Blades of the Old Empire (25 page)

When Kyth opened his eyes, he had trouble understanding where he was. His head pounded, dark mist swimming in front of his eyes. The base of his neck felt as if it was about to disconnect from the skull. To make things worse, someone was shaking him, so that his head rhythmically bounced against something not hard enough to break the bones, but definitely harder than comfortable.

He tried to move, but after an effort realized that all he could move was his fingers, and even those moved with difficulty, as if not entirely under his control. He couldn’t feel his feet at all.

Kyth concentrated, trying to recall what had happened. He vaguely remembered being hit on the head with a hard metal object. That must be where the pain at the base of his neck was coming from. After a moment’s concentration, he realized his shoulder and chest were also aching, suggesting that there must have been more blows he had withstood before ending up in his present position. But how did it all happen?

He strained his ears to catch any sounds that could give him a clue to his whereabouts. The rhythmic pounding that coincided with the frequent bangs to his head sounded like the hooves of galloping horses.

Horses.
Was he with the Cha’ori?

But if so, why was he traveling in such an uncomfortable way?

He concentrated, forcing bits of memory back into his aching head. They had found Dagmara and her hort and traveled with them for one day. They had spent a night in a Cha’ori camp. Then he saw Ellah riding downhill. But what happened next?

He strained his mind to remember more, but just as he seemed to be getting a grip on it, he heard voices and the horse he was traveling on came to a jarring stop. After a while hands took him off the saddle and lowered him to the ground with a certain degree of care. He felt the pressure ease around the middle of his body as someone must have untied some of the ropes holding him. The cloth wrapped around him fell away. Light hit his face.

“This one’s conscious,” a voice said above him.

“Tie him to a tree,” another voice responded from a distance.

Kyth lay on his back, staring into the deep greenery of the tree crowns overhead. Judging by the light it was early evening, right around sunset. The wavering leaves overhead allowed glimpses of the sky, suggesting that this place wasn’t a real forest. More likely, they were stopping to set camp in one of the small groves lining the riverbanks at the edge of…

The Grassland plains.

And then, suddenly, he remembered everything.

Kara.

Memories hit him with such strength that he shut his eyes, unable to face it. His chest felt so empty he wanted to wail. He clenched his teeth, shutting it away.

Hands lifted him to a sitting position. After a moment he forced himself to open his eyes. The pain in his chest slowly unfolded, taking over his body so that it felt empty and numb. He didn’t care where he was and what his captors were going to do to him. He didn’t care if he lived or died. He
couldn’t
face his life anymore.

A man appeared in front of him and he recognized Nimos. He remembered that just a short while ago, during his capture, he still cared. He even attacked this man with a sword. Now, he couldn’t care less. Whatever this man’s intentions toward him, it didn’t matter anymore.

“Change his bonds to the regular rope,” Nimos ordered. “Or he’ll lose his hands and feet really soon.”

Kyth was curious enough to try to move his fingers and realized that by now he couldn’t feel them at all. The wet leather they had used as a bond when they captured him must have dried during the day, becoming so tight that it had cut off the circulation. For all he knew, his hands and feet were dead already. But he didn’t care.

Men leaned over him, cutting his bonds and putting new, looser ones in their place. Then they tied him to a tree, coiling a rope around his waist. He winced as the pounding in his temples resumed, echoing with the hollowness in his chest.

Kyth’s captors untied another bundle, revealing a limp shape of a man. His clothes were so torn and dusty and his face so matted with blood and dirt that Kyth had trouble making out his features. The captive lay very still while the robed men bustled around him, changing leather bonds to regular rope, just like they had for Kyth. Nimos stood over them, watching.

“Are you sure he’s alive?” he asked.

“Gortos was a bit rough on him,” one of the men admitted. “But how were we to know he’d be so fragile? He seemed unbeatable without your power, Kaddim.”

Kaddim.
So, Nimos had this title just like Tolos. The attacks on Kyth by these two men were obviously connected, but now Kyth didn’t care anymore. Back in the castle, Kara had defeated these men easily. And now…

He looked at the still shape on the ground, suddenly realizing who it was. Mai.

Kyth’s hatred boiled anew as he looked at the Diamond. Not only had Mai killed Kara and almost killed him, he had also made a mockery of trying to heal her afterwards. The hope he’d stirred up made the pain of the disappointment even worse when it became clear that the pretended healing, done undoubtedly to win the Cha’ori’s trust, hadn’t worked. Whatever their captors had in mind for Mai, he deserved it ten times over. If, of course, he was still alive.

Kyth rolled his head to the side and watched one of the men bring a bucket of river water and splash it into Mai’s face. The Majat stirred, a barely perceptible twitch that didn’t say anything about whether or not he was conscious.

Nimos nodded. “Good. He’s alive. Tie him up to a tree over there. And, make sure his hands are where we can see them. There’s no way of telling what he’s capable of.”

The men lifted Mai to a sitting position, hanging his tied wrists by a rope flung over a thick branch overhead. Mai looked badly hurt. His face, underneath the mask of blood and dirt, was deadly pale. Blood oozed from a cut at his temple and a black bruise covered his eye and cheek. His shirt hung in rags and a nasty orben wound gaped in the center of his chest. His head lolled when the men leaned him against the tree.

Nimos stood for another moment surveying his prisoners. The other two leaders joined him.

“Do you think the Prince needs to be watched, Kaddim Nimos?” one of them asked.

Nimos’s pale face folded into a smirk. “He’s too weak to do anything, Kaddim Haghos. Ropes should hold him just fine.”

Kaddim Haghos
. The former Reverend of the Church, a Kaddim. In some other life Kyth might have cared. He watched the familiar face with disinterest.

The Kaddim Brothers headed to where the others had already started a fire. They sat in a triangle, so that at least one of the three could always keep the prisoners in the line of sight.

Sometime during the evening a man with a closely shaved head, square jaw and bulging muscles, brought Kyth a cup of water and a small bowl of watery grain stew. Kyth didn’t care one way or the other, so he ate it, just so that the man would leave. After he was done, the man brought another share for Mai. He had to hold the Majat’s head up to pour water into his mouth. A lot of it escaped, running down Mai’s neck in a small bloodied stream. The Diamond didn’t take any food.

Kyth spent the night dozing against the tree trunk. He couldn’t fall asleep, because every time his head dipped forward a sharp pain in his neck woke him up. He was almost grateful for that, because the only thing he could see when he closed his eyes was Kara, her body falling back, arms out, blood gushing out of the fresh wound at the base of her neck. In the end he couldn’t take it anymore. He kept his eyes open, so dry that they hurt, and sat through the rest of the night staring into the wavering shadows, trying his best not to think of anything at all.

In the morning another man brought him breakfast, which seemed to be leftovers from the previous night. Kyth ate it, keeping his eyes on Mai. Two men were bustling around him with Nimos watching.

It must have been bad, because they actually cleaned and treated Mai’s wound, dressing it with a crude bandage across his chest. Then one man held his head up while the other fed him the watery meal. Kyth could see that the swelling on Mai’s face had subsided a little. His eyes were closed, but after watching intently it seemed to Kyth that he saw a glint from underneath a lowered eyelid. Kyth narrowed his eyes to see better, but it was gone. He wasn’t sure why he was paying so much attention to the murderer who didn’t deserve to live after what he’d done. It must be boredom, he decided. He couldn’t care less what happened to Mai. He just had nothing better to do.

They spent another day wrapped in cloaks and flung across the saddles, but the horses traveled mostly at a walk, making the bouncing a bit more bearable. The pain in Kyth’s head subsided and the swelling in the places where Mai had hit him with the staff reduced to simple bruises, painful to the touch but no longer making him feel as if his chest and shoulder were about to explode. By the evening, when Kyth was once again tied in a sitting position against a tree, he felt almost refreshed. He watched them take Mai off the saddle and unwrap the cloak around him with all three Kaddim Brothers in attendance. It wasn’t clear whether these men were more afraid of Mai dying, or being well enough to fight.

This time they camped in a deeper forest. By Kyth’s calculation they were getting closer to the Forestland Hedge, and the growth of willows and birches became more and more familiar. Here and there, they could see an oak, or even a patch of crawling tentacle bushes, shy and uncertain so far away from the protective shade of the Forestland thickets.

The tree they tied Mai up to was close to Kyth’s. A thick branch protruded from it at the height of about eight feet, several heads taller than an average man. They flung the rope holding Mai’s tied wrists over it, stretching it tighter than before and securing it around the trunk of the neighboring tree. They tied his ankles with another rope, and left to attend to their camp duties.

Kyth couldn’t tell if the Majat was conscious, but his face looked much better than the previous night. There was no more swelling, and apart from the black bruise over the left eye and cheekbone, he no longer looked deformed. His eyes were closed, but once again Kyth had a distinct feeling that Mai was alert.

After a while the robed men brought them food and drink. They fed Kyth his usual fare and gathered around Mai. Nimos stood at the side, watching.

“How is he?”

“He’s recovering well, Kaddim Nimos,” one of the men said with satisfaction.

Nimos peered into the Majat’s face. “Is he well enough to fight if we let him loose?”

The spokesman hesitated. “Probably. He’s still bleeding here and there, and his chest wound doesn’t look too good, but I don’t think there’s any permanent damage.”

“Cut off his arms,” Nimos said.

“What?” The men backed off, expressions ranging from hesitation to shock.

Nimos shrugged. “If he recovers any more, we won’t be able to keep him captive unless a Kaddim Brother is watching him day and night. Yet, if we beat him again, we aren’t sure he’d survive. But if we mutilate him, he’ll still be alive, but he won’t be able to fight, will he?”

The men nodded. Some still looked shocked, others relaxed into smiles.

Nimos glanced at the tallest and strongest man in the group. “Go, bring a cleaver. And call in Kaddims Haghos and Farros. I’ll stay here and make sure he doesn’t attempt anything foolish.”

He planted himself in front of Mai, surveying him with cold satisfaction. Pulsing force emanated from his still figure. He wasn’t using full power, but from where he sat Kyth could see Mai’s face go pale. The Diamond was definitely alert and knew exactly what was going to happen to him. He could probably defend himself if Nimos wasn’t using the power to suppress his strength. Kyth was sure that, given a chance, Mai would do anything possible to save himself, but Nimos’s power robbed him of this chance.

Kyth’s mind raced. This didn’t seem fair.
No one
deserved to end up like this, not even the worst villain in the world. He would never be able to forgive Mai for what he had done, but he couldn’t just sit here and watch this incredible fighter get mutilated like an animal, tied and helpless, without a chance to stand up for himself. Not even animals deserved to be treated like this. He had to do something.

Could he help Mai resist these men?

He was sure that back in the castle he helped Kara gain resistance by sending his emotions to her. Could he do it again? He thought of his recent nightmare, where he was able to protect people from the Kaddim by wielding an invisible spearhead. He wasn’t sure it would work in real life, but he had to try.

The night was calm and quiet. A slow breeze crept through the terrain, making the tree crowns above their heads rustle as if having a whispered conversation. Kyth opened up his senses and let the breeze in, gathering its combined power over a great distance of the Grassland plains beyond. He focused the force in the calm center of his body, shaping it into a spearhead that cut through the descending power like a sharp blade cuts through a soft smothering blanket. He directed his spearhead toward Mai. With his inner vision he could actually
see
Nimos’s power, a cocoon enfolding Mai like a fly trapped in a web.

He was vaguely aware of more shapes coming over. Haghos and Farros stopped by Nimos’s sides, the three Kaddim Brothers combining their powers to enfold Mai. Another one, a huge man whose rolled-up sleeves exposed hairy muscular arms, held a butcher’s cleaver large enough to decapitate a horse.

“Do it,” Nimos said. “Chop off his arms at the shoulders. We want to make sure he’ll never be able to hold a weapon again.”

Kyth was out of time.

The man with the cleaver took aim and raised his weapon. Kyth concentrated. Praying that Mai’s injuries were not too grave and he was still able to fight, he sent over his spearhead, cutting through the cocoon around the Majat. It struck like lightning, ragged bits of the invisible blanket falling away like dust.

“Mai!” Kyth shouted at the top of his lungs. “Defend yourself!”

Mai’s eyes flashed, his body coming to life with the speed that made time around him momentarily stand still. Grasping the rope that hooked his hands to the tree branch, he pulled himself up, swinging his tied feet straight at the man with the cleaver. The blow caught the man on the chin and he fell backwards, blood splattering out of his mouth.

Without interrupting the movement, Mai pulled up his feet, so that for a very brief moment he was hanging in a crouched position upside down. A streak of steel slid out of the boot into his hand. Then Mai gave the rope a sharp tug, sending his body up onto the branch above his head. He landed on his feet, throwing off the cut pieces of rope, and looked down on his attackers. His posture was easy and balanced. His ankles and wrists were no longer bound. He held a long narrow dagger.

Several orben-bearers rushed forward, aiming their weapons at Mai’s feet, within easy reach on the low branch. Mai danced between them, so fast that his shape was hard to trace against the dark tree crown. When one of the orbens shot up higher, he leapt with his feet forward in a move that was surely going to knock him off his perch. His attackers on the ground leered, waiting for him to fall, but at the last moment he put out his hands, landing on the branch in a sitting position. His feet closed on the orben chain, catching the spiked metal sphere at the base. He gave it a sharp tug. The orben holder swayed and let go. Mai reached out and caught the flying chain with a free hand, then pushed off and dropped down to the ground. He had an orben in his right hand and a dagger in his left. Kyth couldn’t see his face, but he could clearly see the faces of his attackers, who edged back from him with expressions ranging from surprise to fear.

The three Kaddim brothers stepped forward, eyes shining with anger, hands outstretched. Kyth could sense how much force they were sending at the Majat, but now that he had the hang of it, he had no trouble cutting through with his invisible spearhead, keeping Mai clear of the pressure.

When the Kaddim realized their power wasn’t working, they lowered their hands.

“You think you can fight us all?” Nimos asked Mai.

Mai flicked his wrist, sending his orben into a spin. He kept a short leeway, not letting the chain out too far, so that its major length was wrapped around his forearm.

“I don’t have to,” he said. “You can just let me go.”

“Attack!” Nimos commanded.

Mai’s hand moved faster. He swept the orben, his unfolding body briefly blending into a streak of black. A man at the end of the line collapsed. The rest of the attackers backed off.

The Majat moved like the wind. The orben in his hand spun so fast it wasn’t visible anymore. The entire group of their captors fanned around him, their faces determined as they lashed out with forceful orben blows. Mai was picking them off like flies, dodging the orbens with a speed and precision that made everyone around him seem clumsy and slow.

As he spun around, Kyth could finally see his face. His heart wavered. Mai didn’t look well at all. He was deadly pale, a streak of blood running down his face. The bandage on his chest was soaked through. It was clear that, despite his incredible skill, he would not last much longer.

“Get him!” Nimos urged. “He’s badly hurt!”

The men hesitated, throwing glances at each other and at the fallen comrades at their feet. No one seemed to be willing to make the first move.

Nimos threw off his cloak and strode forward, drawing two curved sabers out of the sheath at his back. His confident, graceful posture reminded Kyth that none of them had ever had a chance to appraise his sword skill. His heart sank as he looked at Mai’s pale, bloodstained face.
Is he well enough to face this?

The two opponents stood still for a moment, looking at each other with charged intensity.

“Let’s see how badly we hurt you,” Nimos said.

Mai smiled, his eyes lighting up with a devilish gleam.

“I don’t normally feel this way,” he said, “but I think I’m going to enjoy this.”

He flicked his orben at one of the blades in Nimos’s hands. The Kaddim darted to the side, avoiding the blow, but the metal orb moved in a sneaky spin, coiling around the blade very close to the hilt. Mai gave it a sharp tug, but Nimos held on. For a moment, they stood opposite each other, tugging at the chain. Then Mai threw the dagger, aiming for the hand holding the blade. Nimos let go, sweeping his hand out of the way. Mai tugged the chain and caught the saber with his free hand.

He kept the orben in his right hand, using it as a shield as he launched a left-handed attack with the saber. He was perhaps moving slower than usual, so that spectators could fully appreciate the quality of his movements, so smooth and precise that they seemed like a dance. Nimos parried each of the blows, but from the start of the melee he never had a chance to launch an attack, forced to stay firmly on the defense. His face was composed, but Kyth sensed concern behind the calm mask. He was clearly having trouble fencing with one saber against a highly skilled left-handed opponent. The fight wasn’t going the way he anticipated.

As Mai thrust his blade forward, his orben hand unfolded, sending the metal sphere straight at Nimos’s chest. It came so fast that even Kyth, having a good side view, had trouble catching on. The Kaddim saw the orb too late. He tried to jump out of the way, but the metal spikes caught him on the shoulder. He dropped the saber. The tip of Mai’s blade touched his throat.

Kaddim Farros rushed toward them, stretching his hands to launch a terrible blast of power at the Majat, but Kyth held his invisible spear at the ready, cutting the power away like soft butter with a hot knife. Haghos stood back, hesitant to join the fight.

Nimos’s eyes showed panic. He glanced around and fixed his gaze on Kyth.

“Get the boy!” he shouted. “He’s the one doing this!”

The Kaddim Brothers regrouped toward the new target, but Mai was faster. He dove forward and rolled over the ground, coming up to his feet beside Kyth. With a quick move he cut through the ropes, then turned, shielding Kyth against the advancing Kaddim. Kyth shook off the ropes and jumped to his feet.

“We have to get out of here,” Mai said. “Can you do this thing you’re doing and run at the same time?”

“I think so.”

Mai flicked the orben at one of the attackers, sending him rolling on the ground. The Kaddim Brothers backed off, avoiding the sweep of the spiked metal ball.

“Get to the horses,” Mai ordered.

They turned and ran. Barked orders, cursing, and cracking echoed behind. Kyth kept all the distractions at the back of his mind, concentrating on holding his invisible spear above Mai’s head.

As they emerged from the protective shade of the trees, they saw horses gathered in the field. Each horse was tied to a short pole, with sufficient rope to wander around the pasture.

“We’ll have to ride bareback,” Mai said. “No time to saddle up.”

Kyth nodded. He could hear the rapidly approaching sounds of pursuit behind them.

“Get those two.” Mai pointed. “Ride out and wait for me.
Now
!”

Kyth rushed toward the chestnut and the bay at the edge of the field. As he unfastened the ropes, he saw Mai glide in between the horses, moving very fast, in what looked like some sort of dance. The saber glittered in the moonlight, a streak of light in the Majat’s hands.

Kyth mounted just as the first of their pursuers emerged from the deep tree shade. A dark shape flew by, and Mai jumped onto the horse next to Kyth.

“Move!” Mai threw his face up and produced a long, shrill whistle between his teeth, answered by an erupting stampede behind. Amidst the whinnying, shouting and cursing, they threw their horses into gallop. Kyth kept his invisible spear at the ready, but no one behind them was trying to use any power. A quick glance back told him that the pursuers had other things on their hands. The chaos of horses running off in all directions and men trying to catch them left no room for any other action.

“What happened?” Kyth shouted to Mai above the wind.

“The Cha’ori battle signal. I ordered the horses to retreat.”

“How do you know–” Kyth stopped himself. It didn’t matter, as long as they were away. He sensed a wisp of power sent in their wake and focused to counter it. Then he glanced at Mai.

The Majat looked very pale. It clearly took effort for him to stay on horseback. In the glistening moonlight, Kyth thought he saw a streak of blood running out of the corner of his mouth. Mai caught Kyth’s gaze and wiped it off with the back of his hand.

They rode on through the night, first at a gallop then at a fast trot, until the sky in the east became gray, foreshadowing the arrival of a new day. Every once in a while Kyth threw glances behind them, but there was no pursuit.

After a while Mai slowed his horse to a walk and Kyth followed. As he looked at the Majat in the dawning light, he realized with horror that Mai was barely holding on, and that the reason his horse had slowed to a walk was because it was getting no more signals from its rider. As he watched, Mai swayed, his head dipped forward and he slid off the horse onto the ground.

Kyth dismounted and ran toward him. The Majat lay very still, his body turned in an unnatural way. Kyth carefully took him by the shoulder and rolled him onto his back.

Mai’s eyelids trembled and slowly opened. He seemed to have trouble focusing.

“Ride on,” he whispered, his words barely audible above the rustling breeze. “Leave me.”

Kyth glanced around. They were alone in the middle of nowhere. The only company they could expect in the near future was that of their pursuers. They
had to
move on.

“Are you badly hurt?” he asked. The question seemed redundant, but he just wasn’t sure what to do. It was so frightening to see Mai in such a state that Kyth couldn’t even hate him anymore. Against reason, his heart quivered with worry as he looked searchingly into the Majat’s face.

Mai turned his head with visible effort. “I’m… fine. Just need a little rest, that’s all.” He closed his eyes and went still.

Fighting rising panic, Kyth reached to the Majat’s neck to feel the pulse. It was there, but very weak and irregular. A streak of blood appeared from the corner of his mouth, dark against the ghostly white skin. Kyth didn’t know much about healing, but he knew enough to understand that such insistent bleeding without an obvious wound couldn’t be good. Mai was bleeding inside, and that meant trouble.

It was clear that the Majat wouldn’t be able to ride further on his own. Yet, leaving him here as suggested would mean certain death. Kyth had no doubt their captors would eventually recover their lost mounts. The ride through the night had given Kyth and Mai a few hours’ head start, but their pursuers couldn’t be far behind.

True, only a short while ago the only thing Kyth wanted was to see Mai dead. He tried to tell himself it was still what he wanted, but seeing the Majat so helpless was too much. He wanted to defeat Mai in a fight, to make him suffer for everything he did. But to let him die like this, wounded and helpless, after saving Kyth from his captors, was wrong.

He carefully leaned down and put his arms around Mai’s torso, trying not to touch the chest wound oozing though its crude bandage. He lifted the unconscious body and slowly rose to his feet, supporting Mai’s weight against him.

The Majat was surprisingly light. He was about the same height as Kyth and his entire body was sculpted of muscle, toned even in his unconscious state. It took Kyth much less effort than he imagined to walk Mai back to his horse that was fortunately standing still, calmly watching the action.

Kyth crouched and hooked his arm around Mai’s knees, lifting him up onto the horse. Then he mounted, careful not to disturb the body. Firmly settled, he pulled Mai higher up, easing him into a sitting position in front and using one hand to hold him around the waist. It was awkward, but after a moment Kyth was able to find the right balance. He urged the horse on at a walk, focusing on keeping Mai upright and cushioning the movement so that the ride wouldn’t cause any more damage.

The second horse followed. Kyth had no free hand to lead it by the rope, but the horse seemed intent on keeping up on its own. They rode on, the sun slowly rising from behind the Eastern Mountain Crest, lighting up the wavering grass with the pinks and blues of the early dawn.

A movement off to the left drew Kyth’s eye. Two riders had emerged from the line of bushes by the river and directed their horses toward him at a gallop.

Kyth’s mind raced. He had no means to defend himself. He didn’t even have time to lower Mai off the horse so that he could free his hands. And, he couldn’t afford to let go. In Mai’s fragile state, a fall like that might well kill him.

His eyes darted around, searching for possible help.

The riders were approaching fast. From this distance he started to make out their features. They looked familiar. He narrowed his eyes, heart pounding in his chest. Could it be?

The rider in front was middle-aged, with a huge, ugly scar crossing his face. Behind him rode a lean, graceful man whose quality of movement left no doubt he was an unmatched fighter.

Egey Bashi and Raishan!

Kyth pulled his horse to a stop, feeling the deadly strain in his exhausted body give way to an overwhelming wave of relief.