What Was Forgotten (22 page)

They began to flee.

Another near miss smashed against a rock near him and he felt the heat sting his right arm and his hand. He had joined the others in the retreat before he realized it was shards from a clay pot that were in his flesh. He could not move his right hand at all. His arm was slick with blood, and he could see its sheen in the moonlight.

He still carried those scars from when the war ended and the defeat began.

There was no ending to the killing once it began as the men of the Ninth, those in league with Praene, turned against those that were not.

Zayd, his men, and the Dramandi prisoners they had freed ran until the cries of the dying and the clatter of weapons could not be heard, weaving through the trees and over the rocky ground even when they realized that no one pursued them. They only stopped when a few of the prisoners, including Sera Naiat, could go no further. Zayd sat down and leaned against a tree. No one said anything, all of them somehow under the same understanding that they should be silent and wary. They listened to the rustling of trees, expecting to hear footsteps coming after them.

But there was nothing.

“It looks like you were right,
vahr
,” Daruthin said in Tauthri. “Were you certain?”

“Not really. We gambled.”

“A gamble you won.”

“What a victory,” Tascell interjected. “Who helped you? You said,
we
.”

Zayd had not told them about Barrett, that the knight had brought this conjecture to him to begin with. “Did anyone see Stern escape?” Zayd asked, dodging the question.

“Stern? He would not have run,” Daruthin said. “Maybe he was part of it. Part of Praene’s betrayal. Why worry about him? He would have killed you if he had the chance. In the chaos we escaped… he would have tried.” There was silent agreement among the other Tauthri. Zayd looked over to the Dramandi. He could see Sera lying on the ground, still out of breath. The more imposing Dramandi warrior was sitting next to her, and they whispered to each other and cast him quick glances. As Zayd looked from them to his own men he wondered how eager they would be to go back towards the danger they had just escaped.

“Stern was not a part of it,” Zayd said. “He came to me for help. It was his suspicion that was right.”

“You can’t be serious,
vahr,
” Tascell said. “You trusted that death-loving Trueborn?”

“No, Tascell. He trusted
me
. And if he escaped, he is on his way to Ten Tower fort to alert the garrison there to Praene’s defection from the army.”

“And what if he did not escape?” Tascell asked. “What becomes of us then?”

“Then we go there ourselves. There is no other choice. You know what will happen if we do not. You know what fate our families face.”

“I have no family,” muttered Turald, one of the other scouts. “They all died in the invasion.”

Daruthin and Tascell looked at each other. Zayd could tell they were piecing things together. Dozens and dozens of soldiers would not be complicit in such treason. Their own families would be in danger, too. Trueborn are not pressed into service like the Tauthri, or as the En Kazyr once were, but if their act were to be uncovered, it would be death for their wives and children all the same.

“Praene thought of nearly everything,” Daruthin said. “He made it seem that we were all killed. It is the truth, isn’t it? Why else would he deny their dead the funeral rites?”

Zayd nodded. There was no use denying. He could see the realization of the consequences coming to them all. They could go home. Back to Tauthri, out of the army without any repercussions.

“If Barrett succeeds,” Zayd said, “then the writs will be issued for each of you, if you decide to abandon your duty. Your
sworn
duty.”

Daruthin stepped forward. “Don’t you want to go home?” He did not ask as a way to convince Zayd. It was a question to which Daruthin sincerely did not know the answer.

“He’s going to get to go home soon,” Tascell said. “Your ten years are almost up, aren’t they?”

“What difference will that make if the soldiers come down from Ten Tower and find that we have all gone? I want to hear no more of this, Tascell.”

“We are all prisoners, and we have a chance to escape from that prison. Or are you so in love with your chains that you no longer even know they are there?”

“Tascell…” Daruthin shook his head. “He is still our
vahr
. He deserves respect.”

They were all standing now, but Zayd remained seated. He did not want to show them that he felt himself on the knife-edge of violence, as they certainly did. And to be without his sword, as he was…

“If you are so bound to your station,” Tascell continued, “why not tell them that we died? You can have your chains. We can have our freedom, and we would have a better chance to make it home if we did that than if we stayed. These Trueborn want to see us suffer and die. Who’s to say any of us would see the end of this march anyways?”

“Well, then. March if you choose. I have tried to explain to you the consequences. And, I don’t need to add, if one of you is found out, it will mean
all
of your families.” Zayd tried not to show his nervousness in his bluff. Their decisions seemed already made, but he had to keep them here, even if it was out of fear and not out of duty.

“They will only know if you tell them what happened,” Tascell said. “Will you?”

Zayd did not answer. The answer was already known, given by his silence. He was loyal to the Empire and committed to the task that Commander Areagus had set before them. But he could not betray other Tauthri like this, even if they were betraying him. He remembered the aftermath of the defeat. He remembered saying the words that foreswore all he had once known and valued. And he remembered the feeling, as if the composition of his very soul had shifted. He did not want to experience that again. Perhaps the men with him had not undergone such a change and had always been ready for this opening. Unwavering love and loyalty to their home and their family was not something he would hold against them.

They would be judged, though. Not by Zayd. By the Beacon. Their souls would not have peace. They would wander, senseless and in pain, until a Ryferian priest abolished them from this world to the next where they would be forever in that same state.

There were angry voices among the Dramandi. The intimidating warrior, the undaunted one who invited so much punishment as a prisoner, was still speaking with Sera but looked intermittently at the Tauthri, and it was clear that he was not entirely grateful to them for his freedom.

“What are they saying?” Daruthin asked.

Zayd only caught pieces of what was said, but even if he had heard nothing, he could tell by the barely contained anger of the Dramandi that they wanted to kill them. But being unarmed and outnumbered, they wanted the Tauthri out of Dramand. Zayd had heard the words
scourge
and
defilers
. Their deeds during the war had not been forgotten, and he remembered that they had fought against these very Dramandi in the siege of Yasri.

“They remember us from Yasri,” Zayd said. He would not give his men further justification to abandon him.

“We just saved them,” Daruthin said. “Don’t they realize that?”

“I don’t think it balances the scales.” Zayd and Sera looked at each other. “Tell him not to force a confrontation here,” Zayd said to her.

The undaunted look surprised for a moment to hear a Tauthri speak their tongue. “You speak to
me
, defiler,” he growled.

“Alright. Whatever grievance you are carrying, I suggest you put it to rest. At least for now. If you want my men to think you are a danger, continue acting as such. But they will kill you.”

This seemed only to anger him more. He scowled and hissed at Sera. “The way they speak to us is unforgivable!”

“What have you and your men said?” Sera asked, not looking at the angry sword-kin beside her. “There is something of concern between you. And it causes concern for us since we can only guess at what it is.”

Zayd considered his words carefully. “I’m surprised you have not asked what happened back there.”

“I can guess. What I am more uncertain about is why you freed us.”

“You sound ungrateful.”

“Can we be grateful without knowing the real reason?”

“What is your guess?” Zayd asked. “What do you think happened?”

“The
nasci
turned on each other. Or they turned on you. Maybe both. And it is because of what they took from the earth.”

“What did they take?” the undaunted asked.

“They took the gold marker, Cohvass” Sera said. With that, he finally sat down. He looked at Zayd.

“I am not a seer, but even I knew there was something… some sinister aura about it,” Cohvass said.

Sera nodded. “I told you,” she said to Zayd, “that there was evil about them, working towards its own ends. What happened to the
nasci
is because of it. The phantoms warp and infect the people around them. Make them do wicked things they could not normally do.”

“Men do not need provocations from the dead in order to be greedy,” Zayd said.

“Is that what you saw back there? Simple greed and nothing more?”

“You don’t know the man at the head of it. There is every reason to think he is capable of this. He is petty and vindictive yet inspires loyalty in those around him. The presence of evil is not necessary to explain this.”

She nodded slowly. Zayd was uncertain if she accepted his answer or not. She just looked at him as though she ought not to believe the answer he just gave.

“Why did you set us free?” she asked again.

“So that you would help us.”

Cohvass shot to his feet. “Help you? You should thank your man-god that we do not kill you now and leave your bodies to rot!” Daruthin and a few of the other Tauthri trained their bows on the enraged Dramandi, and Daruthin looked to Zayd. Zayd held up a hand.

“Unless you want to rot along with us…” Zayd said.

“Cohvass,” Sera said. “Enough.” Zayd gave her an appreciative nod.

“I freed you because…” Zayd struggled with an explanation. He did not doubt that the temperamental Cohvass would explode at the real reasons: that he had only ordered it done to create confusion and aid in their escape, and, if Barrett happened to be killed, that he could manipulate them into attacking Praene again with the promise of giving them whatever it was that they had attacked the column for to begin with. He had no real use for them otherwise. Barrett would return in a few days in force and they would either capture Praene and his men, or kill them.

Yet the situation had become more complicated than expected, and he at least should have expected
that
. His men were on the verge of defection as well, and it was unclear if the possibility of Barrett’s return had even convinced them to stay.

So what could he really say? That their plight was pitiable? He looked around and realized that it was no more pitiable than his own. At least Sera and her kin were in their home country, whatever its condition. Zayd would rather be in Tauth with his family even if all of their ancient forests had been burned to ash.

“
Vahr
,” Daruthin said. He spun and aimed his bow into the forest. All of the Tauthri were on their feet. How had Zayd not heard their approach? He heard angry voices speaking Dramandi.

“Lower your bows!” Zayd barked. There were dozens of them approaching. Then dozens more. Sera and the rest of the Dramandi were on their feet as well. “We’re here,” she called. “Don’t kill them yet.”

Zayd looked back. Sera was trying to remain expressionless. He wondered if it was for his benefit. Cohvass had a wide grin at the irony. The Dramandi approached them, armed with swords, spears and bows, and began to disarm all of the Tauthri. Zayd drew his only weapon, his dagger, and tossed it to the ground.

“Why don’t we kill them now?” Cohvass asked Sera. “For all of the pain they inflicted on us. On our people.”

Sera shook her head. “Not yet. They still have a purpose.”

Symm took the bandages off of his arm. The morning air felt cold against his wounds. Zayd inhaled sharply. The shards had left trails on his forearm where they grazed the skin before biting into the flesh, leaving several long marks that introduced them. It looked like someone had painted long raindrops there. His hand, though, was in the worst condition, swollen and so dark a colour of blue that it was almost black.

“It doesn’t look any better,” he said. Symm frowned.

“It doesn’t look any worse. It hasn’t even been two days yet. Should I get Nithlan to look at it again?”

“The others need him more.”

Their healer had not slept since the survivors returned from the attack. Those with minor wounds like Zayd’s were given cursory treatments, quick care to prevent the wounds from becoming diseased. He spent of the rest of his time with Tyroda and Ellom. They had been engulfed in fire and were clinging to life only because of the salves and the incantations that Nithlan administered. Kalyn had carried Tyroda on his back through the forest and told Zayd that he could hear Tyroda’s flesh cooking as they went. “What I wouldn’t give to forget that hideous sound,” he had said.