Ashar'an Rising (Nexus Wars Saga) (6 page)

Bringing their mounts to face Valdieron, there was a curious silence broken by the nervous animals' snorting and stomping as the two other stallions strained to come closer to Shakk. They were obviously well trained, however, and ceased after a soft command and dominating jerk of the reins, though Shakk appeared as calm as ever, his only give-away being the tenseness of his neck and shoulders as he stared at the other two while trying to dig up some stray grass from the soft dirt road.

The taller of the two spoke first, regarding Val with a cool grin, which came across as slightly mocking. His gaze flicked over Shakk with silent appraisal before resting for a time on Kaz, a little uncertainty gleaming in those dark grey pools.

“
Greetings, from the Black Lion Clan.” This explained their black capes, though the hide could have been from any number of animals, and Valdieron had never heard of a black lion. Still, he could not discount the claim. “I am called Dhalan, Chieftain of the Black Lion clan, and this is my brother, Khalan, First Cavalier and second in line for the title of HorseLord of the Clan.”

Somewhat bewildered by the strange terms for these clansmen, Valdieron watched as Dhalan touched his forehead with a silver pendant attached to his reins. It was circular and plain, and was fastened to each set of leathers. Surprisingly, Khalan did not offer any form of greeting, merely watched him closely, his thin mouth turned up in the likeness of a wolfish grin.

Valdieron returned a curt nod, not knowing how to address these two who appeared somewhat noble in appearance. They were obviously important by their titles, probably the equivalent of Princes in Ariakus, yet he suspected that to offer some form of obeisance from out of the saddle would appear offensive and insulting. “I am Valdieron of Tyr.”

Khalan's eyes flicked angrily for a moment, though Dhalan appeared amused by the greeting. His grin widened, however, and he unconsciously flicked the reins over as the horse shifted beneath him, causing him to frown momentarily. “You are known to us, Valdieron of Tyr. By reputation only,” he continued quickly, seeing Valdieron’s sudden surprised expression, “but a reputation of considerable size, to be sure. It seems some in Thorhus now regard you as the potential victor in next year's tournament.”

Valdieron tried to hide his shock with a modest smile and shrugged. He had not expected word of the tournament to spread this far so fast, let alone word of his own deeds, but it seemed these Darishi knew much of what had transpired during the tournament. He could not recall a Darishi entrant in the Tournament from the Black Lion clan.

“
Rumor has no doubt been magnified to dwarf the actual events,” offered Valdieron, wondering what else these plainsmen may have heard about him, perhaps even what occurred in Garthtown, though they appeared affable. He assumed that if they were after him to bring him in for his deeds, they would have used surprise and speed, having him outnumbered by so many.

Dhalan inclined his head in acceptance, but still his smile widened. “Be that as it may, any defeat of Javin of the Water Seekers Clan is worthy of praise. He is considered unbeatable by many who know and oppose him.” There was a steely tone to the young man's voice as he spoke of Javin, whom Valdieron remembered for his flashing twin sabers, and he sensed there was some rivalry between the two.

“
You keep strange company, Valdieron of Tyr!” This from Khalan, more of an accusation than a comment, though Valdieron was glad for the interruption. Not knowing where the mentioning of Javin might take the conversation, he may have caused insult through ignorance had they continued, not knowing what lay between Dhalan and Javin.

Fortunately, Dhalan seemed unconcerned by the interruption and turned his gaze back to Kaz, who continued to watch the two riders from where he crouched at Shakk's left flank. “Yes. As I recall, Banded Moorcat are somewhat rare in the Northlands.”

“
His mother was trapped and slaughtered by Hrolth near Ranil, and he has taken to me.” Valdieron made light of it, hoping this truth would not be taken for an attempt at misleading them. “He is not dangerous.” He was going to add ‘unless angered’, but thought it may have sounded like a threat. As it was, Dhalan spread his hands in placation.

“
It is just strange to see one travelling with such a strange companion. We have seen that he is well behaved. It is just that we value our Horses above our lives, so any possible threat we have to investigate.”

“
So this is about the Moorcat?” asked Valdieron unconvincingly. He knew these two had other reasons for confronting him, else they could have continued to observe from a distance.

Once again Dhalan smiled and spread his hands as if conceding that he had been found out. “Yes, but I’m sure our father, the Clanchief of the Black Lion Clan, would have you stay with us for a brief time. It is rare that we have visitors, especially from the Northlands. It is news we seek, plus he would no doubt like to hear you retell your account of the Tournament.”

Valdieron wondered again at the truth behind the answer. Still, rather than insult these obviously proud people, he conceded that it would be prudent for him to learn a little more about these people and the land before he ventured much further, and this seemed like a good opportunity.

“
I would be honored to visit with your Clan, Dhalan.”

“
Excellent. We are currently stationed about thirty leagues from here, at Salt Springs. We should be able to reach it by tomorrow evening.” He said this with a glimpse at Shakk, and Valdieron wondered if the Darishi had not meant it as a quip, though it was lost on him. Dhalan and Khalan were already wheeling however, the two guards flanking them quickly, and Valdieron had to urge Shakk forward. There was a brief command in the Darishi dialect from Dhalan, which had the remaining five guards encircle the group to the rear, enclosing Valdieron and Kaz, who skittishly eyed the horses around him.

They proceeded towards the west, the pace not fast but constant, before Dhalan wheeled the group towards the South  west. Valdieron was quietly grateful for this, as it had him at least heading towards where he was travelling, so hopefully he would not lose much time with the stopover.

Settling into a comfortable position, he studied his surroundings as they rode, as well as the Darishi. It was obvious they were expert riders, commanding their mounts with barely a movement of the reins or pressure from the knees. He took to trying to emulate some of their actions, for although he was an experienced rider, there was much he could learn from these people who spent most of their life on horseback.

With Shakk tirelessly bearing him onward, he lost himself to the sights and smells of the stark yet beautiful landscape. Although concerned with the burden of his quest, he reveled in the freedom of the ride and the exhilarating freedom he felt riding with the nomadic plainsmen. Thoughts of sadness, regret, anger and resentment faded with the afternoon daylight.

Overhead
, the stars dominated the heavens, joined briefly by thousands of orange sparks lifted from the large fire, to burn out in the cold darkness above. Qantari was only new, and would not be seen that night as anything more than a faint arch, while his twin, Santari, was waning, and would not show himself for many hours yet. It was dark in all directions, and as quiet as an ocean, save for a few insects and the crackle of the fire or the occasional stamp of hoof or swish of tail from the dormant horses lined nearby.

Valdieron sat across from Dhalan. The tall Darishi appeared mystical, his dark skin incandescent carmine under the dancing flames. He was intent on honing the edge of a long saber with a smooth grey stone and a flat of leather, though he was taking in Valdieron's every word as he spoke at length on his travels, with the obvious important and secret parts omitted.

They had eaten, a stew of freshly cooked rabbit and pheasant mixed with plant tubers and herbs, cooked by one of the guards, and Valdieron had devoured his portion after an initial concern that the food may have been drugged or poisoned. The incident at Garthtown had shown him that trust and acceptance go only so far.

Khalan had wandered off after the meal, and Valdieron sensed a silent tension between the two brothers, though they did not speak harshly to each other that Valdieron had heard, apart from a few terse remarks or questions. He could be seen conversing with the other guards, who were seated off to one side around a smaller fire, talking in hushed tones, while three of the guards sat silent vigils around the perimeter of the camp.

Dhalan looked up with a dreamy expression as Valdieron finished, and raised his weapon to peer along its gleaming edge, searching for blemishes in the razor  fine metal. “I would give five of my horses to have seen your battle with Javin. Was he as good as is rumored?”

Valdieron shrugged almost indifferently. “I had not heard of him before the fight, so I cannot tell, but he was indeed a superb swordsman.” Valdieron had recalled the fight over in his mind many times since the tournament, using it to better his technique and style. “I know I was a little lucky to beat him. He was the better swordsman, as I do not often have occasion to use two weapons.”

“
But that makes your feat even more amazing, does it not?” asked Dhalan with an excited hiss. “That you could match his flying sabers; I would have loved to see his face after the battle!”

Valdieron could well remember the deep look of crushing devastation on Javin's face after he submitted, but the obviously proud warrior had done so without anger or bitterness at the loss, which had touched Valdieron at the time.

“
What was your birthplace like, Valdieron?”

The suddenness of the question and its unexpected turn made Valdieron give pause as he pondered the question, wondering at Dhalan's reasoning behind asking it. “It was   is   a beautiful valley, set at the base of a ring of mountains, with snow-capped peaks visible in the distance through most of the year. The weather is pleasant, and the land beautiful.” He felt a tinge of sadness at the sudden memories and winced wistfully, knowing he would never be able to return to that quiet and uncaring lifestyle. It was a thing of memories, kept locked in his mind and brought forth on occasion to keep them from fading.

“
I would like to visit these distant lands one day. I have scarcely been beyond Darishi, save a trip or two into Zarn, but even those were enough to give me wonder at what lies beyond the horizon.” The pensive young Darishi sighed then, almost despairingly. “At times, I wish I could take my horse and ride off, following a straight course to see where it would take me, every new day bringing a different place. I suppose that sounds stupid.”

Wondering whether the words were rhetorical, Valdieron none the less nodded empathically. He also had wished for such a freedom, to roam and be free, like the wind, searching out the distant lands and farthest shores. As a child he had dreamed a lot, alone with his imagination in the woods. They were only dreams, he knew, but everybody had to have their dreams, else what perspective did everyday life have.

He returned his attention to Dhalan, who was speaking of the horses of Tyr, asking if they were all of the same quality of Shakk.

“
Shakk is one of a kind. My father told me he was special when he was born, too fine to sell and too good to use on the farm, so he gave him to me as a gift.”

Dhalan nodded understanding, his dark eyes resting on the sorrel stallion that slept nearby. “He would have bred a strong line, if your father had the opportunity. I think he has some of the same bloodline as our own horses. Note the muscled litheness and thick forelegs, bred for the harsher conditions but retaining speed. Strength and endurance: the perfect match when bred correctly.”

Valdieron was able to see the matching traits, although Shakk was slightly more muscled than the southern horses. Valdieron remembered Shakk's sire, an aging Stallion of similar color and appearance, though tinged with grey. He had been for the most part wild, locked in a pasture by himself for his protection, or at least that of the other stallions. Garrik had explained once that it was due to his parentage, a wild stallion and an aloof grey mare, though he had spoken nothing else of it, despite Valdieron's queries. The old stallion had died before Shakk's birth, which had saddened Valdieron as even the wild beast had quieted enough for him to brush it occasionally. He would often sneak away when his father was busy, as Garrik would not allow him near the animal unless it was tethered and secured, but Valdieron had found such treatment unfair and cruel on the spirited animal.

Movement from Kaz at his feet caught Valdieron's eye as the big cat spun his head around to peer into the darkness, his ears pricked and twitching as if catching something. It was not unusual for the cat to do this, his natural predatory instincts ever alert for small prey, but when he began to growl deep in his throat - a wary, uncertain sound, Valdieron suddenly became curious. Looking around, he saw the other guards still gathered together, though Khalan was missing. There was no sign of the other guards who were positioned beyond the range of the firelight. The bright fire was enough that Valdieron's eyes could not see into the darkness as he could if it were totally dark.

Suddenly Kaz was up in a crouch, his head low as he continued to stare into the darkness, continuing to growl. Then with a surprised hiss he sprang back, clawing at his neck and Valdieron saw a small dart embedded in the cat's fine fur. Realizing they were under attack, he was armed in an instant, and Dhalan was standing across from him, also holding his sword as he scanned the darkness intensely, surprise and anger shown on his face.