The Jewel of Kamara (The Delthenon Chronicles) (33 page)

She
gulped. He wanted to be her sparring partner? This wouldn’t end well.

He
whistled sharply and without giving her a chance to ready herself he swung
down. She stumbled out of his way as his spear whirled past her. She lifted her
sword and blocked him just in time. He came at her again. And again. He moved
so swiftly that all she could do was block his advances. There was no time to
strike him.

He
whistled once more to call a halt to the session, and she had never been so
relieved. She bent over, resting her hands on her knees as she tried to catch
her breath. She had thought she was good with a sword, but after that attempt
she was having serious doubts. Had her men just made her believe she was good?

He
walked over to her and offered her a drink. She gladly took the skin from him
and gulped down the water.

“You
are Kalaowin. We fight to the death. Train harder.”

Unable
to speak through her heavy panting, she nodded.

“You
have good technique. Don’t misfire on purpose again.”

She
hung her head, ashamed to have been caught out. She would try harder. She would
practice with her men in the evenings and train with the Kalaowins in the
morning. She was determined to be good enough to be seen as a warrior as well
as their Shiasa.

That
afternoon she helped with dinner preparations. She did as she was told and
ignored their laughing as she fumbled her way through it. As a noble lady, she
had never needed to prepare her own meals, and on the road
Thara
had done it for them. She had no clue what to do. But she persisted. And even
though she burnt the rice she was proud of her first attempt.

She
wandered around, trying to talk to as many people as she could. They weren’t
very receptive, and she found it difficult getting any of them to talk beyond
the exchanging of pleasantries. When the tenth person in a row gave her nothing
more than a grunt, she sighed and gave up, returning to her friends in their
little patch of the camp.

“Not
going well?” Colbert asked as she sat beside him.

“I
don’t know what else I can do. I am training and cooking with them, talking to
them. But nothing is good enough.”

“You’re
trying too hard,” Bhatia said.

Madoc
rolled his eyes. “You think any effort is too much.”

“Well
I managed to join your little group, didn’t I?”

“If
you say so,” he muttered.

“Bhatia’s
right,” Darby said as he hobbled over. Dahlia rose quickly and offered him a
hand. “The Kalaowins expect their leader to be just that. A leader.”

“That’s
what I’m trying to do.”

“No
you’re trying to be one of them,” he explained. “Kamaris want their leaders to be
amongst the people, but Kalaowins expect a healthy distance. When you are
Shiasa, you will need to counsel them and your word will be law. By mingling
with too many of them, they can claim
favoritism
if
something doesn’t go their way. By all means, train with them. The fitter and
stronger you are, the better your chances of survival at the end of all this.
But once you become the Shiasa, your fighting days are over. You need to stay
alive until your heir is of age; otherwise, the line ends with you.”

“So
I have to lead them without knowing them?”

“Ah
that’s where it’s tricky,” he said. “You must know their culture intimately.
Understand their ways. Why they do things. How they react. Only then will they
see you as worthy.”

“How
do I do that?”

“I
wish I could tell you, but it’s something you’ll have to figure out on your
own. Follow your instincts. You’re a good leader, Tempani. Now you can be a
great one.”

She
lay in bed that night agonizing over what to do. She may have come riding in on
a dragon but apparently that wasn’t enough. What else was she supposed to do?
They didn’t want her working alongside them. Proving that she was a strong
fighter wasn’t going to do it. Kalaowins were supposed to be strong fighters.
By fighting with them, she was only showing them that she belonged. Not that
she was the one to lead them.

Why
was it so hard? She wondered if Nic was facing the same problems in Fenella.
Did he have to prove himself? The dull ache in her heart whenever she thought
of him was still there. She doubted it would ever go away. What would happen if
they saw each other in battle? She knew she couldn’t hurt him. She wouldn’t let
anyone hurt him.

But
before they even went to battle she had to convince the Kalaowins that a battle
was needed. Most of them were happy to just live deep in the south, away from
their Kamari
neighbors
. They cared not for the blood
that had been spilled throughout the feud. What were Kamari lives to them
anyway? She needed to change that way of thinking and to do that she had to start
at the top. It was her
niska
who influenced so many
here. Start with her and maybe the others would follow. But first she had to
understand her
niska
.

She
found her the following day as she finished up her breakfast and fell into step
beside her.

“What
do you want?” She hissed.

“I’m
going to be your shadow. You say I have to earn their respect. Well, I’m going
to see how you do it.”

The
older woman glared at her.

“I’m
just doing what you told me to do.”

She
frowned but said nothing so Tempani followed her as she continued on her way.
She didn’t say a word as she watched her
niska
greet
each person they came across by name but never dawdled long enough to talk
beyond that.

They
spent the morning in the forest, picking different herbs for healing. There
were many that Tempani had never seen before, and she listened carefully as her
niska
explained the purpose of each one and where
best to find them.

“As
the Shiasa, it is my duty to keep my people healthy. Yes, there are others who
can heal but none as well as me,” she said proudly. “Each year when I make my
journey to the tribes I spend time with their healer and make sure they know
everything there is to know.”

“You
re-train them every year?”

“If
they do not see something often they may forget how to treat it. I drill into
them again and again.”

Tempani
nodded and then followed her
niska
back to her tent.
Once inside she saw that there was a flap leading into an adjoining tent. In
here she found the infirmary. One side was covered with rows and rows of jars
containing all the different herbs and medicines she would need.

Sitting
amongst all the jars was a dull, grey rock that was small enough to fit in the
palm of her hand. She stood on her toes to reach it but was pulled back by her
niska
.

“Don’t
touch that,” she snapped.

“What
does it do? Does it have magic?” She eyed it closely. “It doesn’t look
special.”

The
older woman glared at her. “It is for the Shiasa only. No one else.”

Tempani
frowned at her and then snuck another glance at it when her
niska
turned her back. It must be powerful if only the Shiasa was allowed to touch
it. She wondered what power it contained. Perhaps it was used to contact the
other tribes. That would be handy. Or it was a protective charm. Whatever it
was, it would belong to her one day.

She
beckoned for Tempani to join her at the bench and placed a bowl in front of
her. “Here,” she said and handed her the purple leaves she’d identified as
opia
. “Crush these. I will show you how to treat a burn.”

“Can’t
I just use magic?”

She
glared at her granddaughter. “And if you are away and there’s no one here to do
it? Or what if you have used all your magic and have none left to treat it? You
must not always rely on your gifts. Sometimes the natural remedy is just as
effective.”

She
did as she was told and crushed the leaves before boiling them, adding
ingredient after ingredient until her
niska
was happy
with the result.

Tempani
wrinkled her nose at the smell wafting from the blue paste. “This really
works?”

She
snatched it out of her hands. “You be the judge.”

Tempani
yelped as her arm grew increasingly hot. Her
niska
was burning her. She screamed as the searing pain set in before the older woman
slapped the cooling paste on the burn. Instantly the pain disappeared.

“When
the paste dries, remove it with water, and you’ll be left without a scar.”

She
glared at her. “Was that necessary?”

“What’s
going on?” Madoc asked as he burst through the flap,
Tilaw
at his heels.

“Torture,”
she snapped.

“Training,”
her
niska
hissed. “Don’t interrupt.”

Madoc’s
eyes assessed Tempani, searching for any injuries. “Are you all right?”

“I
will be,” she said.

He
nodded and left them to it.

“He
is not right for you.”

“Huh?”
She was too busy inspecting her arm.

“That
man. He will not be good for a husband.”

“What
are you talking about old woman?” She laughed. “I do not want him for a
husband.”

“If
you want to be Shiasa, you must choose wisely. Each tribe will send their best
man and you choose from them. No one else.”

Tempani
frowned as the idea washed over her - being forced to marry not out of love but
obligation and only having a handful of men to choose from. It was not
dissimilar to the traditions of the Kamaris but at least there she had more
options. She wouldn’t be forced to sit there while men were paraded in front of
her and at the end of it all choose one of them. She wouldn’t even know him.

She
shook her head at her earlier belief that the Kamari way of finding a husband
was wrong. Compared to what she would be faced with if she became the Shiasa,
it didn’t seem that bad.

They
both looked up when they heard a commotion outside. They left the tent and were
shocked to find that the sun was beginning to set. They had lost track of the
time as they worked alongside one another.

“Tempani!”
Chae cried as he stumbled towards her. In his arms he carried a woman, her face
blackened with bruises. Her clothes drenched in blood.

“Leandra.”
Tempani
recogni
z
ed
her friend and rushed to
Chae’s
side, helping him carry the pregnant dressmaker to the healer’s tent. The
Shiasa was already busy clearing space for her.

Colbert
came bursting through, screaming for his wife. He hovered over her and smoothed
the hair off her face. She let out a cry when she saw him.

“Shh,”
he whispered. “I’m here. You’re safe now.”

“The
baby.” She turned to Tempani. ‘Save my baby.”

Tempani
gulped and looked at her grandmother, the pleading clear in her eyes.

“Put
your hands on her stomach,” she directed. “Can you hear the heartbeat?”

Tempani
closed her eyes and blocked out all other sounds. She focused on the little
beats under her hands. It was faint but it was there.

“It’s
alive,” she breathed. “We need to get it out now though.”

“You’re
going to cut her open?” Colbert gasped. “She’s lost too much blood already.
It’s too risky.”

“If
we don’t get it out now, she’ll lose it,” Tempani argued.

“And
if you do, I’ll lose her,” he snapped. “Think of something else.”

“There
is nothing else. She is losing too much blood. I have to get it out if she is
to have any hope.”

“Do
it,” Leandra croaked. “Save my baby.”

Colbert
opened his mouth to object, but the Shiasa spoke first. “Be quiet or get out,” she
growled. “Your wife has made her choice clear.”

Tempani
held the knife in her quivering hands and raised it to Leandra’s belly. She
made a cut along her bump and thrust her hands into her exposed stomach. She
clasped her hands around the baby.

“Hold
it open!” She screamed as she struggled to free the baby.

Her
grandmother rushed forward and with a strength that she conjured from within,
she held open the folds of her stomach. Tempani pulled the baby out, but it
wasn’t crying.

“He’s
stopped breathing. Bring him back. Send a small jolt into his heart. Just a
small one.”

She
nodded and pressed a finger to his chest. Her body jerked as she sent some of
her life force into the baby. Nothing happened. She heard Leandra screaming
behind her. Tempani panicked. She had to save this baby for her. This time she
pressed two fingers against his chest. They both jolted. The sound of his wail
brought tears to her eyes. She held him out and placed him on Leandra’s chest.

“He’s
beautiful,” she cooed.