Avondale (33 page)

“Well, I’m glad you’re wrong.”

“Have you heard them talking?”

“A little. I can understand them, but they have a strange accent.”

Tiberius wondered who the people could be. He’d known that a majority of the people who once occupied the realm of Valana had been caught in the cataclysm. He’d expected that at least some had managed to survive, but the fact that none ever climbed the mountain or tried to get into one of the cities high above the misty barrier had made it seem as if none had survived. Now he knew his first instinct was right. There were survivors, and while they had taken Tiberius and his friends hostage, they didn’t seem like bloodthirsty killers.

It was almost midday before the rest of the tribe arrived. The invaders forced Tiberius and his friends onto their feet. Tiberius could see a long line of women and children coaxing some of the animals he’d seen when they’d first come down the mountain. The bovine animals were loaded with supplies, and some were even marked with white paint, just like the men who’d captured Tiberius’ party.

There was also a large wagon being pulled by what looked like draft horses. The wagon was driven by a huge barrel-chested man, and in the back was a man with huge spikes rising out of his back. He had a golden headdress that rose up and back, angling to a narrow point. A wispy beard grew from his chin and was twisted together so that it also ended in a narrow point. He held a strange staff made from two twisted sticks and covered with animal talismans. There were feathers and skulls hanging from the short staff, and Tiberius guessed it was his mantel of leadership among the tribe. Ti had hoped that the people who had taken them hostage would help them, not hurt them, but the man in the wagon had a cruel look on his face as he glared down at them.

“Walk,” said one of the invaders who had hustled Tiberius and his friends to their feet.

Their feet were cut free, and they moved toward the wagon where the Chieftain waited. When they were close enough, the invaders used their clubs, hitting Tiberius and Rafe behind the knees and forcing them to kneel. Lexi and Olyva quickly knelt as well.

“You have come down from the mountain, yes?” the Chieftain asked.

“Yes,” Tiberius said. “We have come down from Avondale.”

“Criminals,” the man said. “Your kind no longer wants you.”

“We are not criminals,” Tiberius said. “We left Avondale because of personal differences.”

“No one comes down the mountain unless they have to,” said the Chieftain. “This is my kingdom. You have no rights here.”

“We meant no disrespect,” Tiberius said.

“You have slain our creatures,” said the Chieftain, holding up the Graypee skins. “You have burned our ancestors. Your kind knows nothing of this place. You steal and destroy, scaring all you touch, with no regard for those whose lives depend on this land.”

“Please forgive us,” Tiberius said. “We were just trying to survive.”

The Chieftain nodded as if he understood.

“You can be our slaves. We will take your women and your eyes, then you shall pay penitence for your crimes until you return to the dirt.”

“The hell we will,” Rafe said angrily.

“You shall soon learn respect,” the Chieftain said.

“Wait,” Tiberius said. “Please, isn’t there another way we can make it up to you?”

“I have coin,” said Lexi hopefully.

“No,” said the Chieftain with a ruthless grin. “I have your gold. I have your weapons. You have nothing but your lives to give.”

“Tiberius,” Rafe said angrily.

“We don’t want trouble,” Tiberius said.

“Take the women,” the Chieftain said. “I shall bless them with my seed. Their children will be true Hoskali.”

“Ti!” Rafe said, his arms straining against the hempen ropes that held them.

“It’ll hurt,” Tiberius said.

“Do it!” Rafe said.

“Ingesco Exsuscito!” Tiberius said softly.

The ropes holding his hands, and those holding Rafe’s, burst into flames. The heat blistered their skin, but one quick pull, an almost involuntary reaction to the pain, burst the ropes. Rafe elbowed the nearest invader; there were only three standing behind the group. From Rafe’s kneeling position, the man’s groin was the closest target. The invader groaned and fell to the ground, as Rafe jumped to his feet. Tiberius raised his hands toward the wagon, and chanted again, louder this time.

“Ingesco Exsuscito!”

There was a feeling of magic pulling toward Tiberius, then the wagon burst into flames. The Chieftain’s eyes grew wide with fear and rage. The big man driving the wagon lurched up and pulled his leader off the wagon to avoid the flames.

Rafe spun around, dodging the club the second guard swung at him. He punched the man in the stomach, then ripped the club free. The third guard was tripped as Lexi rolled back into him. The man fell and Rafe knocked the second guard senseless. Then he kicked the final guard in the side of the head.

The entire tribe was watching the wagon burn; they seemed shocked. Tiberius helped Lexi to her feet and was pulling at the rope that held her hands. Dozens of the tribesmen came rushing toward them.

“There’s too many,” Tiberius said.

“I’d rather die fighting than let them lay a hand on Olyva,” Rafe roared.

Tiberius had expected the tribesmen to attack them, but they ran to the wagon, working franticly to save the horses. They shouted to each other and the horses reared, terrified of the fire.

“Let’s go, let’s go,” Lexi said.

“We don’t have any weapons or supplies,” Tiberius said. “We can’t just leave.”

“We can’t stay,” Rafe said, as he pulled Lady Olyva to her feet.

She seemed oblivious and Tiberius hesitated, afraid that even if they escaped they would just be hunted down. Without weapons or supplies, they wouldn’t survive on the open plains. Before he could make up his mind, the big warrior and the Chieftain appeared in front of them with several tribesmen.

“You challenge me?” the Chieftain said angrily. “You shall have your Tuscogee.”

He clapped his hands and dozen more tribesmen came running and bowed before their chief.

“What’s a Tuscogee?” Lexi asked.

“I have no idea,” Tiberius said.

“You shall fight Ummar,” the Chieftain said. “My champion against yours, wizard. Anyone who challenges my right to rule must face Ummar. The loser dies.”

“Fine, name the time and place,” Rafe said.

“Tonight,” the Chieftain said, then to his tribesmen, “Give them the ullantee. No one may touch them until the Tuscogee.”

The tribesmen rose, and surrounded Tiberius and his friends. They were led to a place apart from the tribe and food was brought. Rafe was still angry, looking for a way to escape. He stalked around the circle of warriors, sizing them up.

“What is this?” Tiberius asked the man who laid a platter of food before him.

“This is the ullantee, the last meal of the condemned,” the tribesman said.

He started to leave but Tiberius stood up.

“Wait,” he said. “What is the Tuscogee?”

“It is a battle for the right to rule the tribe. Anyone who challenges the great chief must fight in the Tuscogee. It is a great honor among the Hoskali.”

“What if we don’t want to fight?” Tiberius said.

“You challenged Moswanee with fire magic. You must fight. But be warned, he knows many dark secrets.”

“Do we get our weapons?” Rafe asked.

The man shook his head.

“So I fight Moswanee?” Tiberius said.

“No, no, your champion fights his champion. It is a Hallinsae, a fight to the death.”

Rafe sat quietly. He ate the food that was brought to him. It was some type of boiled meat in a rich sauce made of berries. There was a flat mealy bread, and long root vegetables that Rafe didn’t recognize. He was offered some form of ale or wine, but he refused it, drinking only water. His father had been challenged to duels, the stories were legendary, at least in Avondale. Rafe had grown up hearing about them. It seemed like Grentz was challenged whenever he went to one of the Nine Cities with the Earl. He always won, but he had a few scars to show for his many victories. Of course duels weren’t fights to death, and what Rafe faced was different.

Tiberius was ignoring his food and asking the tribesmen who served them questions. Rafe ate silently and listened.

“Tell us more about Tuscogee,” he said. “Do your people fight often for leadership of the tribe?”

“Anyone may challenge,” the man said, his eyes never rising to meet Tiberius’. “No one fights Ummar, he is too strong.”

“What weapons are used?” Tiberius asked.

“The sacred Yellist.”

“What is that? A sword? A club?”

“Heavy sword, ancient,” the man replied, looking over at Rafe. “You must be very strong to wield the Yellist.”

“What does Moswanee do during the fight?”

“He works the black arts,” the man said, his voice rising as he spoke. “Moswanee carries the Illepax, the death sticks.”

“The Illepax is a weapon?”

“No, you saw the death sticks. He carries it, and has many trophies hanging on it. It gives him power.”

“Oh, the staff with all the feathers and skulls,” Tiberius said. “That’s the source of his power?”

“Yes,” the man said. “Moswanee is very strong in the dark ways.”

“Doesn’t it bother you that your Chieftain is strong in the dark ways?”

“Each man chooses his path. Some walk by day, others walk by night. The Hoskali have lived free on the flat lands for many generations. It has always been thus.”

“So if Ummar wins, I’ll be killed?” Tiberius asked.

“It is so,” the tribesman asked.

“And what about Lexi and Lady Olyva?” Tiberius asked, indicating the girls sitting near Rafe. “What will happen to them?”

“Short hair will die with you,” the man said. “Long hair is touched by the tree people. She will be replanted. It is a great honor to join the tree people.”

“The tree people?” Tiberius asked. “You know about the trees by the base of the mountain?”

“There are many Hosscum, the creeping trees,” the man explained. “When Hoskali grow old with honor, many choose to live again as Hosscum.”

“You saw that she’s touched,” Tiberius said carefully. “Do you know what will happen to her?”

“She will be returned to the trees,” the man said.

“No, I mean, what if we win the Toscogee?”

The tribesman chuckled.

“You not win. Your champion is too small, too weak.”

“I might surprise you,” Rafe growled.

“If we did win,” Tiberius probed. “Is it possible that Lady Olyva could be saved from becoming a tree?”

“Why?” the tribesman asked. “It is a very great honor. Not everyone can live forever.”

“But suppose she didn’t want to become a tree, not yet at least. If we kept her away from the Hosscum, would she still become a tree?”

The man just shrugged his shoulders as if to say he didn’t know, and he didn’t care. Tiberius changed the subject.

“Are there other tribes of Hoskali?”

“Of course,” the man said, as if it were a stupid answer.

“And they live out on the plains like you do?”

“Of course.”

“And you fight with each other?”

“Sometimes. We raid for women or food. Captured Hoskali are slaves until they marry.”

“Your tribe is very interesting,” Tiberius said. “I wish we were here under different circumstances.”

The man nodded and left. From where Rafe and the others sat, they could see the tribe working diligently. The women were busy setting up small shelters and building fires. They gathered the dung patties to use as fuel and saw to the animals. The men worked to clear a space of any debris, then they formed a circle.

“I guess that will be the arena,” Rafe said.

“Don’t take this lightly,” Tiberius said. “All our lives hang in the balance.”

“Not Lady Olyva,” he said, grimacing. “She’s becoming a tree.”

Olyva didn’t even look up. As night fell, she was becoming more and more lethargic. The tribesmen lit fires around the edges of the big circle they were forming. The sky grew pink, then purple, before finally fading into darkness.

“Have you ever heard of an Illepax?” Tiberius asked.

“No, but it sounds like a bronze sword. I’ve heard of them.”

“You mean like, really old swords before people knew how to make steel?”

“Yes,” Rafe said.

“So you know how to fight with one?”

“I can fight with any weapon, Ti. It won’t be what I’m used to, but I can do it.”

“Are you scared?”

“Should I be?”

“Of course you should,” Tiberius said. “You’re fighting to the death. This isn’t like sparring or even fighting a duel. You loose, you die. We all die, Rafe.”

“I know that,” he said.

“And the other guy is bigger than you,” Lexi said. “I think maybe it would be better if we made a break for it.”

“No,” Rafe said. “I can handle this.”

“She’s right,” Tiberius said. “He’s bigger and stronger. Those swords are heavier than you’re used to. Maybe this isn’t a good idea.”

“You’re the one who said escaping without supplies is suicide,” Rafe argued. “You know they’ll just hunt us down if we run. We don’t have anywhere to go. They took our horses, so we can’t outrun them.”