Doryid woke Aitonala at midnight, then wriggled into his Comfort Bag. “Worth every seed” he thought happily, as its even soft warmth enclosed him, and was soon asleep.

Aitonala stretched softly, decided against putting her armour on and settled down between the roots of a large pinkwood. After a little she got up, borrowed Chrys’ Rai-style jacket and settled down again. The nights were cooler at this elevation than she was used to. She listened to the night noises, trying to get a feel for what was normal. Aitonala had grown up in Dtlag city and the placid surrounding countryside. There, the main background noises were either the clatter of footsteps or the lowing of cattle. Here, things rustled, swished, chirped or occasionally screamed, and all in a different manner than in the Eig Wild.

After a little Aitonala felt she had the sounds sorted. She looked around, studying each shadow and shape carefully, as she had been taught. The slight breeze up above sent shivers through the vines and made what little light there was dance over the roots and leaf litter. A stray gleam caught the beady black eyes of some little animal as it snatched a beetle then a flash of grey as it scurried for shelter before some other hunter spotted it. Aitonala smiled, then scanned the undergrowth about. Her eyes caught on two small bright dots, not far above the ground. One of the cat tribe, perhaps? She strained to see more, focusing on the pinpoints. Her gaze was trapped, her will damped.

“Make no noise, rise, walk very quietly towards my eyes, then follow.” The voice was a compelling whisper. Aitonala drifted over silently, brushed aside low branches and followed the receding eyes into the night.

It was some time before the dark shape before her halted, in a place as dark as any under the forest canopy. “Be still” the whisper hissed, and then she felt the cool touch of liquid on the back of her neck. The eyes vanished and her mind began slowly to clear. A rope was fastened about her waist and they went on. The first trickle of dawn light was falling when they halted again. Her captor came close, a stocky young man dressed all in black.

“I’ll have that.” He deftly removed her belt and sheathed knife, then ran his hands over her body, lingering here and there. He tilted her head.

“You’re prettier than they said you would be,” He frowned. “There was something about the skin...never mind.” He glanced up. “We have half an hour, plenty of time...unless, hmm, better check. Wouldn’t want to make the boss angry.” He reached for a potion vial and swabbed the contents on to her chin, then turned her to one side.

The young man chuckled wetly. “Didn’t think there was much chance, not with your background, Chrysanthemum, but I have to be sure. The boss has another use for virgins. We’ll have a little fun and then I’ll deliver you, eh? Don’t run away, will you?”

Aitonala backed away, hands twining behind her back. The young man pulled on the rope, nearly jerking her off her feet, then tied the end to a sapling. He giggled as she pulled the line taut, then sat abruptly, hands in the leaf litter.

“That’s right, find a comfy spot.” He removed his helmet, unslung the crossbow from his back, took off his weapon belt and black surcoat, then shrugged out of the heavy mail-coat and draped it over a buttressing root. Aitonala struggled back to her feet. He laughed and came toward her, opening his breeches. When her hand darted for his eyes, he casually blocked with a raised forearm. Her other hand, claw-tipped, ripped through the exposed flesh below. He screamed, she ducked under a clubbing blow and swiped his forehead. The streaming blood blinded him. He swung wildly until a scything kick sent him sprawling. Aitonala’s claws had nicked through most of the rope. Now she pounced, landing on his back with both knees to reach around, hook talons into the throat and pull back. The screams gave way to a sodden gurgle.

It took only a little time to unpick the knot at her waist. By the time this was done, the body had stopped twitching in its lake of blood. Aitonala scrubbed her hands clean with bunches of leaves, retrieved her belt and dagger and then looked around in thought. She was still in deep forest, and had little remembrance of the path she had taken. A swift climb allowed a more distant view. The country had, she recalled, risen from Near Little Basket-Rush Lake. She did not remember crossing any streams in the night, and her boots were dry. She would, she decided, head downhill but stick to higher ground.

Aitonala picked over the gear her assailant had laid aside. A glass tablet in a cloth cover went into one pocket and a few vials into another, but there was little else she could use. It was not the first time Aitonala had killed, and previously she had felt some sympathy for her opponents. They had been trying to kill her, true, but that was their lot in life, as hers was to kill them. For this death she felt only cold anger. She took a mouthful from a water bottle and slung it on her hip, then set out.

The forest was largely clear of undergrowth but Aitonala still moved slowly, checking the lie of the ground and stopping to listen for pursuit. In one of these pauses she thought to hear footfalls. She stepped behind a trunk and stood quietly. In another minute there came the faintest clink of metal. Aitonala did not hesitate. She reached up, dug claws into bark and was soon on a branch well above the forest floor, pressed against the trunk. A few tense moments, and then she glimpsed movement below. She peered down, cautious not to make any betraying rapid movements. It was Doryid, moving as warily as she, stooping from time to time as he searched the trail. As she watched, he halted and made a hand-signal. She looked further, to see Cardnial following at a little distance. Aitonala thought briefly about giving Doryid a surprise, then thought better of it. He was clearly in a high state of alert, and she did not want to be the victim of a mistake. Instead she softly called his name.

“Aitonala! By the Three! I’m glad to see you safe. We thought you dead too.”

Aitonala dropped to the ground and was enveloped in a great hug. Cardnial, coming up, joined in with an arm around her shoulder, then drew back to look her over.

“You’ve been in a fight.” Aitonala looked down, at the dark spatters on Chrys’ coat.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

“Cold water will get this out. I’m unharmed, and the nameless prick who took me away is dead. But,” she held up a hand, “I’ll have trouble holding a knife and fork for some days. He thought I was Chrys and put Word-Lock on me, but it doesn’t work on body-magic.”

A brief discussion settled that it was best to check the body more thoroughly, so Aitonala turned and led the way. It was a while before she registered the dark mood underlying Doryid’s happiness at finding her, and recalled his first words.

“You thought me dead too? Who else is missing?”

Doryid heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry to be the one who tell you. We were ambushed by a lone crazy not long after dawn. Kosohona took a bolt to the head.”

Aitonala slumped. So much misfortune in so little a space of time. They walked some way in silence, Aitonala letting the tears trickle down her cheeks unhindered. When they were nearing the site of her own fight she spoke.

“Everyone else is alright?”

“Yes. He’d picked a good position, above and across from our campsite, sun-up. He got in one good shot, then we got to cover. Cardnial cast Giant’s Leap on Rakt, and he leapt across that gully and took him on. He was a tough fighter but Rakt got him in the end. He didn’t say anything, just laughed like a maniac. There was nothing on him to give his name or origin, although he had two Items.”

“This one – he’s just over here – laughed a bit too. Not at the end though.”

Doryid and Cardnial paused to take in the scene. The sun was now well up, and the blood glistened in the light. Birds and perhaps some animal had been at the body and a trail of ants led away from an outflung leg. Cardnial turned the corpse over, whistled when he saw the wounds and then gingerly made a closer examination. After a time he joined Doryid and Aitonala in looking at the gear still spread about. Then Cardnial uttered a spell and pointed.

“The armour has additional protection, the glowstone has two modes and some of the crossbow bolts are magical. We’ll take these.” He gave the dead a glance of contempt. “For the rest, you gave him a well-deserved end, Aitonala. We’ll leave him for the crows.”

They had made some distance back before Aitonala uttered the worry at the top of her mind.

“Why us? Why crazies launching attacks out of the blue? First Grymwer, then Chrys, now me and Kosohona.”

Cardnial replied. “I don’t know about the others, but I have some ideas about the one we left back there. I’ll tell you when we are all together.”

They rejoined a sombre band, although faces lightened when Aitonala stepped out of the trees. Kosohona’s body had been laid out, her hands crossed and loosely tied together on her chest, her clothes straightened. Doryid crossed to look down at her lying there, bent to touch her forehead, murmured some words.

“The Awa Saka burn their dead. We cannot leave her here, and this is no place to build a pyre. We will have to carry her.”

“Cannot we recall her, as we did with Grymwer?” asked Aitonala. Grymwer shook his head.

“For one thing, we do not have a Resurrection Pill. For another, I doubt we can reach anyone capable of the necessary magics within three days. Certainly there was no-one of such a level of craft at Near Little Basket-Rush Lake, and the three villages before that were similarly small. But,” he hesitated, looking at Chrys, “we found another solution while you were gone.”

Chrys spoke. “Indeed we will have to carry the body and as Grymwer just said, I doubt we can recall her to this body. So I captured her soul and stowed it in this jar I took from Salko. She comes with us, and we’ll see what we can do.”

* * * *

They reached Near Little Basket-Rush Lake one and a half days later, carrying Kosohona’s body on an improvised litter. The scarred elder came out to greet them, face grave. She gave orders for the funeral that night, with all ceremony, and left them to rest for the time. The next day they again ate with her in her apartment, sitting on rush mats around a low table. She listened as Doryid gave a brief report on the tomb and the Shade, then on the death of Kosohona and the abduction of Aitonala. On this last, Cardnial spoke in halting Saka.

“I looked at the body and the gear. It is my belief he was a member of the Hidden Servants, and it was probably his master who stirred the Shade to break out of its tomb. His master could have felt the disturbance when we laid the Shade to rest and sent an acolyte to see what happened. Yet from Aitonala’s account he knew at least one name among our party and seemed bent on bringing Chrys to his master.”

The elder considered. “It is a matter of concern to us that one of the Hidden Servants should be so close. We will think on how to deal with this. You have done well, and I will arrange for some of us to accompany you to carry back the treasures you spoke of. I suggest you take it from here to Verdu; merchants will be there for the harvest fair.

Also, I received some mail this morning, including a letter from the one you know as Old Man. Enclosed with it was a sheet addressed to you.” She leaned back to open a small box, withdrew a folded sheet and handed it to Doryid. He bowed to her and glanced at the others. She gestured that he should open it. Doryid bowed again, unfolded the stiff paper and gave it a quick scan.

“Easiest if I read it aloud, I think. Aitonala, can you translate for Grymwer? It begins:

Honoured Colleagues, I send this through the Captain-Elder Teshyon loki Breyas, hoping your mission prospers. Since you left Dtlag I have instituted inquiries in regard to the attempts against you. I have learned that these were carried out by one Naif, at the instigation of a certain Follansian. From what information we have, I believe Follansian’s motives are purely personal, in that he was attached to the Brahnak cause, desires revenge for recent events and blames his dismissal on your company. We have drawn the attention of the watch to Naif, and I understand he has left Dtlag. We have been unable to trace Follansian, and he may pursue you even into the Saka country. He is tall, dark-haired and is missing the last joint on the smallest finger of his left hand. We will continue to make inquiries and will let you know as soon as anything further is discovered.

That’s about it.”

“We can tell him where Follansian is at least,” said Rakt, “for the description matches that of the man who killed Kosohona.”

The Captain-Elder tapped the table in thought. “There remain a number of unanswered questions. How did this Follansian locate you? He was not a Saka, and would have gained no cooperation from the villages on your route. What is the involvement of the Hidden Servants? Perhaps there are others – I cannot imagine that a hired killer would be cheap, so where did the money come from?”

“We may never know,” sighed Rakt. “I for one think the air of Dtlag will not be healthy for a while yet.”