The Treason Blade (Battle for Alsaar Book 1) (6 page)

The silence
stretched.

Finally, Lysandr sighed. “She was wise to choose
you. No one has the patience you do. I have seen you wait hours with your enemy
within touching distance before you made your kill. No one should be that
patient. It is not natural.”

Traevyn
smiled. “Perhaps you should try it sometime. You might develop a knack for it.”

Lysandr
smiled. “I am too much like Ber, though with more control than he.”

At the
mention of Ber, Traevyn frowned. “Did you speak to him?”

Lysandr
nodded. “Not that I am certain it will do any good.” He shrugged. “Ber is Ber.
He only knows to speak his mind. This is nothing new. Varyk would not have it
any other way.”

“Varyk would
not want a guest who might very well prove to be an ally insulted. And there is
every chance that we will see her more than at the evening meal. Talk to him,
Lysandr. I sense that this Haaldyn’s coming is important to Eira, and quite
possibly, Varyk.”

Lysandr dug
the heel of his boot into the dirt before him. “I do not know why we need the
aid of the Haaldyn. The Lute will stand with us and the Britai are becoming
more organized every day.”

“Do not lie
to
yourself
,” Traevyn cautioned. “I have heard Varyk
and Eira talk at night when they walk the walls. If the reports we are getting
are true, the Tourna are building a great number of ships. That means a great
number of men. The Lute
are
strong. We are strong. The
Britai are stronger than they have been but I do not know if they can hold up
under the brunt of the Tourna force that is coming. They may crumble.” Traevyn
studied the belt before him. The stitching appeared good. He continued, “The
Haaldyn
are
no fools. They know if the Tourna
overwhelm us they can take their time and work their way into the Haaldyn
holdings. Ultimately, there is no place of safety on this island. And we both
know the Tourna leave nothing behind in their wake. Remember the destruction we
found here? What it took to raise this all up?” Traevyn for the first time
looked up at Lysandr. “Whether you want her here or not, there is a truth to
Eira’s belief. If the Haaldyn, who are great in numbers of trained warriors,
stand with us, the Tourna might be halted even as they land.”

Lysandr’s
look was grim. “The only thing is that with the large number of ships, the
Tourna will probably make more than one landfall.”

Traevyn
nodded. “All the more reason to have the highest amount of fighters we can with
us.”

Lysandr
sighed. “But they are our enemy.”

“They were
our enemy. I know. It is difficult to look beyond that,” Traevyn said with a
shrug. “But when we first came to this island, we fought several battles with
the Lute before we established a friendship, or have you forgotten?”

Lysandr shook
his head in answer.

Traevyn rose and set the girth belt next to his
saddle. “Then remember that next time before you look at Ishar with such
distaste.” He reached up and blew out the lamp, then turned and walked away,
leaving Lysandr in the darkness.

A rooster crow broke through the darkness of her
sleep. Voices of men shouting commands and the familiar clash of metal to metal
brought her fully awake. Ishar opened her eyes and stared around at her strange
surroundings. Her mind cleared. Of course, Taryn, Varyk’s holding. The night
came back to her and she groaned. What impression had she made? She sat up and
shoved the blankets back. At least she had found an ally in Eira and one it
appeared also in Audris in her allegiance to her mistress.

Ishar slid
from under the covers and stood, naked in the cool of the morning. Her clothes
from the previous night lay thrown atop the bottom of the fur cover. The air
was brisk, but not frigid. She walked over to her belongs. Her undertunic,
padded top and leather pants were missing. “Audris,” she murmured to herself.
She reached over and grabbed a pair of black heavy wool pants and an undertunic
of light brown wool. Over it, instead of her padded top, she picked up an
overguard of woven heavy black leather. It offered light protection. Her two
short fighting knives were slid into the scabbards strapped to her calves that
disappeared into the tops of her boots. Her dwæn she strapped snugly to her
left forearm. Ishar chose to leave her armor in the room. She did not want it
to appear that she lacked trust in her host.

A short time
later, Ishar found
herself
downstairs and back in the
main hall. Outside her door, as she was leaving Ishar had discovered Audris had
already been hard at work. Her clothes lay clean and folded in front of her
door. She made a mental note to thank the Lute woman, placing the clothes
inside her room before continuing downstairs. The main hall fires were started
but had already been banked back so that the room would not grow too warm with
the coming of the day. Ishar made her way to the table. A servant noticed her
appearance and brought a bowl of what looked like some type of bubbly porridge.
Ishar stared at it with a frown.

She heard
laughter and looked up. Eira walked her way, dressed in a dark blue wool gown,
a bright smile upon her face. “I know. The first time I was served waisu I am
quite certain I stared at it in the same manner. However, I worked up the
courage to taste it.” Eira motioned to the bowl.

Ishar glanced
back down at the pale soft mixture. She took a small spoonful into her mouth
and swallowed quickly. Ishar blinked.
Then took another bite,
this time slowly letting the flavor of the porridge settle in her mouth.
She glanced back at Eira with surprise. “It is good.” Ishar tried to puzzle it
out. “Is that honey I taste? And there is some fruity flavor that I cannot
name.”

Eira nodded
and sat down beside Ishar. A servant set a bowl of the porridge in front of
her. Eira took a utensil in hand and started eating. In between bites she
answered Ishar. “Yes, it is honey and the fruit is called bauli. The funny
thing is that the bauli fruit is kind of sweet but with this distasteful chalky
taste if you eat it uncooked. But when it is heated and cooked, the bitter
taste disappears and the sweet flavor grows. The honey only adds to it. It is
really quite good, especially on cold mornings when you have to be outside in
the dampness.”

It did not
take long for Ishar and Eira to finish their respective bowls. They were
accompanied by the same sweet honeyed drink Ishar had been served the night
before. She asked Eira about it.

“Another
fruit, called paera,” Eira said with a shrug. “The juice is pressed from it and
either served warm with honey or fermented as an alcohol. But I should warn
you, the fermented drink is also sweetened with honey and taste not much
different from this and it is very potent.”

Ishar
frowned. “How does one notice the difference?”

Eira laughed.
“Trust me, after one cup you will notice the difference.” She waved her hands.
“Do not worry. They mainly serve it at the public gathering place where the
soldiers go to unwind at the end of the day. Here, unless Varyk requests, I
serve this.”

Ishar nodded
with a smile. “I will try to remember that. One should be careful when drinking
with the men at the end of the day, I understand.”

Eira laughed
and then added. “Traevyn came by early. I informed him that I wished to speak
with you this morning and he should go about his business. I will have you seek
him out when you leave.”

Ishar
grimaced. “It is unlike me to sleep so late.”

“The sun is
barely up,” Eira stated with a soft smile, “And your journey to get here was no
small jaunt. I think you will be forgiven this small measure of indulgence.”

“So,” Ishar
questioned with a raised brow, “Was the talk you mentioned just to cover for my
lateness or was it real?”

Eira
shrugged. “Both answers would be correct.” She hesitated, before continuing. “I
noticed you picked at your food last night. Was there something wrong with it?”

Ishar
blinked.
“Uh, no.
I mean.” She paused. “What I mean is
that the food had more spice than I am used to.” Ishar hesitated and then
added, “And the meat was slightly greasy.”
Of course.
The perfect way to start the day.
Insult your host.

Eira
grimaced. “It was boar. I am sorry but it does tend to hold more fat than other
meat. That is probably why my cook used the extra spices, to cover the greasy
flavor.” Eira let out a soft chuckle. “Our main cook died several months ago.
She was old, but excellent. Old Reba could make food for kings from nothing.
Since her death I have been trying to find a better cook. The only thing the
new woman knows to do to fix the taste of food is to add spice. I am afraid we
have become somewhat used to it.”

Ishar felt
heat creep down her neck. “Do not do anything different for my sake,” she
mumbled quickly, embarrassed now by her remarks.

Eira shrugged
and waved away Ishar’s words with a gesture of her hand.
“Nonsense.
I think tonight we will have deer. It is a light, lean meat. And I will caution
Cyrine on the use of the spices.” She chuckled softly. “We shall see what turns
out on our platters.” Eira rose. “I have to attend to several duties. If you do
not see Traevyn at the personal training area for the Raanan warriors next to
the fortress, look for him at the training area outside the inner gate where
the Britai train. If he is not there, seek out one of the warriors I introduced
you to last night. They should know where to find him.” Eira patted Ishar’s
shoulder and walked away toward one of the fireplaces where several servants
were clustered waiting to talk to the lady of the holding.

Ishar pushed
her bowl away and stood, full and satisfied from the warm porridge. She angled
her way out of the main hall and toward the daylight. The heavy wood doors
stood ajar, reviving the inside with fresh air. Once outside, she took a deep
breath of cool damp morning air that would burn off quickly as the sun rose
higher. Ishar made her way down the time smoothed stone steps. She did not
recognize the warriors inside the inner gate, so she made her way through the
open passageway to the outer area. The guards watched her with curiosity but
none offered to halt her passage. She shrugged. They were Britai. What could
one expect?

In the outer
holding, there was more movement. To her left Ishar saw that Britai soldiers
were working in pairs as they practiced grappling techniques. Lysandr and Ber
studied and gave abrupt instruction as they moved among the men. Ishar leaned a
shoulder against the wall and studied the soldiers’ movements. She tried not to
wince at their awkwardness. She hoped they would improve before they
encountered the Tourna.

“Ishar?”

She slid a
glance behind her and watched Davaris approach from the opposite side, walking
from what had to be the public gathering place Eira had spoken of the night
before. “Davaris,” she responded quietly with a nod as he came to a stop beside
her.

He motioned
with his head toward the practice she watched. “What do you think?” His look
was impartial. At her hesitation, he added, “No matter what people say
,
honesty is always valued to a true warrior.”

Ishar gave
him a slight nod to show that she understood. She turned and studied the
milling soldiers. “They lack the confidence they need. They refuse to put their
all into the fight because they fail to trust themselves. They fear getting
injured and the consequences of those thoughts will likely cause that very
reaction. In battle, their hesitation will ultimately get them killed.” Ishar
sighed. She shifted her stance and leaned her back against the wall. “On the
other hand these men had to be children the last time the Tourna came. They
watched as the Tourna destroyed everyone and everything around them. Those
childhood memories have shaped their lives. They must be trembling at the
thought of finding such childhood memories all too real.”

Davaris
nodded. “These people have not the strength of the Lute or the Haaldyn. But
beneath their fear is the desire to not be hauled off by the Tourna as a slave.
We must make them understand that death is not to be feared; that there are
worst things than death. The loss of one’s freedom and the collar of slavery is
one. The stripping of you from your family and removal from everything you know
and hold dear is an incredible fear in itself.
A fear that
can, if you let it, strengthen you.
But the Tourna are such hideous
creatures in their minds. These peoples’ fear of them is a difficult thing to
overcome. They tremble with just the thought of facing such opposition, so we
must reshape and channel their fear into something new. It is the hope I build
on when I teach them: if they can defeat the Tourna, they can create a world
where their children will not have to fear the sight of ships on the horizon
but will meet it bravely and with honor. We have managed to train several
groups of these men quite well. Villagers send us more recruits each month.
When their training is done, we send them back with the intent that they must
pass on learned skills to others.” He glanced back at her. “I saw you leave the
fortress. Traevyn told me to guide you to him if I saw you before he returned.”

Ishar stood
and glanced around “Where is he? I thought he might have ridden off with Gavin
or Glyndwr.”

“Teaching the
art of the bow to another group of Britai soldiers and a few
Lute
.
Though the Lute are more than likely just getting in some
practice.
They seem to be born knowing how to shoot an arrow straight
and hard.” Davaris motioned with a hand. “Come. He is outside the gates,
between the holding and the village.”

Ishar
followed Davaris. They did not have far to walk outside the holding. Taryn was
set on a slight hill with the village at its base of the slope. The village was
a cluster of mud and stick houses with thatch roofs. The houses surrounded a
center area with a well. Gardens and pens of animals were established along the
outer edges behind the meager shelters. Traevyn and the men being trained stood
off to one side on a part where the slope flattened out. There were about
fifteen men with bows shooting to the west. Davaris stopped just shy of the
holding wall and turned to her. “I will leave you here. Traevyn should finish
soon.” He turned to go, but glanced back. “You will not run off?” He asked this
with a gentle smile.

Ishar
returned the smile. “No,” she shook her head, “You have my word. Please, return
to your duties.” She turned back to watch, then walked farther down the grassy
slope and sat. It did not take her long to appreciate Traevyn’s patience. She
had some tolerance, every good leader needed it. But Traevyn seemed to have an
endless supply. There were several times during the lesson when she would have
ripped the bows from certain men and sent them back to their barracks with
abrupt words. Their stance was awkward. A few nearly shot fellow soldiers
because they failed to pay attention. They released too early. They released
too late. They gripped too tight to the shaft and feathers and affected
direction. Ishar frowned and shook her head in amazement. Even seven-year-old
Haaldyn youth knew more than these men. Traevyn never yelled. He continued to
caution them as he guided and directed their movements. And because of his
patience, Ishar saw improvement in many before the practice was done. Traevyn
was directing the last of the men when he stopped suddenly and turned around.
His gaze met hers directly. Her eyes widened in surprise. She could not read
those black eyes. His silent look startled her.

She rose and
made her way down the slope toward him. He never looked away, just watched as
she came close. It was only when she stopped a few feet away that he looked at
the remaining man and motioned him toward the holding. Traevyn glanced back. “I
did not notice you until the end,” he stated in puzzlement.

“You were
busy teaching.”

That did not
seem to placate Traevyn. “I notice everything,” he stated quietly.

And for some
reason, with Traevyn that statement did not sound arrogant. He spoke it with an
utter confidence that made Ishar smile. “Sorry. I will wear bells next time.”

He still
looked puzzled but only reached and picked up his bow and quiver. He turned to
make his way back up the hill.

Ishar stopped
him and pointed down the slope. “Was this village here when you came?”