Journey into the Void (30 page)

Either that, Raven thought suddenly, or this is an ambush.

“That's why R'lt is suddenly so friendly,” Raven said to himself. “He wants to mate with Dag-ruk. Everyone in the tribe knows that. This way, he rids himself of a rival.”

Well, it is as good a day as any to die, Raven reflected.

He ran over the ground, glancing only now and then at the trail. He'd traveled about a mile when he came to a small rise. The country was made up of rolling hills and valleys, an ideal place for an ambush. He had the warrior's instinct that he was getting close, and he slowed his pace as he ran up the next hill, preparing himself for the danger that lay ahead. He had almost reached the rise, when he heard Dur-zor scream.

She did not scream out of fear. Her scream was that of a warrior, and it came from just over the rise. Raven sped up the hill, his tum-olt in his hand. Topping the rise, he saw a taan warrior and Dur-zor struggling. In former days, she would have accepted her death as her due, but now she fought for her life, kicking and clawing and biting, trying to grab the dagger he had been about to use to stab her to the heart.

Raven gave a fierce, challenging bellow.

The warrior, Ga-tak, lifted his head, but he did not shift his attack from Dur-zor to the Trevinici.

Ga-tak knew he wasn't in any danger. At Raven's shout, two fellow taan warriors leapt up out of the tall grass in which they'd been hiding.

Raven was not fool enough to think he could defeat three veteran taan warriors, and, even he if managed to, Dur-zor would die. Her strength was already failing. She cast him a pleading look.

Raven had only one chance. He flung down the tum-olt, so that it stuck, quivering, in the ground. Raising his hands, he cried out in a loud voice, “In the name of K'let, I command you to stop!”

To Raven's shock, it worked. The taan understood only one word, but that was the most important word—K'let, a taanic word even a human could pronounce. Raven wore the ceremonial armor he'd been given when he joined K'let's guard: an ornately etched breastplate of steel; a steel collar ringed with spikes worn over chain mail, with a snow-white cloak symbolzing the albino. He wielded a tum-olt that was a gift from K'let.

“I am K'let's servant,” Raven continued. “If you harm me, you harm K'let.”

A bit grandiose and not precisely true, but it impressed the taan.

Ga-tak hesitated. That was all Dur-zor needed. She twisted out of his grasp and ran to stand beside Raven.

Ga-tak and the other taan warriors looked at each other uncertainly. They had orders from Dag-ruk to kill the half-taan and orders from R'lt to kill the xkes, but they also had a healthy fear of the Vrykyl K'let. Dag-ruk and R'lt would be furious. They might kill their bodies, but K'let could shrivel their souls, cast them into the Void, and prevent them from ever joining the battle of the gods that would one day determine the rulership of heaven.

The souls won out.

The taan sheathed their weapons. Ga-tak threw down the dagger. One by one, they walked past Raven, who dared not give in to his relief. He maintained his show of outraged indignation until they had departed.

The taan cast him cool glances as they left, as much as to say, “You may have won now, but where will you go from here?”

Raven wondered that himself. When he was certain that the taan were gone and that no more were going to leap out at him, he sighed deeply. Then he turned to Dur-zor.

“Oh, gods! What did they do to you?”

Ga-tak had struck her repeatedly, by the looks of it. Her face was bloodied and bruised, her nose broken, both eyes starting to swell shut. One wrist was purple and swelling, probably broken, and she had slash marks on her arms from where she'd fought to avoid the dagger. The knuckles of her hands were cracked and bleeding. Raven was sorry at that moment that he hadn't chosen to fight. He put his arms around her, held her close.

“Forgive me, Raven,” she mumbled through her bleeding lips. She spit out a tooth.

“It's not your fault.”

“Yes, it is. I should have let him kill me. I am a burden to you.” She hung her head. “If I had died, you would live in honor. Now, we will both be hunted. I have caused your death. I am a coward.”

“You are not a coward,” said Raven. “Do you remember the word I taught you—hope? So long as we are alive, we have the hope of making things better.”

He kissed her gently, so as not to hurt her wounded flesh. “If I had found you dead, I would have let them kill me. I would not want to live without you.”

Dur-zor looked up at him as best she could through her swelling eyelids. “Truly, Raven?”

“Truly, Dur-zor,” he said. “You are my mate. As long as I live, I will have no other. I love you.”

Dur-zor hated herself for asking, but she could not help it. “Do you love me as you would love a human woman, Raven? A human woman like my mother?”

“I love you for you, Dur-zor,” he said.

“I love you, Raven,” Dur-zor said. “But, then, you already know that.
Unfortunately,” she added, with taan practicality, “love does not help us much. If I go back to the tribe, Dag-ruk will kill me—”

“And if I go back, R'lt will kill me,” said Raven.

“We could run away…” But even as Dur-zor said the words, she fell silent.

Both looked out at the bleak plains, brown and barren. A human and a half-taan alone, without shelter or any idea of where they were, would either perish from the elements or die at the hands of human or taan raiders.

The idea that had been in the back of Raven's mind for days surged to the forefront.

“I hate to ask it of you, after that mauling you took, but we have to hurry. We have to reach K'let before the others do.”

“K'let?” Dur-zor repeated fearfully. “Do you run toward death now, Raven?”

“No, I run toward life. Every taan around here seems to imagine that I have some sort of influence with the Vrykyl,” said Raven grimly. “We're going to see if they're right.”

R
AVEN CAREFULLY AVOIDED GOING BACK TO HIS OWN CAMP, FOR
fear Dag-ruk would challenge him. He set a brisk pace, and Dur-zor managed to keep up with him, nursing her broken wrist and peering through her swollen eyes. Raven was worried about her, but he didn't have time to coddle her, not that she would have expected coddling anyway. Raven did not think that Dag-ruk would go to K'let to complain about him, but there was always that chance. As for R'lt, there was no telling what he might do.

Arriving in K'let's camp, Raven was startled to find the tribe in an uproar. The taan were stirred up, shouting and yelling, making wild gestures and brandishing their weapons. Shamans were huddled together, conversing in low tones, while young shamans hovered near, waiting for orders. Taskers bustled about, making ready—or so it appeared—to strike camp.

“What has happened?” Dur-zor wondered, staring about.

Taan are nomads, and pulling up stakes was not that unusual, except that Raven had been told K'let intended to remain behind for several days, to await the arrival of another taan tribe. He recalled K'let's hideous shriek. Now was not the time to start asking favors. Yet now was the only time he had.

He headed for K'let's tent. Hauling Dur-zor with him, he walked up to the taan guards, saluted, and said that he had an urgent message for K'let.

He counted on the excitement of the camp working for him in this instance, and he was not mistaken. The taan guards knew Raven. They sent him through to see the Vrykyl. He entered to find K'let in a meeting with all his nizam, including Dag-ruk.

She took one look at him, one look at Dur-zor, and knew the whole story. She glared at him. He glared back and had the satisfaction of seeing her lower her eyes. She slid one uneasy glance at K'let, then pretended to ignore Raven. The nizam stood in a line before K'let, awaiting their orders. K'let glanced at Raven and motioned him to join them.

Raven took his place at the end of the line. Dur-zor crept behind Raven, tried to make herself as small as possible.

“What's going on?” Raven asked her softly. “What is K'let saying?”

He listened in amazement to the story of the ambush and murder of the five thousand taan in a place called God City. Raven squeezed her hand when she had concluded.

“Good,” he said softly.

K'let issued his orders, briefly and succinctly. Scouts would be sent to spread the story among other taan. Those tribes with K'let would now travel east with all possible speed, to join forces with other taan moving up out of the south. The nizam had no questions, and K'let dismissed them to go about their duties. After loudly expressing their outrage and their fury, they departed. Dag-ruk flashed Raven one burning glance as she passed him, but she said nothing. Raven concentrated on K'let, thankful that the Vrykyl had retained his taan form. He was not so intimidating in his own hide.

Assuming that all his nizam had left, K'let turned to say something to Derl. The aged shaman nodded in Raven's direction.

“One remains, K'let. Your pet human.”

K'let turned, frowning. He looked Raven up and down. His frown increased when he saw Dur-zor. She started to sink to the ground, but Raven held her up.

“I need you to translate,” he said.

“What do you want, R'vn?” K'let snarled.

“A chance to speak to you, great Kyl-sarnz,” said Raven.

“I am not in the mood to talk to xkes now,” K'let said. “I let you live out of a whim.”

“I am here to see that you don't regret that whim, great Kyl-sarnz,”
said Raven. “I have a proposition.” He thrust Dur-zor forward into the light. “Look at this. Look at what the taan have done to her.”

K'let shrugged. “She is an abomination. They may bash in her skull, for all I care.”

“Yet were you not once considered an abomination, mighty K'let?” Raven said boldly, to make up for the fact that his heart thudded in his chest. He was taking a terrible risk.

Dur-zor stared at him, afraid to repeat his words. There was no need. Having been around Dagnarus for over two hundred years, K'let understood well enough.

His eyes narrowed.

“Say what you have to say, R'vn, before I slay you.”

“Only this, great K'let. That once you were considered worthless by your people and yet the tales of your triumphs in battle, the stories of your bravery and courage are legend. I say that these you call abominations, these half-taan, are being wasted. The taan use them as slaves, to haul drinking water and wipe the backsides of children, when they might be taught to wield spears in your army. The taan kill them for sport, when they might be dying for your cause in battle. Look at her. Look at the beating she has taken. Yet she stands before you, brave and uncomplaining. You have seen her skill in battle, and she is self-taught. What might she do with training?

“I propose to you that I take the half-taan and form them into a tribe of their own. I will train them to be warriors to fight for you.”

Derl said something in a soft voice. K'let listened and gave a brief nod. He did not take his red eyes off Raven.

“Why would you, a human, agree to fight other humans? For that is what it will come to, you know,” said K'let.

Raven paused, trying to understand his own feelings, trying to explain himself to himself as much as to K'let.

“Like the taan, my people are warriors. Like the taan, we believe that those who die in battle are blessed in the afterlife, given a chance to fight heaven's battles. I heard your stories of the taan who were massacred. I would not want to die like that, trapped inside the walls of a city. I would not want to die at the hands of wizards—cowards who hide behind their magic and dare not fight a man face-to-face. Because I understand, I want to avenge the deaths of those taan.”

As Dur-zor translated this, her own voice grew stronger. She caught some of Raven's fire.

“The taan use the half-taan as slaves, as you say. They will not be pleased to lose them,” said K'let.

“It seems to me that you have given the taan much more important things to think about now, great K'let, than the loss of a few slaves who are easily replaced,” said Raven.

Derl gave a cough that might have been a chuckle. The shaman muttered something. K'let muttered back, their words soft and indistinct.

“I will be forced to pay the taan for the loss of their slaves,” K'let grumbled.

“If I can turn your slaves into a fighting force, then your wealth will be well spent,” Raven answered.

A glint shone in K'let's eye. “How do I know I can trust you? I would not want it to be said later that I raised up the young bahk who then bit off my head.”

“I pledge my honor to you, Kyl-sarnz. Your fight is my fight.”

“One other human made that vow to me once,” K'let said softly. “And he betrayed me.”

“I will not betray you, Kyl-sarnz,” said Raven proudly. “You have my word.”

K'let grunted, unimpressed. He eyed Raven craftily. “Correct me if I'm wrong, R'vn, but at the moment your life is worth less than a cracked stewpot. Oh, yes, I know all about Dag-ruk and R'lt. I am kept well informed.”

“That is true, Kyl-sarnz,” Raven said, seeing no reason to deny it.

“Then I will make you the same bargain Dagnarus made with me. I will give you what you ask for. I will make you nizam of your own tribe of half-taan. You will be under my protection. No taan will harm you or yours in peril of my wrath. In exchange, when I demand your life, you will give it to me.”

Raven thought this over. Dur-zor murmured a protest, but he silenced her.

“I agree, Kyl-sarnz.”

“It will be done, then,” said K'let. “I plan to speak to all our people before we start. I will make the announcement then. When we set up
camp this night, you will make your own camp, and the half-taan will join you.” He made a dismissive gesture.

Raven saluted and departed. Once outside the tent, he drew in a gulp of fresh air, a gulp that rid his lungs of the fetid stench of the Void. He looked in triumph at Dur-zor, expecting to see her happiness reflect his own. Instead, she was worried and thoughtful.

“What is wrong now?” he demanded, irritated. “You have what you always wanted—freedom for you and your people.”

“I know,” she said, smiling as best she could with her split lip. “And I am very proud of you, Raven. Still”—she sighed—“it will not be easy. There are some who find comfort in being a slave.”

“I don't believe that,” he said shortly. “You didn't.”

Dur-zor could not explain herself, and so she dropped the subject. She moved close to him, snuggled near him. “I do not like it that you were forced to sell your life to K'let.”

“Bah!” Raven shrugged. “I got the best of the deal. As K'let said, my life is worth nothing now, so I have nothing to lose. I intend to make myself so valuable to K'let that he won't want to collect on his debt. Besides, I'll probably cheat him and die in battle anyway.”

“I hope so, Raven,” said Dur-zor earnestly.

He pretended to frown at her. “That's a fine thing for a mate to say.”

“Oh, not that I hope you die!” she cried, aghast. “It's just—”

“I know,” he said, laughing and hugging her. He felt good with the world. “I was teasing. One of the first things I'm going to teach the half-taan is how to laugh.”

“The first thing you are going to have to teach them, Raven, is how to live,” said Dur-zor solemnly. “Right now, all they know is how to die.”