The Treason Blade (Battle for Alsaar Book 1) (18 page)

“Obligations?”
Traevyn asked with a narrowed look. “It is
not like you to forget things.” He sighed. “Ishar, would you let me speak?
Please,” Traevyn asked in exasperation as he reached for her arm.

She jerked
her arm back and turned, making her way to Simi. “No,” she said emphatically.
“I will return to the holding. You may come with me if you please or stay here.
The choice is yours.” The mare snapped her head up when Ishar grabbed the reins
and placed both hands on the sides of the saddle. She took a deep breath and
glanced back at Traevyn with a set look. “Please forgive me. I just remembered
that I promised Eira I would help her with a few things. I must be going,” she
turned and mounted in one move.

Traevyn
pressed his lips together in anger. He stepped quickly over to the mare’s side
and grabbed the bridle. He tried to curb his annoyance and failed, his voice
rising in anger. “Now where is the warrior? All I see is a child running away,”
he stated furiously, holding tight to control Simi’s nervous prancing. “You
talk about standing with the rest of us. Why not try to place your actions with
your words? Stand still and talk to me as the warrior you claim to be.”

He knew he
had gone too far. A look of murder crept in Ishar’s narrowed eyes. Her anger
got the better of her. She reacted and lunged from the saddle with a yell. Simi
snorted and cantered away and back toward the gray, who still grazed calmly by
the tree.

Traevyn was
ready. He went down with the brunt of her weight and rolled backwards, throwing
her over. He came to his feet and found her already advancing. Ishar was out
for blood. She aimed a kick at the back of his leg and threw a jab at his
throat, but she was fighting angry. He blocked the kick, caught the jab and
spun her, driving her facedown to the ground with a solid lash out of his boot.
Traevyn threw himself down and pinned her quickly with his weight. She
struggled for a few minutes but his weight was too much. The moment she stopped
resisting, he rolled her over and stared down at her.

Traevyn
sighed, his own anger spent. Remorse crept into its place. He had provoked her.
Still a part of him could not regret that his words had made her stay, even if
it was to fight with him. He winced as her knee tried to find a tender spot.
“Fighting angry rarely gets one what one wants, Ishar,” He muttered.

“Let. Me.
Up,” she growled.
“Now.”
She lay rigid and ready to
attack the moment he released his hold.

Traevyn
smiled grimly. “I think not,” he said comfortably. “I believe I prefer you
here, where you are less lethal while we discuss why you ran so quickly from
our conversation.”

Her eyes were
shuttered. “I do not know what you speak of. I told you. I forgot I promised
Eira I would help her right after lunch.”

He did not
believe for a moment that was the reason why. “That is interesting,” he said,
“especially when one considers that only this morning I heard Eira mention to
Jaya she was riding with Varyk after lunch.” Traevyn made this comment calmly.

Ishar stared
hard at him and frowned. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, which had
to be difficult considering his weight upon her. Her tone was relaxed when she
spoke. “Traevyn, I am sorry for my actions.” She opened her eyes and smiled. It
looked
forced
and did not match the emotion swirling
in her narrowed eyes.
“Fine.
You are right. I do not
have to meet Eira.”

“And?”
He asked.

“And nothing.”
Her tone turned irritably. “I told you. I am
sorry. Let me up.”

He felt her
body relax. Traevyn chuckled and rose, deciding to place trust in her. He was
certain there would be a retaliation waiting for him soon, but not today. He
held out his hand. Ishar’s eyes still promised revenge but she took it and
Traevyn pulled her to her feet. She glowered at him and crossed her arms. “Are
you going to tackle me if I try to leave?” she asked defensively.

Traevyn did
not say a word. He simply took a step toward her. Ishar’s look turned wary.
Traevyn stepped closer. Her brow furrowed and her glance turned uncertain. Her
jaw tightened and she stood stiff, staring back defiantly. Traevyn kept his
smile to himself and took another pace. Their clothes brushed. He stared into
her face. Her eyes flickered uncertainly. He watched the pulse in her throat
start to race. Traevyn reached up a hand and ran it down the side of her face.
Her look wavered and she almost leaned into it but managed to stop herself.

Instead Ishar
reached up and halted his hand with a touch. “Do not.”

“Why?” he
asked, soft and low. The realization hit him that Varyk had been right. With
her rigid upbringing that forbade seeing men as anything other than fellow
warriors, she had no clue how to deal with this situation.

She looked up
with anxious, uncertain eyes. “I cannot do this,” she whispered urgently.
“Please.”

Her skin felt
nice against his fingers.
Soft.
Traevyn ran a finger
along the edge of her tattooed cheek. “I need more than, ‘do not’.”

“Fine,” she
spat. “Then how about the code of honor I swore when I took this mark?” She
pointed to her cheek. “I believe in my people’s laws. I will not blatantly
disobey them. I cannot be a wife or mother while I wear this mark.”

“I have not
asked you to be wife and mother. I am just asking you to admit there is
something between us,” he said gently.

Ishar
continued as if she had not heard his words. “And,” She slapped at his moving
hand, “we are about to go to war. I have to keep my mind focused. I have a
warband to lead. I do not need to deal with this. I cannot lose my focus.”

“What is so
wrong about this?” he countered. “I was not certain at first but at least I am
willing to admit that I care for you.” He wondered if he looked as confused as
she with those spoken words.

Ishar went
stiff at his words, her jaw rigid. “I will not deal with this,” she clenched
her teeth. “You would not ask me to admit unless you wished to know of my
feelings. My feelings will dictate your actions. To admit is to consider, which
is beyond the scope of my life at this moment. I refuse to play this game with
you.”

Traevyn’s
look darkened. “You think this is a game? What, only a Haaldyn can be
honorable?” He let out a ragged breath. “Say what you will but there is something
between us.”

“Look, I do
not know what I—”

He kissed
her. It was not deep or long, barely just a brush of his lips across hers, but
it brought the look of fear back into her eyes.

Ishar backed
away and when he would have followed, put her hands up. “No.” The word was
spoken pleadingly. She shook her head. “Please, Traevyn. Finish what you need
to do here. Let me ride back alone. You were going to check on two other
watchtowers before the afternoon was over. Do that. I will see you when you
return to the holding.” She shook her head again. “I cannot speak of this with
you. I refuse.” The look she gave him was beseeching. “Please, Traevyn?” She
turned without further words and walked to Simi. The mare snorted as Ishar
mounted and turned her in the direction of the holding.

For an
undefined reason, he stayed silent and let her mount and ride away. She glanced
back several times as if she was afraid he might follow. The hilltop remained
hushed and noiseless with his watchful figure. He had spoken all the words she
would hear for now, that had been wholly visible to him within in her panicked
look. Traevyn fought the desire to follow her and watched until she disappeared
over a rise. He closed his eyes and groaned in frustration. Could this
conversation have gone any worse? He had never been great at words. Today had
proved that point. He remembered Glyndwr’s words and frowned. Suddenly the
thought of punching Glyndwr in his pretty face brought Traevyn great pleasure.
He groaned, grabbed the gray’s bridle and made his way down the hill and toward
the Hadwri. He had a long afternoon ride to mull over Ishar’s reaction to his
words.

Once out of sight of the beach, Ishar let Simi’s
reins loosen and she bent low and rode hard and fast in the direction of the
holding. The wind whipped her hair off her face and for a moment she buried her
face in Simi’s mane, relaxing with the steady rhythm of the mare’s body moving
under her. What happened between her and Traevyn under the old tree overlooking
the Hadwri? She groaned. And more importantly, why did she ask herself this
question? Her future held only one answer and it did not include Traevyn. Ishar
had dedicated her life to fighting for her people as a warrior, especially in
this time of coming war. She would not have all the training go to waste for
this striving feeling of fledging desire for a man, who until two years
ago,
had been her enemy. She would not destroy her future on
an impulsive urge.

The wind
roared in her ears. The scent of horse mixed with her own and Simi’s long black
hairs framed the blurred landscape before her half closed eyes. Ishar rose back
in the saddle and looked out over the countryside at the rising and falling
mounds of waving green before her and the sparse spotting of trees and bushes.
She pulled back on the reins and settled the mare into a more relaxed pace.
Still the ride back to the holding was over all too quickly, her feelings still
in rolling turmoil. Ishar slowed Simi as they came within view of the gray
walls and the outer gate that stood open. The sight of men along the top wall
seemed far more reassuring than it had the day of her arrival.

Ishar made
her way through the main gate. Davaris waved her over to where he stood by the
men’s barracks.

“Where is
Traevyn?” he asked curiously.

Ishar hoped
that her voice sounded steady as she replied, “He needed to look over some
additional changes to be done at the Hadwri. I decided to ride on back. Traevyn
said he would not be too late,” she added with what she hoped was a cheerful
tone.

Davaris
appeared to accept her words. He nodded. “There is much to be done to ready
that defense. I will go myself in a day or two.” He nodded toward the public
gathering structure with its shaded overhang. “Would you care for something
cool after such a long, and apparently swift, ride back?” Davaris asked as he
took in the dried sweat on Simi’s coat.

Ishar
shrugged as she dismounted. “Simi likes to run and it is such open land. I am
used to a more rocky terrain than this. We are both trying to enjoy it while we
are here.”

“You are
planning to leave us soon?” Davaris queried with a frown, even as he motioned
to Jusa.

Ishar handed
the reins to the Britai warrior with a grateful smile and nod. She stepped into
pace with the Raanan warrior. “My father will come and talks will begin. Of
course, I am certain Haaldyn soldiers will mix with the Lute and Britai forces
if all goes well.” She shrugged again. “However, I am not so certain of my path
or place in this war. My father may want me back at Ayden or stationed along
our coastal waters.”

Davaris’
frown deepened. “But surely he can see that you would make an excellent
transitional officer when these new Haaldyn soldiers arrive. You have
established a fine rapport with Eira and with us and of course, as the daughter
of Ryen, there can be no person of higher stature to replace you.”

Ishar thought
back to her earlier conversation with Traevyn and the traitorous feelings
within her. “I am just saying I am not certain,” she muttered as she slumped
into a seat. “The future will be very chaotic for a while. Nothing is
definitive for any of us.”

Davaris slid
down across from her. “Where does this uncertainty come from? You have not
spoken in such a manner in the time that I have known you.”

“You have not
known me for very long,” Ishar stated abruptly.

A woman
brought two cups and set them down on the table. Davaris gave a nod of thanks
and slid several coins toward her, then slid one of the cups toward Ishar. “Do
not worry. This is not fermented. I like to keep a clear head during the day.”
Davaris rested his back against a wall the bench was bumped up to. “Now back to
this uncertainty. Do you not like it here among us?”

Ishar
steadied her words. “That has nothing to do—”

“Of course it
does. Your father is a man of wisdom. It makes sense to keep you here. Unless
there is a reason you seek to be rid of us?” His gaze was thoughtful. “Has one
of us offended you in some manner?
Ber, perhaps?”

Ishar
blinked.
“Ber?
No, he has been very,” she paused with
a smile, “encouraging of late.”

“Encouraging,”
Davaris said with a chuckle. “Is that what that was? I saw him instructing you
in the use of the pwuta blades the other day. Encouraging is a very polite word
to use.”

“At least he
did not attempt to use the pwuta blades on me,” she commented with a smile. “I
consider anything beyond that to be an improvement.” Her smile faded. “But no,
I have not been offended by any person of late.” Ishar sighed. “Life at times
can just be very confusing.” She held up her hand even as Davaris began to open
his mouth. “And no, I do not want to discuss the subject. It is nothing.” Ishar
held up her glass. “Let us just drink to strong ties and a unified Alsaar.”

“I will drink
to that,” Davaris smiled.

Both leaned
back and let the cool liquid run down their throats as they drained their cups.
Ishar was just about to raise her hand for refills when a soldier shouted out
from the top wall.

She frowned.
“What was that?”

Davaris rose.
“Someone is coming they do not recognize.”

Ishar stood
also. “It appears I will owe you refreshment, Davaris.”

“I will hold you to it,” he said quietly. They
walked out toward the gate.

A soldier leaned overhead. “The rider is dressed in
Haaldyn clothing.”

Her interest
piqued, Ishar followed Davaris toward the gate where a group of soldiers
waited. She peered in the direction of a lone rider closing the distance
rapidly. Recognition flared. She glanced to the warrior standing next to her.
“Davaris, I know this man,” Ishar said. “He is a friend. Let him pass. He may
bring word from my father.”

“It is too
early for the note sent to have reached your main holding and a rider returned
to us with a message,” Davaris said. “Still, if he is someone you recognize as
a friend.” He motioned to the soldiers. “Let him pass.”

As the rider
reached them and drew up, Ishar made her way to him.

Fenric
glanced down from atop a brown gelding still heavy with a winter layer of hair.
Fenric patted the gelding’s neck. “Greetings, Ishar. I am glad to see you in
good health.”

She nodded.
“What brings you south, Fenric?” She asked in surprise.

He laughed.
“I learned on my trip to Ayden what I feared: you made this trip without your
warband and told your father not to send any other soldiers in your
attendance.” Fenric shook his head as if he did not understand her. “You should
know that men and women of your warband pace in Ayden like shackled wolves who
long to be set free.”

“They will
get their chance soon enough,” Ishar said with a smile. “But you still have not
told me what brings you this way.”

He shrugged.
“Well, perhaps it is because I happened to mention that you had not told me I
could not come south, and since I am no longer a soldier in your family’s
retinue it would not be as if I was being ordered by your father to go.”

“So you
came,” Ishar finished, a brow raised in curiosity. “But for what reason?”

Fenric
glowered.
“For what reason?
Your father had a concern
for your safety. You had not sent a message back detailing the events of your
arrival or how you were received. What was your father to think?”

“I know
exactly how he is thinking at this moment,” she laughed. “He is readying his
entourage and my warband to head in this direction.” At her words, Fenric’s
eyes widened. She continued with another chuckle.
“No, not
for war.
A message was sent days ago. My father should have received it
by now. Varyk wants a meeting and the Lute leader, Wyn, will be in attendance.
It has been agreed that only a united Alsaar will defeat the Tourna.”

Fenric
sighed. “Well, at least I can see with my own two eyes that you are well.”

“As you can
see,” She replied simply. Ishar suddenly remembered she was not alone. She
turned and gestured toward Davaris, who came forward. “Fenric, may I present
one of Varyk’s men, Davaris.” Ishar glanced back at Raanan warrior. “Davaris,
this is Fenric. He taught me my first lessons in swordsmanship. He is now a
retired warrior who instructs young children back in his village,” She glanced
back warmly, “But he is still a very valued and respected friend.”

Fenric nodded
respectively toward Davaris.

Davaris
smiled. “Any friend of Ishar’s is welcome into the holding.”

“Even a
Haaldyn?” was Fenric’s doubtful reply.

Davaris
nodded. “Ishar has taught us a Haaldyn is as commendable as friends as they
were opponents. I speak for myself, though I am sure that others share my views
when I say that I look forward to many more friendships developed among your
people.”

Fenric
dismounted and glanced at Ishar. “You have done your father proud,” he said
evenly as he walked around the front of the brown gelding with his reins in his
hands. “I had no clue you yielded such skills as an emissary.”

Ishar felt a
blush creeping up her neck at the words of praise. They felt strange coming
from Fenric who had always been a stern taskmaster. “Come,” she motioned with
her arm, “I am certain Varyk will offer the hospitality of the holding.”

He nodded and
followed her and Davaris into the holding.

*

Later that
evening, Ishar made her way tiredly up the stairs and down the hall. The sight
of Isla closing her door gave her pause.
“Isla?”

The Britai
woman turned. She was wrapped in a cloak of heavy linen. As she watched, Isla
pulled the cloth tighter at her throat with her right hand. She cast a look of
disdain in Ishar’s direction. “Yes?”

“Is there
something from my room that you require?” Ishar asked politely. She kept her
voice calm and low. After the enjoyment of the day she wanted no trouble
tonight.

“Audris asked
me to lay some clothing within your room,” Isla stated caustically. She
sneered. “Do not worry, Haaldyn. Your belongings are safe. Nothing that you
have is of interest to me.”

Ishar
tightened her jaw. She forced a smile. “Thank you, Isla. I appreciate your
willingness to serve your lady with such, graciousness, in that you would lower
your standards and serve a Haaldyn.” She narrowed her gaze as she looked over
the cloak. “It seems a tad warm for the extra warmth.”

Isla
shrugged. “Audris caught me just as I was leaving for the village. I normally
leave by now but they needed my help with the serving. Not that that is any of
your business.” She stepped forward. “Step aside. I need not answer any
questions you pose, Haaldyn.”

Ishar stepped
aside.
“By all means, Isla, leave.
I would not wish to
detain you any longer. Be safe in your leaving.” She said this last statement
sweetly, though a part of her wanted to slap the scorn from the other woman’s
face. Isla moved by and made her way down the hall toward the stairs. Ishar did
not turn her head but a moment later she heard the woman’s movement down the
stone steps.

She frowned and shook her head in disgust but
instead of entering her room, Ishar turned and walked to Eira’s door. She gave
a slight rap of her knuckle.

“Come in,”
Eira’s voice answered.

Ishar pressed
down on the latch and the door gave a click as it opened. Her hand pushed on it
and she walked within the room. Eira sat by the fire working with a needle on a
piece of blue-colored fabric. Ishar gave the door a slight push to close it and
moved toward the fire.

Eira glanced
up. “Where have you been?”

“Well, since
Fenric declined Varyk’s offer to stay inside the fortress and said he would
sleep in the barracks with the other soldiers, I felt the least that I could do
was to go to the gathering place where the soldiers were relaxing and introduce
him to those I know.” Ishar sat on a stool and yawned. “Besides, I owed Davaris
a drink.”

Ishar
stretched her tight neck muscles. It had been difficult to see Traevyn there,
because now she knew why Traevyn managed to stir her up emotionally and it
alarmed her. So the entire evening had been spent staying close to Fenric or
Davaris. She gave Traevyn no leeway to lead her aside. He had finally moved
away stiffly and settled himself at the bar. It was the last sight she had seen
of him when she departed only a short time earlier for the fortress. The night
had been late. Fenric had been in the process of heading to the barracks with
several newfound friends.

Eira eyed her
with interest. “Why are you grinning?”

Ishar
shrugged. “It was good to see a Haaldyn mix so easily with the Britai soldiers.
Even Varyk’s men treated Fenric with respect. I am pleased, that is all.”