Haven: A Trial of Blood and Steel Book Four (23 page)

“Daish,” she said quietly, grasping his arm, “can you hold on just down the next hill? I have an idea.”

Daish nodded weakly. “Don't stop for me,” he said hoarsely. “Get to Ilduur.”

“We will,” Sasha assured him. “All of us will. Just hold on until we reach the next valley.”

It took longer than she'd hoped. The ridge they were on continued to climb, then wove along an adjoining ridge before finally descending. But that downward slope bore the full face of the lowering afternoon sun, and the heat rising off surrounding rocks was as great as anything Sasha had ever felt.

The valley was totally exposed. The stream here gathered into a pool, wide but shallow. Sasha and Aisha half carried Daish from his saddle and sat him in the water. Sasha pulled off his shirt and began unwinding his bandages while Aisha rummaged through her medicinal bag for those magical concoctions that serrin used to such amazing affect.

“You go on,” Sasha told Rhillian. “We'll catch up. He just needs a rest.”

“Sasha,” Rhillian warned as her horse drank thirstily from the stream, “this is not a defensible position….”

“I know that. I don't intend to stay that long, I'm a better rider in these hills than anyone else, and if it gets dark, I'll have Aisha's eyes to guide me.”

She peeled the last bandage off Daish's wound—it looked okay, inflamed red but healthily so. Serrin medicines prevented infections, but infections were not all that could kill, and if his lung had indeed been punctured, even slightly…

“Aisha is valuable to the mission,” said Kiel. “She knows Ilduur, and is a fine linguist. Sasha's sword and demonstration of Lenayin's new alliance are likewise invaluable. This is not a wise risk.”

“Aye, well, you find me a ‘wise risk,’ Kiel,” Sasha said sarcastically, “and I'll find you a pig that shits silver.”

“I'll stay,” said Yasmyn. She wore a serrin blade at her shoulder now, which a retired
talmaad
in a passing village had granted to her. Yasmyn was skilled with her one-handed darak, and could surely improvise some use for this. Sasha wasn't certain she didn't prefer Yasmyn bare-handed than heavily armed and overconfident.

“I'd rather Arendelle. An archer would be useful—Aisha's a better shot than me but not to his standard.”

Arendelle nodded and dismounted midstream to water his horse. Yasmyn sulked. Kiel looked exasperated.

“We'll wait for you at the best defensible plateau at sundown,” Rhillian told them. “Don't be late.” She put heels to her horse, and the reluctant animal resumed the trail. Yasmyn, Kiel, and Bergen followed.

Daish lay back in the stream, soaking, his head on the bank. “Stupid,” he muttered. “You should go.”

“You should shut up,” Sasha told him, and placed his hat over his face to shield it from the sun.

Aisha applied more medicine on the wound and then gave him some to drink, but there wasn't much more she could do. Mostly, Sasha hoped that the cool soaking water and the moment of rest would allow Daish's weakened body to recover. He was young and fit; she had to give him every chance to get well on his own.

She and Arendelle washed down the horses as best they could, while Aisha tended to Daish. They could not risk removing the horses’ saddles, and the animals were reluctant to lie and roll in the water with them still on, but standing while flasks of water were emptied over them had similar effect. She was preoccupied with that task when Aisha called a warning.

Where the trail down the hillside broke from the trees, a pair of riders now sat. Both had long hair, and middle-sized horses of breeding unfamiliar to Sasha's eye. They stared at the scene before them.

Arendelle abandoned the horses and splashed to the bank, picking up his bow and shouldering the quiver of arrows. The horsemen conversed, and one turned back the way he'd come and vanished up the trail.

“Scouts,” said Sasha.

“Yes, and ahead of what advance party?” Arendelle wondered.

The Kazeri rider cantered sideways toward the stream, putting a little more distance between himself and them. Sasha had no doubt Arendelle could hit him from here, if he kept still. But the Kazeri seemed alert and unlikely to comply.

“I could ride him down,” Arendelle suggested.

“He'll run away, and you'll tire your horse to breaking,” Sasha replied. “He's only here to watch, he's not worth the effort.”

“We should go,” said Daish, trying weakly to rise.

Aisha pushed him back down. “The last time we saw them, they were a long way behind. We've some more time yet.”

They waited, Daish resting in the water as the sun sank toward the valley ridge. Finally, as the ridge shadow crept toward them, and the Kazeri scout sat astride his horse downstream, Sasha decided they could wait no longer.

Aisha rewrapped Daish's bandages and helped him into his shirt. He remounted with difficulty, and they rode toward the resumption of the trail up the far slope. The Kazeri scout followed.

“You idiot,” Sasha said loudly, in Lenay. “Not too bright, this one.”

She waited until they'd reached the top of the rise, horses labouring on the incline, then selected a large tree that grew at a twisted angle from the upside of the trail, angling overhead. She dismounted, indicating for Aisha to ride up and take her horse's bridle as Sasha took position behind the tree.

“Won't take but a moment,” she assured her companions. “Wait for me.”

They rode on. Sasha put her back to the leaning trunk, unclipped her scabbard from her bandoleer, and waited. Here on the trail edge, she was level with any Kazeri rider. This Kazeri, like most, wore no armour.

Soon enough, she heard approaching hooves. A quick glance past the trunk showed the Kazeri, plodding cautiously. He was an idiot, one rider alone, coming so close after a larger group. If she'd left Arendelle to deal with him, he'd be dead right here. Instead, she leaned back behind the tree, grasped her scabbard by the wrong end, and waited until he drew level.

Then she swung around the tree's far side and hit him in the face with the hilt, hard. He fell. Sasha unfastened the scabbard and took out her blade, standing over him. The Kazeri recovered enough to stare up at her, past a bleeding brow. A young face. No more than fourteen.

Sasha swore. She indicated the knife at his belt, and the sword. “Off!” she commanded. He unhitched the scabbard and the knife, and put them on the path, hands trembling with fear. “Up!” He climbed unsteadily to his feet, putting a hand to his head, and looking at the blood that smeared his palm. “Walk!”

Sasha gathered his weapons, then grabbed the horse's bridle, gesturing the boy on ahead with her blade. He walked around several more bends in the path, Sasha following with his horse.

Around another bend, and there was Arendelle, an arrow fitted and drawn, about to launch for the boy's throat. He lowered the bow.

“Let's get him tied and back on his horse,” said Sasha. “Aisha might be able to speak enough to ask some questions later.”

S
asha sat on her saddle and gazed out at the view atop this latest ridge. They had a clear view of their trail, winding up the way they'd come, visible even to Sasha's eyes in the moonlight. Arendelle sat watching it, and the slope beyond, wondering if there were any alternative route the Kazeri might find over this ridge and around them, to ambush on both sides. Sasha thought it was possible. But the terrain was hard enough for her, a Lenay. Plains-dwelling Kazeri would take most of the night to achieve that ambush, and would be exhausted the following day. Besides which, Daish would quite simply die if they did not stop for the night, to say nothing of the horses.

“He's a
kunli
,” Aisha said. She only spoke a little Kazeri, but she did speak fluent Lisan, of all things. The Lisan Empire lay across the far western side of the Morovian Mountains from Lenayin—an impenetrable barrier for most, but not for Aisha's love of tongues. “A
kunli
just means a scout; the Kazeri use young riders as scouts on the plains—they weigh less on their horses and cover more ground.”

“Why have the Kazeri come?” Rhillian asked.

“He's just a kid,” said Aisha, “his understanding isn't thorough. But it seems the northern Kazeri chiefs are in conflict with the southern. The northerners have been losing, so they seek alliance with the Bacosh. Rakani and Meraine, mostly.”

Rakani and Meraine were the southernmost Bacosh provinces. The Rakani were related to the Kazeri, and were regarded poorly by much of the pale-skinned Bacosh. The Meraini were wealthy, but historically the least involved in the Bacosh's long struggles for power. Sasha had heard rumour that Meraine's present participation in what remained a Larosan-led war was reluctant at best.

“They'll have had to come through Meraine and Rakani to get here,” said Rhillian. “Perhaps those Meraini and Rakani lords thought to have us outflanked by a sudden Kazeri attack. I'll wager they provided guides.”

“With old maps,” Aisha cautioned.

“Just as likely they tire of Kazeri provocation upon their border,” Kiel stated, “and have invited the Kazeri to their doom. Decreasing two enemies simultaneously is surely more fortunate than one at a time.”

Aisha asked the boy some more questions.

“He says there were guides from Meraine. The warriors of Zalamud—that's Northern Kazerak—were promised much gold and loot in the rich lands of Enora and Saalshen. As much as they could load into carts. And alliance with the Chansul of Meraine, against the enemies of Zalamud.”

“Saalshen,” Kiel said. “Charming.”

“The Chansul didn't offer to marry a Kazeri chief's daughter, though,” Sasha muttered, thinking of Sofy. “The Bacosh dislike of savages is only so flexible.”

“Sounds like a play for power by the Chansul of Meraine as much as anything,” Rhillian observed. “I can't imagine the Regent will be thrilled that his least favourite Meraini has made alliance with the Kazeri. It makes him rather more powerful.”

“The Regent made alliance with Lenayin,” said Yasmyn. “Probably the Chansul sees this as a way to get even. If the Regent wins, he becomes King of the Bacosh, more powerful than any since Leyvaan.”

“Oh, much more powerful than Leyvaan,” said Rhillian. “Leyvaan did not command such a broad alliance as this. And Balthaar is capturing our weapons and our knowledge. Surely he will find use for captured Steel artillery.”

“Not everyone will like this,” Yasmyn continued. “When King Soros rose in Lenayin, the Isfayen did not like it. They made King Soros prove his honour in war.”

“Because defeating all those Cherrovan wasn't test enough for the Isfayen,” said Kiel in amusement.

“Yasmyn's right,” said Sasha. “Of all the Bacosh powers discomforted by the idea of a Larosan as Bacosh king, Meraine will be discomforted most. Meraine is the one province the Larosans have least influence in—it's too big, and too outward-looking for the Larosans to ever have truly controlled. Now a Larosan is to be king of all, and the Meraini will be looking to protect their independence from what is to come.”

Rhillian's eyes flicked to Sasha, an emerald glow in the night. “Ilduur has not responded to Enora's and Rhodaan's requests for help,” she said slowly.

Sasha nodded. “The Ilduuri and the Meraini have always been cordial.”

“We know they have relations,” Aisha agreed. “There are many trails through the mountains, some of them very old trading roads. We know that some Meraini lords have even visited Ilduur, and spent time in Andal. Some in Saalshen even toyed with the idea of attempting to spread Nasi-Keth influence into Meraine, perhaps even a quiet alliance between Saalshen and individual Meraini lords, if not all of Meraine. But others in Saalshen have blocked it, saying that even a whiff of serrin friendship will bring the priesthood down on the Meraini lords’ heads, and cause more trouble than it solves.”

“Well, all of this is very interesting conjecture,” Kiel said mildly. “But it is one thing to go from suggesting that Ilduur is a reluctant ally of
anyone
, which is a basic historical fact, to saying that the Ilduuri may have entered into a pact with the Meraini to make common cause against everyone else.”

“The Ilduuri do not want to fight,” said Rhillian. “If that is their object, an alliance with Meraine would appear to protect them from further invasion, without them ever having to make formal alliance with the Regent.”

“They can surrender without actually having to surrender,” Sasha said drily. “What honour.”

“While the Meraini will gain a powerful ally to protect their independence from the Regent,” Rhillian continued. “The Ilduuri are perfect for the purpose, because they don't ask any more of the Meraini than to be left alone.”

There was silence in the camp. Somewhere nearby, a bird called, sounding hot, tired, and unable to sleep. Sasha empathised.

“Why we ever helped these people…” Kiel remarked. And left the question unanswered.

The Kazeri boy said something. And stared about at them all from his place on the ground, huddled between them with ankles tied, in obvious fear.

“He asks us demons not to eat his soul,” Aisha said tiredly.

“What's in it for me?” Kiel inquired.

“Tell him to sleep,” said Rhillian, with a reprimanding glance at Kiel. “Tell him we'll let him go, as soon as we're able.”

Kiel blinked. “We shall?”

“Yes,” Rhillian said, “we shall. I'm not killing children
deliberately
, Kiel.”

“And will you seek Saalshen's survival
deliberately
? Or will you leave it purely to chance?”

They left the boy that morning, free to await his people's arrival. Kiel was not happy, claiming that he would simply resume the pursuit with the others. Rhillian did not argue, save to say that they could not win such a fight anyhow, and one fourteen-year-old boy would hardly swing the battle one way or the other. They did, however, keep his horse.

The Kazeri had not attempted to circle during the night and ambush ahead. As the land turned to long, climbing valleys and sheer, rugged cliffs, Sasha thought that was probably wise.

The party let their horses drink thirstily at the first valley stream, but by the time the trail began climbing once more, the sun was glaring into their faces, and the heat already intense. Halfway up the next rise, Bergen's horse simply stopped. A quick check from Sasha found the poor animal in great distress, heart racing, eyes rolling.

“Overheated,” she told them, as Bergen unbuckled straps and removed the saddle and saddlebags. “We have to leave him—if we let him turn back to the last stream, he may survive.”

“We can't just leave him for the Kazeri,” said Kiel.

“He's not walking for us or the Kazeri,” Sasha replied. At those words, the horse crumpled on shaky knees and lay on the trail. Sasha's throat hurt to look at his desperate pain. She'd loved horses since she was a little girl and, unlike people, they'd never asked for a fate like this.

“He's finished,” Rhillian sighed, and slid off her own horse, drawing her sword. Sasha shook her head. “Sasha, it's kinder.”

“Just give him a chance. He may recover, and go down to the stream. Just give him a chance.”

Rhillian looked at her for a moment. Then sheathed her blade and remounted her horse. Sasha poured water over the suffering animal's neck, then tried to make him drink the rest.

“Go that way, you big fool,” she said, trying to turn his head toward the valley. The horse just lay, too distressed to move. The others rode past, and Sasha remounted to follow, wiping her eyes. Bergen, mounted on the captured Kazeri horse, offered her his flask. He was a big man, with battle scars on his arms.

“That's my seventh,” he said. “I remember all their names. My son is named after my favourite.”

Sasha recalled her Peg, now safe somewhere in a Pazira stable in Torovan. Thank the spirits he couldn't fit on the boat to Tracato.

The top of the ridge presented them with a view of the Kazeri following them. They were much closer now. Another valley bottom and another drink and brief wash provided more relief, but climbing out of that valley, Sasha's horse slipped and fell nose-first into the trail with a thud.

Sasha leaped off and examined the animal, but could barely find a pulse. Cursing, she pulled a few useful possessions from her saddlebags, while Bergen did the duties with his sword. Another time, Sasha might have protested that she was not so weak she couldn't do it herself. Now, she had only gratitude.

She joined Aisha, the lightest rider, and her horse perhaps the largest and fittest, but the mare did not welcome the extra weight. “They're riding our horses into the ground,” Sasha muttered.

By midday, huge thunderclouds were gathering above the mountains, thunder grumbling and echoing through the steep valleys. In no time at all, the rain was on them, turning the rocky trails treacherous with wet rocks and loose mud.

Rhillian was not pleased by the change. “The Kazeri will go faster now. We'll not keel over so fast in the rain, and the Ipshaal is nearly before us.”

It was indeed. At the top of the next ridge, through a mist of rain, the party looked down upon a huge canyon. Spanning it was the widest bridge Sasha had ever seen. It was little more than a road of planks, suspended from huge ropes that soared across the span, affixed to four giant stone pillars.

To the side of the bridge, and at both ends, was a small guard post with a tower and crenellations for archers. “Don't the Steel border guards have to keep to their side of the river only?” Sasha asked Aisha as they descended toward the bridge.

“Enora does not bother to defend this border,” Aisha replied. “Only the Ilduuri remain suspicious enough to guard borders with their so-called friends. They can build forts on either side, no one cares.”

Aisha had barely looked at the bridge or the canyon, her eyes only on Daish. “Nearly there,” she told him. “Just down the hill, then you can rest.”

Approaching the bridge, Sasha saw that a stone wall stretched from the guard post at the canyon's edge to the natural cliff face of the opposing slope. In the wall was a tall gate. Thus the guard post controlled all entry to the bridge, and into Ilduur.

“Hello!” Rhillian called up at the small tower, walking her horse out before the others. “I am Rhillian. Four of this party are serrin,
talmaad
of Saalshen. The others are friends of ours. In the name of two centuries of friendship between Saalshen and Ilduur, I ask passage.”

There came no reply, nor hint of movement. Rain washed down the dark stone walls. Sasha had climbed rocks before, but never a wall this smooth, and certainly not wet.

“Enemies from Kazerak pursue us!” Rhillian tried again. “If we are not admitted immediately, we shall be trapped out here!”

There was no reply but the hissing rain, and the roll and boom of nearby thunder. Rhillian turned her horse and came back.

“Deserted?” Sasha asked.

“No, I saw movement through a window.” Rhillian looked grim. “It seems the Steel are under instruction not to admit the likes of us.”

And there was no way around, and no retracing their steps. No one needed to say it. This was the only bridge for several days’ ride.

“Well,” said Rhillian, with a hard exhale, “there's little choice. At least here there is room for a fight.”

Sasha was exasperated. If they'd known it would be a fight, they'd have held a high pass and forced the Kazeri to come at them single file up a hill. But now they were trapped against a wall at the base of a slope, with the Kazeri coming down on top of them.

The party positioned themselves. Daish dismounted and slumped in the gateway with his sword, while Sasha took his horse and readied her shield. The four serrin took the flanks: Arendelle and Aisha to the left by the canyon edge, Rhillian and Kiel on the right against the cliff wall. Bergen held the centre, a Steel cavalryman with shield, sword and armour all suited to the task, but now on a smaller, unfamiliar horse. On his right was Sasha, on his left, Yasmyn. Their horses were all exhausted. It seemed ridiculous.

“Seven against a hundred,” Sasha announced. “This has the makings of a fireside tale.”