The Treason Blade (Battle for Alsaar Book 1) (8 page)

Gavin smiled.
“Fought Ber did you?” Glyndwr glowered so Gavin continued, “Traevyn is trying
to figure out why he picked up and shoved Ishar against a wall and then picked
a fight with Davaris.”

Glyndwr
blinked. He looked toward Traevyn. “That does not sound like you.”

Davaris held
up both hands and laughed.

Traevyn
groaned into his hands. A second later, he looked up thoughtful. “Gavin,
Glyndwr, you have some free time in the morning?”

They glanced
at one another. Both nodded. Gavin added, “What has come up?”

Traevyn
tapped his fingers on the table. “I just decided I will ride with Ishar in the morning,”
he said slowly. “I figured we could hunt while we were out.”

“And?”
Glyndwr asked.

Traevyn
shrugged. “We cannot make a decision about the Haaldyn if we avoid her. Like I
told Davaris, time is running out. We must make a decision of whether we can
accept the Haaldyn as our allies so we can advise Varyk when he returns. Coming
to understand Ishar, who represents her people, is the only way to make that
decision. To do that, it would help if we spent some time with her. I have
decided tomorrow would be a good time.”

“Yes,”
Glyndwr nodded in agreement with a smile, “And if she tries to kill you, we
will be along to stop her.”

“I would be
more concerned about Traevyn trying to kill her,” Davaris muttered into his
drink.

Traevyn
glared, but glanced at Gavin and Glyndwr. “You are in agreement?”

Both nodded.

“Yes,” Gavin
added, “We will be ready to ride in the morning.”

Traevyn rose.
“Are any of you dining tonight with Eira and Ishar?”

Davaris
nodded. Glyndwr groaned.

Gavin nodded
slowly. “I do not think Glyndwr is up to it but I will be there. Ber will not.
Lysandr had a word with him about toning down the antagonism toward Ishar and
Ber told him if the Haaldyn could not handle a little disapproval, perhaps she
needed to ride toward home.”

Davaris
sighed. “That went over well.”

“It also
explains why Ber was fighting mad.” Glyndwr groaned and glared at his friends,
“why does no one tell me these things? Then I would have known not to accept
the training match.”

Gavin
shrugged. “Lysandr told Ber to stay away from Eira’s table until he could learn
to not insult an accepted guest of the holding.”

Traevyn
nodded toward Glyndwr. “You will be ready in the morning.”

Glyndwr gave
a short nod.

“Then I will
see the rest of you at dinner.” As Traevyn wove his way out, Ber walked past
them and went up to the bar with a loud roar, his fist slamming the counter.
Jaya shook her head and came from behind. She kissed him until he was
speechless,
then
passed him a drink. Traevyn smiled,
Jaya was the only person he knew who could cool the fire inside Ber when he was
raging. Ber grinned, kissed her back and moved to where the other Raanan
warriors sat, talking. The first thing he did was slap Glyndwr on his left
shoulder. Glyndwr grimaced and glared at Ber. Ber laughed and poured his drink
into Glyndwr’s cup before motioning to Jaya to refill his own. Traevyn shook
his head at their antics and stepped out into the darkness. Their laughter
filtered out into the night after him. It pulled at him but he walked on through
the inner gate before stopping with a sigh. He needed to clean up before dining
at Eira’s table. Traevyn made a right and headed for the well.

Ishar woke early the next morning. The sun was only
a glimmer on the horizon, the air crisp and cold. She dressed quickly. Ishar
slid into her undertunic and padded top. The day would soon grow all too warm,
and she would not need the armor riding or hunting. Ishar also grabbed her
fighting daggers, her bow and quiver and her sword in its shoulder sheath. The
blade felt comfortable and familiar positioned snug against her back. Her burda
she threw over her left arm. She would don it to fight the early chill of the
day.

Closing her
door, Ishar made her way down the hall toward the stairs. She thought back to
the night before. The evening meal had progressed better without the presence
of Ber. Though Lysandr had been the most reserved, the other warriors had shown
a polite interest and had acted with a determination to include her in their
conversation, which culminated in an offer of a morning ride and hunt. Ishar
had quickly accepted. She was determined to bring down several deer. The meat
at the evening meal had proved far superior to the boar prepared the night
before. The offer had been made by Traevyn, who had behaved as if their earlier
dispute in the horse shelter had never occurred. Ishar wondered if the offer
was a concession on his part. It was hard to tell. He had been remote, as
unrevealing as ever. It frustrated Ishar that she could not read him as well as
the others. He would be an admirable opponent in battle, she realized. But as
an ally, his detachment proved an irritation.

As Ishar came
into the main hall, she was surprised to find Traevyn waiting for her before
one of the crackling fires. He turned as she entered, studying her as was his
normal custom. He made no comment at the sight of her with her sword across her
back. Ishar frowned at his extended silence. “Do you never just say the first thing
that comes to your mind, your first impression?” she asked with a curt tone as
she stalked toward him. He always managed to unsettle her with those reserved
eyes.

Traevyn came
forward to meet her and motioned toward the table. They made their way over to
sit and Ishar set her burda in the chair beside her. They were both served
bowls of the sweet porridge and the warm paera drink. After the servants moved
away, Traevyn spoke. “No.” It was simple and that was Traevyn.

Ishar arched
an eyebrow at him.
“Really?
What happened to the
Traevyn I met yesterday afternoon?” She watched his face tighten at her words.

“That should
not have happened,” he said abruptly. “It will not happen again. You have my
apologies, of course. You are a guest of the holding and I did not show you
respect.”

Ishar
frowned. “I rather enjoyed meeting that Traevyn,” she stated pointedly. “He
felt real.”

Traevyn’s
eyes narrowed. “I wanted to wrap my hands around your neck and strangle you
into silence.”

Ishar
laughed, and then shrugged. “You know, they say it is the closeness of death
that makes us see everything else in life so much more clearly.” She smiled.

“You are a
strange woman,” Traevyn muttered but it was said with the slightest smile.

They finished
the meal quickly. Ishar slid off her sword and donned the burda before slipping
her weapon back over her head.

Traevyn
motioned her overguard. “It looks warm, but there are no sleeves.”

Ishar glanced
down at her bare arms. “Thank you for your concern, but the drape around my shoulders
keeps my throat warm and the snug wrapping around my chest keeps the fabric out
of the way of my weapons. The lack of sleeves means that nothing prohibits my
arm movement in battle. Since this one is also fur-lined, it provides necessary
warmth for cool mornings such as this. It is an excellent overguard. We call it
a burda.”

Traevyn
studied the design. “Do men wear these?”

Ishar smiled.
“They wear an overguard that has a slightly different design and is shorter in
length. The leather outer covering is durable no matter the environment. Not
all are lined. Some burdas are simply plain leather. Besides, you forget,
Traevyn, I am used to a far harsher climate than your mild southern region.”

He gave a
slight nod of agreement at her words. They made their way out of the fortress
and down toward the horse shelter. Gavin and Glyndwr were already there,
checking the straps of their saddled horses. Jusa held the reins of her solid
black mare and another gray gelding Ishar assumed was Traevyn’s. She quickly
ran her hands lightly over her horse, checking the girth belt and the other
straps to make certain they were tight. It was not an insult to Jusa. It was
ingrained in every soldier to check their gear and their horse themselves. She
nodded approvingly to the Britai steward and took Simi’s reins. “Thank you,
Jusa,” she said softly.

He gave a
small nod and a smile.
“Safe riding and good hunting, my
lady.”

Ishar nodded
another thanks before turning back to Simi. Gavin gave a solid jump from the
ground and smoothly mounted a dark brown gelding and Glyndwr executed the same
movement on a tall, black mare. Ishar and Traevyn mounted and the group of four
made their way through the inner gates and past several groupings of soldiers
fighting with drawn swords. Ishar noted Lysandr gave an abrupt nod in their
direction from where he stood on the watch tower by the front gate. Ber’s look
from where he stood by the soldiers’ barracks was a solid glare, directed at
her. Ishar turned her focus forward. They rode out through the outer gates and
down the facing slope toward the village. They skirted its edge and continued
on. For a while there was only the rhythmic sound of animals and leather.

After a
particular long stretch of silence, Ishar noted the groups’ subtle turn of
their horses. She commented to Traevyn.
“You seek a particular direction?”

Traevyn
pointed to the north east direction directly ahead of them. “There is good
hunting in the woodland north and just past the river. The deer gather there
because of the proximity of water to the woods. They feel safe. It is a good
ride but worth it.”

Ishar looked
in the direction he had indicated. She glanced back at the three men and raised
an eyebrow. “Can these Britai horses run? Or are they only good for a quick
dash in battle?” she asked wryly.

Glyndwr
stared at her with narrowed eyes. Gavin grinned, showing teeth. Traevyn seemed
nonplused as he answered without looking, “And here we were, wondering if we would
have to wait for you to catch up at points in the day.”

“Perhaps we
should see how she does, this little mare of yours,” Glyndwr’s eyes sparkled as
he spoke.

“We would not
want to overexert her,” Gavin said neutrally.

Ishar patted
the neck of Simi in a soothing manner even though she knew the mare could not
understand the words. The banter was more for her than Simi. She flashed a
wolfish grin Traevyn’s way. “Lead the way,” she lightly growled before adding
teasingly, “If you can?”

With this,
Ishar lightly touched her heels to Simi’s sides. The black mare responded at
once, surging from a trot to the strong gallop she had desired for days. Ishar
understood. She reveled in the feel of the wind blowing down Simi’s neck and
across her face. Her hair was thrown away from her face and she thrilled in the
sound of hoofs hitting the solid damp soil and the feel of the moving body
under her.

The thud of
hooves increased. Ishar did not look back. If they caught her, she would know
by their matching or passing of her pace. She aimed for the winding Etu River,
which had appeared as they crossed over a hill, as an ending point. Ishar felt
before she saw Traevyn’s black gelding on her right. She could also sense Gavin
and Glyndwr moving up on her left. Ishar leaned forward in Simi’s mane until
there was only a blurred mixture of black and reddish-gold strands. Simi
responded to her silent urging and Traevyn’s gray gelding fell back a pace.

Gavin and Glyndwr were able to hold to their speed
but not budge farther. She settled into the flowing movement as the labored
breathing of their mounts mixed with the jangle of leather and metal. The fast
furious noise of the river grew; the rushing winter water close to overflowing
the normally low banks. The Etu River was not a deep river but it was wide in
several spots with winding currents around jutting rock that would become
rapids at several points during the next few months. At these spots, it would
then become a dangerous changing current, rising and falling as the snows from
the passes took their time to melt and run toward the sea. Ishar reined back
and leaned up in the saddle. The others caught up with her and pulled back on
their mounts. No one wanted to risk plowing into fast moving water at these
speeds. They took the next few minutes to let their horses catch their breath
before crossing the high water. Simi snorted and blew out air and flecks of
spittle

Glyndwr was
the first to speak. “She races nicely, this little mare of yours,” he admitted
grudgingly.

“Forgive
Glyndwr,” Gavin stated with a smile, “He never takes losing well, though he
should be used to it by now,” he added on a dry note.

Glyndwr swung
his black mare to face Gavin. “That has earned you a match this afternoon,” he
said with pointed finger, “And I will even let you choose weapons. I want no
words from you when I soundly defeat you.”

“Enough,”
Traevyn said quietly, “We did not come out here to fight. We came to hunt.” He
glanced at Ishar. “Good riding.”

Ishar felt
Traevyn was not a person to easily give compliments. She nodded and glanced
toward the water. “How high will it get in the spring?”

Gavin
frowned. “It is already higher than many years past, but the winter has been
harsh.”

Ishar looked
puzzled. “And here I was thinking you had been spared a harsh winter with all
the warm weather I have encountered since my arrival.”

“How cold
does your holding get in the mountains?” Glyndwr asked with apprehension.

Ishar smiled.
“We do not actually live in the high mountains, but near the other end of the
island where the sound of the ocean clashing against rock is a constant. The
entire region past the mountains is higher than the south with cliffs
dominating much of all that is near the water. It is one reason the Tourna seek
the south as a landing site. They have tried to invade our highlands several
times. They have come to learn, to their error, it is far more difficult than
planned. Still, we stand prepared. But as to the weather, Ayden, my father’s
holding, was hit hard by several storms this year. The mountain passes have
been impassable at times. It is one reason why I have arrived with the touch of
spring well upon us. The passes through the mountains have only just begun to
thaw.” She glanced around in surprise. “But this area is so green and vibrant
and the air so warm. I suppose I assumed the cold missed much of this part of
the island.”

Traevyn
shrugged. “We will never get what the north has but the mountain snows dictate
the level the river will raise. Your words tell me this year, the river will be
treacherous. We would do well to gather much meat before crossing proves too
dangerous.”

Ishar nodded
approvingly. “Then it is good we came to hunt.”

The three men
shook their head in agreement. They made their way slowly across the flowing river,
letting their horses pick their path since they were still able to feel bottom.
Once on the other side, they let their horses move onward in a heavy trot that
kept them moving yet still helped refresh the horses from their earlier brisk
run. The start of the woodland of the Lute, known as the Daiwen, loomed before
them.

“Why do they
call it that?” Ishar asked.

Traevyn
shrugged. “It means dark safety. The woods have always been a refuge for the
Lute, a place to outwit and defeat their enemy. They know every crevice and
accessible tree in that forest.”

“It is said
that a Lute could be standing in front of you and then disappear before your
eyes into the woodland,” Glyndwr noted. “And I would not believe but I have
seen it happen in battle. These woods are a second skin to these people. Even
to the point that in battle they wear a paint made from a special bush that
grows within the wood, smeared across their bare skin. It enables them to blend
in with their surroundings. It aids in their ability to disappear.”

Gavin nodded.
“No wonder they consider this place sacred. It hides them, fortifies them,
gives them their weapons, and feeds and clothes them. Everything they need is
here.”

Ishar
frowned. “And they will have no problem with us hunting these grounds?”

Traevyn shook
his head. “We have a peace with Wyn, the Lute leader,” he stated. “He does not
mind that we kill for food as long as we are not wasteful. There is plenty of
deer running within the woods for all of us to share.”

“They even believe
their grove protects them,” Gavin added with a grin.

Ishar gave
him a perplexed look. “Protects them?”

Glyndwr
laughed. “Strange as it might seem, their past records, which are of course
only spoken, speak of a time when the Tourna landed on the east side of the
island and set fire to the grove, entering behind to drive the Lute out of
their place of safety. At the time a strong east wind carried the fire inward,
but strangely enough, a sudden west wind appeared, driving the fire back out of
the grove. It surrounded the Tourna and burned them to death. In the mounting
confusion, the Lute poured out of the woods and slaughtered the remaining
Tourna as they tried to reenter their boats and leave the island. The Lute set
every boat afire and the wind blew them back toward the Tourna homeland. Or, so
the story goes,” he added ruefully. “It was before we came to this island.”