Steel and Sorrow (15 page)

“You only told me to take care of the body.”

“Next time, take some initiative. Now, where’s my whiskey?”

* * *

Drake’s throat burned with each breath. He wanted nothing more than to bend over and retch, but the endless press of Kaz didn’t give him the moment he needed. A heavy blow from the blunted practice sword struck the side of his oaken shield and he stumbled back. The vibrations in his arm traveled all the way into his upper back. Drake barely had the chance to wince before the next strike came. He managed to raise his sword in time, deflecting the worst of the attack, but the weapon still managed to scrape across his helm.

“In battle, he might have scalped you, boy,” said Crusher, behind the practice area.

Drake jumped over a series of obstacles placed throughout the practice circle, trying to put some distance between himself and Kaz, but the man followed with ease. Drake couldn’t see an opening in Kaz’s defenses, but he chanced an attack anyway, desperate to do anything to change the course of the fight.

Kaz easily turned away Drake’s blows. Drake dodged the counterstrike and crashed to the ground. He instinctively rolled to his feet, but by doing so, left his shield behind.

“Things ain’t looking good for you, boy. I thought you’d be better by now.” Crusher’s mocking laugh followed.

Drake’s head pounded to the beat of his racing heart, drowning out all other sounds. He clenched his teeth in anger and charged Kaz, hacking away with every bit of energy he had left.

Moments later he lay on his back again, too tired to move. He stared up at the clear night sky, watching the twinkling stars. Drake rolled over and emptied his stomach unto the ground and coughed.

The laughter continued.

“Enough,” said Kaz. “Or I’ll have you running laps around the yard until you’re puking beside him.”

“I was only messing with him,” said the deep throated Ghal. “No harm was meant. Right, kid?”

Drake spat the taste out of his mouth and looked up. He nodded.

“See,” said Crusher. He got up and walked to the outer edges of the training yard, moving on to torment someone else.

Kaz knelt beside Drake. “You alright?”

Drake breathed several deep, ragged breaths. “I will be eventually.”

Kaz looked confused. “You were better before you left. What happened?”

Drake managed a smile. “It’s hard to practice on a ship. And once we got to the school, I was too preoccupied with the texts we found to think of much else.”

“No doubt. It looked like you took half their library.”

“Trust me, that’s barely a fraction of what’s there.”

Kaz tightened his gaze. “Don’t spend all your time in those books.”

“You’re the one who wanted me to bring that stuff back. And I’ve already shown you some of what I’ve learned. There are dozens of books I haven’t even opened yet. That information could help us win the war.”

“It can. But a book will not save you from a sword stroke. You need to get back into a training routine. I don’t want to be worrying about you on the battlefield.”

Kaz wore a look of concern.

It’s too bad so few ever see this side of him. The men know Kaz will fight until his last breath, but they don’t see that he does it as much out of compassion for his men as he does for the thrill of battle. He definitely is more like Jonrell than the old crew gives him credit for.

Drake let out a sigh as Raker popped into his head.

“What’s wrong?” asked Kaz.

“I’m just thinking about Raker. He’s living his life in a bottle.”

“Worse than before?”

Drake nodded. “It’s hard to notice unless you’re around him all the time. Especially because he seems like himself during drills.”

“Then maybe things will improve once the campaign begins.”

“But what if it doesn’t? What if it gets worse and he’d rather hold a bottle than his mace.”

Kaz sighed. “Then I’ll have to take care of it. Until then, just keep doing what you can and let me know if I need to step in.”

Chapter 11

Two days later the Blue Island Clan landed on the edge of the Gray Marshes, near the border of the Green Forest Clan’s territory. Tobin’s anger raged once the shamans reported that the Gray Marsh Clan still camped in the area, miles from where they should have been.

Longboats came off the ships quicker than before and Tobin felt it necessary to order his men not to take out their aggression on the Gray Marsh Clan. He saw the rage in their eyes, the need to exact punishment on those responsible for their embarrassment at the hands of the Green Forest and Red Mountain Clans.

Tobin stepped out of the boat and into thigh deep water. He strode inland. Walor and Ufer fell in beside him, Walor still limping. Soyjid struggled to keep up with their pace. Physically the boy was still a mess, but he had shown Tobin much in the way of strategy.

A small retinue greeted Tobin on the shore. “Greetings Tobin, Warleader of the—”

“Where is he?” demanded Tobin.

“Mawkuk is waiting for you in his private tent,” said the representative.

Ufer spat. “He disrespects you by not coming out to meet you.”

The representative shook his head. “No, that isn’t it. He became ill and only recently recovered. He’s still weak.” The man looked at Soyjid and bowed. “Perhaps you can help explain that your father meant no disrespect.”

“He can speak for himself,” said Soyjid. “I’m not one to put words into his mouth.”

The man frowned.

“Take me to him,” said Tobin.

The man bowed, as did the others with him. He turned and walked toward camp.

Tobin’s temper flared as he passed by roaring campfires where soldiers lounged, gnawing on roasted meat, seemingly oblivious to the impending campaign.

All while we lost hundreds of men.

“I see they are enjoying themselves.” Walor’s voice dripped with disgust.

“Their lack of discipline will cause us trouble in the future,” said Ufer.

“Silence,” said Tobin.

Mawkuk’s tent stood higher than any other. Guards flanked the entrance to either side. They opened the tent flaps and allowed the party passage.

Mawkuk rose from his hideous, driftwood throne as the group entered. The Gray Clan’s council stood around him. Mawkuk lowered his head subserviently toward Tobin and then looked up as he saw Soyjid. His eyes warmed. “It’s good to see you, Tobin. And I thank you for giving me the chance to gaze upon my son again.” The old man strained to peak around Tobin. “Is Odala also here?”

Tobin ignored him. He looked to Mawkuk’s advisors. “Leave us. Now.”

The men glanced at each other nervously and turned to Mawkuk for guidance, but the Gray Marsh Clan leader looked equally confused.

Tobin inclined his head to Ufer. “If these men do not leave in the next three breaths, make them.”

A blade cleared its scabbard. “Yes, Warleader.”

The advisors scurried out of the room without waiting for Mawkuk’s answer.

“Sit, Mawkuk.”

The old man took his seat. “I-I don’t understand. What’s wrong?”

“Don’t give me that. What are you and your men doing here?”

“Following your orders.”

“Liar!” yelled Ufer. “You were supposed to secure the shore a hundred miles from here.”

“Ufer!” Tobin shouted. “Hold your tongue.”

Mawkuk’s brow furrowed. “But we did follow your orders. You specifically told us to be here. I didn’t understand why, especially when I learned that you went farther into the Green Forest Clan territory before coming ashore. I supposed we were held back in reserve.”

“I never said that. Soyjid. Give your father a copy of my orders.”

Soyjid rummaged in a small parcel he held over one shoulder and withdrew a piece of rolled parchment. He stepped toward his father and handed it off.

Tobin continued. “I always make copies of the orders I issue.”

Mawkuk scanned the paper and shook his head. “This isn’t what your messenger delivered to us.”

“Where is the message then? I want to see it for myself,” said Tobin.

“I destroyed it, just as your letter said, lest someone see your strategy. But I can attest that your signature matched and the seal had not been tampered with.”

“And you think I should believe your story?”

Mawkuk’s eyes widened. “Why would I lie? You have my children.” He gestured toward Soyjid.

“I don’t know. If you aren’t lying, then you’re making costly mistakes I can’t afford to have happen again.”

“Tobin? What are you saying?” came a voice from behind.

Tobin whipped his head around and saw Odala standing at the entrance to the tent. “What are you doing here? This isn’t your place.”

“I wanted to see my father,” she said, confused.

“Later,” Tobin snapped. “Get back to the tent.”

“You’re not going to kill him, are you?” asked Odala, horrified.

Tobin clenched his teeth in frustration. “No, I’m not.” He gestured to Soyjid. “Escort your sister from here.”

Soyjid nodded and made his way toward the tent entrance, grabbing Odala by the arm and leading her outside. Tobin caught the hurt and bewildered look on her face before turning back to Mawkuk.

Mawkuk repeated his daughter’s question. “Are you going to kill me?”

“Many of my men would like me to, but there is another option I’d rather pursue.”

Mawkuk’s jaw tightened. “I see. You and Odala have become close, haven’t you?” The old man’s voice found a hardness that had been absent. Tobin wasn’t surprised.

She is still his daughter.

Tobin ignored his question. “You are no longer leader of the Gray Marsh Clan. You will be watched over by six Kifzo at all times to ensure that you cannot influence the decisions of your clan any longer.”

Mawkuk started to argue, but thought better of it and sank further into his throne. “And who will lead?”

“Your son.”

Mawkuk sighed. “I can at least find solace in that.”

“Good. You will announce the transition immediately after Soyjid returns.”

* * *

“You shouldn’t have been so accusatory in front of the others. Think what you will of Tobin privately, or with me,” said Soyjid.

Odala wiped her cheek. “What did you want me to do? I thought he was going to kill Father like you said he might.”

“Now you see why I wanted to be brought into Tobin’s circle? I probably saved Father’s life by presenting Tobin with an alternative to the one his men wanted.”

“What alternative?”

“I’ve convinced him to let me take Father’s place. With me in charge, he will not have to worry about our clan’s cooperation following his dismissal. Tobin can’t afford to lose our forces now that we will be fighting both the Green and Red Clans together.”

She stopped outside her newly erected tent.
Soyjid taking Father’s place? I never expected that to happen so soon.

“You seem troubled.”

Odala shook her head. “I was only thinking. You’ll be a good ruler,” she added, unsure what else to say.

Soyjid smiled. “I’d like to think so.”

Odala sighed. “I still don’t know what to think about Tobin though. Before you stepped in, he was ready to kill Father.”

Soyjid held up a hand. “I’ve warned you all along about him. However, you’ve been happy with him over the last year. That doesn’t have to change. He was under a lot of pressure and when I gave him a more suitable alternative, he made the right decision. Forgive him. You must remember his upbringing. It was much different than ours.” He paused. “And don’t worry about your outburst. I’ll smooth things over.”

She cocked her head to the side. “Really?”

“Why wouldn’t I? I know we argue, but we’re still family.”

The admission surprised and touched Odala. She gave her brother a hug. “Thank you.”

* * *

Tobin left Mawkuk’s tent once the six Kifzo arrived to guard him.

Walor cleared his throat. “I don’t like your decision.”

“I didn’t want to kill the old man. His age has more to do with his inability to lead than anything else,” said Tobin.

“I understand,” said Walor. “I know you want to keep him alive for Odala’s sake too. But putting Soyjid in charge is a mistake. He is too sickly to lead from the field.”

“He doesn’t have to. He has a great mind. You’ve heard some of his input. Can you find fault with it?”

“Not on the surface. But I still don’t trust him.”

“First Nachun, and now Soyjid. You’re growing paranoid.” Tobin glanced to Ufer as they walked. “And what do you think?”

“I agree with Walor.” said Ufer. “Something about the boy doesn’t seem right.” He shrugged. “But just like Mawkuk, Soyjid is a figurehead. You still hold all the power.”

* * *

Tobin looked over a large map detailing the terrain of the Green Forest Clan’s territory. He had been strategizing with Walor, Ufer, and Soyjid. Most of the plans had been finalized on the ship. However, on one decision they disagreed. Two possible areas of approach existed to reach the Green Forest Clan’s capital of Feruse.

Soyjid felt the best course was to approach from the south. Tobin thought that strategy would give Charu, who he had learned led the combined Red and Green Clan armies, a better chance of hindering him. The northern approach, closer to the shore made more sense to him. Soyjid pointed out that the sea would be at their backs again with no ships to retreat to if necessary. Ufer and Walor agreed with Tobin. They took offense at the suggestion that the Blue Island Clan would need to retreat again once all of their forces were ashore.

“I don’t understand the reasoning,” said Soyjid. “There is nothing wrong with a strategic retreat.”

“We don’t expect you to understand,” said Ufer. “You’re not a warrior. There will not be another long swim. We will stand and we will win.”

Soyjid threw up his hands. “Warleader, surely you see the value in what I’m saying. A southern route is the most sound strategy for everyone.”

Tobin started to speak, but a brief bout of dizziness took him. He steadied himself and blinked. They stared back at him. He turned his gaze down to the map.

“Tobin, are you alright?” asked Walor.