Furies of Calderon (74 page)

It seemed such a waste.

The courtyard had grown almost quiet. In the gate and spread in a loose half-circle around it were Atsurak and his Marat. Loosely grouped around the stables were the Aleran defenders, among them Amara and his uncle.

Atsurak stared at Doroga, and the big Marat’s eyes were flat with cool hatred.

Doroga faced Atsurak steadily. “Well, murderer?” Doroga demanded. “Will you face me in the Trial of Blood, or will you turn and lead your clan back to your lands?”

Atsurak lifted his chin once. “Come die then.”

Doroga’s teeth showed in a fierce smile. He turned back to Tavi behind him and rumbled, “Get down, young warrior. Be sure you tell your people what I said.”

Tavi looked up at Doroga and nodded. “I can’t believe you’re doing this.”

Doroga blinked at him. “I said that I would help you protect your family.” He shrugged. “A horde stands in the way. I did what is necessary to finish what I began. Climb down.”

Tavi nodded, and Doroga shook out the saddle cord. Fade swung down from the gargant’s broad back first and all but hovered beneath Tavi as the boy came down. Doroga barely used the strap, but landed lightly on the courtyard and stretched, tendons creaking. He spun the long-handled cudgel in his fingers and stepped toward Atsurak.

Tavi led Fade around Doroga’s gargant, stepping wide around its front legs and the wet splatter on the stones there. Tavi’s belly heaved about restlessly, and he swallowed, hurrying across the stones to his uncle.

“Tavi,” Bernard said, and enfolded the boy in a rib-creaking embrace. “Furies but I feared for you. And Fade, good man. You’re all right?”

Fade hooted in the affirmative. There was the sound of running footsteps, light on the stones, and Tavi felt his Aunt Isana, unmistakably his aunt, even if he did not see her, wrap her arms around him and hug him tight to her. “Tavi,” she said. “Oh, Tavi. You’re all right.”

Tavi pressed up against his aunt and uncle for a moment and felt the tears in his eyes. He leaned against them and hugged them back. “I’m all right,” he heard himself saying. “It’s all right. I’m all right.”

Isana laughed and kissed his hair, his cheek. “Fade,” she said. “Thank the furies. You’re all right.”

After a moment, Amara said, “Bernard, they’re not looking. If we rush the horde-master now, we can get to the knife.”

“No!” Tavi said, hurriedly. He freed himself from the embrace, looking at the Cursor. “No, you can’t. Doroga explained this to me. It’s a duel. You have to let him have it.”

Amara looked at him sharply. “What duel?”

“What knife?”

Amara frowned. “The knife proves one of the High Lords is behind this attack. We can catch him, if we recover it, and keep him from doing something like this again. What
duel
?”

Tavi tried to explain. “Doroga and Atsurak are both headman of their clans. They’re equals. Atsurak can’t order another clan to follow him as long as their headman stands up to him in a Trial of Blood—a duel, but no one had the courage to stand up to him before now. Doroga has challenged Atsurak’s decision to attack us, before all of the rest of the Marat. If he defeats him in the trial, then it breaks Atsurak’s power, and the Marat leave.”

“Just like that?” Amara demanded.

“Well, yes,” Tavi said, defensively. “If Doroga wins, it means that the Marat will understand that The One supports him and not Atsurak.”

“The one what?”

“The One,” Tavi said. “I think they think it’s some kind of fury that lives in the sun. When they have a big decision, they have a trial before The One. They believe in it completely.”

He felt his aunt’s hand on his shoulder, and he turned to find her looking down at him earnestly. Her head tilted to one side. “What happened to you?”

Isana looked at Bernard, who looked at Amara. The Cursor drew in a slow breath, her eyes in turn moving to Tavi. “Tavi,” she said, keeping her voice quiet. “Why did Doroga choose now to challenge this Atsurak?”

Tavi swallowed. “Um. Well, it’s kind of a long story. I’m not really sure I understand everything that happened myself. Doesn’t really matter, does it? If he’s here?”

Outside, there were high-pitched whistles sounding, and the frantic howls of the Marat and their beasts had subsided to a low rumble.

“Giraldi?” Amara called up to the battlements. “What’s happening?”

“Crows take me,” called a panting voice back from the walls above the gates. “The Marat were fighting one another, then they all started blowing whistles and falling back from the fighting. They’re drawing into tribes it looks like.”

Tavi nodded to Amara. “This is what Doroga told me would happen. The Marat tribes fight all the time. They’re used to it. The whistles are to call a halt to fighting and let the headmen talk.”

Bernard blew out a breath and looked at Amara. “What do you think?”

The Cursor reached a hand up and pushed a few loose strands of hair back from her eyes, staring at Tavi. “I think your nephew, here, has managed to learn more about the Marat than the Crown’s intelligence service, Stead-holder.”

Tavi nodded. “They, uh, eat their enemies. And anyone who shows up without permission is considered to be one.” He coughed. “It probably makes it sort of difficult to learn about them.”

Amara shook her head. “If we get out of this, I want to know how you managed to not get eaten and wind up leading a Marat horde of your own to save this valley.”

Fade let out a low, apprehensive hoot of warning. Tavi looked at the slave and found him staring intently at the walls.

In the ragged hole in the fortress’s walls, shapes stirred. Several riders on horseback, tall Horse Clan Marat, rode in. Tavi recognized Hashat at once, her pale mane flowing, though fresh blood spattered her hair, upper body, and saber arm. Tavi identified her to Amara and his uncle.

“Headman?” Bernard demanded, something in his tone offended. “She’s a woman. And she’s not wearing a shirt.”

Amara let out a low whistle. “Those eagles on her belt are from Royal Guardsman. If they’re genuine, she must have been part of the horde that killed Princeps Septimus.”

“She’s nice enough,” Tavi said. “She won’t confront Atsurak herself, but she’ll follow Doroga’s lead. I think they’re friends.”

At the gate, the Marat stirred and parted to let the Wolf headman in with a pair of rangy dire-wolves beside him. A long, clean cut marred the pale skin of his chest, clotted with dark red. The man looked around the courtyard and bared his teeth, showing the long canines of his clan. “Skagara,” Tavi supplied. “Wolf Clan headman. He’s a bully.”

Hashat dismounted and stalked over to stand beside Skagara. She faced him the whole way with a dangerous little smile on her mouth. Skagara took a step back from her when she reached him. Hashat’s teeth showed, and she made a point of examining the cut on his chest. Then she turned to face Atsurak and Doroga, folding her arms, one bloodied hand remaining near her saber. Skagara gave her a sullen scowl, then did the same.

Doroga leaned on his cudgel, staring at the ground. Atsurak stood patiently, spear loosely gripped in one hand. Silence and mounting tension reigned for several moments. Only the crows made any noise, a low and steady cawing in the background outside the walls.

“What are they waiting for?” Amara asked Tavi.

“The sun,” Tavi said. “Doroga said they always wait for the sun to rise on the results of a trial.” He glanced up at the walls, the angle of the shadows there. “I guess they don’t think the fight will take very long.”

The morning light swept across the courtyard, as the sun rose higher. The line of shadow described by the still-intact walls swept from west to east, toward the two Marat headmen.

Doroga looked up, after a time, to the sunlight where it had barely come to rest on the head of his staff. He nodded, lowered the weapon with a grunt, and advanced on Atsurak.

The herd-bane headman whirled his spear in a loose circle, shrugged his shoulders, and stalked toward Doroga on cat-light feet. He moved swiftly, his spear’s tip blurring, as he thrust it at the other Marat, but Doroga parried the blow to one side with the thick shaft of the cudgel, then swept it in a short thrust at Atsurak’s head.

Atsurak avoided the blow and whipped the spear’s tip toward Doroga’s leg. The Gargant headman dodged, but not quickly enough, and a line of bright scarlet appeared on his thigh.

The Marat in the courtyard let out a low murmur. Someone among the herd-bane said something in a grinding tongue, and the warriors let out a rough laugh. A low chatter began between the herd-bane and Wolf present.

Doroga drew back from the exchange with a grimace and glanced down at his leg. He tried to put his weight on it, but faltered, and he had to swing the staff of the cudgel down to help support him. Atsurak smiled at that and spun his spear around again. He began a slow, deliberate stalk toward Doroga, circling the Gargant headman, forcing him to turn to face his enemy, putting pressure on his wounded leg. Doroga’s face twisted with a grimace of pain.

“Tavi,” Amara breathed. “What happens if Doroga loses?”

Tavi swallowed, his heart pounding. “Then The One has said that Doroga was wrong. And the rest of the clans follow Atsurak like they would have before.”

Atsurak rushed Doroga abruptly. The Gargant headman whipped up his weapon and parried the spear aside, but his return stroke was clumsy and drew him off balance. Atsurak dodged and immediately leapt in again. Once more, Doroga barely deflected the incoming stroke, and this time it cost him his balance. He fell to the stones of the courtyard.

Atsurak pressed in for the kill, but Doroga swung the long-handled cudgel at the horde-master’s feet, forcing him to skip back to avoid it. Atsurak scowled and spat some harsh-sounding word, then lifted the spear, circled, and darted in at Doroga with deadly purpose.

The Gargant headman had been waiting for Atsurak’s charge. With an easy grace, he swept the spear aside with one hand, jabbing the tip into the stone, then gripped the shaft in one huge fist. He drove it back toward Atsurak with almost casual power, the spear’s butt striking the horde-master in the belly and stopping him in his tracks.

Doroga jerked the spear from his opponent’s grasp. Atsurak backed warily away, sucking for his breath. Doroga stood up with a casual grace. Then he lifted his wounded leg and snapped the haft of the Aleran spear, tossing its bits to one side.

“I remember the Fox,” he said, his voice very quiet. Then he spread his hands wide, and with that same flat, hard-eyed smile, he came toward the smaller Marat.

Atsurak paled, but spread his own hands, circling Doroga. He moved abruptly, a darting motion reminiscent of one of the predator birds, leaping and kicking high on Doroga’s chest.

Doroga took the kick full on, though it stopped him in his tracks and rocked him back a step, but his hands flashed up to Atsurak’s ankle and caught his foot before the other could draw it away. Atsurak began to fall, and Doroga’s shoulders knotted, his hands twisting.

Something in Atsurak’s leg broke with an ugly pop. The horde-master gasped and fell, but kicked with his good leg at Doroga’s ankle. The Gargant chief’s foot went out from under him, and he fell, grappling with his foe.

Tavi watched, but could see that Atsurak was at a disadvantage too serious to overcome. Overwhelmed by sheer physical power, too hurt to get away, it would only be a matter of time. Doroga’s hands lifted and locked around the horde-master’s throat. Atsurak locked his hands onto Doroga’s, but Tavi could see that it would be a hopeless effort.

Tavi stared, unable to look away—but something drew his attention, a faint motion in the background. He glanced up and saw the Marat all focused on the contest, stepping closer, eyes bright. Hashat was all but panting, her eyes open too wide as she watched Doroga’s struggle.

Beside Hashat, though, Tavi saw that Skagara, the Wolf headman, had taken a step back, behind her vision. He reached a hand back behind him, and Tavi saw one of the Wolf warriors touch a stone-tipped arrow into a small clay jar, then pass it to Skagara, together with one of the short Marat bows. Moving quickly, the Wolf headman drew the poisoned arrow, and lifted the bow.

“Doroga!” Tavi shouted. “Look out!”

Doroga’s head snapped up, at Tavi and then over at Skagara. Doroga rolled, and wrenched Atsurak’s form between himself and the would-be assassin.

Tavi saw Atsurak draw the Aleran dagger with its gold hilt from his belt and slash wildly at Doroga’s hand. The Gargant headman cried out and fell back, and Atsurak rolled free of his grip.

“Kill them!” shouted the horde-master, his eyes blazing. “Kill them as we did the Fox! Kill them all!”

Doroga roared and rose to his feet, charging toward Atsurak.

Without a breath of hesitation, Skagara loosed the poisoned arrow. Tavi saw it flicker across the brief distance between them and vanish into Doroga’s arm with a meaty crack. The Gargant headman went down.