The Treason Blade (Battle for Alsaar Book 1) (17 page)

He swallowed.
“We had been with the Osguaru for two months and it was the evening before the
morning of a serious raid when I was filled with the strangest desire to return
home. I informed Varyk and the others but it was decided we had given our word
and must honor it.” He shook his head. “So I ignored the feeling and went into
battle. The raid was a success. The majority of the invaders were killed and
the Osguaru lands were deemed safe enough for us to return. The Osguaru leader
wanted to shower us with wealth and feasts but I could wait no longer and
prepared to depart, if necessary, by myself. Varyk gave our regards and we
headed for home.” Traevyn took a deep breath. “I thought I would kill my horse
that day the way I rode, so deep was my conviction of despair. It must have
infected the others because we all rode as if evil pursued us.” Pain burned the
back of his throat as memories came flooding back. “But the evil was before
us.”

Ishar was
silent and still, as if held too tightly between the urge to flee the coming
horror and a desire to know the truth.

Traevyn
continued. “We could see the dark smoke fanning across the sky even before we
entered our lands. We came upon the first of many camps.” He shook his head,
his lungs squeezed tight by branded memories. His voice was hoarse as he
continued. “They were burned to the ground. Bodies had been dishonored and
burned, most beyond recognition. Each camp we came upon was the same. There was
only death. We found no one alive,” he ground out viciously.

Ishar took a
step back at the violence in his voice. He could still feel her light touch on
his arm.

Traevyn
continued. “There were loved ones dead and loved ones missing. We knew of only
one group of people who would have dared do this butchery.”

“The Tourna,”
Ishar stated firmly and with growing anger. Traevyn watched her close her eyes
to hide the pain he knew was reflected in his own.

He nodded.
“At later camps we found the bodies of slain Tourna men our woman had managed
to kill, but no matter where we went, we found no Raanan people alive.” Traevyn
took a step and turned from the view of the ocean. He felt Ishar turn with him,
her fingers a constant reminder of her steady firmness to hear what he had to
say. “We tended to the dead and mourned apart from each other. All had lost
someone. Some when they found their relatives’ bodies lying in ruin on the
ground. Those of us who found nothing mourned also because we knew these bodies
had not been found because these were people the Tourna had taken as slaves to
be sold,” he said with empty eyes.

“At every
camp, once the burying was done, we burned what little the Tourna had missed,
what we could not carry with us. And when we had seen to our people, we turned
our eyes on the Tourna. We set out after them, searching for any sign of
Raanans who might still live, but the Tourna are crafty. They move their cargo
fast, leaving warriors behind to face any threat. We came upon Tourna after
Tourna but no Raanans.” Traevyn turned his burning gaze on Ishar. “Not one.
After weeks of searching, we let our despair fade and anger grow. We decided if
we could not find our people, we would let the Tourna know of our displeasure.
In anger we set out and sought revenge.”

“But there
are so few,” Ishar stated, puzzled.

Traevyn
smiled but he knew there was no joy within its confines, only bitterness.
“There were once many more of us. For several years we became a thorn the
Tourna could not remove from their side. We killed and killed and showed no
mercy. But no matter how many lives we took, there were still so many more of
them.”

Ishar
shivered. “And you never found any of your people?”

He shook his
head, overcome by the sudden pain that rippled through him.
“None
alive.
The Tourna must have sent many on their outgoing ships to other
lands, but we have no idea where they might be. We are not shipbuilders. In the
end we had to bury in our minds even those who might still be alive. Varyk was
the first to realize that eventually the Tourna would hunt us to the ground. We
were not enough to destroy them. They had worried our numbers down so we are as
you see us: few in numbers and growing less with each battle.”

Ishar
frowned. “You are all that are left of your warriors?”

Traevyn shook
his head. “Some warriors disagreed with Varyk’s assessment and stayed in the
Tourna lands, but they are more than likely dead by now. As we would be if we
had stayed.”

She stepped
close once more. He saw the comfort in her eyes, in the way her hand brushed
down his arm. “Why did you not return to your native lands?” Ishar asked.

He sighed.
“We could not bear to set foot on the lands that so reminded us of all that we
had lost and we no longer had the numbers to secure our homeland, so we sought
new lands and eventually came to this island. But even here the hand of the
Tourna reaches to grasp and destroy.” Traevyn bent over and spit into the
earth. He glanced back with weary but steady eyes. His voice was resolute as he
continued. “I am tired of the Tourna taking and razing what they do not
consider valuable. The people of this island have allowed our presence and
given us a home. I will defend it with all I have in me. I will not be moved
again. A stand must be made.” His voice tightened. “We must hold firm.”

He knew the
moment Ishar realized her left hand was rubbing up and down his arm. She
abruptly removed it and stepped away. Traevyn could still feel the warmth. He
turned and pointed back in the direction of the Hadwri, changing the subject to
a lighter note to help to drive away the haunting memories. His voice still
held a ragged edge. “The Hadwri would take only a month to rebuild with many
people. However our resources are spread much thinner so this restoration may
take slightly longer.”

Ishar said
nothing about the change in topic, only added, “If Varyk and my father work out
a truce, I am certain he will send soldiers to aid you in whatever areas are
needed, including ones such as these.”

Traevyn took
a deep cleansing breath. “We will need all the men—I mean, all the warriors
your people can spare to deflect the brunt of the Tourna attack that will
arrive here.”

The mood had
been lifted at his stumble of words. Ishar laughed and moved away from him and
back to Simi’s side. “Does it still bother you that my people allow women to
fight in
battle.
” She tilted her head as she glanced
back. “Be honest.”

“Where have I
heard that before?” He judged her comments carefully. “Yes and no.”

“Yes and no,”
Ishar repeated with a frown. “What kind of answer is that?”

Traevyn came
around and watched as Ishar undid the straps holding their meal to the saddle.
“No, because you are a good fighter and I feel you would be an asset beside me
on the battlefield.”

Ishar slung
the food satchel over her shoulder. She reached for the drink flasks. “And
yes?”

He sighed and
grabbed the reins of both horses and followed her to a resting spot beneath a
large tree. Traevyn dropped the reins and the horses began to graze. “I have
seen the battlefield. I have seen the death of many friends. I say the yes
because I do not want the sight of a woman cut down on the battlefield.”

Ishar settled
on the grass and spread the food. At his answer she stilled herself for a
moment,
then
glanced up with a frown. “I promised
myself I would not let you anger me,” she patted the ground beside her, “but
you are pushing the limits of my patience. Sit.”

Traevyn
lowered himself across from her. The food lay between them. “You asked that I
be honest.”

She passed
him a drink flask. “I did. However, women are cut down every day and they are
nowhere near a battlefield.”

Traevyn
winced as memories of the past flashed forward. “I understand. Women and
children die every day and not on a great field of battle.”

Her look was
resolved.
“Exactly.”

“True,” he
agreed with a nod. “But in battle there is a greater chance it will happen.”

“No soldier,
if trained well, will fall with ease.” She narrowed her eyes, shook her head and
passed him bread and meat as she continued. “So it would stand to reason it
would bother you if Ber or any of the other men were lost in battle.”

Traevyn
blinked.
“Of course.”

“Then I am
surprised you wish to see them fight,” the hint of a dark smile played at her
lips as she leaned back against the trunk of the tree to eat.

His eyes
narrowed. “That is different.”

“No,” she
said, trying to laugh and chew at the same time. “It is your attitude that is
different. Everything is really still the same. War is war. We are friends and
no one wants to see their friends die. That is how I feel. Whether they are
women or men, they are all fellow warriors and I do not want to see any of them
fall in battle, but I would not have them anywhere but by my side when it comes
to a fight.”

Traevyn
nodded in agreement. “That feeling I understand and agree with. It is just that
I still find myself having to grow used to the thought of you in battle.” He
looked perplexed. “Have I not already said you are competent and worthy?”

“True,” Ishar
nodded, “but you forget
,
I have already been in battle
with the Tourna and the Lute.” She leaned back and pulled up her black leather
overguard and undershirt to reveal her side. A jagged scar ran under her ribs.
“A Lute lance.”
She leaned over farther and pointed to
another scar that ran from her side and disappeared around the back.
“A Tourna sword.”
She shifted and sat back up. “I have a
Tourna ax mark on my calf. I am lucky it did not take off my leg.” Ishar
shrugged. “It was a moment of carelessness.” She pulled up the sleeve of her
left hand to reveal
her bare
arm, “And now, a Raanan dagger scar.”

Traevyn felt
his insides tighten with each new scar she revealed. The last broke his calm
and his look turned dark. “I find nothing amusing about those scars. Any one of
them could have killed you.”

Ishar picked
up the bread and broke off a piece as she stared thoughtfully into space.
“Well, maybe not
that Raanan dagger scar
. I do not
think the warrior was giving it his all—”

Traevyn reached
across and grabbed Ishar with a hand around each shoulder. He dragged her
close. “You little fool,” he spat out in anger. “This is serious.”

She frowned,
anger began to smolder within the edges of her expression. The bread dropped
from her fingers. “I know that, Traevyn,” she stated very slowly and quietly.
Ishar took her hands and abruptly brushed away his hold. “But I refuse to sit
and dwell on it. I had enough time doing that whenever my body needed to heal
after each wound. Will you tell me you have never shared about the wounds of
battle with other warriors during a time of banter and fellowship?” She stood
and turned away. “I thought us strong enough friends for you to understand
this.” She breathed deep as if to regain control of
herself
,
then reached out and traced her fingers down the bark of the tree nervously.
She sighed, “Perhaps we are not.”

Traevyn
hesitated and then stood. He watched her for a moment, the play of gold that
fell in a ragged short length, the bold, stiff stance that spoke of hurt as she
faced away. He stepped over the food and stepped up behind her. Traevyn lifted
his hands to touch her shoulders. He watched her shoulders tense as she felt
his presence and his hands hesitated. “I am sorry. I do not want to see you
hurt and I know it is wrong to say that to you and not to the others but yes,
it would bother me. I do not know what to say but that.” He laid his hands
gently on her shoulders.

Ishar did not
turn but he felt her relax ever so slightly. “Would you speak such things to
Eira?” she asked, perplexed.

He tried to
hide his smile. “I have concerns for Eira but no, it is not my place to sit and
worry over Eira’s choices. It is Varyks’.

Ishar turned
under his hands with a frown. “And what makes it your place to sit and worry
about me, Traevyn? I am not to you what Eira is to Varyk.”

Traevyn
stared at her, uncertain as to what to say. “Ishar…”

He wondered what expression he wore draped upon his
face. Apprehension flickered in Ishar’s eyes and her gaze drew downward toward
his hands which were a steady weight upon her shoulders. Her eyes flickered
forward as she stared at his chest. He watched as her breath caught and
confusion grew in her green eyes.

Traevyn
swallowed nervously. “Perhaps there is more between us than you are willing to
admit. Perhaps we are more similar to Eira and Varyk than you might think.”

Ishar shook her head as she looked at him and from
out of the confusion came recognition. Traevyn knew the moment Ishar
understood. Her nose flared, her body went rigid and she jerked her head back
as if in denial. The recognition turned to horror. Ishar jerked away from him
and took several steps back.

“Ishar,” he
began.

She shook her
head and held up her hands. “No,” she said in rising bewilderment. “No. Do not
speak such.” She took another step back. “I am a warrior of my people. You know
what that means.” Her breath was ragged as she looked around seeking purpose.
“We should move on. The ride was stupid. We have so much to do, to put in
order. I am certain you have other duties to attend to, things that need to be
done to prepare—” Her voice trailed off and she knelt and shoved the food into
the satchel. Ishar bound to her feet as Traevyn approached, like a deer about
to bolt. Her expression was tight, her face drawn. “We should go. I had
forgotten. I have obligations back at the holding.”