Marked (43 page)

“You are blood of my blood, and you fill me with pride. If you killed a Norghanian hyena, an enemy of our people, you have honored the memory of so many who have fallen at the hands of those butchers. The greater the enemy struck down, the greater the honor for the tribe. The Blue Clouds will always protect you. If they come for you, we will fight. We will defeat them with the help of the spirits of the steppes.”

“That is precisely what I am afraid of, brother of my father. I do not want to be the cause of the destruction of our tribe. If they see I am well protected, I know they will come with a massive army of ice to destroy us. I am sure of it. Their King will send a great army to fight against the Blue Clouds and we will all die. I do not want that for our people.”

“If that is how it is, then let them come. We will call on our brothers from other tribes—the Gray Wolves, the Wild Riders, the Red Hands, and all the rest—and together we will fight like the Masig we are. We will defeat the invaders from the North, just as we have done in the past.”

“I know. The Masig are a valiant people, proud and noble. I know they will fight with their brothers against the invaders from the North. But at what cost? Our blood will stain red the soul of our mother, the steppe. I do not want to risk a war; the price would be too high for us. No, there will be no war. I will hide with the foreigner in the Eternal Mountains. Up there, no army can get to us.”

“An army, no, Iruki Wind of the Steppes, but that tracker you spoke of certainly could... if he is as good as you say he is,” reasoned the aged warrior. “Your father, Kaune Warrior Eagle, will not be in agreement with this decision, I can assure you. Nor am I. I understand your motives, but I do not share your point of view. Masig of the steppes we are born and in the plains we die. We will fight and we will protect you from those gutless jackals. Come with us into the bosom of the tribe; let the Blue Clouds and Mother steppe protect you.”

“I am sorry, brother of my father. I have made my decision. From the depths of my soul I thank you for your good intentions, truly I do. We will leave for the mountains and if the tracker of the snows finds us, we will have to take care of him alone. I will not put my people at risk. That is my decision.”

The Assassin took a step forward and, with a dark countenance, made a solemn promise. “If the Norghanian tracker pursues us, I will be waiting for him. And this time he will not survive.”

Iruki went to her mount and caressed its muzzle. Taking hold of the reins, she nimbly mounted.

“We are heading for the Fountain of Life, in the highest part of the Eternal Mountains. There, we will hide.”

Unco looked meditatively in the direction of the tall mountains in the distance, the wrinkles on his reddish face seeming even more pronounced.

“I must resign myself to your decision, Iruki Wind of the Steppes. I accept it, although I do not like it. But let this tired warrior give you one piece of advice: be careful not to offend our ancestors once you are on sacred ground. The Fountain of Life is a hallowed place for the Masig, and the spirits will be watching you. Remember what our Shaman warned us countless times: we must not upset the sacred spirits that reside up there. Be very careful or it will be they who devour your mortal souls and not the Norghanians,” warned Unco Owl of the Lake.

“Thank you for the advice, wise brother of my father, blood of my blood. We will not offend them; I am a Masig and I would never dare to. I know very well what Oni Black Cloud, Shaman of the Blue Clouds, has always warned us, and I do not want my soul to be devoured by the spirits. We will be very careful. I beg that you explain the situation to my father, and the reason why I am going off to hide and not returning to the village. Convince him, please, to avoid confronting the Norghanians, even if the soldiers of the ice come from the North, looking for blood. Stay away from them. The steppes are immense; they will not be able to find us if the tribe takes refuge in the vastness of the prairies. Do not let him launch an open attack on them. Please, make him understand,” Iruki begged her uncle.

“I will pass along your wishes to him, child, but you know as well as I that your father is a man with his own ideas and an iron will...”

“That is why I need to advise him to use sound judgment. Promise me you will not let him go after the Norghanians even if they are at the gates of the great lake.”

“I will try, but I cannot promise you anything. My brother is the Great Chief of the tribe, leader of the Blue Clouds, and I owe him my loyalty. His decisions are law and I will respect them, whatever they may be.”

“Thank you; that is all that I ask of you. We will hide on the mountain until they give up the search.”

“When these ugly circumstances pass, come back and we will celebrate your return to the tribe with much merrymaking and dancing around bonfires by the light of the moon. Together we will howl at the moon and will ask the spirits from the beyond for blessing on our people.”

“May it be so.” She smiled affectionately at her uncle.

The group of Masig warriors headed northwest, toward the community of the sacred lake. The two fugitives watched the cloud dust slowly advancing on the southern horizon, then turned their mounts and headed north. Before them in the distance, the towering mountains rose up on the horizon, casting an immense shadow on the great indigo lake resting peacefully at their base.

Iruki knew she had done the right thing. She could not desert the Assassin and did not want to precipitate bloodshed among the Masig people and the despicable Norghanians. Knowing that blond Norghanian bloodhound would hunt her filled her with anguish. As she looked at the great mountains in the distance, she knew they would have to climb to the highest peak—without disturbing the sacred spirits dwelling there.

A chill ran down her spine.

Sensing that the horses were reaching their breaking point, they stopped next to a fork on the narrow trail lined with trees and shrubs. As she rested, Aliana peered down the trail behind them, squinting. No sign of Kendas or the Sergeant. The rising fatigue from their long flight bit into her body like a rabid dog. But she was not about to give in to it.

“Lomar and Jasmine?” she breathlessly asked Gerart, who was inspecting the wound on his shoulder.

“I don’t know. I suppose they must have headed west. They are probably farther down the path, but I haven’t seen any tracks. Then again, I’m not a good tracker...” 

“I am sure the Sergeant and Kendas will make it out of this,” she said convincingly.

“I should have stayed and fought,” said the Prince, visibly distressed. “If only the Light would grant me the wisdom I need to make the right decisions!” he exclaimed, brimming with frustration.

“You made the right decision, Gerart. You are the heir to the throne of Rogdon. You cannot die in this forest; your kingdom needs you. War is about to break out... You must return home, for the good of the kingdom, for the thousands of subjects who need you,” she reassured him.

“It was more like the Sergeant made the decision for me. I wanted to stay with him. My decision was erroneous, once again,” he said, looking at the arrow stuck in his shoulder. He broke it off with a grimace.

“Let me have a look at that.”

“Don’t worry; it’s nothing. It’s barely even bleeding. Once we have a little more distance between us and them I’ll pull out the tip. Right now we just need to stay alert; there are Usik savages all over.”

The minutes that followed were long and tense, but nothing happened. Aliana was beginning to fear for her two friends’ lives; they’d been absent too long. Usik war cries still sounding in the distance were making her increasingly more nervous.

“I can hear their screams... they’re getting closer.” Aliana’s voice was shaking.

“We should continue on now that the horses have had a chance to catch their breath.”

Two shapes on horseback appeared in the distance, on the narrow trail.

“Here they come! I see them!” Aliana shouted in excitement.

A short distance behind the riders was a pack of men on foot, chasing after them.

“Damn it! They’re already here! Those damned savages fly through this forest!” lamented Gerart.

They anxiously awaited the arrival of their two companions, feeling hopeful as they saw the two Lancers were gaining ground. Still, it seemed their swift steeds were not moving fast enough to make their riders feel at ease. Mortuc was in front, his ashen face foretelling trouble. He had two arrows stuck in his back near his lungs. Streams of blood trickled from the corners of his mouth. His arm was clutched tightly against his right side, covering a vicious wound from a battle axe—a long, deep gash, down to the bone. It had ripped the flesh wide open and was bleeding profusely. A truly gruesome wound.

When Aliana saw the Sergeant’s critical condition, she immediately dismounted and ran to help him, her heart in her throat.

“How are you doing, Sergeant Major?” the Prince asked, staring at the wound.

“Bah! It’s nothing! A couple of scratches. Those bastards took a fancy to me, that’s all,” replied Mortuc, playing things down as he always did.

Kendas rode up to them. His mount had been struck in the belly by an arrow. He dismounted and caressed the poor horse.

“I apologize for the delay, Your Highness. The horse could not go any faster, and the Sergeant refused to leave me there to fend for myself. I tried to convince him to go, but he did not want to—in spite of his wounds,” Kendas explained.

The wounded steed whinnied in pain as its hind legs doubled and it dropped to the ground. It had taken its last breath.

Aliana began to use her healing power on the Sergeant’s hemorrhaging. He was sitting on the ground, still trying to catch his breath. His face had completely lost its color, leaving him looking as pale as a ghost.

“Don’t bother with me, child; I’m fine. It’s really just a few scratches.”

But Aliana was well aware of the seriousness of the lesions. The arrows had perforated his right lung, and the cut to his side was extremely deep. He had lost an excessive amount of blood. Aliana worked nonstop, urgently; she knew the enemy was getting closer, gaining ground with each breath she took. She extracted the arrows and, with a steady hand, sutured the wounds like an experienced field surgeon. Making use of all her healing power, she was still only able to stabilize Mortuc.

His wounds were too severe. She could not heal him.

At least, not in those inhospitable surroundings. If they were at the Temple of Tirsar, with the help of her Sisters, with more time, perhaps... though she doubted that. The wounds were beyond the reach of their healing Gift. They could not work miracles; their power was limited. With a cruel aching in her soul, she had to begin to accept the idea that the Sergeant did not have long to live. She felt as if her heart were breaking into a thousand pieces. She could not save him.

Mortuc was going to die.

Looking at the ground, she choked back her tears.

Another war cry sounded, and this time it was not far off. The closer the Usik got, the greater their fear and anxiety.

“You are a true angel, young lady; a gift from the gods,” the Sergeant said gratefully. “I feel as good as new. Better than new. You’ve worked another one of your miracles,” he lied, unsheathing his sword as he struggled to his feet with Kendas’ help.

“What are you doing, Sergeant? Mount your horse! We have to flee to the west right away... we need to get out of this forest,” urged Gerart.

“I thank you from the bottom of my heart, Your Highness, but I don’t think so. This old soldier is going to fight his last battle here today. Kendas needs my mount if he is going to get out of the forest alive. Two men on a single, tired-out horse would condemn both riders to death. You know that...” He stood facing Kendas and, looking into his eyes, put a hand on his shoulder. “Take good care of Lightning; he saved my life on more than one occasion. If anything bad happens to him, I’ll come back from hell itself to hunt you down!”

“I swear on my life, Sergeant!” exclaimed Kendas, unable to keep his voice from trembling.

“Mortuc, get on your horse. That’s an order!” insisted the Prince.

“You know the last thing I’d want to do is disobey an order, Your Highness, but this is the end of the road for me. I’ll fight my last battle and will buy you all a little time so you can escape. I wouldn’t make it far with these wounds anyway, even with the care provided by our sweet Aliana. These wounds are fatal. I know they are. You can’t deceive an old bloodhound like me. I’ve seen many just like these over the course of my career, and I know when there is no hope...” The Sergeant was now struggling for each breath; his lungs were filling with blood.

Gerart looked at Aliana’s face, searching for a glimmer of hope for the Sergeant. But there he found only tears welling up in the Healer’s heartbroken eyes, an outward sign of her pain and helplessness over not being able to save this great man. She stifled a sob, but then began to cry inconsolably.

When Gerart saw Aliana’s reaction, he finally understood the magnitude of the situation. His mind sprang into action, desperately searching for a solution.

Torn apart inside, he accepted the inevitable.

With his hand on his chest, his tearful eyes giving away his emotions, Gerart tried to remain strong as he addressed the Sergeant. “It has been a true honor to serve with you, Sergeant Major Mortuc.”

“The honor has been all mine,” replied the veteran soldier, nodding his head in respect. “And now, please, leave here; you must live today to serve Rogdon tomorrow.”

He grasped his side, overcome by the pain from the lethal wound there, as his knee gave out. Mortuc barely managed to keep his balance by leaning on his sword.

“You have my word of honor, Mortuc!” Gerart promised.

Saluting the Sergeant for the last time, the three mounted their horses. Kendas unsheathed his sword and raised it high, in honor of the man who had trained him and molded him into a Royal Lancer. Gerart looked back at him and bowed his head in a gesture of gratitude to Mortuc for his wise advice. Then the Sergeant looked at Aliana. Unable to suppress the torrent of tears running down her cheeks, incapable of finding the words to express the profound affection and gratitude she felt for this great man whom she was about to bid a final farewell, she simply smiled at him.

And as they swiftly rode off, a powerful voice thundered behind them.

“Come and get me, you damned bastards! I’ll show you what the Royal Lancers of Rogdon are made of!”

The three riders took the fork to the left and headed down a narrow pass bordered by elms. Aliana, still weeping bitterly, looked at Kendas and saw that his eyes, too, were glistening with tears. They rode on, trying unsuccessfully to rein in their sorrow.

After riding silently for quite a distance, they came to a river. More than ten paces wide, it crossed the trail at the end of the pass. The three stopped and contemplated the strong current roaring through the clear waters.

“Should we try to skirt it farther to the south?” asked Kendas.

“That would mean a detour that could take several hours. We don’t know this area; we may not even find a way to ford the river for miles. We have to get out of this hellish place as quickly as possible,” stated the Prince.

“The river’s current seems much faster than when we crossed it a few days ago,” Aliana observed.

“We have no choice. We have to cross here. If we backtrack they’ll catch us,” concluded the Prince.

A heart-stopping war cry resonated in the forest, underscoring the fact that they should immediately cross the river.

“I’ll go first,” said Gerart, immediately guiding his mount into the strong current. It pushed into the animal, but the rugged mount fought fiercely against it. In the center of the river, the swift water rose up over the animal’s knees and hocks, causing it to lose its footing for a moment. Gerart held tight to his mount as the animal worked to regain its balance and keep moving forward. After several minutes battling against the powerful rush of water, he had crossed the river and had made it to the bank on the other side.

Gerart dismounted and did his best to calm the nervous horse. Then he crouched down to look at something on the muddy riverbank.

“I can clearly make out the tracks of two horses here—with Rogdonian horseshoes. Lomar made it across the river with another horse. They must not be far away,” he concluded, looking up the trail.

“Lomar is the best horseman I know; I have no doubt he made it across,” declared Kendas.

“Only two horses? There should have been three...” Aliana said, her voice strained with worry.

“That’s all I see, but don’t worry. You know I’m not a great tracker.”

“If I may, as soon as I cross I’ll confirm the tracks,” offered Kendas.

“Yes, that would be best. So let’s get you two across quickly before they catch up,” said the Prince.

Kendas motioned for Aliana to follow the Prince. She nodded and carefully entered the current. Her mount was fighting against the roaring river but seemed to be managing. At the deepest point the horse snorted nervously. Aliana tried to calm it, speaking softly in its ear and caressing its neck. The beautiful animal settled down and continued toward the bank, using every bit of the strength remaining in its exhausted body.

They were going to make it.

A sudden, savage screech came from behind Aliana.

Four Red Usik appeared from behind a knoll. Aliana spurred her mount; they were just a breath away from the other side of the river. A red arrow whizzed past her head; instinctively, she crouched down. A second deadly arrow struck the noble steed in the neck. Startled and hurt, the animal reared; as it raised its front hooves out of the water, it lost its balance in the strong current and Aliana fell into the churning water.

The current was carrying her away.

“Aliana! No!” screamed Gerart.

“I’ll get her! Go, Your Highness—you must make it to Rogdon!” shouted Kendas as he spurred Lightning and took off into the forest to rescue the Healer, following the current of the river below.

Entirely distraught, Gerart watched the scene unfold. He had to make the decision to either go after Aliana or continue west, toward Haradin.

Two arrows shot past his head, missing him by an inch. He’d ducked just in time.

What do I do? For Light’s sake!

Pulled along by the current, Aliana was taking in water as she desperately fought to breathe in gulps of precious air. She tried to swim toward the riverbank but she was not a strong swimmer and the current was too swift. Choking on water, Aliana began to panic; she was drowning in the river’s rapids. She was going to die! She fought to raise her head out of the water and managed to take one breath before being pulled down again by the tremendous force of the rushing water. Disoriented and swept downstream by the current, completely unable to swim in any direction, she used the last of her strength just to stay afloat.