Back From Chaos (2 page)

Just as her knees buckled, he caught and steadied her, kicking the knife away in the same fluid motion.

Her legs responded woodenly as she let herself be led through the castle, his hand firmly holding her arm. His grip told her escape was out of the question. Marja’s mind ran in useless circles, no longer able to hold a coherent thought.

As they emerged from the castle, she waited numbly in his grasp. Some part of her heard him hail one of his men.

“
Argost, secure that dwelling to use as headquarters. And find two men you trust and have them report to me immediately.” Marja felt more than saw him jerk his head in her direction. “We have a hostage, Cataniast’s daughter. She must be closely guarded. She speaks with no one. No one must be told we have her. Have the guards find a defendable room upstairs out of sight. Take her there, and find her something to eat and drink. Find Sinnath and Janest. Set up a table and chairs in the front room. We will meet as soon as everyone can get there. Order must be established here without delay.”

Later, she would remember and wonder at the ease with which Gaelen assumed the role of lord. It appeared as though he had been born to it, though she knew his older brother, Lionn, should have inherited. Gaelen was the second son.

Marja listened with only one ear. Then she remembered who she was and that her people were watching her. She forced her head proudly erect, squared her shoulders and took in the destruction around her. Anything made of wood looked burned or charred. Only stone remained unmarred, though it, too, had been blackened by soot. Windows stared empty-eyed, their glass and oiled skins broken or burned. Doors swung from broken hinges. Torn rags and broken crockery littered the near-empty square.

Struck by the devastation, her resolve faltered. She stumbled, momentarily overcome, when he marched her past a large group of women, children and old men standing silent. They waited, packed shoulder to shoulder like sheep, guarded by soldiers who held swords ready. She recognized defeat, fear and despair in the bowed heads and slumped shoulders. Eyes stared at her with the blankness of those who had seen more horror than they could comprehend.

Her people, or what was left of them. Earth, what would happen to them now? And what of her family? Her brother, sister-in-law and their three little ones? Had any survived? The questions screamed in her head, but her tongue remained silent. Now was not the time. She must assess her situation, must think carefully about her next move. Everything depended on it. Everything!

Marja put up no resistance. She let them march her into the mansion, up the stairs and usher her into a small bedroom. Though she saw signs of scorching, the furniture here had not burned. She took in the sliced featherbed, empty of linens. No doubt they had been stolen. But a chair still sat intact, and with the last shred of dignity she could muster, she allowed herself to be lowered into it.

She watched dully as the guards checked the window and privy, determining that escape was impossible. They stationed themselves, one outside the door, the other inside, to watch her. In spite of their weariness, they appeared alert and ready to act. Neither spoke a word to her before or after the door closed. She eyed the guard who remained inside. He avoided her gaze, and she concluded that information from that quarter was unlikely.

After some time, a young soldier with a bandaged arm entered and set a tray on the small table beside her. Marja stared absently at the tray of stale bread and cheese and ewer of water, knowing she should at least drink, but could not find the energy to reach for the mug.

The sound of voices raised in anger seeped through the door, and she realized she ought to try to make out what they were saying. That, too, was too much effort. It occurred to her that she ought to be forming a strategy to deal with her captors, seeking a way to escape. Those thoughts warred with the desire to know what had become of her family, what the future would hold for her people.

Finally thirst won out. She put aside suspicions of poison and made herself drink. The water tasted fresh and cool and revived her somewhat. She forced herself to gnaw at some bread and cheese and take another swallow of water.

The enormity of her situation threatened to overwhelm her, but she knew her survival depended on staying focused. She recalled how she had recognized Gaelen. Just over a year ago an offer had come from his father, the now late Lord Bargest. He had sent a proposal of alliance. Part of the bargain had been a request for Marja to be joined with his second son, Gaelen. Gaelen himself had delivered the offer, and she had watched him from a curtained balcony. Her father had ordered her to stay out of sight, so Gaelen had not been aware of her scrutiny. Marja felt a moment of anger as she remembered that Cataniast had refused the offer. He had regarded it as a ploy, a way for Bargia to gain a foothold in Catania and subvert his authority. It had cost him his life and his demesne. A wave of rage washed over her, then as quickly ebbed. She had not the energy to sustain it.

Marja wondered if that information could be used to her benefit. So far Gaelen had kept his word. She remained unharmed and relatively comfortable. What plans could he have for her? Now that he had successfully taken Catania, would he see any advantage in keeping her alive? How could she convince him it would be prudent to court her goodwill? Could that be parlayed into concessions for her people? She knew letting her live would fly in the face of traditional thinking, which called for the deaths of all members of conquered ruling families. How would her position be affected if other members of her family still lived? If so, what difference would it make if they were still at large, or if they too had been taken prisoner? So many questions. So little information.

The spans passed, and eventually her exhaustion, coupled with the rise and fall of the voices below, lulled her into a fitful doze. Her chin dropped to her chest, her hands fell lax in her lap.

~ 2 ~

LIETHIS

Far away, Liethis, true seer to the court of Bargia, most powerful seer on the One Isle, bent double in pain. She sensed Earth’s sending, and in her trance understood that Her essential Balance had been disrupted, that Earth was in pain. She sank to the ground and rocked back and forth, moaning, her hands clasped tightly over her temples, eyes squeezed shut.

Earth’s sending filled Liethis with a deep foreboding. She could not block the pain from the fire and blood searing Earth’s crust. She understood that all the peoples on the One Isle would face hardships until those wounds healed; until Her people had atoned for Her wounds.

Whenever Earth convulsed in pain, Her people inevitably suffered with Her. Famines, plagues, crop failures, harsh winters or greater strife between the demesnes would follow, until Balance was re-established. Peace and prosperity depended on restoring Earth’s Balance. Seers such as Liethis saw, in the cycles of destruction and healing, evidence of the symbiosis between Earth, source of life, and Her people. When the people lived in harmony, Earth supplied them with what they needed. But when they acted with violence and destruction, such as in times of war, She had not the power to sustain Her support. Each needed the other. Thus swung the pendulum of Balance.

Liethis wept, and as her tears watered the soil in empathy, Earth withdrew Her sending. Liethis could again raise herself up, the pain now a shadow of its former force.

Liethis sent her awareness out in the direction of Catania, where she knew Lord Bargest had taken his army. Where the energies of Lord Bargest and his heir, Lionn, should have been she could sense only a void, and she knew they had not survived. But Gaelen’s orange light burned strong. She could sense that Bargia had prevailed, and that Gaelen had assumed power. Now both Bargia and Catania would look to him as Lord. It gave her some hope.

Another presence came into her awareness. A young woman. Ah! Cataniast’s daughter. Her aura burned a calming blue. Liethis’ spirit lifted. This woman would be good for Earth, her blue a complement to Gaelen’s orange. She would be one to keep an eye on. She, too, would have a role to play in Earth’s recovery.

Liethis became aware of yet a third aura. This one she recognized as Lord Bargest’s most trusted spy and assassin, though she did not recall his name. His colour was green shot with red. Over it hung the grey film of a spirit hiding from itself. Its loneliness made Liethis sigh. His quest would be hardest of all … and the most important. But try as she might, Liethis could not see if he would succeed. She suspected even Earth did not know.

She sent her awareness further, in search of the members of the council. Janest’s aura remained a steady, bright blue. Argost’s also still burned blue, but his was deeper, almost indigo. Good, they both lived. Gaelen would need them. Then she searched for Sinnath’s glow. She always had difficulty reading him, as he seemed to keep his aura shrouded. Now she could barely detect him. A murkiness covered his dark green; that worried her. Liethis sighed as she wondered at this. Why did he need to keep himself hidden?

“
Oh, Earth, let me see what must be done. How can the Balance be restored?” Liethis was unaware that she whispered her plea aloud.

Bone weary, as such sendings always left her, she stumbled into her bed and fell into a restless sleep.

~ 3 ~

A BEGINNING

Gaelen strode briskly through the city to take stock of the wounded and assess the damage. He stopped beside an injured soldier being tended to one side of the square. “What is your name?”

From long habit, Klast followed close behind, his keen eyes missing little. Over years of practice, Klast had honed his powers of observation. He had mastered reading the subtle signs that gave away others’ attitudes better than anyone else on the One Isle. He had also developed the tricks of posture and dress that allowed him to blend so well that people often did not notice his presence or forgot he was there. These skills had made him invaluable to the late Lord Bargest in his duties as spy and assassin. Now he transferred his loyalty to Gaelen, as Lord Bargest’s rightful successor. As Gaelen passed among the people, Klast took note of their reactions to relay them later to Gaelen.

The soldier’s pinched face managed a flash of gratitude. “Garent, my lord.”

“
Garent, we will have you moved to a cot as soon as may be. I thank you for your service to Bargia today. Your efforts have helped secure our victory. You will receive whatever care you require.” Gaelen pressed the man’s shoulder and went on.

Gaelen commended several more for their bravery and loyalty, touching each one briefly. He made a quick survey of the prisoners, then proceeded to the new temporary headquarters to meet with his advisors.

When he reached the meeting room, Klast saw that Argost and Sinnath had scavenged a table and four chairs. They met Janest at the door. Gaelen paused to look at the makeshift meeting room.

“
Jonath,” he called to the young soldier who had brought the food for Marja, “Find us some bread and cheese, and some decent wine. And fetch Rhiall and Gheal to guard the door. Allow no one in.”

“
Yes, my lord.”

Gaelen smiled when the lad returned with four goblets and a knife as well. “Well done. Now get some rest. We will be long before you are needed again.”

Klast watched Jonath square his shoulders at the praise and leave with a quick, tired grin and more spring in his step.

From his post at the door, Klast admired the way Gaelen took command. He had the makings of a strong leader.

Gaelen looked around the room before starting. “My friends.” He paused again.

Klast watched the trio’s eyes turn to Gaelen and Gaelen meet each one in turn. His composure remained strong and steady. Klast knew the best son had come to power. Lionn would not have been an effective leader. Klast observed the others surreptitiously as Gaelen spoke.

“
We have achieved a great victory today. All of you have my gratitude. Now, bring me up to date on our losses and our current situation. We must act quickly to assert our dominion. Argost, report on the North quarter. I hear there was heavy fighting at that gate.”

Argost was a tall, spare man, ramrod straight in spite of his late middle years, with a full head of iron grey hair and a beard which he kept trimmed short.

Klast felt relieved that Argost had not been killed or wounded. The man had a reputation for solid decisions, and Klast expected Gaelen would rely on his steady presence. Of all the advisors, Argost could be relied on most for keeping his head when emotions ran high. Lord Bargest had had often taken his advice when the others had disagreed. Those decisions had never failed him.

Klast watched Argost stroke his beard with one hand, a familiar gesture when deep in thought, somehow calming.

When Argost looked up again, he answered Gaelen with firm confidence. “As you say, my lord, fighting at that end was heavy. We lost some good men.” He looked away a moment as he passed his hand across his mouth and stroked his beard, looking once more at the table. Then he raised his head and met Gaelen’s gaze again. “My lord, I regret to report that your lord father was among the last to fall. We were fighting at close quarters, and they cut him down before we could reach him. He fought courageously, four at once at the end.” Argost’s voice caught. “None live to tell of it. We made certain of that.”

He cleared his throat and went on. “The area is secure. Fires have been put out, and all surviving locals wait in the city square, under guard with the other prisoners. Our men fought bravely and with discipline. I am pleased to report I saw very little looting and no killing of women or children, except those who used weapons to resist.”