Under a Warrior's Moon Read online

  "Kuurus is asleep; you must not trouble yourself with him. And I am sure Alea is asleep. You must rest too, since we will leave very early."

  She stood and shook down her skirts. "Yes, I will. Thank you, my lord. I am sorry if I embarrassed you. I will go now."

  Assur caught her hand firmly in his, halting her. "You did nothing of the kind. I would wish it to happen again. Kitarisa..." His voice was soft, almost caressing, but he never finished.

  A cold gust fluttered through the common room as the great door banged open.

  Like a well-oiled piece of machinery, the five barbarians moved in tight precision to meet the intruder. Assur dropped her hand and in one smooth movement pushed her behind him. He drew the long sword from the sheath on his back and took his stance.

  Sherlin and Jarad were on their feet in an instant, swords in hand and at once keen and alert. Del whirled away from the hearth and like Assur, in one motion prepared for anything that might come at him. Even after having been asleep, Brekk too, was on his feet, poised and ready.

  "Well, well," a tall man murmured, slowly moving in their direction. "What have we here? Talesians! The messenger told me there were Talesians in Lekk's Bend and I wanted to cut out his tongue for lying. It seems I was wrong."

  The man was encased from head to foot in glittering black mail. Over the mail, he wore a deep gray surcoat, slashed in blood-red along the collar line. An emblem of a white serpent coiled around a knife was fastened over his left breast; the same emblem adorned the black helmet he held tucked under his left arm. He approached Assur, removing his gauntlets, slapping them against his thigh. He appeared to be some kind of captain and several more men, similarly dressed, moved from behind him to form a sinister barrier against any chance of escape. Instead of swords, each carried a long staff, crowned with the head of some fantastic, unknown beast.

  The hard, cruel look returned to Assur's gaze.

  "Do not raise your sword to me, barbarian. You know the penalty for striking a Wrathman--a brother of the Order."

  Assur's sword tip never wavered from the proximity of the captain's throat. "I do not take orders from the witches' pets."

  The man went rigid. "Witches is it? You are on dangerous ground, barbarian. The Holy Reverend `Fa does not take lightly to heretics like yourself. Strike me down and you will pay for it in blood. You are outnumbered here, and far from home."

  Kitarisa felt Assur's anger rise to near breaking point.

  "Assur," she said quietly, "perhaps if we discovered their intentions?"

  "Our `intentions', good lady," the captain snapped, "are to rout out the heretic, the subversive, and those who would offend the name of the Divine Medruth. However, we have been called to other duties. The Princess Alea has been abducted. Prince Kazan has called upon us to assist him in the search for her. It is thought she may be held near here."

  The captain studied the tip of Assur's sword hovering near his face--it had not lowered even a fraction. He frowned.

  "You would break the High Prince's peace, the will of your own Ter-Rey? As accursed as you are, your prince still rules us," he sneered.

  Assur's hard, blue gaze never left the captain's dark one as he reluctantly lowered his sword, but did not re-sheathe it.

  "What business brings you to this humble village, Talesian?"

  "Family business," Assur answered curtly.

  "Family business? I did not know barbarians had families. I thought they ran in packs, like dogs!"

  His companions laughed with him at his rude joke.

  Kitarisa held her breath. The Talesians went rigid, dangerously close to the limits of their tolerance. Everyone detested the meddlesome and often vicious Wrathmen, the elite corps for the Covenant of the White Sisters, but none detested them more than Talesians. If Kuurus had been present, she was certain the captain would be little more than a bloody heap on the floor. Only by supreme self-control did they not strike down the insulting captain and his guard.

  "I fail to see why we must be subject to such insults. Have we offended, Captain?" Assur asked in a low voice, barely concealing his fury.

  "Captain Syunn, barbarian. You have not offended the Divine Lady yet, Talesian, but I will be watching you. In the meantime, we will search this place and question. First, you will tell us your purpose and destination."

  "We are Talesians, returning home on a personal matter. We number six, as you can see. We were attacked by marglims, north of the Rift Cut. Will that be enough, Captain?" Assur nearly growled his words at the Wrathman.

  "It will suffice. I will question the innkeeper and any others."

  He turned and then noticed Kitarisa.

  "My, my. We have a pretty one here."

  Boldly, he lifted her chin with one finger. "I did not know Talesian women were so fine."

  The bright blade flicked up to within a hair's breadth of Captain Syunn's jugular. Assur looked like a tiger, only a heartbeat away from the kill.

  "I do not wish to `offend', however, if you do not remove your hand from my wife, I will offend greatly."

  The captain met Assur's deadly gaze, hesitated, then appeared to think better of it.

  "I should know better than to provoke a dog. Be gone on the morrow, barbarian, or I will send my own hounds on you. The liet'fa," he said gesturing to the long staffs, "are severe taskmasters and have no preference for marglim or barbarian."

  The captain motioned to his men, forgetting his interrogations and strode from the common room, slamming the heavy door behind them.

  Kitarisa sagged onto the nearest bench, trembling.

  "They frighten me more than marglims," she whispered.

  "They are bought dogs, dishonored and not worthy of their swords," Jarad growled, settling his own blade back into the sheath on his back.

  "And hard dogs to shake, once on your trail," Assur said grimly.

  The others resheathed their swords, still rattled from the tense confrontation.

  "We leave at first light. Get your rest."

  Kitarisa rose and headed for the stairway, but felt his hand gently grasp her elbow. She was aware of him looking past her, staring directly into the startled face of the innkeeper, when Kitarisa suddenly realized Assur's slip, his cool lie to the Wrathman. With deliberate slowness, he bent down, brushing his lips lightly against her cheek.

  "Goodnight, dear sister," he said loud enough for the innkeeper to hear.

  The innkeeper met his ominous look. Confused and frightened, the man backed away and fled to his kitchen.

  "Do you think he informed on us? What if he goes to the Captain now?" She glanced up at Assur, noting a flicker of worry cross his lean features.

  "I pray Verlian he does not. The Wrathmen need little encouragement in seeking out and torturing their so-called `heretics'. It would go badly for you and Alea--they would never believe who she is. Looking for a princess is as good an excuse as any, and if it means breaking a few backs for the sake of their cause, they will not see the difference."

  "They would kill you, too."

  "They would have to capture me first. And if they did that...they would know what it means to die by a Talesian sword."

  "Assur, how did they know about Alea's abduction? My father would never ask for their help," she asked in a low voice.

  "It crossed my mind, too. They have many ways of finding out things they wish to know. I am certain our good innkeeper told them about us, but I doubt he would have known about the abduction. Somehow the Wrathmen do know."

  He gave her a gentle nudge to the stairway. "Go now. We leave at first light."

  Kitarisa mounted the stairs slowly and looked back at her fascinating and frightening rescuer. He was not looking at her, but seemed deep in thought. Perhaps he was more worried than he appeared. Or perhaps he was more concerned about his mistake by not referring to her as his `sister' in front of the Wrathman Captain Syunn.

  Kitarisa felt something warm flicker through her, a feeling she thought had been long dead
to her. She remembered Assur's lips on her cheek and his voice. He had called her "wife."

  Kitarisa...wife....

  Chapter 5

  KITARISA WAS only too glad to leave the inn even though it was bitterly cold and the light had barely begun to touch the sky. Alea complained about the cold only once until she met with Assur's dark scowl and then prudently kept quiet.

  He and the other Talesians made it all too clear there was to be no conversation until they were well away from Lekk's Bend. The Wrathmen would not be far, and while the Talesians would have given them a good fight, they were also greatly outnumbered.

  Kitarisa knew they were keeping their worry in tight check, particularly Assur. He was edgy and sharp, his orders given in brusque tones and he would not look at either her or Alea. At one point where the trees became dense and shadowy, all of them drew their swords and rested them across their thighs in tense readiness.

  Kitarisa too, found herself worrying over the episode from the previous night. As with the Talesians, her father had little use of the meddlesome Wrathmen. They were not welcome in Gorendt and their movements were always carefully watched. People disappeared, particularly young girls whenever the Wrathmen were near. It was no secret the White Sisters took their novitiates, usually girls from the poorer families who had no means to pay the Wrathmen off or the ability to fight them.

  Gorendt kept its patrols in constant motion, searching for the hated minions of the Sisters and when they were discovered, the confrontations were always ugly.

  Kitarisa knew her lessons well, old Nans having drilled them into her from the moment she was old enough to understand.

  "You must be wary, girl. You have the healing touch and they'd want you with them--but not like in the old days. No indeed."

  "Why, Nans?" Kitarisa had asked, her child eyes open wide with horror.

  "They be accursed, girl. Aye, accursed. In the old days, even before the empire, they were loved by all. Healers then, good women and true Daughters of Verlian. They were blessed by the Goddess Herself. In those days, they wore the red robes and they were welcomed everywhere. O'course, in those days, we were all still living as tribes. Lawless days then, but still, the Daughters went everywhere unharmed, living off the goodness of the people. They could cure any sickness, mend a bone, or heal any hurt. `Tis said they could near bring back the dead!"

  "How did they do that, Nans?" Kitarisa had asked eagerly.

  "Mysterious ways, girl. My own mam said she once saw an old Daughter, a good one living in secret, cure a man with a bad fever. She said the Daughter `called for the affliction'; called it right out of the man, took it into her own body, she did. She took the fever herself, and then my mam said she spoke her words and the fever were sent away."

  "She could do that, Nans?"

  "Oh, aye. And they all did it, but then it were a long time ago. Then the barbarians came and something terrible happened. There were a great lord--it were the Ter-Rey I think, or his brother, mebbee. It were the time of Ka'Tiya the Beloved. `Tis written in her book of memories, Kita. It was then that this lord had a boy, and this boy were sick. The lord called for a Daughter to cure him and she came straight away, but she were young and new to her craft, because the boy died. The lord were angry and fit to kill the Daughter himself, but the Daughters were the protected of Verlian."

  "Instead, he beat the girl near to death and sent her and all of `em to the Catacombs--banished them he did and then he burned their sanctuaries."

  "Now in those days their Reverend `Fa were the Holy Daughter Medruth--a fiery one she were and when the little Daughter died of her wounds, she cursed the man who would never allow them to heal again. He sent them all back to the Catacombs and if they came out, he'd have `em killed."

  "Then they were good, once?" Kitarisa had asked.

  "Aye, they were, but they changed and it were Medruth who saw to it. They changed, Kita. No longer the good Daughters; Medruth turned away from Verlian. They now be only Sisters to each other. Bad magic. Now, they can suck the life from you. Take your very will it work for their ways--make you do anything they wish. Twisted, they are! You must watch for them girl, especially their hounds, the Wrathmen. They obey the Sisters--they are their hounds and they do their bidding."

  Old Nans story had stayed with her for many sleepless nights and when she was older, Kitarisa learned never to be alone, especially outside the keep. It was for this reason Rhynn had been sent to watch her and Alea. Wherever they went, Rhynn was with them, and it was he who had set the capstone on her fear of the Sisters. His own little sister had been taken when she was a child of seven and never seen again. His hatred of the White Sisters knew no bounds.

  Intrigued by Nans' tale, Kitarisa pestered the old woman about the written memories--a book, forbidden to be read, but kept in her father's library. She decided to find out for herself and late one night, slipped unnoticed into the library to find the rare book.

  Her tutor, Master Jemathet, had always avoided discussing the barbarians. Talesian history was forbidden and Jemathet had seen enough of Kazan's punishments. He would do nothing to defy the prince's wishes.

  Kazan's library was rarely used and Kitarisa knew he would never miss the book. The only books he ever read were the musty old histories of the empire, books on battle tactics, and the Wisdom of Yen-Marr, the ancient warrior-philosopher.

  Kitarisa found the fragile book on the topmost shelf and noted with some asperity it had been shoved into the shelf, backward. The book was so old, many of its brittle pages had begun to fall from the binding. It smelled musty and damp, and mildew had formed on the leather cover.

  She gently turned the tissue-fine pages, studying the delicate old printing. It was written in Volten, the language of the last empire. Kitarisa's knowledge of Volten was at best rudimentary, but many of the old words were similar to Common Speech and she managed to read through much of it before coming to the pages she wanted.

  The Diaries of Her Highness the First Ter-Reya Ka'Tiya of Talesia--compiled by Wordkeeper Ahganst--the Sunturn being 7205, the Eighth of the Reign of Cael III, and the Fifteenth Turn of the High Prince and Ter-Rey, D'Aettilek dar Daeamon.

  Kitarisa frowned. Was this the same Ka'Tiya old Nan's had whispered about--the Ka'Tiya known as the Beloved? And why was she `beloved'?

  The first act my lord undertook upon his return to Daeamon Keep was to try and undo the damage his brother, the Lord Suldan had begun. Lord Suldan had committed a grave mistake while my Lord Aettilek had been away fulfilling his service to the emperor.

  Lord Suldan had unwisely banished the Holy Daughters, closed and burned their sanctuaries, leaving Talesia bereft of their healing mercy.

  My Lord Aettilek was given the unpleasant task of ordering the execution of his own brother and then to ask of the Reverend `Fa, Medruth, her forgiveness--a difficult task in itself for a proud man such as my lord.

  However, the damage was done. Medruth would not forgive Lord Suldan's crime. Instead, she placed into effect a cruel curse, one that has surely affected the course of Talesian life and custom forever. A dreaded plague, a dark curse was placed on all Talesian women. The dead were everywhere--old women, girls, little babies. They lay in the streets. There were so many, there was little time for decent funeral pyres. It was a curse that I fear will take its toll for many generations to come. Three in five of all Talesian women and girls died in two short passes of the moon and of those who survived, perhaps one in three were able to bear more children. I have studied the structure of Talesian society for many turns and have been witness to this imposed cruelty. It was my opinion then, and one that proved correct, that this change would cause great strife within my lord's people.

  Is it any wonder why there is such bitterness and hatred against these cruel women? My Lord Aettilek vowed unending vengeance against the White Sisters. And I must agree....

  Kitarisa had closed the book and tried to recall her histories. Three hundred sunturns ago the Talesians had conquered
the Eastern Provinces and forced their princes to pay dearly to the Ter-Rey the High Prince. Paying the tribute money lasted for several turns after that. And, then it came to an abrupt end. The tribute money stopped and the Eastern Lands were left to rule themselves as they wished, as long they remained subject to the Ter-Rey and kept his peace. Less than fifty turns after the barbarian siege, the Empire collapsed with the death of Caal III, Shadressian's grandson, a weak, ineffective man, given to wine, dicing and debauchery--and it was nearly the same time as the writing of Ka'Tiya's compiled diaries.

  Was this curse the reason why the barbarians left the Eastern Lands alone for so long?

  The world had long known about the Sisters and the Talesians' curse--this knowledge only adding to the fear and distrust of the barbarians. And yet, the Eastern Lands and all the Provinces of the Dominion were never bothered again. Until now.

  It took another day and night of hard riding before they saw the four, square towers of Gorendt Keep, grim and formidable even in the noonday sun. The streets were dark and sinister as if from another, more menacing age. Shadowy, suspicious people hurried about their business, casting furtive glances their way. A feeling of suppressed dread permeated the city. Shopkeepers avoided the eyes of their customers and hurried through each transaction, afraid even to go beyond the most minimal of verbal exchanges.

  The open marketplace teemed with straining carthorses, cursing drivers, and bustling shoppers, but there was still an underlying vein of fear--pulsing and threatening.

  With both of them cloaked and hooded, no one recognized the two women being escorted through their own city and Alea had the good sense to keep still, largely due to her pride, not wanting to be noticed in her current bedraggled state.

  The novelty of so many Talesians this far east of the mountains brought more than furtive glances. Mothers tugged their children to their skirts. A few men turned pale at the sight of them and nervously fingered their own sword hilts.

  A bold-tongued, ancient crone hissed at them, "child eaters!" and spat in the street.