Fire And Ice (Book 1) (46 page)

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Authors: Wayne Krabbenhoft III

BOOK: Fire And Ice (Book 1)
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She turned towards the door as someone knocked.  “Who is it?”

             
“Your foolish brother,” came the reply, muffled by the door.

             
“Come in,” she said, and waited for him to enter.  Ruan had a seriousness to him that was not there before the battle.  “Not as foolish as you used to be.”

             
His smile was weak.  “Is that a compliment?”

             
“The only one you will get today.”

             
He approached her as he talked.  “So, how are you feeling?”

             
“Better.”  She could see that something was bothering him.  “What is wrong?”

             
“Tammaz,” he answered simply.

             
“What about him?  I did not know he was still alive.”

             
“He is not.  Not anymore.  I killed him.”  Then Ruan explained what had happened with Coran and his judgment.

             
She could tell that while her brother seemed to understand the justice in what he did, the act of execution bothered him.  “You did nothing wrong,” she told him.  “The decision was the correct one.”

             
“I know,” he said, and forced a smile that was a little stronger than before.

             
“It seems that you were right about him.”  She didn’t have to say who she was talking about.

             
“All I know is that there was something different about him.  I mean a Midian dressed as an Anagassi?  Who would have thought to ever see such a thing?” he said, sounding more like his old self.

             
“A Midian who can also fight like an Anagassi,” she added.              

“No one disputes that.  Not after the other night.  What he did, attacking them, it was...”  He seemed to search for the right word.

              “Unbelievable,” she supplied.

             
“Yes, unbelievable.  Did you see the faces of the Shiomi?  I think they were actually afraid of him.”

             
“Would you not be if two Anagassi were intent on killing you?”

             
“I suppose so,” he agreed before continuing.  “Anyway, the story is already spreading.  Yesterday, people started to leave to spread the word of what happened here.  They are going to all the villages and even across the mountains to the Heventi.  I heard that some left for Nav’Narr as well.”

             
“That could be a mistake,” Shirri stated.  “When Crecy fell, Hezkir of Nav’Narr became the undisputed Zahr of the Novelah.  He will come here to claim the city.”

             
“Hezkir is no Zahr of mine or anyone else here,” Ruan spoke fiercely.  “He left us to our fate, refusing to send help.  He may come, but Crecy belongs to the people who fought for it.  There is talk of forming a council to lead us.”

             
“What will you do if Hezkir does come?  Fight him?”

             
“If we must,” he said defiantly.

             
“Just when I thought you had grown up.”  Shirri shook her head.  “Has there not been enough bloodshed for you?  Will there not be more than enough to come?  Do not forget that the M’Shai has come.”  Her tongue stumbled over the word but she didn’t let it stop her.  “There will be battles enough without us fighting among ourselves.”

             
“So what would you have us do?  Bow down to him?”

             
“Put your trust in She’al,” she told him calmly.              

Her brother did seem to calm himself.  It was something that usually took him much longer to do.  She could remember times out among the camps when he would rage for hours against the injustices done to their people, speaking with hate in his heart instead of with his head.  Their father did not let his heart alone rule him.  That was a lesson Shirri tried to keep in mind even when her temper was at its worst. 

              After a few minutes Ruan spoke again, but it was not what she expected him to say.  “Why are you leaving with him?”

             
“Because I must.”  That was not really an answer, but she did not want to explain everything not even to her own brother.

             
“What did Neheya say to you?  Did she tell you to go?” he asked insistently.

             
“No.  She told me to find my inner self and that through She’al’s wisdom I would know what to do.”

             
“Do you know?”

             
“Yes.  I must go.”

             
Ruan frowned slightly at her refusal to tell him more.  “Do you have feelings for this Midian?”

             
She was caught off guard by the question and it took her a moment to respond.  “I do not know, but if I do have feelings it is not in the way you think.  There is something about him.  If he needs me I must be there.”

             
“If you must,” he said sounding resigned to the fact.  “Then may She’al go with you, and the Light protect you.”

             
“You too,” she replied
.  I hope it will be enough.

 

             
               The wave broke against the shore and sea water splashed across the sand, rising to a spot a pace from his soft, brown-booted feet.  The beach was nestled between two steep hillsides where the land leveled out on top into cliffs.  Behind him sand became rock as another hill emerged to block his sight of the city, or more importantly to block anyone from seeing him. 

             
Coran found this place the day after first waking up from his wounds.  The awe and fear in the eyes of every Karand he met was wearing on him.  Worse, the looks were becoming more reverent every day.  He cringed inside whenever he saw the look of adoration they had for him.  It was so bad that he actually preferred those who still eyed him with fear.  As a result he spent most of his days here, alone.  He only went into the city to sleep in the barracks, which had become home for now, or to eat whatever some of the women who had taken over cooking fixed for those who had come to fight and still remained in the city.

             
Miko had left five days after the attack.  Saying good-bye to the man who had risked his life and guided him, without complaint, into danger was difficult.  For those reasons and for being the one person who he could talk to without fear of offending, he would miss the trader.  Miko went overland with some people who lived near the mountains.  From there he was confident he would have no trouble making it home.

             
Coran was not so sure of his own chances.  The fleet that had been holding the narrows disappeared within a day after a boat was spotted coming ashore where Tammaz’s head was displayed.  They got the message that Crecy was no longer theirs.  The trouble was that no other ships had been seen since.  He thought about trying for another port westward, but some rumors came to them during the autumn that all ports, Midian as well as Karand, were closed.  There were no ships traveling the sea except in expectation of a fight.  There were also rumors that the Ithanians were getting involved somehow.  The world was preparing for war and no one trusted anyone else. 

             
None of that helped his situation.  He had two weeks until the first of winter and no way home.

             
Soelidin had been mortally wounded in the attack.  Apparently, he had not stayed back, but followed Coran into the thick of it.  Luckily Neheya had found him in time.  He left just after Miko did, for the desert to the south.  He said he had to advise his people on what was happening.

             
Coran did spend some time before breakfast and after dinner advising Ruan in his new position as head of the Crecy guards.  It was because of his actions in gathering the army that liberated the city that he was appointed to such a post.  To the young man’s credit he was taking his duties very seriously.  The situation with Tammaz forced him to think more before he acted.  Coran gave suggestions on training and how many would be needed for an adequate defense if it should be required.  They discussed better defenses and the necessity of gates. 

             
As for the city itself, the people elected four men and a woman to act as a council.  Their first act was to distribute food from the city’s granaries.  It turned out that Tammaz had plenty of food squirreled away.  No one would be going hungry this winter, and with the fear of slavers gone from the land, more land would be cleared and planted come spring. 

             
He thought he could start talking to Shirri, but that didn’t go very well.  He asked her about the whole leader thing and she went quiet.  In his frustration over that and his need for transportation he said a few choice words about Karands and their reclusive nature.  She didn’t take it very well and the conversation quickly degenerated into a trading of insults.  That was a week ago and he had hardly seen her since.  He wondered if she still wanted to go with him.   Would she put up with his loathe company just to see a city?  It wouldn’t matter unless he found a way to get there.

             
A scraping on the rocks of the hill behind him made him turn around.  A boy in brown pants and wearing a hole-ridden cloak scrambled down the incline.  He could not have been more than eight. 

             
“Sir!” he called. At least it wasn’t M’Shai.  He recognized the boy.  He was one of the few who dared to actually speak when near him.

             
“What is it Keren?” 

             
“A ship!” he said excitedly.  He knew how important news like that was to him.  “In the harbor.”

             
“What kind of ship?” he asked, careful not to let his hopes get too high.

             
“A Midian ship.”

             
Midian?  What could that mean?  “Could you tell what kind of ship it is?”

             
Keren shook his small head.  “They sent someone ashore to find you.”

             
“Looking for me?  Let’s go.”  He stood up and quickly brushed off the sand from his pants and stepped lively up the hill.  He had to wait for Keren at the top.  The boy was having trouble keeping up.  As he waited, he ran a hand unconsciously over the handle of his Western sword.  One of the Karands had found it and brought it to him a few days ago.  When Keren caught up they continued to the city. 

             
They reached the harbor area in half an hour, where he was told that the man who wanted him was in the tavern.  It was the same place he had met with Treska.  Coran opened the door and entered.  The man behind the bar was the same and he was even wiping clean mugs piled on the counter in front of him just like the last time.  At the same table as before sat the same curly haired captain. 

             
“Come and sit, My Lord,” he invited.  There were two mugs filled with dark ale on the table.  “I see that you have finished with your business here.”

             
Coran took the other plain wooden chair.  “Am I mistaken or do you believe in who I am this time?”

             
Treska laughed openly, as if he was with an old friend.  “Your Princess vouched for you.”  He lifted his mug and drank deeply, then set it down with a thunk.

             
“Is that why you are here?  Did she send you?” Coran guessed.  Why else would anyone be sailing so far in these times.

             
“She did.  Paid me rather well too.”

             
“Good for you.”  Coran drank from his mug.  The bitter brew tasted strange after so long with only water to drink.  He missed the red wine he preferred.  “Do you need time before we go?”

             
“Nope.  We are ready to depart at your leisure.”

             
“I will meet you at the docks in a few minutes.”  He remembered Shirri.  “I will have another passenger for you as well.”

             
“Anything you need I have been requested to give,” he told him grandly. “I will await you on the long boat.  Thought you might be eager to leave in a hurry and it would take longer to maneuver my ship into port.”

             
Coran nodded, thanked the captain, and dashed out into the sunlight.  His long legs carried him to the complex in short order.  When he asked where Shirri was no one could answer him.  He walked around the complex fretting at the delay.  When he returned to where the iron barred gates used to be she was standing just outside as if she had been waiting there the whole time.  She wore brown pants and a short robe for the journey.  Over that she had on a heavy cloak for the night chill. A bulging leather sack hung from her shoulder by a strap.

             
“I have been waiting for you,” she stated coolly.  Of course, she must have heard of the ship and that someone was asking for him.

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