Chapter 13

Assassin kept her word. She killed him quickly. Mid-sentence. In the middle of his plea for mercy. Then she turned to leave without a glance back; Kalen followed her. Jaened joined them immediately.
"Where's Eldan?" He asked Kalen after a few moments. Kalen shook his head. He was still too breathless to speak.
"Eldan can take care of herself. Jaened, you're with me. We're going to get your sister out if I have to burn Fellyre to the ground." Assassin paused for a moment to retrieve the glaive she had hidden in the underbrush. "Are you with us, Elnite?"
She was giving him the choice? "No. Why in heaven or hell would I want to follow you?"
"It was an offer, not a request. I have no need of you. You may live longer with us, but then again, perhaps not. I know your kind--you carry ill-fortune with you everywhere you go. Those who believe such things would call you cursed."
Kalen opened his mouth to demand what made him cursed, but immediately saw the truth of her charge. What other explanation could there be? "Well then, I'll free you of a bad luck charm." He turned to leave. No one protested or moved to stop him, so he kept walking.

Retracing his steps from the pile of bodies Assassin had left to where he had parted ways with Eldan was easy, but following her trail was nigh impossible. She could have gone any direction. Elnites were traditionally hunters, but military only taught basic tracking. The broken rubble gave no space for footprints, and he knew she would not be so idle as to let her clothes catch and tear on thorns and stones. Assassin was right--Eldan could take care of herself. He began making his way towards the trees. She was not his charge--wait, was that blood?
He knelt and touched the dark smear. It was still wet. No wonder she had been lagging. He searched the area, but at the same time hoped that she was not bleeding enough to leave a trail. He sighted along the course she'd taken to guess her direction and followed it into the thicker underbrush amass with willows.
"Eldan!" He dared to call her name quietly as he crept forward. Sloosh The turf gave was to swamp, leaving his left leg soaked to the knee. Why would she go this way? "Eldan!" He called her a few more times, then began retracing his steps. If she hadn't gone that way, there was no telling where she might be.
He stopped at the edge of the clearing and dropped quickly to the ground. The rubble was swarming with soldiers, for more that the thirty Assassin had spoken of. Whatever Eldan had taken was clearly of great value to them. He waited, scarcely daring to breathe, until he was certain no one was looking his way, then retreated back into the swamp. At least they wouldn't be able to track him there.
He found a moderately dry log to rest on, but, as the day grew cooler, the insects began to swarm up from the waters. When he could stand the bites and buzzing no longer, he pressed on, deeper into the swamp, since he did not dare to go back.  It had to either dry out or or lead to a larger body of water eventually.
Eventually. Hours passed; darkness slowly descended on the forest, and still there was no change. Every second step landed in deep mud or a small pool of water. What foolish notions of heroism had possessed him to come after Eldan? She was probably safely hidden away with the rest of the Tassin, while he, like the gallant hero he wasn't, was lost in a disease-ridden marsh. The damp worked its way into his bandage, making his shoulder ache and itch.
His mind began to wander. Syriel. What was she doing right now? Was she safe? Free? Was she mourning them? Could his father really protect her? He glanced up at the stars. Wherever she was, she was probably safer than he was right now.
"Kalen?" He started and turned around, finding himself staring down the shaft of a crossbow. Eldan relaxed her weapon. "Thank Ithien you escaped! When you took off, I thought you were dead!" She slid down against the tree she was leaning on to sit on the turf. Kalen joined her.
"Are you hurt? I saw some blood--" Eldan shrugged and pointed to her side. Her shirt was tied up tightly as a makeshift bandage. Dry blood crusted the skin below it.
"It's not bad. I know a serious wound when I see one. I just failed to fully deflect a blow. But how did you manage? I thought you were dead."
Kalen explained in brief what had transpired. "So I came back to find you, but all Terraphel is combing the ruins, so I went this way."
"You came back for me?" Eldan paused for a moment, then added, "So Assassin and Jaened are off to Fellyre? Four against Terraphel, two against Fellyre--that woman is far to confident in her own skills. But I would rather have her attacking Fellyre than on their side."
They sat in silence for a time. Eldan lay back and closed her eyes. In the moonlight, she seemed smaller than she had before.
"What did you steal from Terraphel?"
Eldan opened one eye. "This." She drew out a small, ornate box from her jacket. "I don't know what it is, but it looked important. I wouldn't suggest opening it." Kalen took the box. It was so light it felt almost empty. The wood was deep red, bound with hammered gold and intricately carved. He felt the carvings since it was too dark to see them. So this was what he had almost been killed for. He would normally have been curious about such a thing, but now...
"We should bury it or hide it somewhere that they'll never find it."
"If it's important to them, Fellyre will find it anywhere we hide it. It's safest if we keep it."
"It's safe? What about us? Are we going back to the Tassin?"
"No--not me at least. If those soldiers are after this, I'm not going to lead them to my people. I'll show you the way come morning, but I can't follow until I know what this is and what to do with it."
"If you want to find out what it is," Kalen quickly flipped the clasp and opened the box.

And that was it. No flash, no sound, no sign of magic. Inside lay three pieces of parchment, neatly rolled and tied with black ribbon. Kalen was almost disappointed, but Eldan sat up quickly.
"That's the dumbest thing I've seen you do, but it just might have been the best thing you could have done. We can leave the box for them to find and take the scrolls." She picked one up and began to untie the ribbon.
"Is it safe?"
"You're the one who just opened a box that could have had a viper in it. It's just parchment. It's..." She unrolled it. "Blank." She turned the scroll over. There was not so much as an inkblot, even when she held it up so the moonlight could shine through it. She took the second scroll and found it likewise. Or at least, so it seemed at first.
Kalen glanced over. A long, single sentence was scrawled across it in an unbroken, wavy hand.  "Well that says something."
Eldan looked at him, puzzled. "No it doesn't." She turned it to face him. He looked more closely at the writing. It wasn't like any script he had ever seen before. He gingerly took it from her hands. It was hard to distinguish the thin letters in the dark.
"It seems...it's not Fellyrian--or any common Selvran language. Not that I know anything but Elinite and Common Speech, but I've seen a fair bit, travelling with the army." Eldan snatched it back and turned it over a few times.
"Kalen, there is absolutely nothing written on this." She laughed slightly, then stopped, looking him in the eye. "You actually see something, don't you?"
"You don't?" The writing was thin and a little faint, but it was obvious. He ran his finger along it. The slight ridge of ink--it was all there. How could she not see it?

Chapter 11

Syxel, the City of Lights and legends. Syxel, birthplace of Lord Taril, center of Ithien-worship. Truly, Ithien had forsaken these lands.
All Kalen could do was stare. What perverted savages would think of such a thing? The walls were torn down and stripped of their silver--all but the Eternal Spire. The ancient monument, the only one still standing from when the city had first been erected, five hundred years since, had been turned into a monstrosity. The sides, half-way up, were painted with flaking dried blood. Bodies of warriors were pinned to the spire with massive spikes driven through their hearts, and all around, decapitated bodies of men, women, and children were strewn all laid out carefully, with their heads lying at their feet in a grotesque distortion.
"Look well, Tassin," Assassin's cold voice rang out in the empty space. "Behold the work of Fellyre. There will be no peace for your people until they are overthrown. They do not delight in conquest so much as cruelty. They revel in it. And you, man of Hyedan: these are the people in whose hands you have left your sister." She turned to Kalen, who had sank to his knees. He could not--would not look at the faces. He didn't want to know. "Elnite, think of your friends and family who lie here. Those who butchered them and desecrated their bodies--do you not want revenge? Follow me and we will overthrow Fellyre's plans. We will weaken them such that they may yet fall."
Revenge. The word seemed meaningless. All Kalen could feel was a hollow nausea. Dallanis, Aethan, Taldyr--and so many others. They had trained together, fought together--the countless evening of laughter and humble feasting beside a roaring fire, the foolish horse-racing that had nearly sent twenty of them home, the early mornings when they stumbled out of the tents, rumpled and bleary eyed--gone. A sickening guilt washed over him. He had fled the field. He should have stay--stayed and died with them.  The Four Loyalties--he had failed them all. He saw, once again, the girl with the arrow in her throat. She had the courage--she had died for her people. She had died for him. All the Elnites lying here had died because of him. They had been sent there because of him. Dallanis had been right: they should have deserted.
He felt a hand on his shoulder. Eldan. But it was she who had taken him from this field of death. He pulled away involuntarily. If she had only left him...
"Kalen." Her voice was no more than a distant whisper against the torrent of accusations and questions raging in his mind. "Kalen, look at me." She knelt in front of him, her eyes unavoidable. "I know what's going through your head. Your death would have changed nothing here. It is no sin to survive."
"And no sin to avenge." Assassin's tone was cool. Kalen realized he hated her.  She was unmoved by the carnage--she had brought them here to serve her own ends. She only cared about his grief if it served her purposes. He turned to face her and--Eldan's hand tightened on his arm in an effort to restrain him.
Assassin was moving quickly from body to body, rifling through their gear and weapons. Plundering the dead. She looked up and saw them watching her.
"What? Friend or foe, they have no more need of these. You three are poorly armed. Like it or not, they have what you need." She tossed a sheathed broad sword towards Jaened, but he made no effort to catch it.
"You--" The words came from Kalen with difficulty. "Have you no respect for the dead?"
"No. Nor for the living. Why should I? They've gone where they'll never return. Why would they care what becomes of their carcasses? Come--if your self-righteous sense of  honor won't let you take from your own people, take some Fellyrian gear. It's not half as good quality, though."
After a few minutes, Eldan and Jaened reluctantly took up a few weapons from the dead, but Kalen couldn't. Assissin's logic made sense--cold, heartless sense--but he could only think of what Taldyr would say if he could see them now. How are we better than Fellyre? He recalled the commander's rebuke from years ago. We cannot and we will not stoop to their level. Where is your honor? You call yourselves followers of Ithien? 
"This is a fine piece." Assassin easily spun a massive glaive around. Kalen recognized it immediately. It was Taldyr's. That weapon had been Syriel's pride; she was the only one he permitted to touch it. It had no equal. Now, to see it in the hands of that woman...
"Give me that."
Assassin laughed. "Look who is suddenly interested! Found a weapon that suits your fancy?"
"A plague on you!" Kalen cursed, "That's Taldyr's--you have no right to touch it!"
"I don't care if it belonged to Zerak. It's the finest blade I've ever seen and it's mine. Any who would contest that is welcome to fight me for it." To prove her point, she lowered it so to point was inches from Kalen's face.
"No one is going to fight you for it." Eldan stepped between them. "Right, Kalen?" Kalen lowered his eyes, too angry to reply. How had they let themselves fall into Assassin's power like this?
"We should leave. Whoever did this can't be far away," Jaened put in.
"Fellyre moves quickly, but they wasted a bloody lot of time here." Assassin smirked. "Their arrogance could be there downfall yet." Kalen almost choked. You're one to talk of arrogance! "But if you have all you need, we can go."
Their pace was slower, laden down with weapons. Jaened had acquired a Syxelite mail shirt and a round Fellyrian shield as well as the sword Assassin had given him, and Eldan now had a crossbow bound to her back. Assassin led the way, pointing directions with Taldyr's glaive.  She had taken a bronze helm with a rough half-mask which made her look more manly than ever, and four swords of varying length and make had joined hers on her belt. Kalen marveled that she could walk at all. Marveled and wished it otherwise. If she dropped dead in her tracks, he would have been glad. The force of his hatred surprised him, but it felt good in the place of the numb horror of the carnage at Syxel.
"We will be at Terraphel by nightfall. I trust you all know how to use those weapons?" When Jaened admitted that he did not, Assassin called a halt and, laying aside the rest, drew her old sword.
"Attack me."

It was both sad and comical to watch Jaened try to fight Assassin. She fought carelessly, holding the blade with only two fingers at times, but every time he swung, she sent him to the ground with the flat of her sword. Finally, she laid her sword aside and challenged him again. He swung his blade at her neck and she dove for his feet and laid him flat again, effortlessly catching his blade and disarming him. He tried again, and she sent him flying without even looking. At last, she stepped back.
"You're hopeless." There was no humor in her tone. "You'll never be a warrior. You are more a danger to yourself than anyone else with that blade." She took it away and put it in Kalen's hands before he could protest. "That shield will be your weapon. Don't fight. We need you alive."

They walked on in silence. Kalen suspected that she had done that, not to train Jaened, but to show them all her strength and skill. The sooner they were finished at Terraphel, the sooner they would be free of her. And that was all Kalen wanted.

Chapter 10

Eldan's hand had recovered her sword. "You're that viper's child?!" The assassin was on her feet in an instant.
"Viper? Yes, and torturer and witch. I know a thousand harsher names for her. I am her own flesh, but all she saw was another tool. I will be wielded by her no longer. If you will not help me, I will find revenge another way. But think: You are of the Tassin. Terraphel poses the most immediate threat to your people. I have lived there since it was taken. I know every weakness, every vulnerability. I know Symorkhel's weaknesses too. With me, it could be taken."
"Why? Why should we take Terraphel? It's small. If Fellyre falls, all its little outposts will fall with it. You are in this war only for your own gain. We fight for all free people."
"I am in this only for my gain. I never claimed otherwise. But know this: If the Sheela stays in Symorkhel's hands, Fellyre will rule the world. Of course, I do not care. I have yet to see any that might be called "free people". You are all some form of slave, whether you see it or not. Slaves to causes, laws, and fears. But your cause and my revenge could serve each other. After Symorkhel is destroyed, I do not care what becomes of Fellyre or the Tassin, but you would do Fellyre an injury that it would take decades to heal."
"I have no reason to trust you."
"And I have no intention of giving you any reason." A long silence ensued as the two faced each other. Eldan's distrust matched the assassin's defiance. For a moment, Kalen thought they were going to fight, but Eldan took a step back and extended her hand, breaking the tension.
"This doesn't mean I trust you, but I don't trust them either," she glanced at Kalen and Jaened, "Welcome to our company. My name is Eldan."
The assassin smirked and took her hand. "Assassin."
"That's your name?" Jaened coughed.
"What of it? My mother is not sentimental. She named me what she wanted me to be, and I have not disappointed. But she never supposed that one day, she would be my victim." She laughed at her own irony.

Assassin proved a strange companion. She made Eldan look genteel and delicate with her crude manners and bitter sarcasm, but her weapons and armor were of kingly quality. Day and night, she wore a hauberk of fine mail under her jacket and greaves over her thick leather leggings. Only for eating would she set aside her flexible gauntlets of leather sewn over with interlocking steel plates. The sword at her side would have trailed on the ground had she been but a little shorter, and she carried a short bow and well-stock quiver, but she obviously favored her knives. There were five strapped to each thigh and an indefinite number hidden amid the crisscrossing mess of belts and straps over her chest. Though he still did not trust her, Kalen felt far safer with her on their side than tracking them. He could see Eldan felt the same, though she chafed at the obvious scorn Assassin cast on her skills. She had met her better and knew it.
When Assassin volunteered to keep watch, Eldan's refusal to allow it was met with a smirk and a shrug. Kalen could see Eldan fuming as she took her place to watch. She was clearly not accustomed to being laughed at. There was really no need for her watch--none of them could sleep that night. None but Assassin, at any rate. She lay down and did not move again until the sun was rising, and, when she did, she was the only one with the strength to rise. She shed her armor with little regard to modesty and polished each piece before forcing them all to their feet.
"And you think Fellyre should fear your kind? The least of my mother's handmaids could have killed you all in your beds by now."
"Well, you would know, wouldn't you, witch's spawn?" Eldan threw back. For a moment, Kalen thought Assassin would go for her throat, but instead, she threw back her head and laughed. The more he heard her laugh, the more he hated it. There was no humor or joy in it: just scorn.
As they traveled on, all Kalen and Jaened could do was keep silent and stay out of the ever growing tension between the two women.

"You don't want to go that way."
Eldan turned on her heel to face Assassin. "And why not?"
"You can go. He's the only one I need alive." Assassin pointed over her shoulder at Jaened. From that point, she took the lead.
Kalen came up quietly beside Eldan. "What do we do if she leads us into a trap?"
"Then we all die."
Kalen mulled over it for a long moment, then asked, "What if we split? All she wants is Jaened. We--you and I could part ways with them. I know that sounds awful, but Jaened--"
"We owe Jaened our lives. We can't part ways with that debt unpaid. Trust me, I am as eager to be free of them as you are, but what would that say of us? We swore to help him free his sister. That was the condition on which he helped us. But we haven't kept it, and I cannot leave a broken promise. It's against the Tassin Code."
Double checking to make sure Jaened was out of earshot, Kalen replied. "I don't know the Tassin Code, but Elnite law calls for equal exchange. We saved his life as surely as he saved ours. If anything, he owes us. But this isn't about Jaened. It's Assassin. She could kill us any moment and I think she'd enjoy it. What might she do with us once her plan has played out? When Symorkhel is defeated and her revenge is over, what will she do with her life? She could wreak havoc on our people. We could be following the Plains' destruction."
"You need not fear that." Assassin called back over her shoulder. How in starlight had she overheard them from that distance?! "Once Symorkhel is destroyed, I will be content. I have no political plans or interests. I would live out my life as far from all peoples as is possible. Your petty tribes and cities disgust me; why would I want anything to do with them?"
"Well, you've already set our course for Syxel. Why is that?" Eldan demanded. Assassin laughed again and kept walking.

Chapter 9

By the third day, Eldan was growing restless. She came back mid-morning from a short hunt with two rabbits slung over her shoulder. It was a good catch, but she threw them down, muttering something about armies driving the game away. When Kalen rose to help her skin them, she passed one to Jaened instead.
"Here. Try carrying your own weight for a bit." Then, when Jaened clumsily slit the rabbit's throat rather than the skin, she coughed, "You think the Tassin will take you when you can't even skin a rabbit?"
"You know, I'm beginning to think I should have left you in that cell," Jaened snapped back. "I've been locked up for eight bloody years. How many skills do you expect me to have?"
Seeing the tension nearing a breaking point, Kalen took the rabbit and gently suggested that Jaened go find some wood for a cookfire. Eldan agreed, warning him to stay in sight because, "If you get caught, don't expect me to come to your rescue."
Kalen cut away in silence for a few minutes, then finally asked Eldan, "This isn't just about Jaened, is it? I mean, you've been getting tenser every minute for the past two days."
Eldan slit down the center and quickly gutted her skinless rabbit before replying. "We are being tracked. That's obvious. But why haven't they attacked yet? By now, they must know that we aren't going to lead them anywhere. If we are that important to them, they would have attacked us. If not, they would have turned back."
"How do you know we're being tracked? I haven't heard or seen anything."
Eldan pointed to their left. "They're just beyond those bushes. They are skilled--I seldom see or hear them. We only halt when I know where they are."
Kalen squinted where she indicated but saw nothing. "How many are there?"
"I don't know. There could be only one, or there could be a dozen." She glared resentfully at the still bushes. "We can't do anything until we lose them. We've led them on a wild chase, but we should have lost them long since. Even the best of the Tassin trackers couldn't have followed our trail. Even the Naresh would have lost our scent, and they don't have one with them. If Fellyre has trackers like this, they've been holding out on us. Who knows what else they've been hiding? Are they just playing with us?"
"It's just one tracker--"
"But it's not!" Eldan interrupted. "We've been getting hints. Our scouts have reported strange sights near Fellyre--fire and fumes and other weapons we know nothing of. Just last month, one of our families--mother, father, four children--simply disappeared. Even their shelter was gone like it had never been there. They were in the middle of our camp. No one could have come in and they couldn't have left. The lookouts saw nothing."
A dry laugh turned their attention. The bushes were moving now. Eldan sprang to her feet, sword ready as a tall, grey-clad figure emerged.
"Another step and you're dead." Eldan warned, readying her blade to throw.
The newcomer smiled. "You couldn't hit me from there. Your sword is ill balanced." She, for it was a woman, held up her hand, four short blades locked between her fingers. "But I do not have that problem."
Eldan stiffened and lowered her blade. "Are you alone?"
"You actually expect me to answer that question?"
Kalen caught Eldan's glance past the stranger. Jaened was silently approaching, a heavy branch in his hand. "You tracked us across the stream. How?" She demanded.
"I am not a tracker."
"What are you then?"
"Assassin." Jaened raised the stick--and, without looking back, the woman caught him by the throat with her left hand. He dropped the branch to claw at her fingers, and, with a twist, she forced him to his knees. "You were stalling. That won't protect you."
For the third time, Kalen realized that he was dead. Only this time, there was no way out. Eldan's eyes said it all as she dropped her sword point first into the turf. Their killer smirked. She was almost too tall to be a woman--her voice was the only thing which betrayed her gender. Kalen wondered if she would kill them quickly. But she didn't.
"You have food. I'm hungry." She released Jaened, who fell to the ground gasping, then ordered them to finish preparing the rabbits. Kalen had started hundreds of fires, but he fumbled over this one. He wondered if she would make them dig their own graves next.
She ate slowly, her eyes never leaving the prisoners. Her fingers played idly with the knives. Pray that your death comes by a sword. Dallaris had said that once, warning about the cruelty of short blades.
"We won't tell you anything." Eldan said at last.
The self-proclaimed assassin grinned. "What could you possibly know that I do not? We know where your Tassin camp is. It's just not worth our time."
"And we are?" Jaened asked.
"You are. Symorkhel wants you back. Your sister is essential to Zerak's purposes, and you alone, as the only one who knows and cares about her, could thwart his plans."
"I don't care about Zerak and his plans--or Ithein, for that matter. All I want is to know that Erissa is safe."
The assassin's jaw tightened. "But you are not Fellyrian. Surely you wish ill on Zerak and his servants."
"I don't care if Zerak rules the world. All I want is my sister."
"Then you're right. I should have turned back long ago and not wasted my time on you. I was not sent by Symorkhel. I came of my own accord--not to kill you, but to join you."
Eldan crossed her arms. "No you didn't. You came from Terraphel--if you were not sent, you at least have the priestess's permission."
"I could have killed you all and I didn't. Is that not proof enough that I am not your enemy?"
"Enemies come in many forms. Why would you turn on Fellyre?"
"I do not care for Fellyre--or Zerak and Ithien, like your friend. But I have reason to hate Symorkhel. The Sheela is her charge. Zerak would have her blood if she failed."
"Why are you so set against Symorkhel?" Kalen asked.
The assassin smiled coldly. "She is my mother."

Chapter 8

Kalen spent a restless night, his newly treated shoulder bulkily bandaged and throbbing mercilessly. Their strange new friends--clearly old friends to Eldan--had brought them to a rough cave, little more than a hole in the ground, then Eldan and two of the others had left, leaving the bearded man with Kalen and Jaened. Jaened would not speak or even look at anyone, but sat with his back to them. Their companion introduced himself as Aevin but made no further attempt at conversation.
Morning brought Eldan with a green cloak and sword belt with a short blade over her old clothes and her hair wet and bound up. Jaened was on his side, facing the wall, so she spoke to Kalen.
"It's time to go. They'll be tracking us, and my people can't afford to be found. Thalla and Skaev are still out confusing the trail, but I have a feeling that witch will burn the whole forest down to find us if she needs to."
"Let her." Jaened's voice had a bitter edge. "She has Erissa. We failed."
"Then you are in good company," Aevin put in softly. "We are the Tassin. All of us have failed, but we have redeemed ourselves."
Kalen started. "Tassin? But the Tassin are traitors!"
Eldan turned on him sharply. "What do you know of us? Fellyre fears us more than your petty city-states with their feeble armies." She shook her head. "Get up. We're leaving." She turned on her heel and exited the cave.
Kalen stumbled to his feet while Aevin quietly coaxed Jaened up. As they left the cave, Aevin whispered to Kalen, "Some of us have redeemed ourselves. Eldan has in all eyes but her own. Do not judge her harshly."

Outside the cave, the morning light was still faint, revealing little of their surroundings. Kalen looked back only to find that Aevin had vanished, leaving them to Eldn's charge. She led them quickly by unseen paths--so quickly they nearly lost her at every turn. Either she was in a desperate hurry or still angry. The evidence was strongly in favor of the latter.
"Where are we going?" Jaened gasped as they hauled themselves out of a waist-deep stream.
"East." Eldan pointed with her sword, not pausing her stride.
"What's east?" Kalen asked.
"Nothing that I know of. Clearly, you have never been tracked before." She glanced around, then added, "We'll stop here. Sleep if you can. There'll be no rest tonight."
Kalen lay down against a tree, only to be ordered up and informed that they would rest under the embankment on the side of the stream. It was damp and earthy, but Kalen was too tired to care.

The cold woke him. The sky had turned grey with a coming storm and the damp in the ground had soaked through his clothing. Sitting up, he saw Eldan crouched a few feet away, her sword resting in a loose grip. She turned sharply at the sound of his movement. She relaxed when she saw it only him.
"Is your bandage wet?" Kalen's hand went to his shoulder and he shook his head. "Good. Infection is a miserable way to die." She resumed her silent vigil. Kalen came over to sit beside her, but she paid him no attention.
"So, what brought you to join the Tassin?"
"That is none of your concern." Eldan replied flatly without looking at him.
"Look, I'm sorry about what I said back in the cave. You saved my life. I owe you respect for that. I'm just wondering."
"Well, you can keep wondering. I'll help you get back to Elni, then we need never cross paths again."
"No--I can't go back to Elni. The king wants me dead."
Eldan glanced at him curiously, then smirked. "That is how I became one of the Tassin. How can you hate us for what we are when you are the exact same thing?"
"I don't hate you--I only know what people say about the Tassin. You're the first one I ever met."
"And what do they say about us--that we are traitors?" Kalen's shrug was answer enough. "It's convenient for them. Calling us traitors when they are the ones who turned on us. Treachery is all about perspective. I betrayed no one. I took no lives. But they killed my friends and drove me from their city.  All I ever did was write."
"What did you write?"
"I wrote against the draft. They called men and women alike to join the army, giving no regard to youth, young couples, nursing mothers, and elderly. They filled the city with orphans. They sent my brother to his death. So I wrote my protest and another took it and read it before the crowds. The Elders would have none of it, but when they struck, we struck back. They would not listen. They thought themselves stronger, so they fought their own people. I never called for it, but the people attempted revenge. The rebellion was crushed within a few hours. Survivors were publicly beheaded. I had no choice but to leave. The Tassin took me in. They are my family and my nation now."
Kalen was silent for a moment, imagining what Eldan bitterly described. "So," he began hesitantly, "do you think the Tassin would have a place for me?"
"You would have to change your opinion of us. And we have no use for idle hands. Once you join us, you can never leave. We have no tolerance for desertion. Our secrets would be too dangerous if they fell into enemy hands."
"I am as capable as any other man. And I'm not a deserter."
"Do you really think you could live like this--hunted, hiding, spending nights on the move, knowing everyone to be your enemy? It is not an easy or pleasant life, and none would choose it if they had any other option."
"I don't think I have a choice. Syxel is destroyed and Elni is no longer home."
"Is there room for me too?" Jaened's voice broke in.
"This isn't a recruiting party. You have already demonstrated your uselessness. I am not taking you near my people until you prove yourself. All you want is to get your sister out of Terraphel. I have no doubt you would gladly sell our secrets for her freedom."
Jaened's silence was response enough. Eldan abruptly ordered them to their feet and led the way on, keeping to the edge of the stream. A light rain quickly grew to a drenching torrent, in which Eldan forced them across the stream. Their boots were heavy with mud and rocks as they dragged themselves up the bank on the other side. To their dismay, Eldan led them on a short dash into the woods, then made them walk backwards back to the stream to cross again.
Night fell quickly, but still they pressed on, keeping ankle-deep in the water after the rain died away, leaving no risk of tracks. Fatigue quickly combined with the chill to slow them down. It was hours before Eldan let them leave the stream and start into the woods again. The clouds slowly dispersed to reveal the brilliant night sky. Kalen fought to keep his eyes open as the white light blurred the trees with heavy shadows. Beside him, Jaened loudly collided with a tree, earning him a sharp rebuke from their self-appointed leader. With her fierce pace and confident stride, Kalen found himself forgetting who he was following. It felt like he was back with Taldyr on a night training exercise.

Chapter 7

The servant had spoken true. The temple was unmistakable. It rose in a single spire of black stone, set with red crystal, shining like fresh blood running down its sides. The great double doors were white maple, set with gold, facing the North-East--toward Fellyre. Jaened strode up to the door.
"What are you doing?" Eldan demanded in a sharp whisper.
Jaened stared back at her. "I am getting my sister." With that, he seized both door handles and flung the door open. A blast of foul-smelling smoke poured out into the courtyard, choking and momentarily blinding them. Through the haze, they saw two figures standing before a low-burning fire.
One turned while the other remained still as a statue. Kalen scarcely recognized the woman who had entrapped them. Her hair was bound up with gold and her neck and face, above her flowing scarlet robe, were painted with curling black designs. Her right hand clutched a long, ornate knife. Jaened started forward, a murderous hate in his eyes, only to be stopped in his tracks by Symorkhel's mocking laugh.
"Are you three so eager for death? I would have come for you presently."
"The only one who will die here is you, witch. You are alone against us all. What chance do you think you have?" Jaened demanded
"Foolish boy. You underestimate my power. I serve Lord Zerak, of whom you all have doubtless heard much."
"Zerak is not here," Eldan spoke up, "But you can still live. Give us his sister and we will not kill you."
"Sheela!" At Symorkhel's word, the other figure stiffened and turned sharply to stand beside the priestess. Blank, depth-less light brown eyes stared out of a face so white it seemed inhuman.
"Erissa?" Jaened's voice was barely above a whisper. If the pale woman even heard him, she gave no sign of it.
"Sheela, do you know this man?" Symorkhel asked softly. Erissa, if it really was her, shook her head. "They have come to desecrate our temple. What shall we do to them?"
"They must die." It was said indifferently, with no hint of concern or malice. Symorkhel let out a low laugh that sent shivers up the back of Kalen's neck. Erissa turned her back and silently returned to face the flames as the shadows beyond the fire began to stir. A low, unearthly growl shook the ground. Kalen took an uncertain step back, and Eldan grabbed his arm.
"Run! It's Naresh!" Eldan's voice was almost drowned out by Symorkhel's laughter as two great dark shapes slunk into the light. The death-wolves were as large as horses, their blind white eyes only strengthening their sharp sense of smell. Kalen turned to run and almost collided with Jaened who just stood, staring at the long fangs and mangy brown bodies.
"I won't leave without Erissa." Kalen saw the creature crouch to spring and, on instinct, slammed into Jaened, knocking him to the ground. The Naresh leapt harmlessly over them and, in the moment it paused in confusion, Eldan pulled them to their feet and they took off into the courtyard, not daring to look back as the Naresh's claws grated on the flagstones in pursuit.
Eldan reached the steps to the parapet first and paused just long enough for Jaened and Kalen to pass her, then followed, almost shoving them in her haste. Below them, the first Naresh checked its pace to late and slammed into the wall. The other sniffed around, then began pacing by the base of the stairs, snarling and slavering. As they reached the top of the wall, Kalen's adrenaline gave out. He sank to his knees, clutching the bandage, feeling fresh blood leaking through. Eldan and Jaened hauled him to his feet between them.
"Leave me. I can't make it." It wasn't heroics. It was simply the truth.
"Can't make it where?" Jaened gave a despairing laugh. "We're trapped." Symorkhel had stepped out into the courtyard, watching them with an amused smile. It crossed Kalen's mind that he would rather have died on the battle field.
Eldan turned to them. "We have to jump."
Jaened glanced over the wall. "We can't--we'll kill ourselves!" In answer, Eldan lept nimbly up on the edge and let herself drop. Kalen did not see her land, but Jaened hauled him to his feet as Symorkhel began calling out orders to her guards. Before he even knew what was happening, he was on the ground trying to catch his breath from the impact. Eldan was standing over him, yelling for Jaened to follow. Just as the gates began to creak open far down the wall, he landed in an awkward half-roll beside them.
Kalen was still gasping as they hauled him to his feet again and set off at a run. The terrain was rough with the broken stones and rubble of an ancient village. Kalen could scarcely gain his footing before he would lose it again. The sound of pursuit was ever growing, but Eldan kept saying over and over again, "We are almost there."
Finally they stopped, though the Naresh's howls were close behind. Kalen fell to his knees as the world reeled around him. Eldan and Jaened seemed to be arguing, but he could not hear them over the high pitched ringing in his ears. Then they had him up again, forcing him up a nearby tree. He made it to the fourth branch before fatigue won out. But the others were up before he could fall. Eldan climbed past them as nimbly as a squirrel and disappeared into the higher branches.
Seconds later, the whole tree swayed as the Naresh jumped at the lower branches. Jaened dragged Kalen up a little farther, beyond the beasts' reach. Eldan swung down to a branch just above them and, hooking one elbow around another branch for balance, knelt and drew back a bow. At least, that was what Kalen thought he saw. He was so light-headed that he did not dare to trust his eyes. And He knew she didn't have a bow, yet she set and reset until finally, she found her spot and released the arrow. The Naresh dropped like a stone without even a yelp. The other, ignoring its fallen comrade, renewed its attack. Eldan leaned back, her bow slack in her hands.
A scuffle and a snarl from below brought their attention downward. Three hooded figures in dull brown and green were attacking the furious beast with spears, nimbly dodging its claws and fangs. Finally, two distracted it as the third backed up to throw his spear. Then it was over. The Naresh lay on its side weakly writhing through its death throws, and the spearmen were reaching up to help them down from the tree.
A man with a ragged blond beard set against a darkly weathered face leaned Kalen against the tree and began silently unwrapping the bandage from his shoulder. Eldan was brandishing the bow in one of their faces.
"Who is in charge of this post? One arrow--I'd be dead if you hadn't come. When was it last stocked?" She continued her angry tirade for a few moments, but, when she stopped for a breath, the third newcomer, a tall, big-boned woman with braided iron grey hair, enveloped her in a hug. Then the renewed pain in his shoulder tore Kalen's attention away again.

Chapter 6

What's wrong with the sky? Kalen stared upwards at the pale, silvery blue above him. He felt sick and dizzy. Maybe he was seeing wrong. He closed his eyes then looked again. It looked the same.
"That's not the sky." He said aloud as if that made it official.
"No. It's not." Kalen turned to see Eldan crouched a few feet away. Seeing her clearly for the first time, he realized that she was about his own age. Also, she was chained hand and foot to the white stone wall behind her. He looked back up. It was glass--or crystal. What kind of prison has a crystal roof?
"Did the army catch us? Is this Fellyre?"
"No. This is Terraphel. And our captor isn't Fellyrian, whatever she may be."
"She? You mean that woman we met in the forest?"
"Yes. Right after you fainted, she set her men on us. They locked us in here. At least we've got company, though all he seems able to do is tell us how hopeless our situation is."
"It's just the truth." A voice came from behind Kalen and he turned to see a ragged, bearded man with a mane of shaggy rust-colored hair. "It's just the way things are. You are both going to die. I've seen sixty-four people through here and not one got out alive. There is no escape. I've been here for eight years."
"Eight people a year?" Kalen did the math quickly in his head. "So then we're here for something--not just prisoners, but two of this year's eight."
"You're smart. It's a shame you'll never be able to put that mind to any great cause. But yes--there are eight a year. Two each solstice, and one every third month. You're sacrifices. Your captor is Symorkhel, High Priestess of Zerak. And, before you ask, if there was any chance of escape, I would not be here any more."
"There is always a way out." Eldan said calmly. "Tell me which ways you have tried."
"I have tried every way. I've tried the guards--fighting, bribing, appealing to their humanity--I've tried the door from every angle. I've tried every stone in this room and none will come loose. I've tried to climb up to the glass roof a thousand times. The walls are sheer. You can't climb them."
"Have any of the girls who have been through here tried to get at the guards?" Eldan asked casually.
"If you try it, you'll be sorry. They have a  way with women. Besides, you wouldn't be enough to tempt them. This castle is teaming with women."
"Tell me, do you do this to everyone who comes into here?" Eldan asked.
"Do what?"
"Give your little talk. Tell them how hopeless it is. Tell them not to try. If I didn't know better, I would think that you wanted us to give up--to simply resign ourselves to our fate."
"No--I merely want to discourage false hope." Kalen caught a slight betraying falter in his voice.
"Why have you been here eight years when everyone else is sacrificed? Are you here to prevent our escape?" Kalen demanded
"Do I look like a friend of the Priestess? Ive been rotting in here for a quarter of my life. Death would be welcome."
"They have someone, don't they?" Eldan asked. "Who?"
He turned pale. "They have my sister."
"And if any of us escapes, they kill her?"
He nodded miserably.
"What if we all escape? We could take her with us. Where are they holding her?"
"No--it would never work. She serves Symorkhel as a handmaid and sleeps in an adjoining chamber--we could only get to her if we got past Symorkhel."
"Then we just need to kill this Symorkhel," Kalen put in. "With her gone, we're all free and this hideous practice is put to an end."
"She is a priestess--trained in black arts by Zerak himself. I've seen her power. She can sense threats before they even get close. She sleeps with a Naresh on either side of her bed. She tamed dozens of the beasts. I would almost say she's fond of them, if a witch like her can be fond of anything."
"She is but human. No one is invincible. Besides, what power can Zerak's sorcery hold over us who follow Ithien? And Naresh are just beasts. I've killed Naresh before." Eldan stood. "Our first problem is how to get me out of these chains. When is the next sacrifice, Jaened?"
The bearded man--Jaened--sighed. "It's too late. You have only two days. We couldn't possibly get out in that time even if we had a plan."
"We do have a plan. And that plan is to get out of here. We also have a deadline: two days from now, because we are all getting out--your sister included." Kalen tried to sound encouraging. "Now, please, tell us honestly, what is our best chance to get out of here?"
"I really don't know. What I told you is true."
"If there's no chance of escape, then why would they need you to prevent people from escaping?" Eldan demanded.
"The guards are our best chance, but it's a slim chance."
"Better a slim chance than just sitting here and waiting to die."
"The guards only come into the cell if they're bringing a prisoner in or if it's time for a sacrifice."
"Two days then. We have two days to plan our attack, and then we cannot fail." Eldan sat down. "Now, I imagine you know almost everything there is to know about this place."
"My sister knows it better than me, and I won't help you unless you swear by Ithien that she will get out of here alive. Symorkhel has said that if any prisoners escape, she'll sacrifice my sister in their place."
"I don't dare to swear by Ithien, but I swear on my honor I will do all that is in my power to save her."
"Not good enough."
"I swear on the grave of my mother, Hallise" Kalen tried.
"The dead won't hold you to your oath."
"Look, Jaened, all we can give you is our word. If we fail in getting her out, you can kill me, okay?" Eldan half-shouted. "Is that good enough?"
"Don't be daft! I couldn't kill you."
"But you could keep us locked in here to ensure our deaths? Is that so very different?"
Jaened dragged his hands across his face. "It is different. But I will help you get out. Ask what you will." Eldan sat back thinking, so Kalen asked the first question on his mind.
"If Symorkhel is a priestess, why isn't she in Fellyre? What does she hope to accomplish by hiding out here and killing a handful of people a year? I doubt it would do much for their war effort."
"She seeks to be made High Priestess. Zerak has promised her that position when she has made two hundred sacrifices."
Eldan coughed. "And she hopes to get there at this rate? At eight a year, it would take over twenty years!"
"Twenty-five years. She has only two days left. You are the last."
"What? Did she start as an infant? That woman could not be a day past thirty."
"It's witchcraft. She doesn't age. I've been here eight years, and she hasn't aged an hour. Even her hair doesn't grow. It's like she's frozen in time. She has a daughter--I caught a glimpse of her once--who looks older than her."
"So what will Zerak do if she fails to give him these last two sacrifices?" Kalen asked.
"I couldn't say--maybe she'll just have to get some others. Or maybe Zerak will have her start over."
"Well, that's a lovely thought." Eldan gave a nervously sarcastic laugh. "So she needs us to become priestess--or, rather, needs to kill us--so she'd want to make doubly sure that we won't escape."
"Say, didn't you mention that she has you and your sister prisoner here?" Jaened nodded and Kalen went on, "So why didn't she just sacrifice you two? Why did she go to so much trouble to capture us?"
"Well, how am I supposed to know? I've told you all that I do know--and it's quite a bit, considering I haven't been outside these four walls in eight years. Just before they threw you in, Symorkhel came in and told me that you were the last two--exactly those words--the last two, for summer solstice."
"But there are still two months left in the year. I doubt you and your sister are safe from their temple."
That silenced Jaened for a while.

When the guards finally came for them, they were ready. Jaened stood by the door when the men opened it, but they paid him little enough attention. The head of the guard stood in the doorway as the other two fastened chains to Eldan and Kalen's wrists.
Eldan let out a short, sharp whistle through her teeth, and, before the captain had a chance to wonder what she was doing, the iron door slammed full force into his face. Kalen was on one guard's back, the chain between his hands around the man's neck, gritting his teeth against the throbbing of his shoulder. Eldan was wrestling with the third guard; he was at least twice her size, but she had speed and agility on her side. As Kalen's man finally sank to the ground, she sent her's reeling back with a swift kick to the face. Jaened was yelling for them to follow him. As soon as they were out of the cell, he locked the guards in with a key  he had stolen from the man who was slumped dead at his feet.
"What's the quickest way out?" Eldan demanded.
"We're not taking the quickest way" Jaened shot back. "We're going nowhere without my sister." He started towards the stairs. "This way."
"Where is she?" Kalen asked
"Either the servant's quarters or Symorkhel's chambers. Hopefully not the latter. And even if she isn't there, we'll get servant's dress from their quarters which will make it easier to get around the great hall undetected."
Kalen barely dared to breathe as they ran on their toes down the hall. They were insane. They would never get out alive. Rounding a corner, they almost collided with a thin, grey haired serving woman. Before she could cry out, Eldan had her in a choke-hold against the wall.
"Do you want to live?" The woman nodded as best she could, eyes wide with terror. "Then come with us. Take us to the servants chamber and you'll be a free woman."
Within minutes, the maid had them in the servants chamber, rifling through piles of rags and old clothes. Eldan quickly donned an old grey dress with a white and tan head rag to hide her conspicuous black hair and Jaened found a simple white tunic and jacket. Kalen had to settle for a long vest that stank of many days hard work without wash.
Jaened turned to the serving woman. "Where is Lassina?" The woman stared back blankly. "Where is my sister? Where is she?" Her only response was to shrink against the wall, hands in loose fists, protecting her face. Jaened soften hs tone marginally. "Where is Symorkhel's peronal servant?  Tall, brown hair?"
"The Sheela is in the temple." The woman said slowly, pausing as if to take a breath between each word. When Jaened demanded to know where that was, she pointed a pale, trembling hand down the hallway. "Across the courtyard. You will know it when you see it." She whispered, eyes on the floor.
Jaened was down the hallway before she finished speaking. When Kalen  and Eldan moved to follow him, the woman saw her chance and disappeared.

Chapter 5

The next morning, well before dawn, Kalen woke to hurried battle preparations. Dallaris and Aethan snuck off with their assigned regiments, and, by the time the first grey streaks of dawn were showing, Kalen found himself at the head of forty archers, hidden in the trees just in range of the Fellyrian encampment.
Kalen felt sick at the sight of the force before them. The Fellyrian camp seemed to stretch out for miles. Syxel was surround by a sea of grey tents and smoldering campfires. every hundred yards, a great seige tower or heavy catapult stood, waiting for the final assault. sixty to one. The odds were absurd. Even if all of Syxel took up arms, they didn't have a chance. One glance at his archers' faces told hm that he was not in command. He prayed that they would listen to his orders even if they saw him as no more thn a common soldier. They were more likely to flee. He could see it in their eyes--they were looking for a chance to desert. Kalen looked back towards where he knew Taldyr and the other horsemen were concealed in the denser woods. They were depending on him, and he hadn't a clue what he was doing. Sure, he was good with a bow, but he had never led anything, let alone a surprise attack.
"Kalen," a voice by his ear whispered. He turned back to the enemy camp and saw the first few soldiers emerging from  their tents. That was the signal. He took a deep breath, nocked his first arrow, and stood. The men saw him and followed his lead. They fired as one.
"Fire at will!" Kalen commanded trying and failing to sound more like a general than a frightened boy.
The enemy quickly recovered from the initial shock. Kalen saw archers taking positions on their side of the camp. He called the retreat and they began to circle around to the right and a rain of arrows came down on where they had been concealed but minutes earlier. A short while later, a commotion arose on the far side of the camp. Kalen could see the glow of flames in the distance. This was too soon! The distraction was supposed to come after Taldyr's men engaged.
Kalen called a halt and they fired down on the camp again, trying to make the best of this error. Another blaze roared up far to the right of the first. Kalen moved his men back to their original position, but not before the return fire caught three of his men. Two stumbled back, cursing, and one fell instantly without a sound. They fired twice, then ran to the right again, much further this time and began again. At that moment, Taldyr and his men came. They shouted as they rode down on the camp, spears lowered. They plowed into the enemy like a battering ram. But the enemy swarmed in behind and beside them, forming a massive death trap. Desperate, Kalen tried something new. He divided his men into pairs of two and told them to spread out and surround the perimeter and fire constantly from all directions.
Kalen found himself with one of the less-skilled archers, a thin youth with barely enough muscle to draw the bow fully back. He was going on adrenaline, though, so he managed to keep pace with the others.
The Fellyrian archers quickly caught on and began returning fire in all places where arrows came The next morning, well before dawn, Kalen woke to hurried battle preparations. Dallaris and Aethan snuck off with their assigned regiments, and, by the time the first grey streaks of dawn were showing, Kalen found himself at the head of forty archers, hidden in the trees just in range of the Fellyrian encampment.
Kalen felt sick at the sight of the force before them. The Fellyrian camp seemed to stretch out for miles. Syxel was surround by a sea of grey tents and smoldering campfires. every hundred yards, a great siege tower or heavy catapult stood, waiting for the final assault. sixty to one. The odds were absurd. Even if all of Syxel took up arms, they didn't have a chance. One glance at his archers' faces told him that he was not in command. He prayed that they would listen to his orders even if they saw him as no more thn a common soldier. They were more likely to flee. He could see it in their eyes--they were looking for a chance to desert. Kalen looked back towards where he knew Taldyr and the other horsemen were concealed in the denser woods. They were depending on him, and he hadn't a clue what he was doing. Sure, he was good with a bow, but he had never led anything, let alone a surprise attack.
"Kalen," a voice by his ear whispered. He turned back to the enemy camp and saw the first few soldiers emerging from  their tents. That was the signal. He took a deep breath, nocked his first arrow, and stood. The men saw him and followed his lead. They fired as one.
"Fire at will!" Kalen commanded trying and failing to sound more like a general than a frightened boy.
The enemy quickly recovered from the initial shock. Kalen saw archers taking positions on their side of the camp. He called the retreat and they began to circle around to the right and a rain of arrows came down on where they had been concealed but minutes earlier. A short while later, a commotion arose on the far side of the camp. Kalen could see the glow of flames in the distance. This was too soon! The distraction was supposed to come after Taldyr's men engaged.
Kalen called a halt and they fired down on the camp again, trying to make the best of this error. Another blaze roared up far to the right of the first. Kalen moved his men back to their original position, but not before the return fire caught three of his men. Two stumbled back, cursing, and one fell instantly without a sound. They fired twice, then ran to the right again, much further this time and began again. At that moment, Taldyr and his men came. They shouted as they rode down on the camp, spears lowered. They plowed into the enemy like a battering ram. But the enemy swarmed in behind and beside them, forming a massive death trap. Desperate, Kalen tried something new. He divided his men into pairs of two and told them to spread out and surround the perimeter and fire constantly from all directions.
Kalen found himself with one of the less-skilled archers, a thin youth with barely enough muscle to draw the bow fully back. He was going on adrenaline, though, so he managed to keep pace with the others.
The Fellyrian archers quickly caught on and began returning fire in all places where arrows came from. An arrow suddenly whistled through the bush past Kalen. His companion yanked him down flat on his stomach on the turf. They lay still until the shooting stopped, then got up. Kalen fired two arrows before any came their way. Kalen dropped again, just in time to see the youth lurch backwards and topple with a feathered shaft in his throat. He crawled over, but there was nothing he could do. The boy was writhing in agony, trying to gasp for air while blood bubbled up in his throat.
Kalen looked away, but the boy seized his hand. He looked back into those wide, frightened eyes, and they locked with his and held. Kalen lay beside him, silently absorbing every spasm in the hand and all the pain and fear in those vividly blue eyes. A thought whispered around the corners of his mind He's a she. She's a girl. It didn't matter. It was too late for anything to matter. She was dying. He searched his mind for some words of comfort for a dying soldier.
"It's okay. I'm here." He began, then shook his head. "I'm sorry. I wish I knew your name. I guess I never will." A certain calmness began to grow in her eyes, so he continued, slowly, in a whisper. "I wish I could carry a message to your friends or family, to tell them how brave you were. But I'll follow you soon. We all will. Most probably already have. I mean they've already gone." He felt her hand go limp. "And you're gone too." He reached out and closed her eyelids. She looked peaceful enough, and there was no time to do her any further honor. He fought to silence the voice in the back of his head saying that she could have lived if they had only switched positions.
Taking up his bow, he crawled back to where he could see the camp. Taldyr and his men were gone. A few riderless horses were still rearing and galloping in the excitement of the battle, but most lay in ruin with their masters. Kalen could see Taldyr's banner, the black hawk on a green field, lying trampled in the carnage, and, a few feet away, Taldyr's black horse, lying twisted and bloody. He had no doubt that Taldyr was with it. The Fellyrian army had turned its attention back to the city. They left their dead and wounded and set to loading the catapults. Horses were being harnessed to the siege towers and the archers had turned their volley to Syxel.
Kalen bent his bow and fired. It was pointless--what could he alone do against so many? But if he was to die here, he would bring as many of them as possible down with him. A few archers returned fire, but he didn't bother ducking or changing position. He didn't take time to aim, but shot as fast as he could in the general direction of the thickest part of their force. They had killed the girl behind him and they had killed Taldyr. He would have revenge if it was the last thing he did.
A powerful blow to his shoulder knocked him off his feet. He caught himself only to collapse again at the searing pain racing through his right arm. He clutched his shoulder; arrow fletches brushed his fingers. He tried to think clearly. The other end of the arrow had to be sticking out his back. He'd bleed to death if he tried to pull it out, but he couldn't move his arm, let alone draw his bow, with it in. He crawled backwards into the brush until his back was to a tree, gritted his teeth and grasped the shaft.
"Stop! You'll kill yourself!" He started and turned at the voice by his ear. The back of the arrow hit the tree and a hand clapped over his mouth to stifle his scream of agony. "Quiet. I'm a friend." The hand freed his mouth and its owner crept over to kneel in front of him. It was a dark haired woman dressed in thick blotchy brown leather. She quickly took off her glove, revealing two missing fingers. "Bite down on this and I'll get that arrow out."
"Why? I'm dead anyways."
"No. It's just your shoulder. Now bite." She stuffed the glove between his teeth. She deftly snapped the tip off the arrow, sending another shock of pain through his arm, then grabbed the shaft. "Ready?" Kalen nodded and closed his eyes. Coming out, the arrow was a thousand times more painful than going in. It felt like his arm was being torn from his body. Involuntarily, he screamed past the glove, only to get the girl's hand over his mouth again. "It hurts like hell, but if you love your life, don't make a sound." She hissed in his ear. "I'm going to bandage you up now. It won't stop the bleeding, but it will slow it until I can get you to somewhere that we can tend it properly. And shut your eyes." Kalen obeyed and, a moment later, he felt the aching, scraping pain of cloth being stuffed into the wound on both sides. A few more stips were bound fast around his shoulder to hold the others in, and a last strip formed a sling. He waited a moment or two after she finished, then opened his eyes. She was lacing up her overcoat over her vest. Her shirt. No wonder she had asked him to close his eyes.
"Don't look at me like that. I just saved your life. We have to go. Here," she placed one arm under his left shoulder and helped him to his feet. "Lean on me as much as you need to. It's not far from here." She was close to Kalen's own height, which helped, and at least as strong. "Who are you? And why are you helping me?" He asked after they had gone a short ways.
"Eldan. My name is Eldan. I'm a Syxelite, and I just saw an Elinite army give their lives for my people. This is the least I can do." She stopped suddenly. "I'm sorry. I am so sorry."
"What? What's wrong?"
"We're surrounded." Kalen looked around and saw nothing but trees and brush. "Can't you hear them?" Kalen listen and heard nothing until the bushes right in front of them rustled and parted. A slender woman with long blonde hair, dressed in white, stepped out in front of them.
"Did I frighten you?" She asked gently. "My servant heard your approach and hid. We thought you might be Fellyrians. My lands! Is he wounded?"
"Yes. And I'm taking him to safety, if you'll excuse us."
"One of my ladies is a healer. Come with me. You can stay at my house tonight." When Eldan hesitated, she added; "He needs immediate help. Come." She raised her voice, "Dessa! Lerranda! Aeddiss!" Two young women and one older, all clad in long, simply cut blue tunics, stepped out of the trees beside them.
"Where are the others?" Eldan asked sharply.
"Others? I and my ladies are alone. If there are others near, they must be..." The woman's voice gradually faded from Kalen's hearing. The last thing he saw before the the black mist gathering at the corners of his vision rolled up and covered the world was Eldan looking at  him. Her mouth was moving, but he heard nothing.
. An arrow suddenly whistled through the bush past Kalen. His companion yanked him down flat on his stomach on the turf. They lay still until the shooting stopped, then got up. Kalen fired two arrows before any came their way. Kalen dropped again, just in time to see the youth lurch backwards and topple with a feathered shaft in his throat. He crawled over, but there was nothing he could do. The boy was writhing in agony, trying to gasp for air while blood bubbled up in his throat.
Kalen looked away, but the boy seized his hand. He looked back into those wide, frightened eyes, and they locked with his and held. Kalen lay beside him, silently absorbing every ever spams in the hand and all the pain and fear in those vividly blue eyes. A thought whispered around the corners of his mind: He's a she. She's a girl. It didn't matter. It was too late for anything to matter. She was dying. He searched his mind for some words of comfort for a dying soldier.
"It's okay. I'm here." He began, then shook his head. "I'm sorry. I wish I knew your name. I guess I never will." A certain calmness began to grow in her eyes, so he continued, slowly, in a whisper. "I wish I could carry a message to your friends or family, to tell them how brave you were. But I'll follow you soon. We all will. Most probably already have. I mean they've already gone." He felt her hand go limp. "And you're gone too." He reached out and closed her eyelids. She looked peaceful enough, and there was no time to do her any further honor. He fought to silence the voice in the back of his head saying that she could have lived if they had only switched positions.
Taking up his bow, he crawled back to where he could see the camp. Taldyr and his men were gone. A few riderless horses were still rearing and galloping in the excitement of the battle, but most lay in ruin with their masters. Kalen could see Taldyr's banner, the black hawk on a green field, lying trampled in the carnage, and, a few feet away, Taldyr's black horse, lying twisted and bloody. He had no doubt that Taldyr was with it. The Fellyrian army had turned its attention back to the city. They left their dead and wounded and set to loading the catapults. Horses were being harnessed to the seige towers and the archers had turned their volley to Syxel.
Kalen bent his bow and fired. It was pointless--what could he alone do against so many? But if he was to die here, he would bring as many of them as possible down with him. A few archers returned fire, but he didn't bother ducking or changing position. He didn't take time to aim, but shot as fast as he could in the general direction of the thickest part of their force. They had killed the girl behind him and they had killed Taldyr. He would have revenge if it was the last thing he did.
A powerful blow to his shoulder knocked him off his feet. He caught himself only to collapse again at the searing pain racing through his right arm. He clutched his shoulder; arrow fletches brushed his fingers. He tried to think clearly. The other end of the arrow had to be sticking out his back. He'd bleed to death if he tried to pull it out, but he couldn't move his arm, let alone draw his bow, with it in. He crawled backwards into the brush until his back was to a tree, gritted his teeth and grasped the shaft.
"Stop! You'll kill yourself!" He started and turned at the voice by his ear. The back of the arrow hit the tree and a hand clapped over his mouth to stifle his scream of agony. "Quiet. I'm a friend." The hand freed his mouth and its owner crept over to kneel in front of him. It was a dark haired woman dressed in thick blotchy brown leather. She quickly took off her glove, revealing two missing fingers. "Bite down on this and I'll get that arrow out."
"Why? I'm dead anyways."
"No. It's just your shoulder. Now bite." She stuffed the glove between his teeth. She deftly snapped the tip off the arrow, sending another shock of pain through his arm, then grabbed the shaft. "Ready?" Kalen nodded and closed his eyes. Coming out, the arrow was a thousand times more painful than going in. It felt like his arm was being torn from his body. Involuntarily, he screamed past the glove, only to get the girl's hand over his mouth again. "It hurts like hell, but if you love your life, don't make a sound." She hissed in his ear. "I'm going to bandage you up now. It won't stop the bleeding, but it will slow it until I can get you to somewhere that we can tend it properly. And shut your eyes." Kalen obeyed and, a moment later, he felt the aching, scraping pain of cloth being stuffed into the wound on both sides. A few more stips were bound fast around his shoulder to hold the others in, and a last strip formed a sling. He waited a moment or two after she finished, then opened his eyes. She was lacing up her overcoat over her vest. Her shirt. No wonder she had asked him to close his eyes.
"Don't look at me like that. I just saved your life. We have to go. Here," she placed one arm under his left shoulder and helped him to his feet. "Lean on me as much as you need to. It's not far from here." She was close to Kalen's own height, which helped, and at least as strong. "Who are you? And why are you helping me?" He asked after they had gone a short ways.
"Eldan. My name is Eldan. I'm a Syxelite, and I just saw an Elinite army give their lives for my people. This is the least I can do." She stopped suddenly. "I'm sorry. I am so sorry."
"What? What's wrong?"
"We're surrounded." Kalen looked around and saw nothing but trees and brush. "Can't you hear them?" Kalen listen and heard nothing until the bushes right in front of them rustled and parted. A slender woman with long blonde hair, dressed in white, stepped out in front of them.
"Did I frighten you?" She asked gently. "My servant heard your approach and hid. We thought you might be Fellyrians. My lands! Is he wounded?"
"Yes. And I'm taking him to safety, if you'll excuse us."
"One of my ladies is a healer. Come with me. You can stay at my house tonight." When Eldan hesitated, she added; "He needs immediate help. Come." She raised her voice, "Dessa! Lerranda! Aeddiss!" Two young women and one older, all clad in long, simply cut blue tunics, stepped out of the trees beside them.
"Where are the others?" Eldan asked sharply.
"Others? I and my ladies are alone. If there are others near, they must be..." The woman's voice gradually faded from Kalen's hearing. The last thing he saw before the the black mist gathering at the corners of his vision rolled up and covered the world was Eldan looking at  him. Her mouth was moving, but he heard nothing.

Chapter 4

Taldyr took the news surprisingly calmly. He asked no questions but, when Kalen had finished, he nodded and said, quietly, "Bring Aethan and Dallanis here. It is time we traced out our plans for the battle."
"But they're in on this desertion plot! You need to confront them," Kalen protested.
"We don't know that they agreed to it in the end. And, if they did, I will speak to them as I see fit."
Kalen bowed. As he left, it occurred to him that that was the first time Taldyr had spoken to him since Elni.
He found Dallanis working at trimming a horse's damaged hoof, and Aethan, he found still asleep by the dead ashes of the fire. He was hard to rouse, and the unusually bad mood he woke up in left Kalen wondering if someone had been overly generous with their limited wine supply. He would not have expected Aethan to be a heavy drinker, but then, he had never been a very good judge of character.
Taldyr was leaning against a tree, eyes to the sky, when they returned. He noticed saw them immediately and stood and invited them to join him on the logs around one of the smoldering fires. They sat in a small circle, Aethan slouching, still rubbing his eyes and head; Dallanis sitting with her back straight and shoulders back, looking almost defiant, and Taldyr crouch with his elbows on his knees and his sword hilt in his hands, the tip buried in the turf. Kalen was sure he looked as nervous and uncomfortable as he felt.
"We are within a day's ride of Syxel," Taldyr began, "But we will not attack today-not with the men weary from a long day's ride. Tonight, we will pitch camp in the outskirts of the mountains. We will be out of sight of Syxel, but not far enough to risk lighting fires. We will attack just before dawn--a night attack would be ideal, but if we can't see our foe, the disadvantage will be both of ours. Our only hope is that the people of Syxel will see our attack and come out to join the fray." He fell silent, then let out a weary sigh. "Beyond that, my plan is thrown into chaos by a rumor I have heard. The men are considering desertion." Kalen saw feigned astonishment on Dallanis's face, and Aethan let out a low moan. "I hardly blame them for considering such a thing. We may be going to our deaths, but they will die anyways if they return to Elni as deserters. If they were wise, they would ride with the army and fight. If they pulled out if the battle goes ill, none would blame them, and they would still have the scars and wounds to show that they had been in the battle." Kalen raised his eyebrows. Was Taldyr actually giving the deserters advise to help them desert?
"What's the plan, then? We don't know that there will be deserters. Let's assume there aren't any." Dallaris said.
"If the whole army is still here by dawn tomorrow, we will split into four companies. Each of us will lead one--"
"But the orders called for only two." Kalen interupted.
"Indeed. But the king cannot touch us now. I will fight this battle in whatever way I find most likely to succeed. As I was saying, four companies..." Kalen tried to pay attention to the full battle plan, but he could not quite picture how it would all work together. Taldyr was going to lead the soldiers on horseback in a charge straight into the Fellyrian camp. Dallaris was to take a smaller company through the the woods to the north of the city and light their tents on fire while they were distracted by Taldyr. Aethan was to circle around to the camp from the other side and do the same.  Kalen was to stay back with the archers and fire a rain of arrows into the enemy camp as soon as the soldiers emerged from their tents in the morning and continue until Taldyr's men engaged them. Then the archers were to leave their positions and circle around to the other side of the city and shoot at the enemy from behind. He and his men were to stay out of the hand-to-hand combat unless absolutely necessary. Taldyr was obviously working to preserve his men's lives if the attack failed, but it was a good plan--provided no one deserted.
"And if some men do desert? What's the plan then?" Aethan asked.
"I have no other plan. That is why I called you all to counsel. If, let's say, a third of the army deserts, what would you advise?"
"A third! Surely not so many would consider such a thing." Dallaris's tone lacked a little of its typical confidence.
"I do not see a third as unlikely. But it could wreak havoc with my plan, especially if they take the horses. The men are uneasy as is. A desertion would crush what little hope they have left. Have you ever tried to win a war with hopeless men? It's impossible."
"But this is a hopeless mission. We all know that." Aethan put in.
"It is risky, but not hopeless." Taldyr glanced around that their skeptical faces. "Look: If the commanders despair, how can the men do otherwise? You have not fought as many battles as I, but we all--all but you, Kalen--fought at the Valley of Daishen when the two hundred turned back over a thousand. Likewise, we stood together on the ridge at Irridon and watched as the flash flood destroyed half the enemy army without us even lifting the sword. Do not speak to me of hopeless situations. There is no such thing."
"Commander, you know more of this army than any of us. Tell us this at least: What are our chances? How any men do they have to our every man?" Dallaris demanded. Taldyr looked away. "Taldyr. We are riding to our deaths because of you and your daughter. This is your fault. You owe us a little honesty. You owe every man here. They are going to die tomorrow--all because of you."
"Leave it, Dallaris. The king is to blame." Aethan said sharply.
"No." The weight of weariness in Taldyr's voice was almost unbearable. "She's only speaking what everyone in the army has been thinking since we left Elni. I angered the king. I am under a death sentence and all of you are being dragged down with me. So I'll tell you. We are attacking an army of twelve thousand. The odds are fifty to one against us. I don't want the men to die for me any more than they want to be massacred. If I fall in the battle tomorrow, sound the retreat. The people will forgive the retreat for relief to see those they love still alive, and the king will be satisfied with my death."
"Our deaths." Kalen forced the words out against a great dry lump in his throat. "He wants us both dead--and he won't accept the army's return unless we're gone. I mean, I don't want to die, but I don't think I can get out of this alive any more than you can.
"Kalen, there is hope--"
"Don't tell me that, Taldyr. What hope do you have for yourself? I have the same amount of hope. And with us dead, the army can go home. We should lead the charge and--" Kalen cut off abruptly and left the circle. He knew the feeling in his gut. He was about to start crying. He hadn't cried  in years, and this was no time to start over. He was a soldier now--a captain--and what kind of soldier cries when faced with death?
He returned a few minutes later, once his eyes and throat were clear enough that he was sure he would not tear up again. Dallaris gave him her scornful you-have-a-problem look, but Aethan just nodded. Taldyr had his head down, but he looked up when Kalen sat down.
"Our council is over. We go with the plan I described. Now, if you'll excuse us, I would like some time alone with my second in command." Dallaris and Aethan stood, bowed, and left. Taldyr turned to Kalen.
"Don't be ashamed, Kalen. Many more weep in the face of death than you would expect, and you are younger than most. And you're right. I should not give you false hope. Unless Ithien works a miracle, you will never see Elni again. But I promised your father that I would do everything in my power to protect you. This is your last chance, Kalen. Leave. Go to the Dinab Forest. You are young, strong, and brave; I have no doubt you will find a place and life among the Tassin."
"No! I can't just run off on the eve of battle! And how could I live among the Tassin? They are cowards, traitors, and outlaws."
"There are such among the Tassin, but most are not unlike us. They fight Fellyre is small bands. They are wary and wood-wise. You could learn much from them."
"I'm not going. I won't be a deserter."
Taldyr smiled sadly. "That's the Kalen I know. If you will stay, then so be it. May Ithien protect you."