CHAPTER 8
THE TRUE WARRIOR
333 AR AUTUMN
“Deliverer!” Shanjat and Shanvah leapt to their feet, moving to stand apart. Without veil or robe, there was nothing to hide the blush of their skin or the guilty looks on their faces.
Indeed, their auras matched the look, shame and embarrassment palpable. Jardir assessed the situation, and his eyes darkened. Even if Shanvah had lain with him willingly, she was Shanjat’s daughter, and Jardir’s niece. Whether his spirit was penitent or not, Jardir would have no choice but to sentence his old friend to death.
He considered the thought grimly. Shanjat had served him loyally since the two of them were children in sharaj, and proven a good husband for his sister Hoshvah. More, Jardir needed Shanjat and the Sharum he commanded at his side when the First War began in full. Perhaps he could commute the sentence until after Sharak Ka. Give his loyal servant a chance to die on alagai talons and bring that his honor with him on the lonely path before he stood before Everam to be judged.
“Forgive us, Deliverer, we have failed you!” Shanjat cried before Jardir could utter a word. He and Shanvah fell to their knees, pressing hands and foreheads to the dirt floor. “I swear by Everam we tried every method in our power to escape and continue our search for you, but the Par’chin—”
“—is using hora magic to strengthen the our cell,” Shanvah cut in. Her fingernails were raw and dirty. In wardsight, Jardir could see the scratches where she and her father had tested every inch of their prison.
He looked around the room, seeing no robes or veils. Of course the Par’chin would have stripped and searched them before imprisoning them. Even he was not such a fool as to leave them tools to escape. The only other thing in the room was a covered chamber pot, too small and fragile to make an effective weapon.
Suddenly Jardir was the one to feel ashamed. Was the caress of parent and child, trapped in a lightless cell, a crime? He had been ready to assume the worst, to sentence one of his oldest friends to death, when his only guilt stemmed from the fear they had failed in their duty to him.
“Always quick to turn on a friend,” the Par’chin murmured, and Jardir grit his teeth.
“Rise in honor, brother, niece,” he said. “The Par’chin is beyond your power. There is no shame in defeat at his hands.”
Both stayed on their knees. When Shanjat hesitated, Shanvah spoke in his place. “It was not the Par’chin who captured us, Deliverer.”
Most fathers would have been enraged at the face lost having their daughter speak for them before the Deliverer, but Shanjat only looked at her with gratitude, and a pride Jardir had not seen him show either of his sons.
“Was me,” the Par’chin’s jiwah said. Jardir turned a skeptical eye on her. He knew the woman was formidable, but Shanjat and his daughter were kai’Sharum, Krasian warrior elite.
Shanvah raised her eyes to give the Par’chin’s jiwah an appraising look. “Her sharusahk is pathetic, Deliverer. A child could defeat her. But her magic is strong. Even with our night strength, she was beyond us. Our shields and spears lay broken.”
The words sent anguish through Shanvah’s aura. Jardir Drew through her as the Par’chin had taught him, seeing a vision around her. Inevera commanding Shanvah to seek the missing Deliverer. Her first assignment, one of such immense honor she could barely contain her pride. A chance to show the Deliverer and Damajah her worth.
And she had failed. Utterly.
Another vision arose, her defeat at the hands of the Par’chin’s jiwah.
“The Par’chin brought me down in the same way, niece,” he said. “You have been trained well, but you would be unwise to challenge his Jiwah Ka …”—he met Renna’s eyes—“… in the night. In day, she will be more vulnerable to sharusahk, and no match for you.”
The Par’chin’s jiwah glared at him. Jardir felt the weight of auras shift as face in the room was restored to balance. Shanvah looked at Renna in a new way. A predator’s appraisal.
Jardir waved for his warriors to rise and turned angrily to face the Par’chin. “If my brother-in-law and niece have been mistreated …”
“They haven’t.” The Par’chin whisked a hand. “Ask ’em yourself.”
“We have not, Deliverer,” Shanjat said as Jardir looked back to him. “We have been given food, water, and rest after days spent tracking you. The Par’chin treated the wounds we suffered when his Jiwah Ka subdued us.”
He looked at his daughter, and his aura shone with love. “And I do not regret having time to know my daughter.”
Jardir could well understand. He knew little about his own daughters, taken into the Dama’ting Palace when they were very young. They had been locked in the room as strangers, but trapped alone in the dark, father and daughter had found each other again.
“Thought a few days to reflect might do ’em some good,” the Par’chin said.
“And now?” Jardir said. “I will not allow you to shame them with further imprisonment, Par’chin.”
“Wouldn’t have shown ’em to you, I’d meant to keep ’em locked up,” the Par’chin said. “We’re leaving at dusk, and won’t be around to feed ’em and empty the chamber pot. Taking ’em with us.”
Jardir shook his head. “They are not prepared for the path we must walk, Par’chin. Set them free. One way or another, our task will be done before they find their way back to Everam’s Bounty.”
The Par’chin shook his head.
Jardir eyed him dangerously. “And if I free them anyway? What will you do then?”
“I’ll be done trusting that you put Sharak Ka first,” the Par’chin replied. “Mind demons can eat a person’s memories like a snack. Leave ’em not even knowing anything happened. They can plant commands that hold force in daylight. There could be spies anywhere, Ahmann, and we only get one throw at this. The less people know we’re still alive, the better.”
“Shar’Dama Ka!” The shout shocked Jardir. When was the last time Shanjat had spoken out of turn? He turned to his old friend, who bowed deeply. “If you walk a dangerous path, Deliverer, it is our duty to guard you with our lives.”
Shanvah nodded. “The Damajah bade us not return without you. She will not forgive us if we abandon you in your time of need.”
“They can help us in Anoch Sun, if they have the courage,” the Par’chin said. “Shouldn’t underestimate the princes. Your power will be limited while you maintain the field. Even with Renna, we’ll be overmatched.”
“If two warriors might shift the balance, why not bring an army?” Jardir asked.
“And hide them where?” the Par’chin asked. “I can draw wards of unsight in the air around two, but more will alert the minds to our presence, and all will be for naught.”
Jardir sighed. He could not deny the comfort the two gave him, balancing the shift in power when the Par’chin’s jiwah arrived. “Very well.”
“We’ll make the lost city in five days if we trample demons to charge the horses to speed,” the Par’chin said as they packed supplies, laying in food and water for the desert crossing. There would be little if anything to replenish their stores once they reached the clay flats. “Four if we really push.”
“That does not give us much time to prepare before Waning, Par’chin,” Jardir said.
The Par’chin shrugged. “Don’t want any sign we been there, so the less the better. Ent much to do once we get there save wait in any event. Better off readying ourselves than the tomb.”
“Shanjat and Shanvah will need new spears and shields,” Jardir said.
“Got a cache of weapons we can raid out in the desert,” the Par’chin said. “Meantime, I can stain their skin with blackstem wards, and we can all work on our gaisahk together.”
“Wise,” Jardir said. “I know my warriors’ skill, but I have not seen your jiwah fight.”
“Started teaching her a few months ago,” the Par’chin said. “She learns fast.”
Jardir nodded patiently, and called the five of them to practice while the sun was still high. The Par’chin and his jiwah produced brushes and painted impact wards on Shanjat’s and Shanvah’s fists, elbows, and feet. They cut the sleeves from their returned robes to bare the symbols to the air.
As expected, his warriors took quickly to gaisahk, but the Par’chin’s jiwah had forms even a novice could best. Shanvah had not been unfair in her assessment. If anything, she had been kind.
“You continue to place your feet wrong,” Jardir told her as she finished a sharukin. He had already corrected her stance a dozen times, but still she failed to give it her full attention.
“What’s the difference?” she asked. “Would’ve punched right through a demon’s face with that move.”
“The difference, fool, is that if there had been another at its back, you would have been off balance,” Jardir snapped. “Alagai’sharak is no game, where the loser can play another day.”
“Know that,” Renna said. The words were sullen, but he believed them. She was trying to place her feet right, but the move was beyond her. It was not fair of him to expect her to master in days what his warriors practiced their whole lives, but they did not have time to coddle her.
“Shanvah will tutor you each day when we stop under the sun to rest and water the horses,” he ordered.
“What?!” both women exclaimed at once.
Jardir looked to his niece. “She is not to be harmed. You must put aside any emotion over your imprisonment.”
Shanvah embraced her emotion and crossed her fists, bowing. “Your will, Deliverer.”
“Goes double for you, Ren,” the Par’chin said. “You need these lessons, but don’t forget you’re a lot stronger’n her, and we need you both in one piece come new moon. You’re learnin’, not fightin’.”
Renna spat in the dust. “Won’t break anything can’t heal.”
The two moved off to begin the lesson, and the Par’chin shook his head. “Gonna regret sayin’ that, isn’t she?”
“More than you know, Par’chin,” Jardir said. “But I have seen the pride in her aura. All warriors must understand their own weakness if they are to overcome it.” He looked at the departing women. “Shanvah will show her, delivering the same lesson your jiwah did to her.”