Sword of Jashan (Book 2) (30 page)

Kirian looked up at Callo. Her hands were busy measuring out the drops she would need, and finding a clean eye cup for the wash. “It was not us,” she said. “It was not, was it, Callo?”

He shook his head.

Fentany returned with a mug of water. Kirian returned her attention to the preparation of a wash for the man’s diseased eye—water, five drops of clearsight, the solution to be dripped into the eye from a clean rag. It was a time consuming procedure, hard to do in a rough camp in the middle of the night. But if she did not, this man would go blind. She finished the preparation while the man tore at the bread Fentany had also brought. He ate like an animal that had not seen food for days, crumbs falling from his cracked lips.

Callo walked away to converse with Rhin, who was collecting the starving attackers from the shelters where they had been overcome. When he returned, he said, “There are six more. Three of them need you, Kirian, after you are done here.”

“Feed them first, then I will see them.”

She told the man to lie on the ground, staring up into the night. Fentany lit a candle from the shielded lamp. Kirian drew a damp cloth along the eye then began to drip the solution in. The man made a strangled cry as he tried to jerk his head away, then stilled.

“I do not know why this group is here,” Callo said. “We are near Meent. They had to sail for an extra few days to get here. Why not Two Merkhan, or Seagard for that matter?”

“Others goin’ to Two Merkhan,” the man said. “And Jol’tan headed to Fortress, with his bespelled slaves.”

Callo looked down at the man on the ground. “It has begun, then. Where is this Jol’tan, and his bespelled slaves as you call them?”

The man laughed. “Do you think he confides his plans to me? All I know is, he commandeered a boat at Las’ash and ordered the crew to take him to some empty coast near Fortress. I assume he’s meant to take over the place with his ku’an evil.”

“There is a Collared Lord at Fortress,” Callo said. “Jol’tan will not find his way smooth.” He looked down at Kirian for a moment. Kirian kept her hands steady as she soaked the cloth and began to drip more of the herbal preparation into the man’s eye. “You must get ready to go to the hill shelter, Kirian. I will not have you here in danger. Can you not finish that task later?”

“He can do it himself, in a moment. I will ask Lotna and Fentany to help me check the others. We will be ready when you need us to be.”

Rhin grinned. He shifted from one foot to another. “Is it time, then, ku’an?”

“I will see Hira Noh, but it must be time. Too many other things are afoot—we must act.”

Rhin said, “Ya ready?”

Callo grinned. “Never readier, Rhin. My unfulfilled oath hangs heavy on me. I will remedy that this night.”

Rhin nodded. “I’ll be with ya.”

“Thank you, Rhin. Now will you ask Hira Noh and Kel to meet with me now, and prepare?”

Rhin nodded. He walked off into the lamplit camp, whistling. Kirian could tell he looked forward to the action. Worry frayed her nerves. She said, “Callo. You should not plan to go alone against Sharpeyes.”

Kirian’s tunic snapped as the breeze kicked up. Kirian lifted her head and smelled the sharp scent of an oncoming storm. She welcomed it, since it would dampen all the dust; but she wished it would hold off until Callo was back safely from his raid.

“I will not be alone. I will have half the Sword of Jashan with me, drawing their attention. I will not even be in the fight, remember? We plan to take thirty men.”

“Remember they are rebels, Callo.”

“We trust them, do we not? As long as their interests march with our own.” Callo grinned. “Do not worry, Kirian. I finally have a use for this power I am gifted with, and am eager to use it. I will have plenty of help.” He nodded to them all and strode off. Kirian saw his hand drop to the hilt of his sword as he walked; he was preparing for the battle, in his own mind.

She looked at Fentany.

“He’s a fool, mad for a fight like half the bastards here,” Fentany said. “I’ll take care of you, Healer.”

Kirian smiled. She squeezed a few more drops into the Ha’lasi man’s eye. “My thanks, Fentany. I will be fine—I worked it all out with Lord Callo when we planned this. I know where the hill shelter is, and when we are to expect the raiding party to return.”

“Unknown God, help us get there alive,” Fentany said. “It’s goin’ ta storm.”

The snappish wind had picked up. One of the horses neighed, fretting at the scent of bad weather. That night they camped in the midst of nowhere, with no farm houses or barns they could seek shelter in. The storm would catch them in the open.

The man Kirian was treating looked up at her with his one good eye, his other swollen with the constant dripping of the medication. “You are fools,” he said. “I saw them today. There are not many of them, but they are armed and mailed, and they kicked us aside like whining dogs. This ragtag of serfs will not succeed.”

“Lord Callo is also a ku’an,” she said. “And Jashan is with him.” At least she hoped that was true.

* * * * *

They had a pretty good idea of where King Martan was; they had sent scouts out daily to check his position, so they did not overrun him or give themselves away. No longer than a candlemark of riding and word came back from the men in the front rank that they approached the King’s perimeter.

Hira Noh raised a hand, and they halted. She turned to Callo. “Are you ready?”

He was indeed ready—even exultant at the chance to finally avenge his half-brother’s murder. Hira Noh looked at his eyes and then away. Callo knew there were sparks of color magery showing in his eyes, and welcomed the power he would use tonight.

Rhin and Kel rode up to within a length of them. The wind snapped their cloaks around, and thunder rumbled in the distance. The horses fidgeted, sensing the storm or the unsettled nerves of their riders. Callo looked from face to face. “Go in fast,” he told them. “I know you hate King’s men, but remember we are not here to exact vengeance for all your past wrongs. I want none of you to die tonight. You distract them while I enter the King’s tent, and that is all.”

“They will protect the King’s tent. We must draw away as many as we can,” Hira Noh reminded her commanders. “There should be no more than a score altogether, and the servants. They go only to Collar a young
righ
, not fight a battle, and they have no reason to suspect any attack from these
righ
men who were all bound from childhood not to strike at their King.”

“S’pose there’s no doubt the old man will be asleep in his tent?” asked Rhin.

“He has many years, but he is not an old man,” Callo said. “He is vigorous and shrewd. And if you do not think of him as such, you have defeated us already. I really have no desire to go back to that little locked room in Sugetre Castle, or even worse to lose my head tonight.”

“Gods hear him,” Kel said.

Hira Noh’s expression reflected a fierce enjoyment. “Kel, your group will circle around to the west. Go far around; I do not want you alerting them until we are all in position. Rhin, you are with me.”

“Lookin’ forward to it,” Rhin said. He pulled his black beard free of his leather armor where it kept becoming trapped.

“Do you remember the mark when to attack?” Hira Noh said.

Kel stretched his neck to stare at the heavens. Massive clouds almost obliterated any sense of where the moon might be. Lightning struck in the western sky, and Callo grinned. It was a night for great doings. Jashan waited for him to do what he had sworn. And he was ready to use any power at his command to do that.

Kel looked around at them. “Might be hard to tell where the moon is,” he said. “I’ll do my best.”

“Let us go, then,” Callo said. He put his knees to Miri’s side and she moved off into the night.

Darkness enfolded him so fast that Callo wondered if Hira Noh’s men could get to their positions without incident. Callo reached inside himself for the magery that was now part of him, inextricable from the rest of what made him who he was, and lit a small red glow of energy around his hands. It lit the area a few feet around him, and not much more; but at least he would not run into any trees or end up tangled in the bushes. That would indeed be an ignominious end to his plans.

He rode toward the north and then the west, in the direction Hira Noh had indicated. The fitful wind pulled at his cloak. He felt on edge. He almost thought he sensed Arias riding near him, a memory that was almost palpable. He remembered his half-brother’s laugh, and for a moment his eyes burned as if the loss was new. Tonight he would avenge Arias’ unjust death.

When Miri’s ears flicked forward and she tossed her head, Callo stopped. With every sense alert, he could detect the dim glow of a shielded lamp and the muted sound of boots shifting among dead leaves. The sentries were farther out from the camp than they had predicted. Miri’s hooves set down in near silence as he backed her away.

Far enough away to avoid detection, he dismounted. Callo looped Miri’s reins around a tree branch and then wound protective cloth around his still-tender hands, so he could use his sword without tearing the new skin. If all went well, he would not have to fight, but he knew better than to go in unprepared.

He walked through the underbrush. When close enough to see the lamp again, he squatted down in the detritus of the autumn woods and waited. The sounds of the gusty wind in the branches would cover any small sounds he made; the sentry would not notice him. With nothing to distract him, Callo was reminded of the dark room at Deephold where he had battled to overcome the mage energy. He closed his eyes and remembered the feel of the cot tilting under him, the blazing wash of energy in the room. He wondered if he would still be alive in another candlemark.

A cry went up from the other end of the camp.

Callo crept toward the sentry. The man was straight and alert, hand on his sword hilt, looking outward. Callo knew from experience that the man would be having trouble concentrating on what was before him; he would be listening for whatever was going on at the other end of the camp.

Metal clashed in the distance. There were shouts. Someone slammed sword hilt against shield, loud enough to warn the camp. A central fire leaped upward, fed to light the place better for defense.

Thunder crashed. Spits of rain lashed the woods, a brief downpour that vanished almost immediately.

Another King’s man ran up to the sentry. He drew his sword and stood peering out into the wet darkness. His hair stuck to his face, and his coat was dark with rain. “Some kind of incursion on the west side. I’m here with you until it is settled.”

“I’ve seen nothing,” the first man reported.

A horse neighed from the southern side of camp. Hira Noh and her group rode in, weapons raised. Callo thought she looked like an angry goddess with the red-gold firelight reflecting from her sword. The first King’s man to attempt to stay them fell back with blood spurting from his arm. The man dropped his sword and Hira Noh rode over him.

Callo heard hoofbeats from the western side of the camp. That would be Kel and his men riding in.

“Ware more in the west!” yelled the sentry. He shoved his relief away. “Go! They need help. I’m fine here, as you can see.”

His relief dashed off. Callo, still crouched in the woods, grinned. The psychic magery could overcome two as easily as one, but it was nice to see that even the highly trained King’s guard made mistakes. Callo closed his eyes for a moment, identifying the emotion he wished to inflict on the guard, and settled on the emotional torpidity he had used before. Sluggish, numb sleep. He pushed that out at the man and a few moments later the man dropped to his knees, apparently too sleepy to stand upright.

Callo stood up and walked by the man, who seemed to be struggling just to keep his eyelids open. The sentry gave no alarm at his presence.

He dropped to a crouch again as he passed the outlying shelters the men had been using. In the center of the camp was a large tent, the King’s banner hanging limp and sodden in front of it. The big tent was guarded on all sides. The guardsmen were grim and alert, arms ready to hand. Callo peered around the side of another tent.

The flap of the big tent swung open and King Martan appeared. He wore a valus-trimmed robe over his nightwear. His hair was in disarray from sleep.

“What in Jashan’s name is going on?” he demanded. “Who raids us?”

“I do not know, Sire,” a guard said. “They are coming in from the south and west, mounted and a few on foot. They seem well armed.”

“Go and help!” ordered Sharpeyes.

“Your Majesty, we are sworn to stay here and guard your person,” one man said.

“I am a color mage. I can protect myself better than you can,” Sharpeyes said. “Go!”

“Sire!”

The King’s eyes narrowed. “It is refugees from Ha’las, I think, or maybe rebel scum. Certainly no
righ
would dare this stupidity. It should take no more than a half-candlemark to find and dispatch all of them. Go, I say. I am safe here from all but another mage.”

“We have seen no indication of magery,” said the guard. He bowed, and jerked his head towards the fight that was still going on at the edge of the camp. “Come! Mar and Hannu, you stay and guard the King. A single shout and we will be back with you, Sire. You others—to me!”

Callo waited only until they had vanished into the melee towards the west until he let the ku’an magery spin over the King’s tent. The remaining guards slumped. Hannu dropped his sword and left it lying on the ground. The other man listed to one side as if he would drop any moment. Callo stood up and walked into the King’s tent as if he had been invited in.

Sharpeyes sat on his bed, swaying. The valus-trimmed robe had been cast to one side, so the King wore only his linen tunic over his breeches. Gray chest hair bristled in the dip of his tunic. He did indeed look a little like an old man like this, under the influence of the ku’an magery, in his nightwear. Callo thrust that thought away and did not let himself be fooled for a second.

Callo exulted. He felt the color magery swirl its way through him and reach his fingertips. It was ready to be released, to accomplish what he’d sworn to do, to blast this autocratic and evil man where he sat. To avenge Arias, at last.