Into the Fray: Volume 1 of The Sorcerers of Jhanvia Series (4 page)

A large black horse trotted onto the courtyard. The sorceress hesitated, and the warrior repeated in a stronger tone. “Come!”

Kaitra gathered her wits long enough to cede to her order. She clung with all her might to the temple sword and her defender’s cloak as the warrior hefted her up and onto the horse. The Valtyr jumped on behind her and grabbed the reins. The horse paused for just a moment while its riders got set, and then bolted into the woods just as Dakal emerged from the temple doorway.

He called to one of his lieutenants. “Loran!”

“My lord?” the clansman replied as he ran to up him.

The Rutalan leader was examining the dead bodies that were slowly seeping blood onto the courtyard stones. He pointed into the darkness and commanded, “Two have escaped on horseback. Take Hasil and find them.” He roughly grabbed the underling’s leather jerkin and made solid face-to-face eye contact. “Kill the one who did this and bring me the Dhoyan!”

“Yes, my lord,” his underling replied confidently.

Dakal released him to attend to the assigned task. He took a deep breath in disgust over the possibility that anyone might survive his onslaught.

The jet black horse raced through the trees, careful of its path so as not to jeopardize its fragile cargo. Trees were always preferable to open fields while in flight…easier to hide among, easier to deceive pursuers. Their great limbs ever reach for the sky during the day, but at night, they protect those in their domain who exhibit proper respect as
a mother holding a child. They can be the most steadfast and loyal of friends.

The warrior held the sorceress between her arms tightly to prevent her falling off, while maintaining a soft hold on the reins. She knew the horse could be counted on to do exactly what was needed without direction, leaving her to focus on more pressing duties. They swayed back and forth with the motions of the horse, occasionally ducking a close limb that really never threatened. The moon and the stars provided just enough light to illuminate the way.

As they approached the crest of a ridge, the warrior gently patted her horse’s hindquarters. It took a dozen strides before stopping so as not to throw those aboard.

The Valtyr slid off and reached up a hand for the distraught woman who remained motionless, staring ahead, her spirit lost in an emotional void, her mind racing with activity, none of it having any direction.

“Let me help...,” the warrior offered a hand.

The mage’s voiced quivered a resolute “No!”

“You must dismount. They will be following us. We must get under cover for the night.” The warrior extended her fingers a bit further in anticipation. A momentary pause, then concession, as Kaitra threw her leg over the horse and dropped to the ground. She grabbed a leather flask of water from her supplies and tapped the hindquarters of her horse. It galloped away into the forest, continuing in the same general direction as before.

The young Valtyr pointed to a fallen log near an unusually bushy, tall conifer and quietly requested, “Please sit over there.” The young woman complied without protest. She picked up a fallen pine bough that was laying on the ground next to her and backed her way over to the log where the Dhoyan sat, using it to brush away their tracks as she went. Then she stood tall and focused her mind on the ground she had just covered, holding up her hand, as if feeling the air. She moved it slowly back and forth for a few moments, closing her eyes in an effort to summon the energies necessary to set the spell. A faint golden glow
began to emanate from her fingertips that grew into a semi-transparent dome above their heads, stretching to the ground around them. Then it just seemed to vanish.

She sat next to the sorceress and whispered, “We must be very still. The men approach, but they will not see us.” She drew her sword and laid it across her lap. Just in case.

They sat quietly for several minutes, serenaded by the frogs and insects. The faint call of a distant owl echoed through the trees as two men became visible, moving up the ridge. They moved quietly, but quickly through the forest, their eyes focusing on what lay ahead without losing sight of the hoof prints that were their guide. As they reached the place where the horse had stopped, they paused and looked at each other. Without a word, they agreed on what had happened. Both of them used their individually honed techniques to examine the immediate area. One visually interrogated the surrounding ground for the answer to the puzzle while the other gently caressed the pine needles and leaves with his fingertips. They both scanned the forest, but the truth could not be discerned. They looked at each other and silently agreed to continue following the hoof prints that continued deeper into the forest. The men were clever and effective trackers, but this night would belong to the prey.

The magic used to hide them was old magic.

After a few minutes, the men disappeared deep within the trees and darkness. The warrior took one last look around and softly announced, “They’re gone. I’m going to negotiate for the use of this Mutral,” referring to the large bushy tree next to them. She used some of the water to clean the blood from her hands and claws and then she asked, “It will only take me a few minutes. Will you be all right?”

The sorceress nodded wearily, trembling a bit, either from the cold or the events of the evening, it didn’t really matter which. The Valtyr reached out to take her cloak, but Kaitra pulled away.

“It’s all right,” she assured her. “We are safe here. It’s getting cool and I was just going to put my cloak over you.”

She looked into the deep blue eyes of the one who stood before her. Her mind screamed out against trusting anyone or anything, but her heart felt her sincerity. She relaxed her hold on the deep green cloak.

The Valtyr slowly unwound it from her arms and laid it over her shoulders, taking a knee in front of her to latch the buckle. She smiled and said, “My name is Kidreyli, but friends call me Drey. Rest here, I‘ll be back straight away.”

Kaitra acknowledged her with a nod as she pulled the cloak tightly around her.

Kidreyli stepped over and pulled on a branch, creating an opening, and then spun herself through the dense growth of the tree and into the center of the Mutral. “Nokul tria Sharm,” she announced as she gazed up at the twisted limbs that rose into a conical, cathedral-like ceiling that was lit by a dim, but all encompassing light. The branches and needles were woven together so tightly that rain and wind could not enter. Whether it was the physical structure of this place or the magics of those who dwelt within, no one was certain—all that was known was that no sounds from within could pass into the world beyond. The trunk of the tree twisted and gnarled its way skyward until disappearing into the intricate woven limbs above, a natural shelter for those who knew the secrets of the forest.

“You are Valtyr,” a gentle male voice came from the limbs above. “I’m surprised to see one of you this far south.” Appearing, as if by magic from the branches, a small floating entity which resembled a winged flame about the length of one’s hand descended to eye level with her. It hovered quietly, its wings slowly caressing the air, the light emanating from its body pulsing slowly in a calming rhythm.

“I am a bit out of my element here,” she responded. “My companion and I need shelter tonight. I willingly give to you a piece of my life force in exchange for your protection and use of this sacred place.”

She used one of her throwing knives to cut a lock of hair from her head. Then she made a small incision in her left hand and dipped the hair in the blood that slowly filled her palm. She held it out for him.

He slowly floated over and engulfed the offering. His light became a deep shade of green as his energy reacted with the concoction, and then he returned to his normal red and yellow colors as he backed away from her. “Your heart is pure and your honor is refreshing. Your gift is accepted. I’m glad to see that some traditions still survive. I am Trika of The Sharm and you are welcome to stay with us this night.”

“Thank you. I am Kidreyli, and I am honored to be accepted by your house. The companion of whom I speak is a woman I saved from a mercenary hoard. Many of her people were killed. I’m afraid this night will be difficult for her.”

“I understand. Bring her,” Trika was reassuring as he floated upward and disappeared into the tangle of branches.

Kidreyli nodded her acknowledgment and carefully spun through the branches of the tree and back out into the forest. She looked over to make sure Kaitra was still sitting on the log, and she was. She scanned the surrounding forest for signs of danger and all seemed secure. She went over to the sorceress and announced, “We must get into shelter for the night. I have found a comfortable place in this Mutral.” She reached down to help her up.

“I’ve heard of Mutrals,” Kaitra noted uneasily. “They say that they are dangerous and anyone who enters loses their mind.”

“Just a legend,” the warrior smiled. “Come.” She pulled back some branches to create an opening. The young woman hesitated a moment to question her trust of this stranger, then plunged forward through the branches, bent over some to protect the items she carried. Kidreyli spun herself through the branches to find her companion staring with surprise at the dimly-lit, intricately designed structure above.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” remarked the Valtyr.

“Yes, it is,” the sorceress replied half-heartedly as she put the water container on the ground and leaned her sword against the trunk of the tree.

“What is your name?” asked Kidreyli.

“I am Kaitra.” A short answer followed by an awkward silence as she sat down on a rock and stared at the ground in front of her.

Kidreyli removed her sword and sat on the ground opposite her. She let the silence continue for several moments before she decided to break it. “Are you from the west of Kirlapia?”

“No, I’m from Dhoya.”

“Really,” the warrior was pleasantly surprised. “I’ve never met anyone from there. You’re a long way from home.”

“Yes.” Another short answer followed by more persistent silence.

“The sword you carry is beautiful,” Kidreyli commented. “May I hold it?”

Kaitra nodded her approval.

She reached over and picked it up by the hilt. As she cradled the blade in her left hand, she felt a tingling in her fingers from the residual energy still within it. The last time she felt anything like this was four years ago, when she picked up the sword belonging to the mage Sumstreia. Considering the sword had been grounded, she pondered over the powerful magic that must have been used to create such a long-lasting effect. She chose to suppress her inquisitiveness about the carvings on the blade near the guard.

“Very nice,” the warrior respectfully put it back in its place.

“It’s yours if you want it. I certainly have no further use for it.” Her disposition was predictably sullen.

Kidreyli’s eyes perked up when she felt a presence outside the Mutral. “I’ll be right back,” she announced as she got up and spun through the branches and out into the forest.

“Where are you…?” Kaitra never got the words out before the warrior was gone. More silence. The festering emotional strain of the day was boiling up closer and closer to the surface, helped along by the magic of The Sharm.

A few moments later, Kidreyli spun back into the Mutral with supplies in hand. “You can sleep on this tonight,” she said as she tossed
out a bedroll flat with one hand. “I’ll sleep over there,” she motioned toward a bed of pine needles that had obviously been used for that purpose before. “There is food here if you wish it.”

“Where did you get this?”

“Tyral is back,” she replied so matter-of-factly.

The young woman just looked at her blankly.

Kidreyli smiled and explained, “My horse. She led the trackers deep into the forest and probably spun them about five or six times. She’s really good at that. They’ll be lucky to find their way back home. She’ll keep watch over us tonight.” She flopped into her chosen bed, sighing with pleasure at reaching the end of the day. She knew what was coming next.

Kaitra lay back tentatively onto the bedroll and stared straight up at the bones of the natural shelter. It did not take long for the pent up emotions to evolve into physical release, starting with a lone tear easing its way from her eye slowly down the side of her face. She rolled over, looking away from her liberator to hide the tears. Her throat was taut as she tried with all her might to hold them back, but the images of the most horrible events at the temple began to replay in her mind, culminating in the death of her mentor.

“No!” she exclaimed as she sat up, both screaming and crying. “Dear Mother, why was this necessary?!”

Kidreyli jumped up and knelt next to her, holding on tight as she resisted Kaitra’s efforts to lash out. The young woman beat on her savior’s shoulders with her fists as she sobbed uncontrollably. In the end, the Valtyr’s strength won the struggle. Kaitra collapsed into her emotions as the warrior cradled her head to her shoulder.

“Let it out, it’s all right,” Kidreyli encouraged.

Several minutes of utter emotional chaos ensued. Grief over loss… then anger…then revenge. “I’m going to destroy them!” the sorceress screamed through the crying. She looked intently into the young Valtyr’s deep blue eyes and restated, “The Rutalans—I
will
destroy them. Will you help?”