SWNOVELS Fireblade: Chapter 6
I FEEL AS IF I HAVE only just fallen asleep when Falina shakes me awake again. I grab my small bundle of gifted clothes and follow her out into the torch-lit courtyard. The Khalim’s ornate carriage is fourth in the row of heavy wagons transporting his entourage and I get hustled and pushed inside the second one in the line, a much plainer version for mere servants. I notice how the inferior wagons are arranged to create a protective screen around the Khalim’s transport and wonder how many enemies he has made during his long reign.
The interior of our wagon is comfortably appointed with cushioned seats and padded walls but a quick appraisal of the windows tells me that they are too small to allow either escape outward or much fresh air coming inward. I settle into a corner, attempting to look fragile and helpless instead of sleep-deprived, trapped and downright frustrated.
The wagon lurches forward. I want to ply Falina with questions to take my mind off the waiting but she is busy chattering and laughing with the others. She gives the impression that she is engaging in nothing more than silly stories and gossip but I know her well enough now to guess that this is merely a cover for finding out which girls would prefer to leave domestic service in the palace. She has not mentioned whether this policy is out of kindness or the likelihood that they will be more cooperative as kidnapped prisoners. Maybe both.
By the time the wagon finally judders to a halt there are fingers of early dawn light creeping through the tiny windows. Judging by the shouting and swearing up ahead and the faint smile on Falina’s lips, I can only assume that the outriders have met with her barricade. Another long wait while scouts are dispatched to ensure the apparent robbers are long gone, and then the rear doors are opened to let us out.
Falina sidles up to me. “There are tents in one of the wagons for when the journey requires an overnight in the desert. We are expected to help put them up.”
Any activity is preferable to waiting around.
“Just tell me what to do and where to pitch them.”
In between all the fetching and carrying with a few rests for eating and drinking, I get a chance to see the full extent of Nishan handiwork. Impressive. A large rockfall has blocked the narrow ravine and I’m guessing it will take the remainder of the day for the Khalim’s servants to get it cleared. A broken wagon, scattered contents and four rather familiar-looking corpses buzzing with flies complete the picture.
When the time comes to settle down for the night, Falina introduces me to three of the younger girls and herds us surreptitiously to the spot nearest the entrance.
“Ariel, these new friends will tell you all about your future duties in the Khalim’s royal entourage.”
Unlikely we’ll get far with that, considering how their Samarian is even worse than my grasp of Annubian, but I pretend to listen carefully and encouragingly as I make sure they arrange their beds next to mine.
Darkness falls but I don’t sleep, waiting for the muffled sounds that might herald my rescue. Nothing… until the shadowy presence of two tall dark figures appears as if they have drifted into this flimsy living space like smoke on the wind.
“Make no sound or you will die.”
The voice is soft, almost a whisper, but the meaning is clear to all of us when Falina translates into both Annubian and Samarian.
Because the intruder is speaking Rapathian.
One of the men holds up a tiny glowing lamp that shows clearly the red and black livery of Rapathian soldiers. In spite of the shock I stick to my instructions to make sure these kidnappers know exactly who has been designated as their victims. My unusual hair may be easy to spot from a brief description but the others are all young, dark and pretty without any particularly distinctive features.
I wrap my arms protectively around the three girls given into my care, adding a few pathetic gasps for good measure––and feeling a stab of uncertainty as I start wondering if this is part of Shan’domir’s ruse or if the whole plan really has been taken over by Rapathian spies working behind enemy lines.
The men grab two of us each and drag us to the door. The speaker turns back and Falina translates the soft, menacing words for a second time.
“You can tell your vain and foolish Khalim that he will regret attacking Rapathia. We will take everything from him as easily as we take even his closest servants.”
Then they drag us out into the darkness, stepping around the unconscious bodies of the guards. In the deeper shadows beyond the camp another Rapathian soldier is waiting with horses. My captor pushes me onto the nearest animal, while the three younger girls are held firmly on the backs of the other horses by each of the men.
We ride back north on the road to Khotann.
Less than an hour further on, one of my captors turns his horse in front of mine and signals me to hold back. I rein in and ride slowly at the back of the group, trying to estimate how much space he wants me to leave between myself and everyone else. I settle for just enough distance to keep them in sight by the faint light of the crescent moon. Getting lost in this strange country is not something I want to do for a second time.
As soon as the three kidnappers and their captives disappear briefly around a bend in the road a fourth rider emerges from the inky blackness beneath a rocky outcrop. Pale moonlight catches his outline, revealing that he is clad in the black night-shadow robes of Shan’domir’s Nishan. He doesn’t speak, simply giving a curt signal for me to follow him. He turns his horse due east along a faint trail I can barely see.
We ride hard into the night, the cool desert wind stirring my hair and the soft thud of hooves on dry earth pulsing in my ears.
BY THE TIME ANOTHER dawn arrives we are in the deep desert, riding along the very edge of the firm ground beside the sea of dunes. I call out to the silent figure riding ahead of me.
“Where are we going?”
He turns to me, his dark brows frowning above the black silk mask that covers his face. Then he shrugs and points ahead.
There is little to see apart from a clump of desiccated trees and a few untidy adobe huts, but he guides his horse into the shed at the side of one of the buildings, dismounts and beckons me to follow him inside the main house.
The interior is as I expected, with bare, crumbling mud walls and a dusty floor. The man tosses a blanket down and I spread it on the ground, assuming we are expected to sleep through the heat of the day. He leans against the rough wall and stretches his legs, waving me to sit.
“They told me you are Ariel, the Samarian woman who wishes to train with us.” He speaks flawless Samarian but by now I’m less surprised at discovering the breadth of skills all the Nishan seem to have.
I still feel somewhat wary and take a defensive step back.
“Yes.”
Maybe I just had too many bad experiences with men in Rapathian livery, even if this new one looks and sounds like a Nishan colleague of Falina’s.
“Sit.” He pulls off his black mask, revealing a rugged, sun-weathered face and piercing dark eyes.
“What will happen to the other girls you took?” I can’t help feeling responsible for their fate.
“We have to maintain the illusion for them. If they are found and questioned, it is essential they believe they have been kidnapped by Rapathians. That will ensure the Khalim will not want them returned to him and Shan’domir’s ruse will not be discovered. They will be taken to a safe house for a few weeks and then ‘rescued’ by the Nishan and reunited with their families.”
I feel reassured at last and sit. On the far side of the blanket.
“So where are we heading?”
“My orders are to bring you to Rahimar for training. It is… very unusual. Outsiders cannot be there.”
It finally starts to sink in that this really is Shan’domir’s promised rescue. I feel a wave of tiredness soaking through me as I start to relax.
“Apparently traditions can be adapted now that both our countries are fighting a common enemy.”
I stretch out on the scratchy rug as if it is the most luxurious bed in the world.
The man finally smiles. Just a little. “Falina said you were used to living on the edge of danger.”
“Not by choice. Only necessity.” My words carry me briefly back to how my life had been, back in a quiet village called Caerlen surrounded by forest. It is starting to feel unreal, like a distant dream. Even the dreamer was a different person to the thing I have become in the few weeks since this war stole my family and my home.
He hands me a wrapped bundle. “I brought your weapons and mailshirt. They are very fine.”
I’m instantly awake again, unrolling the cloth covering and checking each blade and knife.
“Thank you. I felt naked without them.”
“It makes my task easier if I do not have to look after you the whole time we are crossing the desert. When we have time, you can tell me more about the Eldrin of Samaran. I heard they are fearsome fighters.” He holds out his hand. “My name is Farhaz.”
I return his grip. “Thank you for the rescue. It can’t have been easy, getting past the guards and maintaining the deception without killing your own people.”
“All part of our training. But there were more guards than we anticipated and the drug we used to knock them out was thinly spread. The team laying a false-trail to our western border will have to work a little faster than they originally planned.”
“Will the girls who were left behind with the convoy understand the message the kidnappers delivered in Rapathian, or will it all depend on Falina’s translation?”
“Many of the Khalim’s servants and entertainers are well-educated and will be able to report what they heard quite accurately. Shan’domir used the opportunity well. The Khalim’s pride will be considerably dented by this and he will redouble his war effort against Rapathia, regardless that the alliance with your country is still unconfirmed.”
“How does Shan’domir maintain such a close connection with the Khalim when he spends so much of his time away from here, spying and trading in Samaran?”
Farhaz looks surprised. “Surely if you have been training with the Eldrin you would already know that? Shan’domir is responsible for bringing regular news from the Khalim’s daughter.”
Of course. Nem. Nemeria. I have been too focused on staying alive to give much thought to Annubian history and royal lineages.
“She is spying for him, from within the Eldrin?” For all that Nem has been sharp with me and defensive of Marin, she has had my back in every fight and I feel a clutch of fear that passing messages to a foreign power, even her own homeland, might be seen as treason.
He seems to sense my disquiet. “I am sure she only reports what Jantian allows. Her original purpose was to forge the alliance of our two countries with her betrothal to King Tandarion’s son. When Prince Tieran died, Nem pledged to continue working to achieve that alliance by fighting to protect the King alongside his personal elite guard.”
I watch Farhaz carefully, needing to know if the story still holds in Annubia that Marin had died on that fateful day.
“The Eldrin are now convinced that the Queen and Prince Tieran were poisoned by Lord Farang who was even then plotting to aid this long-planned Rapathian invasion.”
He gives a long sigh. “We suspected as much, even before Farang was revealed as a traitor. So much destruction could have been avoided if the alliance had been sealed back then. But the Khalim has many daughters, by many concubines. He has already selected a beautiful girl the same age as Tandarion’s young nephew. When this war is over he will propose a new marriage, an additional seal to this alliance, ready for when Sarinder finally comes of age and takes the crown of Samaran.”
So, Nem has not reported that Marin is alive, smuggled out of the palace for safety after the assassination of the Queen. Having discovered his exceptional skill as a Mage-warrior, Marin had renounced his title to remain instead at Maratic as Jantian’s apprentice, pledged to protect both Tandarion and his nephew. I try not to show my relief that my country’s most closely-guarded secret is still safe.
And I have to keep it safe. If I fail in my next assassination attempt, Marin will have no choice but to forswear his oath to the Eldrin and reclaim his birthright. Even Jantian has accepted that this would be his only chance of inspiring the Samarian aristocrats to engage their troops in such a deadly battle against the invaders. But… it would break Samaran’s most sacred law, that a Power Mage must never become King.
That is what Shadow is waiting for, has planned for, ever since this cursed invasion started. The final act in his centuries-long scheme to retake his home. With the Eldrin disgraced by the actions of the ruthless warlord Marin will become, Shadow will finally have his chance to reclaim possession of Maratic after long years of lonely fury at his banishment.
Farhaz makes no comment about my morose silence. He hands me a cloth bag and a skin of water.
“Eat and then sleep until the sun is lower in the sky. It will be a long night, riding by moonlight.”