The Awakening (20 page)

Pausing only to buckle on her sword and grab a burning torch, Coerl Leone followed Shanek as he strode out of the clearing.

‘Tell me about the Way of the Coerl,’ Shanek instructed when they were about twenty paces from the camp.

‘It is an old legend, First Son,’ began Leone. ‘We learned about it in our final year of officer training at the Loci.’

‘How old?’ interrupted Shanek.

‘Almost as old as the Empire itself,’ said Leone. ‘It was supposed to have been a secret way through a forest. The legend tells of a battle between—’

‘Wait,’ interrupted Shanek again, holding up his hand. ‘Listen. Can you hear it?’

Leone listened. ‘A stream?’ she suggested.

‘Yes, over there,’ Shanek pointed. He walked off the path towards the cheerful sound of running water. Leone followed as the First Son of the Empire picked his way through the undergrowth.

The stream was a glittering ribbon that threaded its way between the dark and brooding boles of the ancient trees. Despite the canopy cover above them, the joyful flow of water seemed to sparkle as if in the starlight that probably still shone somewhere beyond this forest. There was a narrow strip of thick grass on either side of the stream that was just wide enough to sit on, if they sat on opposite sides. Shanek stepped over the water and sat down. He gestured for Leone to do likewise.

She examined the area carefully before seating herself with her sword drawn on the ground close to her right hand and her back to a tree. As she did so,
Shanek allowed himself the luxury of regarding her closely. She was taller than he, and probably heavier, although there was not an ounce of excess fat on her. Her musculature was spectacular, but rather than lending her a hard look, it gave her a stunningly beautiful physique. Whilst he had enjoyed looking at her physical beauty for the years she had been his instructor and protector, he had never given much thought to the fact that this beauty had a life apart from him. He wondered if she had a lover at the moment. Was she married? He doubted it.

‘Leone,’ he started. ‘Tell me about yourself.’

‘Myself, First Son?’

She was used to his ways, his mercurial mind and its habit of shifting focus. It was characteristic of his arrogance, this habit of following his own way with no thought of what others might want. Even his demand that she tell him about the Way of the Coerl was indicative. He certainly knew more than she did, but he wanted her to tell him what she knew, probably, she thought, so that he could demonstrate his greater knowledge.

‘Yes. Tell me about Leone, the woman.’

‘Of course, First Son,’ she replied. ‘I am six and one-quarter measures tall and weigh—’

‘No, not that. Tell me about you,’ he interrupted. He watched her in the dim light, surprised and oddly pleased to see her confused and discomfited. ‘Where were you born? Do you have any brothers or sisters? A lover perhaps?’

‘I was born in the Southern Province—’

‘Ahh,’ interrupted Shanek. ‘Badghe was from there, wasn’t he?’

‘Yes, he was, First Son.’

Shanek frowned as a thought occurred to him. ‘How is it I know that about him but not about you?’

‘You are given the personal information about every soldier in your Fyrd for approval. I was appointed to command the Fyrd before you achieved the age of responsibility.’

Shanek nodded. ‘Very well. So, if I were to be given your information, what would it say?’

‘I was born in the Southern Province to Misca and Petran, of Gernier. Misca, my father, was a cobbler, and Petran, my mother, worked as a baker’s maid. I was the middle child of five, with two older brothers and two younger sisters. When I had seen nine summers, there was a fire in my district. I had run away from home again, and my whole family perished in the blaze. The Coerl of the Fyrd assigned to protect the area from looting found me in the ashes and took me home. He and his wife cared for me and when I was twelve sent me to the Military Loci. When I completed my training I was sent to Ajyne to join officer training. When I finished there I served under Caldorman Muttiah for a while in Oscran. After that, the Caldorman recommended me for the position I now hold.’

‘And your life outside the army? Friends, lovers?’

Leone shook her head. ‘No, First Son.’

‘No, you don’t have any, or no, you are not going to tell me?’

‘No, I am not going to tell you.’

Shanek leaned back, allowing himself to sink into the cool soft grass. He stared up at the dark canopy. ‘That is a very serious risk, Leone, you know that.’

Leone smiled. ‘I know, Shanek, but I think you brought me here for a reason. And threatening me is not part of it.’

‘Shanek?’ he asked without moving. ‘You’ve never called me that before.’

‘True, Shanek. But you’ve never sat me by a stream in a forest before either.’

‘And you think that permits you to ignore years of training and put aside the formality that our positions and the law demand?’

‘Yes.’

‘I like you, Leone.’

‘Thank you, Shanek.’

‘But you don’t like me much, do you?’

‘No. Not much.’

‘Why not?’

‘You are arrogant, rude and cruel. You do not care for your people and you treat those around you badly. You are also the most intelligent and gifted man I have ever known and you take it all for granted. You act as if it’s your right to be the way you are. And I have seen enough good people suffer to know that gifts like yours are rare and to be treasured, not wasted so carelessly.’ As she spoke, Leone felt like she was listening to someone else. The words flowed easily, each one ending her life, but she could not stop them. They tumbled out, condemning her, betraying her every secret thought as though with a life of their own. When she finished, she was panting, flushed with exhaustion, fear gripping her.
What have I done?
she cried silently. Across the stream, Shanek did not move. She waited for him to speak, but he remained silent.

‘First Son?’ she asked tentatively.

‘Not Shanek?’ he asked the canopy overhead.

‘No, First Son. I offer my life for the affront I have given you. I offer no explanation for my unforgivable behaviour. Please take my worthless life now.’

‘Oh, sit down, Leone. You’ve said it yourself: I couldn’t kill you.’

She was seated before she wondered how he knew she had stood up. His eyes had never left the canopy above. He remained silent, as if listening to the forest.

‘Tell me about the Way of the Coerl, Leone,’ he said.

‘Legend says that after defeat in the Skrin Tia’k wars, a small band of soldiers was chased into a nearby forest. They hid for several weeks while the Skrin Tia’k hunted for them. Every time they came close, one of the soldiers volunteered to lead them away from the others. Finally there were only two soldiers left. As the Skrinnies closed in, the two soldiers ran in opposite directions. The Coerl, Samba I think her name was, went to the left and Tintal went right. Each time the Skrinnies had attacked, some of their number had been killed, so by this time there were only three left. One chased the Coerl and the other two went after Tintal. Nothing is known of his fate, so presumably he was killed, but Samba escaped.

‘She ran until she was exhausted and fell into a stream. When the Skrinnie found her, it picked her up and carried her to a nearby clearing and started to torture her. When it started to cut her skin, she
woke up and attacked it.’ Leone paused. ‘The story gets a bit odd at this stage. She somehow spoke to the ground and it rose up and engulfed the Skrinnie where it stood.

‘Its screams were so loud that other Skrinnies heard and came through the forest to help. Samba fled deep into the forest. Wherever she put her feet, the earth turned to mud and trapped any Skrin Tia’k who stood in the same place. Her path through the woods was marked by screaming, dying Skrin Tia’k warriors. When no more came after her, she stopped and went back to the last one. It was trapped in the mud, screaming in pain. She took pity on its pain and attempted to release it, but every time she touched it its pain increased. Finally it died and Samba wept in sorrow. She built a shrine around its upright body and spent six years contemplating what she had learned in the forest. When she came out, she proclaimed the Laws of Purity as we have them today.’

‘That doesn’t explain why the Way of the Coerl has the dark reputation it has today,’ said Shanek.

‘Ever since then, no one has ever found the forest or the shrine, or the path she made in the forest. It is said that anyone who does will be sent mad by the power that is still in the ground.’

‘And yet,’ Shanek said quietly, ‘Diplomat Cherise thinks we are currently on the Way of the Coerl.’

‘Yes, First Son,’ Leone replied.

‘No other comments, Coerl?’ Shanek prompted.

‘No, First Son.’

‘I am disappointed, Coerl Leone,’ Shanek went on. ‘Here we are, sitting together beside a romantic
stream, we’ve shared a moment, I haven’t killed you and yet you have nothing to say.’

Leone held her silence.

‘Diplomat Cherise is wrong, Coerl Leone,’ Shanek said. ‘We are no more on the Way of the Coerl than on the Great Path.’

‘Diplomat Cherise believes we are, First Son.’

‘Diplomat Cherise believes in myths and legends. And you, Coerl Leone, what do you believe?’

‘I believe that every civilisation has its myths, and this is one of ours.’

‘No substance to the myth, then?’

‘No, First Son.’

‘That’s a shame,’ he said. ‘I enjoyed that one. As myths go, it’s good. Our society has a strange view of myths, you know, Coerl.’

‘How so, First Son?’ Leone asked, interested now.

‘So much of our history, our way of living, is determined by ancient myths and legends, yet we tend to discount most of their substance.’ He stood up. ‘Remind me one day to tell you the one about the Danan.’

Leone scrambled to her feet.

Abruptly, Shanek dived across the stream, cannoning into her. His sudden impact threw her off balance, driving her heavily back into the tree, then they crashed onto the ground. The air whooshed out of her lungs, leaving her winded. As they fell, an arrow buzzed through the air. It went straight through where Leone had been standing seconds earlier.

Before Leone could regain her breath, Shanek rolled off her and dashed into the woods. She heaved
herself back to her feet and went after him. Already, she could hear the whistle of his bolas.

Not in the forest, Shanek,
she thought.
It will tangle
.

A thud, followed by the crash of a falling body, suggested that Shanek’s skill with the weapon was as good as he thought it was. By the time she caught up with him, he was choking the life out of the would-be assassin with the barbed cord.

‘No, First Son,’ she cried. ‘Leave him alive!’

He released the cord, allowing the man to fall unconscious to the ground. ‘Good call, Leone,’ he said. ‘We need to talk to this one.’ He stepped aside to reveal the man. ‘Recognise him?’ he asked.

It was Tapash, the Tribesman.

Coerl Leone stared. The big northern Tribesman was breathing shallowly. His throat was badly torn by the wicked little barbs on the bolas cord, but the windpipe was not opened, nor were any of the major blood vessels in his neck. Either Shanek was very lucky or his skills were finally becoming instinctive. Until now his emotions had tended to override his control.

She struggled to keep her own emotions under control. The past few minutes had been the most terrifying of her life. Not only had she acted the cheap slut with the First Son of the Empire, flirting with him and calling him by name, but she had insulted and denigrated him. Then, to compound her confusion, rather than taking her life, as he had every right to do, he had saved it, at cost to his own. Never had she known such inner turmoil. Even the day she found her family dead in the ashes of their
own home had been less confusing than this. At least then she had known what to feel. Anger was so much easier to understand than this complex man to whom her life now belonged. Until the moment he had not taken her life, she merely served him out of duty; now she owed her life to him twice over.

The most ironic thing was that she only half meant the things she said.

What came over me?
she asked herself.
What possibly possessed me to say those things?

Regarding the wounded man, Coerl Leone found something definite to hang her feelings on. Anger, welcome in its simplicity, welled up in her.
He tried to kill Shanek! Or me?
The arrow was coming at her.
Is he just a bad shot?

No, the arrow was aimed at Shanek. He came towards me and it went over him.
Leone shook her head. Had the First Son just dodged the arrow, it would have killed her instead. Tapash had aimed it so that he would have got one of them.

Shanek dragged Tapash to his feet. ‘So, Tribesman, you made your move.’ He pulled him close, so that their faces almost touched. ‘But you missed,
shlapan
!’ he hissed.

Leone did not recognise the word, but from Tapash’s reaction she presumed it was a curse in his own language.

‘
Tipanch ne argan tishnare!’
he snarled.

Shanek laughed and threw him back to the ground. ‘Is that the best you can do?’ Contemptuously he kicked Tapash in the stomach, causing the man to double over, gasping in pain. Shanek crouched beside him. ‘Now, let’s have a look at this weapon you
managed to find,’ he said calmly. He picked up the weapon. ‘I recognise this,’ he said as he examined the bow. ‘It belongs to one of my Fyrd.’ He tossed it to Leone, who caught it easily.

The feel of the riser against her hand was all she needed. She’d know that wood, that finely carved tracery anywhere. ‘It’s Dushyan’s,’ she said.

Shanek kicked Tapash again. ‘I know Dushyan well. He only shares his bed with two people, his wife and that bow. He calls it his widow-maker. Most think he’s being brutal, but he’s referring to his own wife as the widow. He spends more time with this weapon than with her. Even when he’s on leave.’