A Skillful Warrior (SoulNecklace Stories Book 2) (7 page)

I did not mean to sleep, but sleep found me nonetheless. Abruptly, I began to dream.

***

I
f I had been aware that I was dreaming, ah, then I would have roused myself. But at first I didn’t even realize I was sleeping; in my dream I sat on stiff leather, in a dim cave. N’tombe’s sighing breath, the swish of the horse’s tail were unchanged. Boring. Thoughtlessly, I pushed myself out of the cave, into the golden-green light of the trees. I did not see my body, asleep below. In my dream, I was not aware of any separation.

Silently I traveled back along our trail, found the place where we’d entered the stream and up the grassy slope, back to the edge of the heath. I stared east across the moorlands. I was looking for something. I didn’t know what.

In real life, one thing happens after another, in sequence. The distance between two points always takes the same time to travel, regardless of whether the travel is dull or exciting. We know this, because we section up time, measuring it by the movement of shadow, or the passing of sand through a glass. Yet, we know also that some days fly past, while others linger. So it is with a dream. In a dream, perception becomes reality.

In front of me the heather stretched wide as a sea, broken only by the tracks of small animals. A track, darker and fresher than the others marked the trail of our passage. Far in the distance, a cloud of dust hung across the horizon. It looked like smoke. The army!

As I watched, the sky turned grey. Thick clouds gathered and grew, heaving and lifting as though the very air was about to boil. Spiraling upwards, birds called in harsh voices. Grass hissed like a raging sea. And out of the darkness came the army; a horde of men and horses, dark as night’s underbelly, pouring towards me across the moorlands. With a sudden shock, the wind struck. The air smelt of snow.

I turned, flew back towards the forest. Behind me, tumbling down the steep rocks, came the soldiers. I tucked myself behind a boulder.

These were not ordered ranks of legionaries. Their dark eyes gleamed, their braids tossed in the wind. They were well-armed; curved swords hung at their sides and they wore quivers and bows across their chest. They were dressed in vests of chain mail; their helmets were topped with bright spikes. Packs hung at their saddle bows and they called to each other with deep voices.

All the soldiers had known hardship; their faces were lean and haggard, encrusted with grime. Many bore scars. Their smell was overwhelming; a pungent mix of horses and sweat and layers on layers of filth. At the front of the army rode the scouts. Smaller than the others, they were less encumbered and lightly clad. They did not seem to notice me.

At the forest’s edge, where the ground was smooth, the army moved fast through the trees, flitting from light to shade like gaunt ghosts. But as the slope increased and the rocky ground was damp and slippery their pace slowed.

The scouts found our tracks easily. It seemed to take them no time at all to find where we left the water. But they didn’t notice the path N’tombe and I had made — instead, they gestured in the direction Will and Jed had taken.

It was like being at a hunt, at the moment when the dogs have a clear scent. The soldiers shouted to their horses, kicked at their hollow flanks. ‘Go faster!’ they seemed to say. Hundreds of men rushed eagerly down the steep slope, out of the forest, into a clearing.

Far below lay distant plains, dotted with houses and crossed with thick hedges. The sun was setting, and in the low light it looked like a golden counterpane. The army saw all this, saw the land opening up and the peaceful world below. In the light of evening, this far-off land appeared rich, prosperous and unfortified. Easy to conquer, and easy to reach, for hill seemed to continue on, towards the farms and the villages.

The soldiers pointed, calling to each other. They did not watch their feet, and they did not watch for rocks or obstacles in their path. They paid no mind to the land about them. The land that changed, abruptly, suddenly, with no warning at all.

Laughing and singing, the scouts were at the front; the infantry and officers behind. Their tossing hair mingled with their horse’s manes. For a moment they seemed to hang, suspended; a crowd of men bathed in sunlight, aglow with purpose. If they had not been hunting my friends, the sight would have been glorious.

Time snapped back. The host swarmed forward. They were too fast. At the forest’s edge, red cliffs stretched, sheer, to the plains below. And the army, reckless in their riding, charged over the edge.

Following behind them, I halted. It seemed as much like a dream as any I had ever had; the horde of men, galloping from the forest, into the clearing and with barely a pause, dropping like stones in the empty air.

The singing stopped.

Men cried. Horses screamed, cries of sudden surprise, of anguish and despair. Desperately, they wrestled empty air, sought firm ground. Too late. Men and horses together tumbled, falling like puppets.

Far below, they landed on sharp rocks, broken.

––––––––

I
watched as the men fell. Saw them clutch at the empty air, screaming, searching for something, anything, to hold on to. What had N’tombe done? What had I done? It was my tracks, set so plainly in the heather that had led them here. Yet this army had to be stopped, before it could destroy other towns, other lives.

Heartsick, I turned away. And realized - not all the soldiers had fallen over the escarpment. The rear-guard had managed to rein their horses in, just in time. But horses are creatures of instinct; their custom is to stay with the herd. Their heads tossed, their tails swung, they
wanted
to follow their herdmates to destruction. They fought their riders and their riders fought them. None of them noticed me. To them, I was invisible. A ghost.

I rested a hand against a tree. Its trunk was hard and creased like the skin of an old man. In the dreamlight it looked like a tower of gold.

I heard a cough and a harsh voice, speaking strange words. Behind the tree, more men on horseback regarded the army’s destruction. Unlike the rearguard, they appeared calm, almost oblivious to the death about them. One of the riders lifted his hand, brushed the mane of his horse. The man’s hand! My heart paused. Those fingernails! Long and curved and tipped with bronze, they seemed more like talons, or knives than the tips of a man’s hand. These nails meant one thing - a magician.

A magician could see me in my dream state. Any second now, they’d look up and I would have no chance. N’tombe and Rinpoche together had barely managed to survive one of these men. What chance had I against five?

The air above the men shimmered with gold as far to the west the setting sun reached the sea. But the magicians seemed indifferent to the world’s glory, uninterested in the doomed men. Above, the golden sunlight seemed to thicken, moving like a snare or a rope. Or a many limbed snake.

Intent in their own plots, the magicians didn’t seem to notice the cords of woven light. What had N’tombe said?
I go to weave a net.
It fell about them, pulled tight. The web of light lifted men and magicians from their horses. It was like watching fish, struggling against the mesh.

Screaming, the soldiers tumbled into each other, their elbows and knees catching each other in the face. The magic workers, though, were calm. One of them thrust a nail tip against a strand, muttered something. They could see the threads! A flare of red fire, the cord broke.

The net, heavy with struggling men, began to rock as if pushed by an invisible hand. At first the movement was tiny, mere judderings, but it built momentum quickly, swaying from side to side until the bundle of men swung across the cliff-edge, over the empty space.

Seeing this, even the magicians began to panic. Howling their impatience, they clawed and struck at each other, at the other soldiers. Blood dripped from their faces, where they’d stabbed each other with their knife-like nails. They looked more like wild beasts than men.

Too slow. The net burst wide, showering the men with sparks. They dropped, down into the abyss. Out they tumbled, soldiers and soothsayers both. All fell.

One of the magicians looped a cord of light towards the cliff edge, and stayed his fall, but I fashioned a knife of gold from the forest’s light, and cut it in two. I might feel a little sorrow for the soldiers, but I had no pity for these magic workers. They would have destroyed me, if they could. As Will had said; you can’t feel sorrow all the time.

So many men, so quickly destroyed.

I nearly didn’t see the thin trail along the clifftop. At first it looked like the sort of track that goats or sheep, might make. Except goats or sheep don’t wear shoes — and in the soft mud were the imprints of horses. Will and Jed must have come this way!

With the fall of the army, our journey would be safer. I would find N’tombe, and she would waken, and together we would go in search of Will and Jed. And then we would look for this weapon, wherever it was. But first, we would have to pass the broken remains of the army. There would be flies, and bits of bodies, and a terrible smell. Which would be disgusting. Still, better than the alternative of being taken captive or killed. I turned back towards the cave.

I stumbled over the man by accident. Half-hidden under a cairn of rock, he lay beside a damp, mossy wall. The golden light of the forest arched all about him, but where the man lay all was dark.

There was something compelling about this man. In the shimmer of golden light, it was hard to see his face, hidden as it was beneath the stone’s shadow. One of the army, he had the same slim beard and long moustaches, the brown-yellow skin. Who was he? A long, half-healed cut, a knife slash from forehead to jaw, puckered his skin and twisted his face. I felt I knew him.

He was badly injured. Blood oozed through a dirty bandage, tied roughly on his bare chest and the pulse at his throat was barely obvious. He smelt; not just dirt and sweat, but with the sweet, sickly smell of rotting flesh.

As I looked at him the golden dreamlight of the forest seemed to fade. Merging into the shadow of the rock, the injured man appeared to vanish. A dark man, hidden in darkness.

As though he knew I was watching him, he stirred. Opening his eyes, he smiled at me. Said something – ‘
Morque’
A greeting? A curse? A name? Yes - a name.

Oh, I knew him now.

TeSin. I’d met this man before. He was the general, the Noyan, who watched men and women die with no more concern than if the weather had changed. I knew this, because in my dream I had become him; I had shared his emotions. He was cold, hard. But once there had been someone he loved. His wife, Morque. She had died, giving birth to their son. I knew this, because he, I, still grieved.

Less than a month ago he’d tried to kill me. And I would have killed him, had Will not attacked first, struck him in the ribs, and twisted the blade to cause injury. As we were trained to do. TeSin must be a strong man, to linger so.

Not for much longer. His eyes were glazing and his breathing slowed. Near to death, it would be a relief for him to slip away. And why should I care? He’d not cared for others.

But so many men had died today — could not one survive?

Angrily, I pulled light from the forest and wove it around him, until he seemed cocooned in gold, like a strange caterpillar waiting to hatch. He said nothing, but through the tissue of golden light I saw his eyes open. His face relaxed. He smiled; a gentle curving of the lips, and he sighed. I sighed also. He might live now. Had I done right? Suddenly, I didn’t care. It felt right to stop a death.

***

O
pening my eyes, I blinked at grey light. How much time had passed? The horses snuffled into their nosebags and N’tombe lay across her packs, breathing heavily. Her eyes were closed. I stood up, stretched. The bags were hard-packed leather and one had dug into my hip. I shook my legs, trying to loosen the stiffness.

The water in my flask was stale. But I drank it anyway, and searched for food, though after so much death, I had little appetite. But one must eat when traveling, so I ate what I could find. Dough-bread, made by Will from the last of the flour. He’d twisted the dough around a stick, set it against the embers of our fire to bake. It was hard as stone and tasted like dough baked in a fire. Not that tasty. I chewed slowly, and wished for jam or butter. Or, if it was not too greedy, both.

I tried not to think of the path down the cliff, or the men lying at its bottom.

Outside the cave, the forest light looked dull. Birds chirped purposefully, as if they were going to bed, or waking for the day. Was it morning or evening? The air felt heavy and warm and smelt of rain. Maybe there was a storm coming.

N’tombe sighed and sat up. ‘You saw?’

I nodded.

‘You know I had to do it.’

‘I know.’ I swallowed back nausea.
Don’t think about it, Dana.

‘What time is it?’

The cave seemed darker, the light dimmer.

‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I’ll go and look.’

I stepped from the cave with a light heart, thinking that soon all would be well. We were safe. We would pass down the cliff, re-join Will and Jed. That was our plan, that was our future, until I left the cave. What a fool I was! I gave no thought to our enemies. I never even considered that maybe some had not fallen. The quietness of the birds should have been a warning. But one does not hear the silence, and so I did not even realize that perhaps there was something in the forest that should not be there.

No time to shout. My foot lifted from the cave’s threshold and stepped – where?

A darkness seemed to open, pulling me under. Like mud swallows someone stepping into a bog. Or a monster, opening its mouth, takes its prey.

I fell, twisting into black.

Spiraling to nothing.

Silence.

––––––––

T
he river roared, soaking Will and Jed with spray. The air smelt clean and fresh. It should have been pleasant, but Jed’s horse was restless. Her eyes rolled, her ears pricked forward and she jerked her head at sudden noises. Will’s gelding was no better; he jumped at shadows or falling leaves or waving ferns. Will swayed sideways in his saddle and once, he nearly fell.