The Third Scroll (39 page)

I waited until the guards arranged themselves into their defense formation around me, somewhat uneven as not all of them were there, then walked with them back to our camp through the living forest, amidst bird calls and leaves softly whistling in the wind.

But then other noises cut through the harmony, faint as if from a distance—men talking, twigs crunching under boots.

At first I thought the sounds came from the rest of our guards left behind at the clearing, but soon I realized it could not be so, for the men we heard were many. The Captain of the Guard next to me held up his hands to silence us. We crept forward until we could see our clearing and the guards there standing at arms looking toward the road.

The captain signaled for us to stay back, and soon we saw from the cover of the thick brush a troop of foreigners approaching. They rushed and surrounded our men as soon as they saw them.

The attackers were three times as many as us and ready for battle, well-armed with maces, flails, and battle axes. The Palace Guard carried only their long daggers and bows, armed lightly for the sake of speed, for we expected no danger while in Shahala territory.

“We seek the Queen of the Kadar,” the foreigner’s leader, a rugged man whose face was covered with scars to the point of deformity, said in a heavy accent. He looked like a dark spirit in his body armor of black leather, a jagged, double-edged sword in his hand.

“She is at Karamur,” one of the Palace Guard who knew the language replied as the others moved into a tight group in front of the tent.

“That is not the tale told from town to town and village to village. Surrender her or perish.”

I moved to step forward, but the Captain of the Guard pulled me to him and clamped his large, callused palm over my mouth, his other arm holding me tight. I watched immobilized as Onra stepped forth from the tent.

“I am the Lady Tera,” she said, her posture regal as any queen’s even with her swollen belly, her head held high, her gaze challenging and without fear. “Who seeks me?”

The man glanced at our horses that grazed at the edge of the clearing. “Where are the rest of your guards?”

“They went to the lake for water. They should be back in a moment,” she said. “They will not be pleased to see strange men harassing me.”

His gaze slid down her body; then he nodded to his men, and the strangers fell upon our warriors at once. And as fierce as our men fought, they could not stand against the large force, nor could have our whole unit.

Silenced and restrained, I watched through my tears as the enemy cut down those guards to the last man, then seized and bound Onra and lifted her onto the back of a horse. I struggled against the captain, but he held me fast, and two more warriors moved silently next to us to help keep me in place and quiet.

The strangers carried off everything: horses, tents, food, even our dead.

~~~***~~~

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

(The Siege of Karamur)

“Forgive me, Lady Tera.” The captain released me once the enemy had gone far enough down the road so we could neither see nor hear them. “I but acted on the orders of our High Lord. We are to protect you with our lives.”

I seethed with frustration and reeled with despair. I did not wish others to give their lives for mine!

“We could have done nothing,” he said. “Had we come out of the woods, the enemy would have carried off twenty-four dead guards instead of six, and they would still have Mistress Onra, and you as well, my Lady.”

I was glad for as many of our warriors still alive as we had, but as for myself, I would have rather been carried off with Onra than watch her being taken.

“Let us leave at once.” I could not conceive of resting while the enemy had my friend.

We set out and progressed faster than before, even without the horses, as we did not have to hold back anymore on Onra’s account. I could walk the forest as fast as any of the warriors and many times climbed the tall trees to serve as lookout. I could climb highest, being the slightest in weight. As we marched, I showed the men all the edible plants we passed, and although they grumbled for meat, we did not stop to hunt.

We cut across the foothills and boarded our ship in the middle of the night unseen, then set sail for Karamur, even though I begged the captain to remain and see whether we could rescue Onra. But he would not be swayed and kept to the orders of his High Lord, which were, first and foremost, to return me to him in safety. I could gain no other concession but that he would send men back to search for her once we arrived at Kaharta Reh.

This time as we crossed the sea, the wind blew against us and the journey lasted twice as long as on the way to Sheharree, and it seemed longer still, for I had only worry for company. My heart grew sick from having so thoroughly failed my mission.

The Shahala had refused my requests, and I had lost Onra. I wept into my pillow at night and prayed to the spirits to keep her safe.

When we reached Kaharta Reh, we found the harbor filled with ships and packed thick with people of every kind. The first news we heard was that the Gate of the World had fallen and some of the enemy had already come through. Caravans were leaving to Karamur daily—rogue warriors to join the army, farmers and merchants to seek shelter behind the walls of the Kadar’s strongest city.

We stopped at the House of Tahar again, but long enough only to load our manyinga beasts with food and water. This time, in all the chaos, I did find a way to see Talmir and pleaded with him to join us and bring his family, but he chose to stay, his wife too large with their third child to be moved.

Onra’s mother too would not hear of leaving. I had not the heart to tell her about her daughter’s fate, for I believed she would soon be rescued. The old woman thought Onra had gone to Karamur early to await the birth, and I did not disabuse her of that notion.

Tahar had already left before our arrival with his warriors to join Batumar’s army. Soon we were on our way too, following a merchant caravan. The captain sent a warrior to ride ahead and tell Batumar of our approach, and so the High Lord met us on the road.

Without wasting time to get down, he rode his manyinga next to mine and scooped me from the saddle to seat me in front of him. He gathered me tightly against him, and I found myself buried against his wide chest and breathed his warrior scent of leather and steel. I had missed him on the long journey.

“Tugren told me what happened,” he mumbled into my hair and tightened his grip further until I found I could not speak. “We heard other stories.”

I eased back a little but did not move out of his arms, for I had not felt as safe in a very long time. He turned his manyinga toward the city without releasing his hold on me, and on the way up the road, I told him about my failed journey to the Shahala and how we had been set upon on our way home, and how Onra had been taken from us.

He promised at once that he would do all in his power to see my friend rescued. His words were guarded as if holding something back. He did not say
if it is not too late already
, but I heard it in his grave voice. I could not accept such a possibility; my very heart refused it.

When we reached Karamur, people greeted us at the main gate as they had greeted Batumar the first time I had seen the city, only their cheers were for me now as well, and many came up to our beast to kiss the hem of my dress. Even women, although they approached the manyinga most fearfully.

Leena waited for me at the palace, in a gown befitting the High Lord’s mother. She hugged me in tears, then asked the servants to prepare a bath. She insisted on assisting me without regard to her high position, and once again I had to recount the long, sad story of our journey.

She, in turn, told me all that had happened at Karamur since we had left, and told me news of Onra, which Batumar omitted.

“The High Lord worried for you. Never have I seen him in such a state,” she said as she poured warm water over my head. “News reached us that the enemy had gone to the land of the Shahala to seek you. They were seen, people said, marching with the Kadar queen in shackles, and the body of the king’s unborn heir carried on top of a lance. We did not know whether you were with child when you left, and you were gone for so long… It near broke Batumar.” She wiped her eyes. “It near broke all of us.”

I cried for Onra, and Leena consoled me as best she could, but I was still steeped in misery when Batumar sent for me that night.

“You heard,” he said when he saw my face, his own countenance darkening.

I nodded, and he walked to me to gather me into his arms. He carried me to his bed and lay down beside me. I did not wait to be pulled closer but burrowed against his warmth, seeking something I could not name. I knew only that at last I felt safe and at home, more so than at the ruins of the house where I had grown up, more so than among my people, the Shahala.

I lifted my face to his, illuminated in the light of the fire, and for once I did not fear the hunger of his gaze. He must have seen the change, for his dark eyes narrowed. And still he neither moved nor talked.

With brazenness I did not know I possessed, I pressed my mouth against his. How warm his lips were under mine, how gentle the strong arms that came to encircle me. I sought the warmth of his skin with my hands, my fingers parting his shirt and gliding over hills of muscles.

He held still, allowing me to explore him without hindrance. Then, as my hand slid down his chest and across his hard stomach, he captured my wrist with a groan. “If the Kerghi will not be the death of me, you surely will,” he said in a ragged whisper against my lips before he took them.

“You should rest, for you had a hard journey,” he whispered into my neck some time later.

I smiled at the strain in his voice. “And if I do not wish to rest?”

He reclaimed my lips before the last word was out. And then he claimed the rest of me, or rather, we claimed each other.

* * *

The following day, I traveled to the Forgotten City under heavy guard to ask the Seer about Onra. I stopped by the cave to greet the Guardians and see how they fared and found them in low spirits.

The Guardian of the Gate mourned the gate’s loss to the enemy, while the Guardian of the Cave consoled him. The Guardian of the Scrolls sat in the back, much in the same place his father used to, the same unhappy expression on his face. He was around the age Lord Gilrem had been, but there was a solemn quality to him rarely possessed by a man so young. Maybe too young to shoulder the responsibility he had, I thought as I considered the Guardians’ strange customs.

“Greetings, Lady Tera.” He stood. “Have you come to look at the scrolls?”

I was about to say no but ended up nodding. Maybe by some miracle writing had appeared on the third scroll since last I had seen it. The Guardian of the Cave opened the rock, and I followed the Guardian of the Scrolls into the tunnel and waited when he stopped to hesitate at a crossroad.

When we finally reached the chamber that contained the scrolls, I found them the same.

No help from anyone, then. Not the Shahala, not the First People, not the Seela—they would not leave their valley but would die in the city of their ancestors, the Guardians had told me. Frustration pressed against my temples as I followed the young Guardian back.

I did not reclaim my seat by the fire. “I shall visit the Seer.”

The Guardian of the Gate looked up, his face glum. “She is on a journey. She has been gone for three days.”

“I did not think your people traveled,” I responded, surprised.

“Her body is in her hut, but her spirit has flown.”

“For so long a time?”

He frowned. “It is unusual. Some worry her spirit might have been captured.”

I shuddered at the thought, glad I had not known of that possibility when I had “traveled” with her to Mernor.

The Guardian of the Cave walked outside and looked at the city that spread below. “I shall go and visit her.”

“And I with you.” The Guardian of the Gate stood with sudden determination and shook his shoulders as if shaking off a dark weight.

I looked after them for a while, until the Guardian of the Scrolls offered me some fruit and cheese. We sat on coarse wool blankets, facing the fire. Winter was upon us again.

“I miss your father,” I said.

His shoulders sagged, his father’s robe hanging on his lanky frame. “Everybody does. The other Guardians use whatever excuse they can to stay away from me. I think looking at me reminds them what they lost.” His lips twisted into a sour smile, the sharp lines of his face seeming even more severe. “I am the only one who did not know my father well enough to miss him.”

I could feel the pain in his heart as if my own. “He always spoke fondly of you.”

His face lightened at my words. “I wish I were more like him.”

“I never knew my true father, but all my life I wished I were more like my mother.”

He looked at me with surprise, so I added, “My powers came to me late. I used to fear I did not inherit any at all.”

“I feared the same.” He caught himself and fell silent, nothing but the sounds of the crackling fire between us.

“You are not as fast yet as your father, but you found the scrolls each time.”

“I do not feel them,” he said miserably. “They call to me not. My father followed their voice. He would have found them with his eyes closed. I follow the carvings on the walls.”

“Maybe it is so,” I said after some thought. “Maybe now that the scrolls have been opened, they do not need such a Guardian as your father was.”

He looked up, his face twisted into an expression of anguish. “But do you not see? That is even worse. The scrolls are the sole purpose of my life, as they were the sole purpose of the life of every man in my family before me.”

“Some traditions are so old they seem to be as inevitable as the sunrise. But they are just traditions. Not unchangeable.”

He shook his head.