Jalia At Bay (Book 4) (9 page)

12.
       
Hala

Jalia couldn’t move. She was exhausted and most of her body was still in cold water. Grey slime covered her eyes and even her tears of despair had not cleared them. She was going to die, either from the cold of the water or the bite of a sword. What did it matter which one took her?

“Is that you, Hala?” Jalia managed to croak after a minute of silence. She thought she recognized the twelve year olds voice, but the truth was it could be any girl.

The point of the sword dug deeper into Jalia’s skin.

“I should kill you now,” Hala said. “Take your life the way you took my father’s. My father was Trik. He was the cleverest smartest man there ever was. His place was at Mallon’s right hand and I cannot believe that you killed him. That you tricked him, and then burnt him to death!” Hala’s voice had risen steadily throughout her speech and she finished close to screaming.

“I didn’t,” Jalia croaked with considerable effort. “Had to kill him first.”

Hala sobbed as emotion came close to overwhelming her. Jalia lay helpless before her. Daniel had drowned in the swamp and she was about to get her revenge on the woman who killed her father. She thrust the point of Jalia’s sword into Jalia’s flesh and blood began to ooze from the wound.

Jalia hardly felt the stab of the sword. Hypothermia was beginning to take her out of this world and into the next. In a way, she was glad she was going to die at the same time as Daniel. Their lives had been fun while they lasted, but nothing lasts forever.

“I’m going to kill you!” Hala screamed, daring Jalia to fight back.

“Then do it,” Jalia croaked in response. She closed her eyes and waited for death to take her away in its arms.

Hala breathed rapidly. She lifted the sword as high as she could and prepared to strike. She looked down at this woman who killed her father and ended her world. To her astonishment, Jalia wasn’t even trying to escape; she actually had a slight smile on her lips as she waited to die.

Hala had never killed anyone. Slaves were whipped at her whim, and she had been involved in several fights with other children, but she had never killed anyone. Hala hated this woman who lay helpless before her, the woman who should be begging for her life.

That was how Hala imagined it would happen. That Jalia and Daniel would plead for their lives and she would laugh as she parted their craven heads from their foul bodies. But Jalia was smiling at her as though death was nothing but a release.

Hala let the sword drop to the ground, missing Jalia by inches and ending up stuck in the soft ground. She crouched down and tried to drag Jalia out of the water and onto high ground. Jalia was heavier than she looked. She was mainly muscle and bone for all that her slim frame denied it. Jalia’s body remained exactly where it was. Hala gasped for breath and tried again.

It took her nearly half an hour to get Jalia completely out of the pond. Her body would slide without warning and Hala would fall onto her bottom, causing her to scream in pain. Beneath Hala’s clothes, her backside was covered in cuts and bruises from the whipping she received the night before. The pain from that whipping was one of the things that made her decide to seek revenge. She knew she could not remain in Taldon Fort after Pald, Haf and Lina had witnessed her screaming for mercy at a slave’s hand. Her pride would never allow it.

Jalia was still unconscious when Hala dropped a blanket over her and began to make a fire a foot or so from where she lay. Clouds covered the sun and the air became cold as evening set in. She had to walk back to the same stand of trees Jalia tore her branch from to gather kindling for the fire.

By the time she had the fire going, the sun was setting. She pulled the saddles from the horses, placing her own so that it served as her seat while she watched the unconscious woman. She had Jalia’s sword in her hand and Jalia’s knife stuck into her belt and sat wondering why she had not killed the woman she had come to hate so much. The crackling and spitting of the fire as the oily wood burnt were the only sounds and they gave her no answer.

Jalia came awake and her first thought was to wonder why she wasn’t dead. She opened her eyes and the world swam back into focus. Jalon’s moons were bright in the sky. Blade looked redder than usual while Anvil was almost too white to look at. She turned her head and saw Hala picked out in the firelight. The girl held a sword, though she looked as though she had no idea how to use one. Jalia dismissed her as a threat and allowed her tension to fade away.

‘Daniel is dead.’
The new thought ran round and around in Jalia’s head and refused to go away. Her eyes swam with tears for a few seconds until she managed to gain control.
‘Daniel is dead,’
whispered to her as she sat up and the blanket fell away.

“You are beautiful,” Hala said staring at Jalia’s breasts. Hala unconsciously touched her own chest as she stared enviously at Jalia. “You should get dressed though, it’s cold.”

Fate often turns on a few simple words, and it was Hala’s words that saved her life, because Jalia decided, at that very moment, not to kill her.

“Stay away,” Hala said as she realized the danger of Jalia being awake. She waved Jalia’s sword, not knowing that Jalia could have disarmed her in a second whilst snapping her neck in the next.

Jalia kept her hands low and made no threatening moves. She turned to face Hala and looked the frightened little girl in the eyes.

“I’m just going to the -.”

Jalia leapt forward, plucking the sword from Hala’s hand while lifting the knife from its sheath on Hala’s belt in one smooth motion. She thrust Hala to the ground and swung the sword with all her might.

Hala knew from the moment that Jalia started moving that she was going to die. She didn’t even have the time to raise the sword a fraction of an inch before Jalia took it from her as if she was a little child.

“I’m sorry, Papa,” Hala said as the sword arced around in a roundhouse swing towards her.

Black fur and sharp teeth exploded as Jalia struck the massive wolf that jumped at them from the dark. The creature screamed in agony as most of its jaw was torn from its face. Jalia stabbed with her knife catching the second wolf deep in the throat. It snapped futilely at her hand as the wound sapped its strength. Then it fell to the ground to die.

Three seconds later, Jalia faced the rest of the pack down, standing open legged and naked with wolf blood dripping from her arms. The pack howled at her. Jalia stood her ground and smiled at them. From Hala perspective, it looked as though the wolf pack had met a goddess and were just taking in that they were outclassed.

Slinking low on their haunches, a couple of the wolves snapped at the hind legs of their fallen brethren pulling their bodies away and out into the night. As fast and as silently as they arrived, the pack was gone.

“And don’t come back,” Jalia shouted after them.

Hala cringed as Jalia walked past her and washed the blood off the sword and knife in the pond. Jalia walked up to Hala, her weapons pointing down towards the child. In a movement so fast that to Hala it appeared instantaneous, Jalia stuck the knife back in its sheath on Hala’s belt and placed the hilt of the sword in Hala’s open hand.

“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted; I’m just going down to the pool to wash the mud off. Then, if you don’t have any objections, I’m going to get dressed.”

Hala stared open-mouthed and was unable to utter a single word.

Jalia washed both blood and dirt from her body. She stared into the cold dark water and tried not to think of Daniel’s body floating somewhere in its depths. When she was clean, she started to get dressed.

Hala stayed on the ground exactly where Jalia had pushed her. The girl shivered as she thought how close she had come to death. Being torn apart by a pack of wolves is not a painless way to die and she shuddered as she remembered snapping teeth and blood. She stared at Jalia’s sword, still lying against her palm. Hala was not a fool and she knew that Jalia could kill her any time she wanted, sword or no sword. She wondered vaguely why she was still alive.

Her legs started to cramp and she had to move. She gasped with pain as her bottom rubbed against the hard ground.

Jalia turned to her and smiled in a kindly manner.

“I was publicly whipped when I was twelve,” Jalia said casually. “It wasn’t the pain I objected to, it was the humiliation of being naked and screaming in front of over a hundred men.”

“Why… why were you punished?”

“I tried to steal some books on alchemy from the Guild of Alchemists in Bagdor. That was an offence meriting death, but I was the only child of a wealthy businessman and they let me off with a public whipping.”

“What’s alchemy?” Hala asked wide-eyed. The idea of risking death for a book seemed insane. Alchemy must be something very important.

“It’s a silly thing,” Jalia said dismissively. “People have found out that if you grind, boil or burn some rocks or special soils, and mix them together in just the right amounts you can make new substances that are useful. The Alchemists Guild hide their knowledge from people so they can sell those preparations for a profit.”

“I’ve always been interested in how the universe works and the only other guild in Bagdor of any status was the Assassins Guild. I already knew how to do their work, even when I was twelve.”

“Couldn’t you have joined this Alchemist’s Guild?” Hala asked, fascinated in spite of herself. She had never heard of guilds before.

“They only take men as apprentices, and they have to be adults. That’s seventeen years old in Bagdor. I couldn’t wait.” Jalia grinned.

“So you never did learn?” Hala sounded disappointed. In her mind, she had raised Jalia to the status of someone who never failed.

“Oh yes I did. While I was being whipped in that square, hung by my arms from the crossbar of the post and swinging wildly from side to side in pain, I noticed that one of the apprentices watching me was enjoying himself.” Jalia stopped talking as she realized that the story of how she exploited Marco Rawn’s weakness for young girls was probably not suitable. “In any case, I found an easier route to the books I wanted than that of stealing them.”

“Oh,” Hala said, not really understanding. She moved closer to the fire and winced in pain as she sat down again.

“Daniel has… There’s some ointment in one of the saddle bags. I’ll go and get it for you.”

When Jalia returned, she found Hala standing with the sword and knife held out to her, hilts first. Jalia took them without comment and handed Hala a small metal box with a hinged lid.

“Would you like me to put it on you?” Jalia asked and Hala nodded. “It will sting at first, but it will soon make your bottom numb and aid its healing.”

Hala lay face down by the fire, trying not to scream as Jalia gently applied the ointment to her buttocks. She found herself wondering why Jalia bothered. She was sure she was going to be killed. Suddenly, the waiting for death became unbearable.

“Please kill me quickly,” Hala blurted out. “I know I deserve it.”

Jalia stopped applying the ointment and tried to find the right words.

“You came here to kill me, but instead you saved my life. It is my choice whether you live or die and I have chosen to let you live.”

“Why?” Hala asked in a small voice.

“There has been enough death here, this day,” Jalia said. Suddenly she brought her hand down hard on Hala’s buttocks raising a scream of pain. “So, arrange your skirt and I’ll make us both supper. Unless you insist that I kill you?”

Jalia was not the best maker of meals, but there was the bag of provisions that Kayla and Attala prepared at the beginning of the day and even Jalia could break off a lump of bread and cut a chunk of meat. Had Daniel been there, he would have conjured a feast out of their meager provisions, using some of the exotic spices he preferred to trade in. Jalia didn’t touch his bags of spices; it would have been too painful.

“You must ride very well to have kept up with us,” Jalia said as she offered Hala a cup of tea. Daniel often claimed that Jalia was the only person he knew who could burn tea, but Hala seemed satisfied with it.

“My father taught me,” Hala said slowly. “That’s his horse, Blaze. Malda was using him as a cart horse yesterday, and he is much too good a horse for that.”

“You see, you are not even a horse thief,” Jalia said smiling at the girl. “You should have inherited your father’s horse at the least.”