The Scorched Earth (The Chaos Born) (15 page)

Perhaps that was why he was so infatuated with Scythe. He’d known several women, but nothing had ever developed beyond a single night or two of physical passion. He’d never felt any kind of real emotional or spiritual connection to any of them. But in Scythe he sensed a kindred soul, a woman who could understand him, someone he could imagine a future with.

You’re being foolish
, he chided himself.
You barely know her
.

It was possible his attraction to the young Islander was born of envy. He sensed the feelings Scythe and Norr clearly had for each other. Maybe he just wanted to feel that passionate about
someone himself and have someone—anyone—feel the same way about him.

Yet even now, marching wordlessly beside her across the frozen tundra, he felt there was some kind of chemistry between them. He still remembered the spark he’d felt when he first set eyes on the young woman outside the inn where their lives became intertwined.

Stop this. She’s with Norr, and she’s made it clear she isn’t interested in anybody else
.

He knew that Scythe was hurting, stung by Shalana’s unexpected revelation. Norr was upset, too, and clearly just waiting for a chance to speak with Scythe in private. Keegan felt bad for both of them. In their short time together they had all been through so much that he already considered them friends. It pained him to see them suffer.

But part of him—a small, dark, twisted part he didn’t want to admit existed—couldn’t help but hope this would drive a wedge between the two lovers.

Scythe had hoped the day’s march would let her work out some of the emotions raging inside her. But the pace was too slow to push her physically, and when they finally reached the patrol’s temporary camp and stopped for the night she was still fuming.

It’s Norr’s fault we couldn’t go any faster
, she thought.
Limping along like a cripple!

Petty and childish as the thought was, it stirred up conflicting emotions. On the one hand she was even more angry at Norr than before for holding them back. Yet at the same time, part of her was worried about him.

Why isn’t he getting better?

She’d learned enough about medicine from Methodis, her adopted
father, to know that minor injuries that took too long to heal could be symptoms of something much worse.

Probably not an infection; he wasn’t cut. But he could have torn a ligament
.

She’d have to examine him to find out the true extent of his injury. Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to be possible. Shalana had been quick to lead Norr away right after they arrived at the camp while Scythe and the others were ushered off in the opposite direction.

Glancing back over her shoulder, Scythe watched them disappear into a small tent.

They haven’t seen each other in years; of course she’d want to talk to him in private. That’s all they’re doing. Just talking
.

To keep her mind from conjuring up crazy images of her lover and the tall, auburn-haired beauty, she turned her focus to the rest of the camp as their guards led them along. Though obviously temporary, it was large and well organized. In addition to the fifteen envoys who had gone to meet the Ice Fang contingent, there were another dozen Stone Spirit warriors who had been left behind to watch over the site.

Small, portable tents of animal skin had been arranged in clusters of four around the site, positioned so that they formed a tight ring, with the entrances all facing inward to offer some protection against the wind. Hides and blankets had been stretched between each quartet of tents, and a fire pit had been hollowed out in the earth in the center of each ring, the warmth of the smoldering peat captured by the makeshift animal-skin walls.

Beyond the outskirts, two long trenches had been dug to serve as latrines. Ample food and supplies—spare weapons, extra clothing, and more blankets—had been piled near the middle of the camp, along with several small sleds that could be used to haul their provisions across the permafrost terrain.

No dogs
, Scythe noted.
They must pull the sleds by hand
.

They were led to one of the tent clusters near the edge, on the side closest to the latrines.

“Outlanders stay here,” one of the warriors explained to them in a clumsy, halting version of Allrish. “Rest of camp forbidden.”

He didn’t bother to wait for their reply. Instead, he and the rest of their escort turned and headed back to the main hub, not even bothering to post a guard.

Guess they don’t figure we’re stupid enough to try anything when we’re outnumbered five to one
.

“We should get in from the cold,” Vaaler said, pulling aside the hide flap so they could step into the tent ring and get closer to the fire pit’s warmth.

Jerrod and Keegan were quick to take him up on the offer; now that they weren’t on the move the chill of the air was more noticeable. Scythe hesitated, her gaze wandering over to the other side of the camp where Norr and Shalana had disappeared.

“Are you okay?” Vaaler asked. “Want to talk about it?”

Yes, but with Norr, not you
.

“I’m fine,” she mumbled, then ducked under the hide flap as Vaaler followed close behind.

The air inside the tent circle was hazy from the burning peat, but it was a small price to pay for shelter from the wind and cold. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but at least it was bearable.

Scythe hoped the others would have the decency not to say anything about Norr—as far as she was concerned, it was none of their business. Unfortunately, Jerrod felt like everything was his business.

“It is clear you did not know Norr was married,” the monk said, showing his typical disregard for tact. “I’m worried what your reaction to this news will be.”

“That’s between me and Norr,” she answered, her tone making it clear the conversation was over.

“I wish that was true,” Jerrod countered, refusing to let the matter drop. “But in the eyes of the barbarians, we are all the same. Outlanders. If your emotions lead you to do something reckless, it might have consequences for all of us.”

“I’m not a child,” Scythe reminded him.

“We’re just worried about you,” Keegan chimed in. “This kind of betrayal can be hard to take.”

What could a kid like you know about it?
Scythe thought, momentarily forgetting that they were the same age.

“We shouldn’t judge Norr until we hear what he has to say about all this,” Vaaler cautioned. “Whatever’s going on, I’m sure there’s more to it than meets the eye.”

“It could be that he has abandoned us now that he is back among his own people,” Jerrod speculated.

“He wouldn’t do that,” Scythe insisted.

“Are you certain?” Jerrod replied. “Obviously you don’t know him as well as you thought.”

“I don’t think he’d abandon us, either,” Vaaler said. “I bet he’ll show up any minute to tell us exactly what’s going on. And when he gets here,” he added, “we owe it to him to hear what he has to say.”

The Danaan turned to look directly at Scythe. “Especially you.
Listen
to him.”

Scythe didn’t bother answering; she was in no mood to be lectured.

It didn’t take long before Vaaler’s prediction proved true, and Norr pulled aside the hides and blankets and squeezed his bulk in to join them. He had changed from the stitched-together Danaan robes he’d been wearing during their journey into an armless animal-hide vest, a leather kilt, and heavy boots.

“We wondered where you had gone,” Jerrod said before the big man even had a chance to sit.

“It has been many years since I left my clan,” he answered. “I
had to speak with Shalana. There were things I needed to know and things I needed to tell her.”

“What kinds of things?” Jerrod demanded, making no effort to hide the suspicion in his voice.

Norr ignored him and turned to his lover.

“Scythe,” he said, “we need to talk. In private. I want to explain what’s going on.”

“This affects all of us,” Jerrod protested. “We put our lives in your hands. We deserve to know what this is all about.”

Scythe snapped her head around to shoot the blind monk a withering glare, but when she turned back to Norr her words surprised even herself.

“White Eyes is right. I think I’ve had enough secrets for a while. Let’s get everything out in the open.”

Norr hesitated, then sighed and nodded. He awkwardly lowered himself to the ground and began to speak.

“Shalana doesn’t have cause to speak your language often, and she sometimes makes mistakes. We were betrothed, but we never shared the marriage feast.”

“So you’re not her husband,” Vaaler clarified. “You’re her fiancé.”

“That was many years ago,” Norr explained.

“Is that why you left?” Keegan asked. “To avoid marrying her?”

“Not exactly. My reasons for leaving were complicated.”

“Did you love her?” Scythe asked.

“I did, once,” Norr said softly. “We grew up together; since we were children, we have been very close. There was a time when we shared our hopes and dreams; when just the sight of Shalana would make my heart race.”

“Do you still love her?” she whispered.

“I will always care about Shalana,” he admitted, “but you are the only one I love, Scythe.”

She knew Norr well enough to recognize the powerful emotion
behind his plain and simple words. She was still hurt and angry, but in that instant she knew this was something she’d get over.

The others were silent, waiting for her to reply. But romantic declarations weren’t her style, especially not in front of an audience.

“Let me see your knee,” was all she said, coming over and sitting close beside him and placing her hand on his arm.

From the look in Norr’s eyes, she knew he understood exactly how she felt. In their relationship actions spoke louder than words.

“What happened with you and Shalana?” Keegan wanted to know. “Why did you leave your clan?”

“And how does all of this affect us now?” Jerrod added.

“Shalana’s father was Terramon, Chief of the Stone Spirit clan. He was a great warrior in his youth, and a brilliant tactical and political leader. He’s also arrogant, stubborn, and sometimes even cruel.”

Scythe was listening along with the others, but her focus was on Norr’s injury. His knee was so badly swollen that the skin around it was stretched and discolored.

Fluid building up; his body’s trying to immobilize the joint to protect it. No wonder he can barely walk
.

Gently, she began to poke and prod the area with her fingers, trying to feel through the bloated flesh to find the full extent of the damage.

“Thirty years ago, when Terramon took over as chief from his father, the Stone Spirits were already a large and fierce clan, with a dozen other clans paying regular tribute to us. But Terramon wanted more.

“Over the next three decades he led a campaign of conquest. Stone Spirit warriors swept across the tundra, forcing more and more clans to bow down and swear fealty to Terramon until we were one of the largest and most powerful clans in the East.

“In the early years, my father was Terramon’s most trusted thane, fighting by his side in each and every battle. Until the sickness.”

“Sickness?” It was Vaaler who asked the question though Scythe knew they were all thinking it.

“I don’t remember it well; I was only a child. It started with a simple cough. In a few days, those infected would be choking on thick, black phlegm.”

Scythe recognized the symptoms from the medical texts Methodis had made her study as a child. In the south it was called lung rot.

But lung rot thrives in warm, humid climates. How did it end up in the Frozen East?
she wondered.

She’d heard stories of adventurous traders from the Free Cities and the Southlands dealing with some of the barbarian tribes. If one of them had been carrying the disease, he could have passed it on to Norr’s people accidentally.

Or not so accidentally if they knowingly gave them infected blankets and clothing during the trades
.

“Many clans suffered,” Norr continued. “Dozens of Stone Spirits died.”

“It could have been worse,” Scythe told him. “Lung rot wiped out entire villages in the Southlands. The cold must have weakened the disease and kept it from spreading. You were lucky.”

“The sickness took my mother,” Norr said quietly. “Shalana’s, too.”

Mortified, Scythe felt herself flushing with shame.

“I’m sorry, Norr,” she gasped. “I didn’t mean to …” She trailed off, unable to think of anything to say that could make up for her callous stupidity.

He reached out one of his giant hands and wrapped it around both of hers, momentarily stopping her from tending to his injury.

“It’s okay, Scythe,” he told her, gazing deep into her eyes. “You didn’t know.”

The simple gesture lasted only a few seconds before he released her hands and resumed his tale. Yet that was all it took for Scythe to realize he had forgiven her.

“My father took ill, but he survived,” he continued. “But his lungs were ruined. Even walking across the camp left him gasping for air; his days of being a warrior were over.

“Out of respect for what he once was, Terramon let my father keep his title as thane. While Terramon led our war parties on their forays deeper and deeper into enemy territory, my father stayed behind and oversaw the day-to-day welfare of the clan.

“He also took over the responsibility of raising Shalana. Knowing she would be the one to succeed her father as leader of our clan, he taught her the ways of our people even as he taught them to me: our traditions; our customs; how to track; how to hunt; how to fight.

“When we came of age, we joined Terramon’s raiding parties, fighting for the glory of the clan and spreading the reach and influence of the Stone Spirits. Shalana had heeded my father’s lessons well, and over the next few years she became a great warrior, forging her legend in the fires of battle.”

Knowing Norr’s nature, Scythe guessed that he had also created quite a reputation for himself but was simply too humble to mention it.