The Hordes of Chanakra (Knights of Aerioch) (7 page)

Kreg looked puzzled and Shillond explained. "Over many years, I have worked to make the walls of those towns that guard our borders proof against spellcraft."

Faron nodded. "We were poured many casks of flaming pitch on their heads.  Many trays of heated sand.  The attack we were driving off. Now we are besieged."

He sighed. "I am not knowing how long we can endure.  Yon army's catapults and ballistae continue to harass us.  They have not dammed the river yet. Soon, I am thinking, we will be thirsting.  We have not been able to send a message to the king."

"Surely they'll notice that you haven't been in touch?" Kreg asked.

"Your words are strange," Faron said. "But if I am understanding you, we are not due to be sending a messenger for yet two weeks."

"And our difficulties in getting in have alerted the besiegers to the presence of a mage," Shillond said. "Escape may prove difficult."

Kreg turned and leaned against the parapet, his eyes surveying the hills.  He rubbed his temples.  Kreg had complained about pains in his head, Kaila thought, perhaps they had returned to plague him again.

Shillond touched Kreg on the shoulder. "What troubles you, my friend?"

"Just thinking." Kreg shrugged.

"On our present difficulties?"

Kreg nodded.

"Do you have any ideas?" Shillond said.

"I’m not sure I want to say." Kreg turned to face him. "Considering the abysmal failure of my last plan."

"Cease such useless prattle!" Kaila turned on Kreg with a fury that surprised even herself. "Your plan was well thought on and would have been the height of success save for the vilest of misfortune.  If you have ought to say, then say on."

She leaned forward and laid a hand on his shoulder. “I had not time to say before, but you did well, very well, when we fought.  The Gods surely are with you to be able to stand against such numbers long enough for Shillond to cast his magics.”

"Well." Kreg licked his lips.  He spoke slowly, as if each word were a difficulty. "I think we might still be able to use the river for cover," Kreg said.

"How?" Shillond asked. "It's too shallow to swim or float down."

"Maybe not," Kreg said, "but maybe we can crawl out through it." Kreg pointed up at the larger of the two moons--the smaller had already sunk below the horizon. "It won't be too much longer before the moon sets.  It'll be as dark as it's going to get then.  The river may be shallow but it's, what, about fifty paces across?"

Shillond looked at Faron who said, "About that."

Kreg nodded. "So we get down on our bellies, with just enough of our heads sticking above water to breath, and we crawl." He had to pause for a moment.  Kaila drew breath over her teeth as she noted his wince.  How much pain was he in?

"Are you well?" Kaila leaned close, placing a hand on Kreg's shoulder and peering into his eyes.

"Just a headache," Kreg said. "With all I've been through recently it's a wonder I don't have worse." He pinched and massaged the bridge of his nose, then rubbed at his temples, before continuing. "They won't have any guards in the water and if we're quiet enough, and careful enough, we may be able to slip out."

Shillond looked from Kreg to Kaila to Faron.

Kaila nodded. "We will attempt it." She thought for a moment, then removed the sling that still held the coyote pup and held it out to Faron. "I think I cannot take this young one with me.  Take him to the kennels and see that he is treated well."

Faron smiled. "Of course, Your Grace."

#

Kreg and the others huddled around the fire.  Grey light in the east heralded the approaching dawn.  He shivered as a breeze chilled his wet clothes.  The plan had worked.  The water had not seemed cold at first, but as time had passed and they had crept slow fingerlength after fingerlength down the river, the warmth had leached from Kreg's body.  Before long, Kreg had needed to clench his teeth to keep them from chattering.  Eventually, they passed the last outposts of the besieging army and had been able to pull their exhausted, chilled bodies from the river's clammy embrace

At least Kreg's head had stopped aching.

"And now," Shillond broke the uncomfortable silence. "We have planning to do.  Kreg's plan has worked admirably, for here we are outside the city.  We must still pass the Amber Mountains and Elam guards the only pass within a hundred miles."

"Can your spells allow us to speak with the king?" Faron asked.  He had accompanied them, explaining that his detailed knowledge of the siege, the army attacking them, and their ability to hold against it could not be set to parchment in the time before they would have to leave.

Shillond shrugged. "Ordinarily, it would be a long reach but yes," he said. "Here, the mages in the enemy army could block any attempts I made.  Our message would not get through and we would reveal our location."

"Might we go by sea?" Kaila asked.

"I am thinking not," Faron said. "The nearest seaport is at Trevanta.  Two weeks to walk. Longer being if we must be foraging.  We must be sailing around Shendar then.  The war might be ending before we could arrive."

"Then we must cross the mountains," Shillond said.

Kaila sighed and nodded. "With Elam besieged, I think not that we will be able to use the pass."

"There is being Harrow's Perch," Faron said.

"Harrow's Perch?" Kreg asked

"It's the name of a small pass.  It is starting two days' ride west of here," Faron said, "It is no good for trade caravans. It is less good for armies.  For a small group like us, it should be sufficing."

"But, Father," Kaila said, "Harrow's Perch passes into Shendar, not Aerioch.

Shillond sighed. "I know it."

Faron nodded. "It is why I was loath to suggest it."

"Shendar?" Kreg said. "I don't understand."

"Shendar was the principle Kingdom of the Empire of Shend," Shillond said.

"Aye," Kaila added, "and they forget not that it was Aerioch which had the strength to stand before them and say we would be subject no more."

"And so, "Shillond said, "although Shendar and Aerioch have an uneasy peace, and I think the two nations will in time find their way to friendship, it will pose problems for us to pass through Shendar on our way to Aerioch."

For his part, Faron stared at Kreg and then shrugged. "If we must, then we must.  So let us be departing."

The sun was just starting to crest the ridge to the East.

Faron stood. "There is a small village of herders where the pass begins.  If we can be going that far, we can be getting water, maybe food, for the rest of our journey.  We should be starting now. The heat of day will be beginning soon."

Kaila started to say something but Shillond laid a hand on her arm. "We have company."

Kreg looked in the direction of Shillond's gaze.  Standing on the ridge, silhouetted against the red of dawn, was a lone horseman.  He carried a standard topped by three overlapping point-up triangles.  By ones and twos others joined him on that ridge.  In moments, more than a score moved down the ridge toward them.

Kaila reached for her sword and this time it was Kreg's turn to lay a restraining hand on her arm. He had recognized the standard one of the horsemen was carrying. "I think I know these people."

#

The herder village was gone, scattered, and the broken lances and swords that remained told of an army that had passed through.

Kreg sat one of the nomads' small desert ponies and watched as Shillond, Kaila, and Faron examined the ruin of the small village.

On a hilltop to just to the north of the village, a pyre burned brightly, even in the late morning sun.  Kreg's muscles still ached with the task of taking wood from the broken homes of the village, and piling it on that hilltop, then helping Kaila and Faron drag bodies to lie upon the pyre.  While Shillond lit the pyre, Kaila had said a short prayer to Pireth the Guide, that he may take the souls of these people gently yet swiftly to the Halls of The Nameless One.

"You should stay with us, Kreg," the chief of the nomads said to Kreg at his right.  He jerked his head at the others. "What can they offer you?  Houses of stone?  Dirt and filth?  Stay with us.  Ride in the clean air of the desert.  Take wives and raise strong sons to ride with you. He slapped at the bow, protected in its leather casing that secured it to his scabbard behind his right hip. "The bow is a weapon for a man, and the knife and axe when the bow will not serve.  Leave them to their swords and their lances and their tunics of steel.

"And what are oaths to such as they?  City dwellers.  If they will contest your staying with us, I have two hundreds of warriors who will argue that they shall go while you stay.  Stay with us."

Kreg smiled.  The nomads that had found them two days ago were the same group that had befriended Kreg.  For two days Kreg and the others had ridden with the nomads.

Riding with the nomads had been a relief to Kreg.  For the first time since he had left the nomads to make his way to Trevanta, Kreg had been able to relax.  Even his headaches had faded to memory.

Just that morning they had reached the site of the village where Harrow's Perch began.

"Stay with us, Kreg," another voice said from Kreg's left. "This is the advice that fool would give you."

"Shaman you may be," the chief said, "but I will have your tongue if you continue to speak so about your chief."

The shaman snorted, then smiled.  Teasing could take a vicious turn among the nomads, but Kreg had seen the deep friendship between these two.

The shaman looked Kreg up and down. "I see you have learned to sit a horse."

Kreg shrugged.

"Nothing would please me more but for you to stay," the shaman said, "but I have seen a different path for you written in the smoke.  Your path does not lie with us.  Your path is elsewhere." He nodded toward where Kaila knelt to pull a broken arrow from the ground. "Your path is with them."

"Do not listen to this old fool." The chief clapped a hand on Kreg's shoulder. "Your size and strength will earn you the respect of warriors.  You have healing magic that even the shaman cannot match.  Although you are no horseman, I have seen you shoot a bow on your own feet.  Perhaps someday when my eye dims and my arm withers, I shall name you chief in my stead."

Kreg smiled.  He placed his own hand over the Chief's. "Your eye shall never dim.  Your arm shall never wither.  But even so, if I felt free to make my own choice, I think I would stay here."

"Then stay with us."

Kreg shook his head. "I'm afraid the shaman has the right of it.  When my friends leave, I must leave with them."

The chief sighed then nodded. "So be it.  Once the smoke has spoken, mere men must bow before its will.  But know this.  You shall always have a home with the Three Mountains clan.  I owe you life debt.  All that I have, all that I ever will have, from the day you turned death's demon from my door, is yours to claim."

Kreg shook his head.  He did not know where the words came from that he spoke. "Between us, there can be no talk of debt.  I would have died had your people not found me in the desert."

"If there is no debt," the shaman said, "then you two must be brothers."

"Then we are brothers," the chief said.

"Then we are brothers," Kreg heard himself answer.

"City dwellers!" The chief urged his horse forward as he called. "Can any of you shoot a bow from horseback?"

Kaila stood and wiped the dirt from her knees.  Shillond turned, caught Kreg's eye, and smiled.  Only Faron spoke, "It's not something we are doing much in Aerioch. I am having some small ability."

"Good," the chief said, "then you can join the warriors when they go out to hunt.  You three have been enough burden on my clan.  It is time to repay."

#

As the sun sank low toward the western horizon, the party Faron had ridden with returned with a large mountain goat tied across the pillion of his saddle.  Kreg learned that it was Faron who had spotted it, Faron who had run it down, and Faron who had killed it with a single shaft from the bow he had borrowed from the nomads.

"Ha," the chief shouted as he rode up to meet the returning party, "even among city dwellers there are those who know what a bow is for."

Near the river, and the remains of the village, there was plenty of wood in the form of the broken houses.  Instead of just small fires of dried animal dung, the chief had built a large bonfire in the last light of the setting sun.  As meat simmered in mare's milk in pots near the fires, the young women of the clan danced in the firelight.  The young men of the clan sat on the ground in a larger ring around the fire.

Kreg, Kaila, and Shillond sat just outside the ring of young warriors and watched.  Faron had joined a group of older men near one of the smaller fires.

"Do your nomad friends hate us so?" Kaila asked.

"I don't understand."

"A village was destroyed, Kreg," Kaila said. "Every man, woman, and child was put to the sword.  Is this cause for celebration?"

"I don't think it's like that," Kreg said. "The time I was with them, the impression I got was that they didn't care about city dwellers one way or the other.  I think the celebration is that the hunting has been good and they have more food than usual."