was dry and still warm from the afternoon sun.

“You’re going to stay awake and keep watch, aren’t you?” he asked quietly. “You always keep watch when we sleep, don’t you?”

She hesitated.

“Why don’t
you
sleep this time,” he said, “and I’ll keep watch?”

In the darkness he couldn’t quite see her expression, but he sensed her body tense.

“I’m fine,” she said. “I’m just not very tired. You must sleep while there’s a chance.”

He leaned over and took her hand. It seemed thinner than before, and cold. Kyth searched her gaze, alarm rising in his chest. Never before had he felt her hands cold.

“Are you all right?”

She nodded, but didn’t respond.

Kyth drew closer, inhaling the faint fragrance of her skin, sweet like a forest meadow in full bloom. She went still.

“You can’t do this,” Kyth said quietly. “Whatever you’re afraid of that’s following us, you won’t be able to face it if you are like this. You
can’t
kill yourself protecting us.”

She raised her eyes to him. “There’s no other choice,” she whispered.

“Yes, there is.” He put an arm around her shoulders. She tensed, then slowly relaxed into his hold. Carefully, like a mother cradling a child, he lowered her onto her bedroll. Then he reached for her cloak and covered her.

“Go to sleep,” he said. “And I’ll sit right here next to you, and watch. I promise I won’t fall asleep. But you must promise me you will.”

She looked up at him but didn’t move.

“Your strength is all we have,” he told her. “If you lose it, we don’t have a chance anymore. So, if you don’t want to do this for yourself, do it for me and Alder. Please.”

Her gaze wavered.

“All right,” she said. “But you must promise to wake me in an hour.”

“No. You’ll sleep until it’s time to go.”

She looked at him a moment longer. Then she turned to the side and closed her eyes.

Kyth sat and watched. Her breath slowly became even, her body relaxed, and her face for the first time in days acquired a peaceful expression. She looked so beautiful as she lay there, her golden hair gleaming against her dark skin, her long eyelashes throwing off deep velvety shadows against her cheeks. He was tired, but he didn’t want to go to sleep now, when he could just sit here and watch her. Despite the strain of the trip, despite the danger they were in, he felt intensely happy they were together.

Seeing her like this, so peaceful and calm, made him feel that everything was going to be all right, and that the danger they were in was exaggerated. After all, she was a Diamond Majat. There was no warrior who could better her in single combat and no force that could present a serious danger to her. As long as she was around, everything was going to be all right, and he hoped that she would stay around for a very long time. After all, she did say she wasn’t planning to leave them, and she sounded like she really meant it.

He hoped it was all going to work out. He couldn’t bear to lose her.

“There’s a trail up ahead,” Mai said. “We’re going to take it.”

They were riding abreast up the main road. Sharrim decisively kept his horse between Mai and Ellah, an arrangement that excluded her from any possible conversations. But she wasn’t about to argue. Her job was to keep up, and that was taking all the effort she could spare.

At Mai’s words Sharrim nodded and rose in the stirrups, peering into the roadside bushes. They were dense, a mixed growth of raspberry and wild roses that looked beautiful but none too inviting to ride between. Ahead, a gap in the intertwined branches looked as if torn through by a large animal. Mai pointed and rode into the opening, disappearing behind the wild greenery. Ellah directed her horse after him, with Sharrim in her wake.

The branches at the sides of the trail grabbed on with all their thorns, leaving long wisps stuck onto their clothes. The only comfort was that the bushes didn’t rise higher than waist level, so that there was no need to protect face and neck. Ellah did her best to keep up, ignoring the stabs. She only hoped the thick cloth of her travel outfit would withstand the damage. She had a sewing kit with her, but she doubted she would have time to mend clothes on this crazy march.

Ahead, the line of roses ended abruptly, giving way to tall Lakeland ivy. As they finally cleared the bushes and rode into its welcoming shade, Mai pulled his horse to a stop.

His black outfit looked neat, as if he had just put it on. Ellah wondered how he was able to do it. She noted with some satisfaction that Sharrim’s clothes looked just as bad as hers, covered by small rips and long wisps of sticky vines.

“Everyone all right?” Mai asked.

“Blasted thorns!” Sharrim exclaimed. “To think that some people actually
like
roses!” He threw an irritated glance at Ellah, as if it was she who insisted they ride through the bushes because of her love for flowers.

He doesn’t like it that Mai brought me along
.
Too bad for him.
She returned Sharrim’s look, trying not to appear smug.

Mai paused, peering into the ivy growth ahead. Ellah took the time to pick the particularly long branches off her pants and the trailing end of her cloak. She left the rest for later.

“There’s a small lake up ahead,” Mai said at length. “We’ll camp there tonight.”

Sharrim nodded.

They rode on, following a trail into the deep ivy shade. Mai’s black figure ahead was a focus of darkness, easy to see in the transparent greenery backlit by the late afternoon sun. Ellah did her best to keep an exact distance, not too close, and yet not too far behind. Sharrim’s chestnut mare snorted in her wake, crowding onto her horse every time it slowed. She did her best to ignore it.

After a while they came to a clearing, surrounded by tall ivies on all sides. A cold fire pit in the middle indicated that the place was often used by travelers as a campsite. Off to the left the ivy growth thinned, and mirror-still waters of a small forest lake glistened through the veil of branches. Low beams of the setting sun painted the water transparent shades of pink.

They dismounted and unsaddled the horses, piling up the load under a large tree at the edge of the glade. Sharrim picked up the kettle and took off in the direction of the lake. Mai busied himself with a dry pile of branches beside the fire pit.

“You can go and take a swim while we cook,” he said to Ellah.

She looked at him in surprise. Traveling with two men, she fully expected to do all the cooking. In the very least she expected to help.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

He nodded and turned his attention to starting the fire. Sharrim reappeared with a full kettle in his hand. Ellah stood for a moment undecided, then picked up her pack with spare clothes and walked off along the thin, muddy path toward the water.

The lake was dark and still. Its misty surface breathed warmth. As Ellah dipped her hand into the clear amber water, she felt the pull of the soothing undercurrents, rising in domes up to the surface. She turned back to the glade hidden behind the bushes. From here she couldn’t see her traveling companions, only the thin wisp of rising smoke that told her they had started a fire. She hoped she was equally invisible to them, but just in case she moved deeper into the reed thicket. Inside their rustling mass, she pulled off her clothes and stepped into the water.

It was cooler than it seemed at first, and the bottom was very muddy. As she walked forward, her feet sunk deep into a slippery net of weeds and silt. In just a few steps the water reached all the way to her chest. She pushed off and swam, enjoying the cool feeling on her burning skin. The scratches from the afternoon tingled, soothed by the water. She dipped in her head, then turned onto her back and floated, the white of her body tanned by the amber water.

After a good swim, she made her way back to the glade, clean and refreshed, her hair dripping with water. Mai and Sharrim sat by the fire deep in conversation. As they saw Ellah they stopped, and she had a distinct feeling that whatever they discussed wasn’t intended for her ears.

“How’s the water?” Mai asked.

“Good,” she said. “Are you going to swim too?”

“Perhaps after dinner.” He took out three bowls and divided the stew into equal shares. When the kettle was empty, he took it and walked off in the direction of the lake to get water for tea. Ellah was left alone with Sharrim.

The Majat surveyed her for a while in silence. Now that Mai wasn’t around, his expression changed from childlike wonder to a cold calculating look. Clearly he didn’t feel the need to keep up his façade in front of Ellah. Maybe he sensed she could see through him. Or was it all in her imagination?

His intense gaze made her uncomfortable. It was nothing like the way Mai looked at her, with bold interest that made her melt inside. Sharrim’s look was searching and evaluating. It was as if he was fingering through goods in a store in an attempt to find something of use. It made her feel violated.

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” she demanded.

Sharrim’s eyes narrowed. “Why did he bring you along?”

Ellah lifted her chin. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

Sharrim opened his mouth to respond, but at that moment Mai reappeared with a full kettle of water. He hung it over the fire, his air of calm confidence making even the thought of an argument in his presence seem preposterous. Then he settled down by the fire and took his bowl. He didn’t say anything, but his action served as an unspoken signal for everyone to start eating.

It was meat stew with some grain mixed in. The taste was a bit bland but the meal was comfortable and filling. Ellah ate her share slowly, feeling the warmth spread through her body and strength return to her tired limbs.

By the time she was done, the water in the kettle was already boiling. Mai threw in a handful of dry leaves with a heady aroma and poured the steaming brew into three mugs. Ellah picked up hers and took a careful sip. It was bitter, stronger than the tea she was used to back home.

The sun set behind the trees, its reddish glow giving way to the transparent shadows of early dusk. The glade submerged into deeper shadows, but it still wasn’t dark. Looking away from the fire, one could clearly see the growth at the other end of the glade. The lake’s silvery gleam lit up the forest off to the west.

Mai put aside his bowl and leaned back, keeping his eyes on Sharrim. The Jade stiffened. It seemed that something important was about to happen, something for which they had both been preparing for throughout the entire meal. Perhaps it was a continuation of their earlier conversation?

“So, tell me about yourself, Gahang,” Mai said. His voice was calm, but his eyes spelled challenge.

The Jade hesitated, throwing a quick glance at Ellah. She had the distinct feeling she wasn’t wanted. But she wasn’t going to leave unless Mai told her to.

“I can do anything you want me to, Aghat Mai,” Sharrim said. “I’m really honored to serve under your command.”

Mai measured him with his eyes. Ellah had a strong sense he was purposely trying to get Sharrim disconcerted.

“That hardly tells me anything about you, does it?” he said.

“What do you want to know, Aghat?”

Mai shrugged. “The Guildmaster’s letter said you’re the best. Are you?”

Sharrim looked at him with uncertainty. Mai waited. His outwardly relaxed pose reminded Ellah of a cat preparing to leap on its prey.

“The Guildmaster’s too kind,” the Jade said at length.

Mai let out a short laugh. “One doesn’t become the Majat Guildmaster for being kind, Gahang. I know Aghat Oden Lan well enough to vouch for that. But his personal qualities have nothing to do with my question. Either you’re the best, or you aren’t.”

Sharrim shifted in his seat. “Gahang Khall thinks I’m one of the best. He’s the one who recommended me for this assignment.”

Mai nodded. “I heard Gahang Khall knows his job. But I can’t rely on his judgment, can I? So, you’ll have to convince me, Gahang.”

“What do you want me to do, Aghat Mai?”

“What
can
you do that makes you the best?”

Sharrim hesitated. It was clear he had never been questioned this way before. It was also clear that behind the dog-like submissiveness he was showing Mai he was beginning to feel rebellious.

“I’m good with a bow,” he said.

Mai nodded. “Let’s see.”

Sharrim reached for his pack, bringing out an elongated object that looked to Ellah like a sheathed lyre. He carefully pulled off the cover.

It was the strangest bow Ellah had ever seen. Unlike the tall narrow bows carried by the Lakeland archers, this one was short, wide, and very curved. A leathery cord wound around the entire length of the shaft in tight coils. The string hung loosely off one end.

Sharrim took the bow with the care of a lover. Grasping the center of the shaft with one hand and the string with the other, he rested the bow against his knee and made a quick, powerful move that inverted the curve of the weapon, clicking the string into place. Ellah blinked. It was as if he had turned the bow inside out, so that all its grotesque parts suddenly came together.

Sharrim ran his hands along the curves of the bow in a caressing move that seemed almost too intimate to watch. Then he lowered it and looked at Mai.

Mai held out a thick piece of wood of about one elbow in length. “Ready?”

The Jade flung the quiver over his shoulder and stood straight, holding the bow in a lowered hand. Then he nodded.

Without getting up, Mai swung out his arm and threw the stick high into the air. It went straight up, rotating as it rapidly ascended into the clear evening sky.

Sharrim pointed the bow upward. His hand darted to the quiver, drawing arrows one by one with dizzying speed. He shot them in a continuous movement that sent a fountain of black streaks up into the sky. Ellah tried to follow, but quickly lost count.

After a few moments the stick came down, crashing onto the ground a few feet away. It was pierced with multiple arrows, making it look like a brush.

Sharrim retrieved it and handed it to Mai. His look of quiet satisfaction dissolved into uncertainty at the sight of the Diamond’s level expression.

“Seven,” Mai said. “Not bad.”

Sharrim kept his face steady, but Ellah could see that this casual praise meant a lot to him. He retrieved the arrows and inspected them carefully before returning them to the quiver.

“How about another test?” Mai asked. His hand slid to his belt and came up with a pack of throwing knives. He held them out to Sharrim, blades up, like a player holds his cards. Ellah counted six.

Sharrim swallowed. “I’m not sure I can do six. Not if you throw them, Aghat Mai.”

Mai smiled. “This is your chance. Try.”

Sharrim’s hand darted to the quiver and brought out six arrows. These arrows looked different. They were slightly longer, and had no feathers on their shafts. Sharrim held the bow horizontally and placed them loosely on top, resting the ends against the string so close to each other that he could hold them all with one hand. He met Mai’s eyes and nodded.

Mai’s hand flew up in a short movement, whose force could be guessed only by the whistling of the knives that left his hold. Sharrim pulled the string and released all six arrows into the air, answered by a cracking sound and thuds by the tree at the other end of the glade.

Both Majat got up and peered at the tree trunk. Ellah, who was closer, could make out three knives sticking out of the wood. The rest of the knives were nowhere to be seen.

“Three,” Mai said after a moment. “Not bad.”

Sharrim’s face lit up with a childlike smile. “Wow! Usually I can do at least four. You’re so good with knives, Aghat!”

Mai glanced at him in surprise. Apparently, being praised by a subordinate wasn’t something that happened to him all that often.

They searched through the grass, retrieving three throwing knives and six arrows, one of them cracked. Only then did Ellah realize the meaning of the exercise. With one shot, Sharrim was able to aim six arrows so that three of them deflected Mai’s throwing knives from reaching their target. That seemed impossible. No human being could aim and shoot six arrows at once into a moving target, even if only half of them were able to hit. Ellah looked at the Jade with new wonder.

The two Majat returned to the fireside and sat for a while, sipping their tea. Ellah did her best to keep quiet. She knew she was witnessing something that wasn’t normally intended for an outsider.

“How old are you, Gahang?” Mai asked.

Sharrim raised an eyebrow in surprise. Mai waited.

“Twenty-three,” the Jade said at length.

“When was your ranking tournament?”

“Two years ago.”

Mai slowly turned to Ellah. She sat up, as if pulled by an invisible string.

“Did he tell the truth?” Mai asked.

She called up the colors in her mind. “Yes.”

Sharrim spun around, his eyes full of surprise, but Mai merely nodded as if nothing unusual was going on.

“Now, tell me, Gahang,” he said. “What other weapons can you handle, and which are your worst?”

Sharrim hesitated, his look turning from surprise to anger as he continued to look at Ellah. “A
truthseer
, Aghat?”