The Treason Blade (Battle for Alsaar Book 1) (3 page)

Lysandr’s
black eyes bore into her. “I am not a Lute. I am not so forgiving.”

Eira put her hand on Lysandr’s shoulder. “Calm
yourself, friend. I am not your enemy. And I understand your slow ability to
trust. But my father has declared that our future depends on unification. I see
a truth in his words and so does Varyk. Please, while the Haaldyn is here there
is a need for peace to rule our minds and actions. See that the men start
nothing.”

Lysandr
bristled at her words. “The trouble will not come from us.”

Eira raised a
brow and stated calmly. “Then I fail to see how this lone woman can disrupt our
holding and cause war in a handful of days.” She proceeded past him but paused.
“Remember my words, Lysandr.”

Without
waiting for a response, Eira continued down the steps. At the bottom she gave a
low nod before extending greetings, “I am Eira, Lady of Taryn and I greet you,
Ishar of the Haaldyn.”

*

Ishar stared
at the woman standing before her. The Lute stood nearly as tall as she. Up
close, swirling markings trailed along the woman’s forearms. The Lute tattoos
indicated that the woman was skilled in the use of a bow. Ishar bowed her head.
“Thank you for your hospitality, Lady Eira. I bring the greeting of the Haaldyn
to Taryn and words of peace such as we have spoken to your father in the past.”

Lysandr made
his way down the steps and past them with a brusque nod. His narrowed gray eyes
flickered toward Ishar for a moment. Then he made his way across the yard,
through the gate and into the outer holding.

Eira appeared
unruffled by Varyk’s second in command’s lack of protocol. She nodded at
Ishar’s words and smiled. “Consider yourself welcome to Taryn.
Mena hyuar ae branue fuogr.
May our hospitality prove
generous and forever in your favor. Now, please come with me.”

The two women
made their way up the steps and into the main fortress. Ishar followed Eira
through the main doors and into an entryway. The broad, short hallway quickly
dumped into the main hall. There were two large hearths situated on each
opposing wall and another large door opposite her. Servants were busy readying
a fire. Several tables were pushed against the side walls. The surroundings
were similar at Ayden. The tables, tucked away for talking and business during
the day, were pushed out for the evening meal when many might gather.

Eira continued across the open room and through the
opposite doorway at the other end and took a left. Another left followed and
Ishar shadowed her host. They came to a stairway. The inner areas were well
lit, Ishar noted, as she followed Eira. At the top of the stairs: to the right
she could see an overlook that peered over and down into the main hall. Eira
kept straight, down the hallway. It ended directly at a door before taking a
sharp right. Ishar could see where the hall continued on toward a far wall. A
click had her attention focused back to her hostess. Eira pushed down on the
door’s latch with her right hand and pushed. Ishar followed and they both
entered a spacious room.

Eira took a
perfunctory glance around the room as if examining
details,
then turned toward Ishar. “Please, make yourself comfortable,” she stated
kindly, “I will send someone to you for the evening meal and another to ready a
fire in the hearth. I know our air is probably much warmer than you are used to
but it still gathers a chill during the evening. Take the time to put away your
things and rest from your travels. I know they have been long and you might
wish to rest.”

And I will be out of your hair for an hour
or so
, Ishar thought,
so you can
decide how to deal with me
. She smiled graciously at Eira and said
diplomatically, “Thank you. A little rest would be nice. It has been a long
ride, though enjoyable for the most part. I have never been this far south. It
is quite lovely.”

Eira slipped
her a smile. “And far greener, I would gather, than your northern homeland.”
She gave a brisk nod. “My father has spoken of the beauty of your land when he
visited your father last year. Perhaps soon I will see this beauty for myself.
Though, I will be honest, I do not look forward to your frigid winters.” Eira
bowed her head. “I will see you at the evening meal,” she stated softly and
exited the room, pulling the door closed behind her.

Ishar set her
bags on the bed. She turned and studied the room. It was solidly built with at
one window. Walking over, she unfastened the tight draping and looked out,
leaning over the cold stone ledge. She could see the building that housed the
horses set against the far wall of the inner compound, close enough that she
could check on Simi. There were two buildings between her and the horse
shelter. One looked to be a storage place for hay. She had already spied the
granary buildings set close to the front of the inner wall. The other smaller
building was probably for Varyk’s warriors. Barracks for the Britai had been
situated to the right inside the first gate. The Raanan warrior she had spoken
to earlier did not appear to have the patience of being housed with the
inexperienced Britai. She knew she would not.

Cool evening air blew into the room and brushed
across her face. Ishar enjoyed the breeze as she made a note that there was a
gate that came directly into the inner compound between the horse shelter and
the granaries, but the heavy doors were shut and appeared locked by three thick
beams. Above it and at spots all around the wall were guard houses where men
were stationed. It appeared that Varyk kept a tight house, Ishar noted, as she
pushed the draping back into place and glanced inward. Her own door had a solid
lock on the inside. Good. Perhaps she would not have to defend against having
her throat slit in the middle of the night by a Lute or Britai with vengeance
on their mind. Ishar sighed and moved to unlatch her bags.

*

Lysandr
walked up and leaned on the bar. He took the drink Jaya offered and drained it
in one sip. He passed it back and waited without speaking as she filled it
again.

The warriors
watched his brooding actions. Ber could
take no more. He rose from the bench, walked over to the bar and slammed his
empty mug hard. His black eyes glared at Lysandr as he spoke. “Well? Are the
rumors true?” Though shorter than the rest of his fellow Raanans, Ber was thick
with muscle and strong as an ox. His clean shaven head gave him a forbidding
appearance that rattled most. Add to that, abundant energy and a short temper.
Ber was a man given a wide berth by many.

Lysandr was
not so disturbed. He flicked a glance at Ber before returning his attention to
Jaya and the drink she held out to him. He took it with a nod and drank deep,
before setting it down and facing them. Most of his fellow Raanans had only
recently returned to the holding from an afternoon of hunting and scouting.
Lysandr sighed.
“Yes, Ber.
The stranger was a
Haaldyn.”

Ber’s jaw
tightened. He took his drink and slammed it down again. Jaya frowned and picked
up the cup. She refilled it and set it back down before reaching over and
running her fingers across his cheek in a calming motion. Ber looked at the
Britai woman to whom he was pledged and smiled softly. The scowl returned when
he glanced back at Lysandr.

“Why would a
Haaldyn enter here?” Glyndwr asked. The youngest of the bunch, he was usually
the first to voice the concerns on everyone’s mind. His thick, wavy black hair
barely came to his shoulders. He had not joined in drinking. His cup was set
before him and he was slowly turning it around with his fingers as blue eyes
stared into its depths.

“What was the
Haaldyn like?” Davaris spoke up. The tallest among them, he was also the
biggest and the strongest. Like Ber, he chose to keep his hair close cut,
though one could see some brown was visible. His dark brown eyes, one of which
was heavily scarred, studied Lysandr as he sought for an answer, but then
Davaris studied everyone. To be such an able warrior, he was also one of the
quietest, the opposite of Ber. It seemed strange that they would be close
friends.

Lysandr
shrugged. “She was a Haaldyn.
Ishar, daughter of Ryen, of the
Haaldyn.”

“She?”
Gavin set his propped up feet down and leaned forward
eagerly. “Was she pretty, this Haaldyn?” Gavin’s brown locks fell past his
shoulders and his golden eyes smiled as he waited for an answer. Gavin always
favored the ladies. Or more to the point, the ladies always favored him.

“Female. They
sent a bloody female,” Ber roared. “I am insulted.”

Gavin looked
toward Ber. “You forget,” he noted softly, “Haaldyn woman who have warrior
status have equal standing with their men. No insult was meant. And she is the
daughter of Ryen, the leader of the Haaldyn.”

For the first
time Traevyn looked up. His black eyes pierced Lysandr. “She wore the tattoo?”
He leaned against the far wall as he listened to the conversation. There was no
drink in his hands. Instead his fingers moved over an arrow, checking the shaft
and flight for imperfections.

Lysandr
nodded.
“On her left cheek.”

Ber snorted.
“Who ever heard of marking your women so they could remember their place? I
suppose she wears her hair chopped off?”

“The men wear
the same mark and their hair the same length,” Glyndwr said.

“Seems like a
strange practice, if you ask me, this tattoo.” Ber stood and paced the length
of the table.

Traevyn’s
eyes flickered up for a moment before glancing back down at his work. “Eira
wears marks of skill upon her arm.”

“Yes, but hers do not mark her in a manner that
determines her lack of womanhood.” Ber snorted.
“Though it is
unnatural for a woman to want to fight.
Women have their place, mind
you. I just do not believe it is leading men into battle.”

Lysandr
smiled as he looked down into his drink. “I would not say that in Eira’s
presence if I were you.”

Ber snorted.
“Eira knows my mind. Besides, Lute woman fight when a war comes upon them. They
do not desire to go off into battle for the rest of their life like the Haaldyn
women.”

“Perhaps this
is a time to better understand the Haaldyn now that we have one amongst us,”
Davaris said. His glance had turned from Lysandr and he stared down into his
drink thoughtfully.

“Understand,”
Ber roared. “What is to understand? They cannot be trusted. Ask the Lute! They
have been fighting them for over a hundred years, and we have all had our own
run-ins with them.”

Traevyn set
the arrow down and picked up another one. He never looked up as he continued
the inspection of the weapons. His straight black hair was hacked off at the
base of his neck. It fell forward now, hiding his face. “We were at war with
them. They were the Lutes’ enemies so they were our enemies. They have kept the
peace for two years. Perhaps Davaris is right. We should learn more about this
enemy, especially now that another enemy crouches at our door.”

Glyndwr
turned a considerate glance toward Lysandr. “You think that is why she is here?
The Tourna?”

Lysandr
heaved a sigh and nodded.
“Possibly.”

“But can they
be trusted?” Gavin broke in with a frown.

Lysandr
emptied his cup and set it down with a final thump. He rose and turned to go.
He paused and looked back. “That remains to be seen. If you have any more
questions, why do you not just ask her yourself at the evening meal? That is if
you can stomach sitting across from a Haaldyn and eating at the same time.”
With a few words, Lysandr made his sentiments known, and his jaw tightened.
“Let us just hope that Varyk returns and soon,” he muttered. Lysandr stalked
out of the public gathering place. His black eyes flickered to the main
fortress and his thoughts to the Haaldyn within.

Ishar chose to leave off armor. Wearing protective
clothing to the evening meal held great possibilities of encouraging the wrong
impression. She decided to change to comfortable clothing that would be more
appropriate for an evening meal with intended allies. The loose-fitting but
shaped, long blue wool tunic split on the sides to right above the knees. The
sleeves dangled flowing and wide and stopped at the elbows. Under it, she wore
the same style of pants, as before, but these were made of a finer, softer
material. A Haaldyn warrior’s clothing was at all
times
practical and battle ready. Under the tunic, cinched high on her right thigh
was a short heavy dagger called a dwæn. No Haaldyn warrior ever went
weaponless. Both the gown and pants had intricate embroidery and delicate
beading; an oddly feminine slant to warriors who had turned away from most
things that defined them as women.

Ishar ran her fingers through her short chopped
strands, unraveling any snares. Most Haaldyn warriors kept their hair either
reasonably short or braided tightly. It would not do for your hair to get you
killed in battle, though even a Haaldyn woman who was not a warrior did not
wear her hair undone and long down her back like the Lute and Britai but kept
it at least braided and, if possible, tucked up. To do otherwise was the sign
of a loose woman. Among the Haaldyn, only the Wædym did such things. They were
the common and immoral women who sold their favors on the streets to men, and
most of them had the common sense to cover some of their length with a veil.
Ishar smoothed the clothing and took deep breaths to ready
herself
.
She was prepared when the deep knock rang out.

The woman who
entered was of average height with the pale skin of the Lute and shoulder
length light brown hair. She paused at the sight of Ishar. Her deep brown eyes
showed no emotion as she spoke. “I am Audris. Lady Eira has assigned me to see
to any needs you might have. I will show you to the main hall and then see to
the hearth and start a fire to warm the room. She rubbed her arms briskly even
as she spoke.

The room was
cool but there was no harsh chill that Ishar could detect. However, she did not
want to insult the woman. Eira had said the night could become quite cold. If
it did not, she could always undo the draping and let the breeze in when she
returned. Ishar smiled and nodded to the Lute woman. “Thank you, Audris.” She
added with a cautionary tone, “But not a heavy flame, please.”

Audris did
not return the smile but at least there was no outright hostility in her eyes.
There was just the same cool politeness that Lysandr had shown. The woman gave
a nod of her head.
“Of course.
Our weather is much
milder than the northern region of Alsaar. I will remember.”

Ishar
motioned to her discarded shirt and pants. “Could I be shown a place to clean
my clothes? I have several days of wear on these and while I have a fresh pair,
I need to attend to them.”

Audris gave another nod. “It will be taken care of.
Please, think no more on it.” She motioned toward the door.
“If
you please?”

Ishar thought
of arguing, but simply nodded and followed the woman out the door. As she
walked, dread tightened her stomach. Would she be able to even eat? The stirred
feeling within her was the same as on the day of a battle. Ishar did not look
forward to the coming meal for she was certain Eira would not be the only one
in attendance. She tried to determine if she was in the mood for a battle of
words. She was not certain which would disturb her more, fighting words or
feigned politeness reigning over the evening meal. A thought came to her as she
followed Audris down the stairs: perhaps an honest assessment would let
everyone know where they stood. Ishar straightened her back and lifted her head
as she came to the first floor and turned a corner. On the other hand, she
represented her people this night. Ishar took a deep breath as she went through
the open doorway into the main hall. She decided the best action was to be
gracious to her hosts and guard her tongue. Once inside, Audris gave a brisk
bow of her head and a show of her hand toward the part of the room where Eira
stood, then turned and left the room.

The two large
hearths now burned with strong fires. Torches lined the walls of the well-lit
room. Long tables had been pulled to the middle of the room, and even as she
walked toward Eira, food was in the process of being set along the side next to
one of the fires by the servants. Benches were positioned by the tables. Eira
stood before the fireplace to the right of the doorway where Ishar had entered.
Ishar waited a moment until Eira had finished words with another
woman,
a Britai girl who wore her dark brown hair long like
Eira’s but pulled back with combs. The Britai girl gave a bow to Eira and
walked toward and by Ishar. As she passed by, her gray eyes flickered to Ishar.
Ishar’s eyes widened at the vehement hatred that solidly met her in the short
glare. Then the girl slipped by and through the doorway.

Ishar slipped a neutral veneer over her face. She
wanted no troubled thoughts to show and Eira had seen nothing of the exchange.
The Lute woman now wore a long red gown with a draped brown belt across her
waist. Ishar smiled and gave a short bow before speaking. “Lady Eira. Thank you
for attaching Audris to me for the duration of my visit. It was thoughtful.”
She said this with a formal politeness. More than likely Audris had been placed
to keep an eye on her movements within the holding but it was no more than she
herself would have done if the situation had been reversed.

Eira returned
the nod with a brief grimace. “Please, it is Eira, nothing more.” A smile
brightened her expression. “I am glad you like Audris. When I came to live
here, she was among a group of Lute who insisted on following me to my new
home. She is a great source of comfort whenever I have homesickness for my
native lands.”

Ishar nodded.
“Your father resides in the dense woodland beneath the deep cliffs of Hwarsträ,
the start of the Twyndur Mountain Range.”

Eira nodded.
“Though we have always called the cliffs Swarbua. ‘Soft shadows’ has always
held a much better appeal than ‘blood drop.’”

Ishar winced.
Less than five minutes into the conversation and already she had managed to
insult her hostess by reminding her of the battle of Lendyr, where the Haaldyn
had engaged the Lute and ended up driving many off the cliffs to a bloody death
at the bottom. She bit her lip. Perhaps there was wisdom in warriors not being
sent as negotiators of peace.

Eira must
have caught her expression. She paused and gave Ishar a weak smile. “Forgive
me. The name you call the cliffs has stood for your people for nearly a hundred
years. It is a past hurt for my
people that has
probably long been forgotten by yours.” Eira shook her head sadly. “Nothing is
ever as easy as it seems.” She paused and sighed. “And after I swore I would
deal with our futures and not the past.” She gave a concentrated glance toward
Ishar, her look troubled as she continued. “Let me start again. I wish the
conversation between us to be true.” Eira spoke as if finding sure footing. “I
am sure the coming days will be trying. I am also certain that I will
undoubtedly say or do something in that time without thinking that will
probably have the effect of insulting you. Let us start these coming talks by
trying to be honest and accepting with one another and more than anything, slow
to anger.

The earlier
tension rolled out of Ishar and she smiled. “I agree.”

Eira relaxed.
“Good.” She gave a light laugh. “Then there is only the evening meal to
survive. I will apologize beforehand. While there is hope peace might reign on
everyone’s mind in view of the coming
Tourna, that
is
not always the case. And while all of Varyk’s Raanan warriors are in perfect
control in battle, a few tend to relax and speak what is on their minds here at
home. But Varyk would have it no other way. He feels people should always say
what is on their mind.” She smiled again; humorous irritation splayed across
her face as she finished, “No matter how much trouble it can occasionally
cause.”

Ishar found
she could not help but laugh. Eira was an excellent hostess, with the potential
of becoming a good friend.

They made
their way toward the table. The servants had finished with the placement of the
food and stood at the sides, ready to refill whatever was required. Since Varyk
was not at home, Eira made her way to the head of the table and sat. She
motioned Ishar to her left side. Ishar moved to join her. Eira leaned over and
spoke conspiratorially, “Who knows, maybe they will stay away tonight and we
can speak in private about the great hopes we have for the future of our two
peoples.”

That was not
to be the case.

*

Lysandr was
the first to make an appearance. He slipped into the seat on Eira’s right side
and gave another polite nod to Ishar. Eira saw Ishar bristle. Movement caught
her eye and she watched as Gavin and Glyndwr made their way to the table. Both
unabashedly studied Ishar before nodding to Lysandr as they sat. They chose
positions about halfway down on Ishar’s side. Jusa entered behind them and sat
on Lysandr’s side but a bench down from him. Ber’s entrance was anything but
calm. The thud of his hand hitting the door announced his presence, along with
his raucous laugh. Jaya and a quiet Davaris entered right behind him. All three
sat farther down from Jusa. Ber sent a scowl Ishar’s way as he slid onto the
bench. Eira groaned inwardly even as she greeted them and motioned for the
servants to begin serving the meal. As the servants came forward, the last of
the resident Raanans slipped in. Traevyn, silent as ever, entered and took the
chair next to Lysandr. He too, objectively studied Ishar in a forward manner.

Eira glanced
at Ishar. The young woman stared back at the men and Jaya with a veiled
expression. She did not appear to be insulted by the intense looks. Eira gave a
slight nod in her direction. “Ishar, I will make the introductions.” Eira
motioned to her right side. “You have met Lysandr. He is the second-in-command
under Varyk and,” she added with a smile, “a fine swordsman. Next to him is
Traevyn, an expert archer, then Jusa, our Steward. Next to him is Davaris, a
man who can slice through solid stone, so strong is his sword arm. The one
beside him, who is anything but quiet, is Ber, who shows an excellent talent
for Pwuta blades, and finally Jaya, who is pledged to Ber. She helps in
managing the public gathering area.” Ishar gave a nod of silent greeting. Eira
continued, motioning with her left hand. “Past you is Gavin, an excellent ax
thrower and swordsman, then Glyndwr, another fine archer.” Eira’s glance took
in everyone. “And although I am sure you have all heard of her presence, I
would like to introduce Ishar, daughter of Ryen of the Haaldyn. She has been
welcomed into Taryn holding and awaits the return of Varyk. She brings all of
us greetings from Ryen and the Haaldyn people. While she awaits Varyk’s return,
I have extended to her freedom of movement within the holding.”

Eira saw
Lysandr’s shoulders instantly tighten. He would have words with her later for
not talking with him about this. The rest of the warriors would automatically
assume Lysandr had agreed to this and not told them. However she felt the
sudden decision was right. If peace was to come to the island, adjustments
would have to be made. She watched Ber scowl and Glyndwr and Gavin frown.
Davaris, as usual, looked thoughtful. Traevyn gave away nothing. He only turned
his dark gaze and watched her for a moment before he glanced back toward Ishar,
who did nothing to give away that this was news to her as well.

Ber could not
contain himself. He set his cup sharply upon the table and turned to face her.
There was hostility in his voice as he asked, “Do you think that is wise,
Eira?”

“Ber,”
Lysandr warned while he stared straight ahead toward Ishar. Eira could see
Lysandr was angry by her actions.

“Do not ‘Ber’
me, Lysandr. It is an honest question.” He motioned toward Ishar. “She is a
Haaldyn and a soldier. How do we know she is not some Haaldyn spy sent among us
to gather information for her people for the purpose of it being used against
us?”

Anger flared.
Eira stood and faced Ber with livid eyes. “How dare you insult a guest I have
admitted to this holding.” She turned toward Ishar. “Please, forgive this
insult. Ber has no right.”

Ishar cleared
her throat as she calmly reached and took a sip of her drink. “On the
contrary,” She said softly, “He has every right to speak.” Eira felt surprise
ripple through her at Ishar’s words and she saw the emotion reflected also in
Lysandr’s expression. Traevyn remained impassive. Eira watched as Ishar turned
her expression down the table toward Ber. “I would expect no less from a
warrior of my own people if a stranger came amongst them in such a time of
unsettlement. Ber has a care and concern to this holding and to the people who
reside within and without its walls.” Ishar faced Eira. “It will not offend me
if a person were assigned to keep me company during my stay here. They would
also be an able guide when I ride outside the walls. My horse, Simi, will need
exercise daily if I am to keep her in working condition.” Eira opened her mouth
to argue but Ishar shrugged and added, “At least at the beginning,” her glance
took in the entire table, “while we began to comprehend,” she paused, “our
differences.”