The Treason Blade (Battle for Alsaar Book 1) (30 page)

“Yes, my
lord, for the moment the rain has eased from the heavy downpour and the day is
upon us. A glimmer already shines to the east,” the soldier answered.

Ryen walked
toward a bed. Atop it lay a sword and scabbard. He set down the blade that was
in his hand and slid the other sword out, tapping it against his leg as he
turned. Ryen motioned toward Varyk. “Bring him. Let us do this.”

Varyk was
dragged forward through the curtains. He fought against it and received a knee
to the stomach. Gasping, he went down on one knee but was brought back up and
dragged onward. In a moment they were back out in the rain. Varyk blinked back
the water from his eyes and saw Ryen moved with steady patience toward the
holding wall. “Ryen,” he yelled. “You spoke of a witness? I want to see this
witness who would accuse me and my people of such treachery. Do I not at least
deserve this small request?”

Their voices
had drawn the attention of several people and many more began to creep out of
tents to see the happenings. Ryen turned and strode back to Varyk. He stared at
the Raanan severely for a moment. He turned toward a female soldier standing
close by, her hand on her sword. Varyk noticed she wore the same wolf symbol
emblazoned on her chest that Ishar had worn. “Brya, send for Fenric to come,”
he uttered with absolute command.

The woman
bowed and turned, striding off in the direction of a nearby tent.

Varyk looked
to Ryen in shock.
“Fenric?
He was the friend of Ishar
who visited and cut his stay short.” Varyk shook his head. “How can he be our
accuser? He was welcomed to the holding and treated with respect. He saw that
we treated your daughter with the same respect. Whatever else he has told you
are vicious lies.”

Ryen gaze was
one of death. “Why would a man I have known all my life and who helped teach
and instruct Ishar in the beginnings of swordsmanship, a man who has always
been honorable in all his dealings and words, why would such a man lie? And why
should I believe the words of a stranger I barely know over a lifelong friend I
would trust unto death?”

“Thank you,
my lord,” a voice uttered softly behind Varyk. Fenric came forward and pointed
a finger in Varyk’s direction. He focused on Ryen who was before him and spoke
loudly. “This is he, my lord. He used coy words and showered us with many
praises but I saw through his deception to the hate lying in wait beneath. I
warned your daughter to come with me, that we would tell them we were going out
for a ride and simply never come back, but in her good nature she could not see
the evil that resided in this holding and refused.” Fenric’s face fell. “And
now she is dead.”

At his words,
anger began to rise through the crowd. Several more soldiers drew their swords
and bellowed for Varyk’s blood in Ishar’s name.

Fenric
continued, speaking to the crowd. “I should have stayed to die by her side. I
left because I hoped to hurry Ryen to the holding and so let these mangy Britai
see the fury of our men and women and tremble to try anything. But I was too
late. Ishar is dead at their hands and this is their leader. He decided her
fate. Let us decide his.”

Cries of
‘kill him’ rang out. More soldiers drew their weapons. Varyk realized Fenric’s
words had stirred up a lust for justice from the people. They wanted blood
because of Ishar’s supposed death. They would kill him and move quickly on to
the village in their anger and desire for vengeance if he could not halt this
rage. He looked at Ryen and pleaded. “This man’s words are false. Do not do
this. It might very well destroy the peace you and your daughter have fought so
hard for.”

“If this is
what we are to expect from your peace,” Fenric sneered, “I rather believe we
would do better on our own and let the Lute and Britai stay within
their own
lands.” He looked around at the crowd. “We are
more than capable of defending ourselves against the Tourna. We have done so in
the past. We will do so in the future.” A roar of Haaldyn pride rose from the
crowd at his words.

Ryen held up
a hand and silence slid upon the people before him. “That is not a decision to
be decided tonight.” He looked at Varyk. “I asked this man for one simple
thing. My daughter, returned safely. He denies me this and after the words of
Fenric I find I fear the worst.” Ryen pointed to Varyk. “He would have me give
him time to produce her. He says she is off with his men, that there is no ploy
at work here, that I must trust him.” Ryen looked at his people. “Yet we all
know a Lute force will be here within a few days. He means to buy himself time
for his ally to arrive.”

“If that were
the case, why would I not stay safe within my holding?” Varyk argued savagely.
“I have done nothing to harm this peace. Your daughter lives and you will
regret very much what you do.” He saw several of the Haaldyn closest to him
seem to take in the measure of his words.

Fenric must
have seen it also. He stepped forward and beseeched to Ryen, placing a hand on
the weapon by his side. “By this sword I have worn in service to you for over
thirty years I swear an oath on my life and my honor that all I say is true.”
Fenric pointed a finger at Varyk. “Listen to him and in two days we will face
an enemy on our flank and our front. He means to destroy us as he did your
daughter. Your daughter,” Fenric pleaded, “your beautiful daughter, Ishar, who
came to this place full of hope and desperate for the peace these people
claimed was readily available for all of us.” He spit on the ground for effect.
“They mean us no peace.
Only death.”

Ryen’s eyes
hardened. He glanced at the soldiers. “Bring him.”

Varyk was
grabbed and hauled forward. He fought against his bonds but was dragged
mercilessly forward toward the holding. Ryen ordered them to stop outside of
the range of arrows but close enough that Varyk knew anyone along the wall
would have a perfect view of what was about to happen. Fire burst upon his left
as the grease of animals was lit to light the lessoning night. Varyk was shoved
to his knees. The three soldiers drew their swords and backed away, giving room
to Ryen. They stayed nearby, ready with drawn weapons.

Ryen stepped
up. He turned and faced his people. “What I do now I do for my daughter and for
my people, so all may know the Haaldyn will not stand by and allow injustice to
occur to our people outside our lands.”

Varyk closed his eyes and prayed silently. Jusa,
whatever you have done, please do not have allowed Eira out of her room. Do not
let her see this. He opened his eyes and watched as his executioner raised the
blade above his head and angled it for a downward swipe.

Ishar nudged her mare faster as the holding came
into view. The downpour had reduced observations to nothing. It was only as she
and the Raanan warriors made their way from the back of the holding, toward the
front and main gate that the rain had begun to ease enough to offer greater
visibility. Her father was already encamped. Numerous tents loomed in front of
them. Off to her left a horseman approached their mounts. He wore Haaldyn garb.

“Halt,” he
ordered, raising a hand, “By order of Ryen of Haaldyn. I order you to stop.”

Ishar turned
to confront the individual. Better her than any of the exhausted Raanans. All
were weary, dirty, and definitely wet. Several were injured. None were in the
mood for gentle talk and a persuasive tongue. Ishar knew she needed to be the
voice of reason. She sat straighter in the saddle and tried to look as
dignified as possible for one drenched to the skin as she studied the Haaldyn
who was slender and appeared young. This one had seen no battle. “Who orders
the daughter of Ryen to halt?” She asked with a sharp tongue.

The Haaldyn
stopped and stared with wide eyes. He urged his horse closer and studied her.
“But you are dead,” he exclaimed in shock, “We have it on good authority.”

“I bet I know
on whose authority,” Lysandr muttered as he gave a kick to his mount’s side.
The Raanan second in command moved his horse up beside Ishar and leaned over.
“We need to continue,” he stated softly to her. “Tell him to move aside or I
will have Davaris move him.” His tone was cold.

He was ready
for battle, she realized. It would not take much to push any of them close to
reaching for their swords. With the sight of Varyk’s holding surrounded partly
by Haaldyn, the Raanans were on edge. Ishar frowned and looked at the Haaldyn
soldier. “What is your name?”

The soldier
blinked. “Hul, Siobyn,” he answered rapidly.

She arched a
brow and acknowledged his use of her command title with a nod. “Then you
recognize who I am?”

“Yes,
Siobyn,” he gulped. “I have seen you before, when you visited the town of
Varisk along the coast after a Tourna raid. I was but a boy then but I would
know you anywhere.”

He was still
a boy, she thought. Ishar’s smile was thin as she replied, “Then return to your
post, Hul. These men are with me. I will continue on alone in their company.
There is no need to send word to my father. I will attend to that.”

Hul nodded
and started to turn away but looked back with concern. “Forgive me, Siobyn,
daughter of Ryen, but there is something happening between the camp and the
holding. A short while ago I heard a shout that became many. It would appear
something has upset our people. I would have sought it out but I did not want
to leave my post and I heard no horn blow for battle.” He paused before
continuing. “You might wish to go and quickly. Your father thinks you dead. It
is uncertain what he will do in his grief,” he added solemnly.

The smile
dropped from her face at his words. Hul believed what he spoke. She could see
it in his eyes. Ishar nodded. “Thank you. I will seek the trouble and let my
father know I am well. Keep to your post.”

The Haaldyn
soldier moved quickly away in the now steady drizzle. Ishar shivered and moved
her horse forward. As she neared the front corner of the holding wall the sound
of voices reached her. She recognized them. These were voices raised in anger.
Ishar felt a panic within her grow and heeled the mare she rode in the sides.
The horse laid back her ears but moved into a fast canter.

Ishar peered through the light rain into the murky
night and tried to discern the figures before her. She recognized them at the
same time that the entire situation became plain to her. The panic became an
unbearable pressure on her chest as she realized what was about to happen.
“Father,” she screamed to the man with the sword raised in his hand. Knowing
the Raanans were right behind her she surged forward, intent on reaching her
father before it was too late. “Father,” she screamed again, “No! Do not do
this! No!” she screamed again into the wind.

The blade
descended but he must have heard, for her father redirected the blow and the
sword slammed into the ground. The force buried it deep into mud. She watched
as her father jerked his head up and watched her approach with shock upon his
face.

The Raanans
gave a roar of anger behind her. They had caught sight of Varyk kneeling in the
mud with his hands bound. Ishar heard the sound of steel clearing scabbards and
knew she had but scant seconds to deflect the anger of the men. Before the
horse could come to a halt, Ishar leapt from the mare and moved toward Varyk.
She turned and brought her hand up, pleading and praying the Raanans would
listen. Lysandr raised his hand. The Raanans’ horses slid slightly as they were
pulled up short. Lysandr gave Ishar a guarded dark look she understood. He was
ready for anything that might happen but he was also giving her his trust.

Ishar nodded
to him and moved over and behind Varyk. She helped him to his feet and with her
dagger, slit the ropes that bound him.

Varyk turned
and glanced back with an aggravated frown. “That was far too close for my
comfort,” he muttered as he rubbed his chaffed wrists. Both turned and looked
at Ryen stiffly.

Her father
stared at her as if she was a ghost. “Ishar?” he said softly in astonishment as
if he could not believe her presence. He walked over to where she and Varyk
stood and touched her face. “Ishar,” he stated roughly, with more strength to
his tone. He grabbed her and hugged her to him. “I thought you were dead,” he
muttered into her wet hair.

Ishar hugged
him back for a second,
then
pushed at his chest. Ryen
seemed reluctant to let go but relinquished his hold and stepped back as if
perplexed by her actions. She gazed at him in anger and pointed to Varyk.
“Father, what were you about to do? This man has done nothing but offer the
hospitality of his holding and his goodwill toward us. Why did you seek his
death?”

Ryen looked
confused. “We were told by Fenric you were dead by their hands. When Varyk
refused to produce you, we believed Fenric’s words and assumed the worst.”

Ishar turned
her anger toward Fenric who looked visibly upset and uncertain by the events
now placed before him. He stood alone as all eyes turned for explanation. Ishar
pointed her dagger toward him and faced her people. “This man is a traitor.” A
gasp rose through the crowd at her words. “He has attempted to see me dead and
allied himself with the Tourna to obtain such an end.” The murmurs among the
crowd began to grow. She turned back toward her father. Ryen looked shocked by
her words and he studied his longtime friend with a marked and growing anger.
Ishar waved her other hand in the direction of the Raanan warriors, all still
mounted. “It is only because of these men, Varyk’s noble and honorable
warriors, that
I live and am able to speak this truth.” She
glanced back at Fenric with contempt. “He would have you blind to anything that
is not Haaldyn. Fenric says he wishes us secure, but what he really wants is to
be alienated from Lute and the Britai and these Raanans, even if it cost every Haaldyn
their life in the end. This is how deep his anger and resentment are at this
peace we now try to propose.”

Ishar turned
and faced her people. She saw many did not know how to take her words. They
spoke of such a depth of treachery and by one of their own. The thought was
frightening. Ishar understood. It terrified her. She gazed at her people, the
silence only broken by the drizzle of rain that appeared to pick up as she
continued. “I know not everyone here is prepared for this peace. That includes
people in this camp and in the holding. There are so many doubts. We have been
enemies for such a long time that friendship feels too strange. I, too, felt
uncertain coming to this place at first, but in the time I have spent among
these people, I have come to see beyond our unique habits of culture, at the
core we are all similar: people who are struggling to prepare and survive the
next Tourna invasion. Some here struggle with the same hard feelings as many of
you, but many understand what is at cost: our freedom and our very lives.

Because of that understanding, I have come to know
people who I would be honored to stand with on the battlefield; people I would
be willing to fight and die beside. But holding feelings such as this man
does,” Ishar pointed toward Fenric, “will only destroy us. Do you not see? If
he can keep us at odds with one another, we will never truly unite. What he
refuses to realize is eventually the Tourna will destroy us because we are not
one people but a divided Alsaar. I have decided I will not allow it to happen
while there is life within this body.”

Ishar saw
several nods, though many Haaldyn stood visibly uncertain and there were others
who seemed impassive and unreadable as to their feelings about her words.
Still, she pressed on. “If you believe what Fenric has to say, come now and
stand with him. You say you have Haaldyn honor. Then walk and place your
loyalty this day where it can be observed by all. I would know the heart and
mind of my people for what we are about to attempt. If your heart is not with
me, you should not stand beside me,” she demanded. Then silently Ishar waited.
The splatter of rain and snort of horses was the only sound to break the sudden
silence created once she had stopped talking.

It was broken
as people moved through the crowd. Several men and women walked toward Ishar.
All bore the wolf crest on the chest of their armor. Her second-in-command,
Volker, slipped quietly beside her. He was tall, even for a Haaldyn, with blond
locks that hung to his neck, deep blue eyes and a scar that ran the length of
the right side of his face. He shook his head abruptly and spoke softly for her
close ears, “You have never learned to do anything halfway, have you girl?”

Brya, who
joined her on her other side, cast a more gentle glance her way with her wise
brown eyes. Her honey hair now bore gray at the temple. “It has always been her
way and her strength, Volker. Do not dare to chasten her. Though young at the
time, it is one reason we chose her as our leader.”

Ishar kept
her silence to their words and waited. Her warband built behind her in
strength. Still, more Haaldyn continued to come and stand. The seconds became
minutes. Though not everyone stood with Ishar, many raised their swords to her
in deference. Yet none took the walk to stand beside Fenric. She watched as the
once trusted friend paled and began to tremble. Through it all, she found he
still showed no humility.

Fenric looked
around in a defiance that slowly grew to anger. He let go of any pretense and
glared at Ishar with hate in his eyes before looking at the other Haaldyn
around him. “Will no one stand and keep the purity of who we are unblemished?”
Fenric shouted to the crowd. “Will no one stand and admit the truth: we are
destroying ourselves with this melding, uniting ourselves as one?” he sneered.
“In the end these common people,” he stated with contempt, his hand
encompassing the holding and the village, “along with the Lute, will do nothing
but destroy us. Have they not already done enough? The Lute
have
slaughtered our sons and daughters. The Britai cannot be held to that. They are
only worthless sheep who offer no help and will only drag us down like a great
sodden weight.” Fenric pointed to Varyk. “And these people? We know nothing of
them except they have no home to call their own. They are homeless vagabonds
who have taken root in our soil like common weeds.” He stood and looked around
at the men and women who stared back in silence. Fenric shook his head in
disbelief. “Will no one stand against this abomination?” He spit out
vehemently. When no one answered, his shoulders fell.

He knew his
doom was upon him, she realized. Ishar moved to confront him. Standing before
him, she pointed her dagger at him and shook her head. “I wish I could make you
understand what you offer us is the same path we have followed for the past
hundred years.” Ishar glanced back at her people. “Where has this path lead but
to war and loss?” She shook her head. “It must not continue.”

She realized
her mistake almost immediately. Her enemy was not down. The moment she glanced
away, Fenric moved. Ishar felt him step forward but even as she started to
turn, he was there. He ripped the dagger from her hand, spinning her body as he
pulled her tight against his chest. The blade slipped around her head and was
drawn snug next to her throat. It happened so quickly that in her exhaustion,
she could not react. Ishar tried to breathe lightly as she kept her balance
ready for an opening to counter his attack.

Members of
her warband had surged at Fenric’s move. He halted them with his next words.
“If you want her to live, you will do as I say.” His eyes glittered angrily at
Ryen. “Give me a horse. Now!” he commanded with a snarl.

“I can give
you a horse but you will never make it out of the encampment.” Ryen’s eyes spit
fire. He stopped several yards from where Fenric held Ishar. She watched as
Varyk moved and stood beside her father, his hands clutched tight together as
if he wished a weapon. Several of her men had notched arrows aimed at Fenric
but Ryen’s raised hand lowered their aim.

“No matter
how much you might want my blood, we both know you will not risk the life of
your daughter to acquire it,” Fenric sneered. “Give me the horse.”