Honored Enemy

  Now, at last, Asayaga had made his first kill and he felt a touch of bitterness. The Tsurani had accepted Dennis’s lessons and admonishments in silence. He was willing to defer to Hartraft’s superior skills, and besides, he was learning, how Hartraft worked in the woods: a valuable lesson worth the humiliations. At this moment, however, he half-expected a nod, an acknowledgment of a difficult shot through the woods on game they had stalked for nearly an hour.

  The mere fact that he expected some sort of praise from Hartraft 215

  made him angry with himself. He now did as ordered, carefully scanning the woods, watching as the branches slowly swayed in the afternoon breeze, trying to catch a movement that was not in rhythm, listening for a sound that was out of the ordinary. He caught the distant sound of a horse, and looked back to Dennis, who had heard it as well and simply shook his head. Of course it was all an exercise, for they were still safe in the valley, but he played out the game.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Are you certain?’

  ‘Why? Is this still a drill or do you have someone hidden in the woods waiting to kill me?’

  Dennis’s features clouded. ‘Some day soon it will again be real between us, but until then, you are safe in my company. But while marching with my command in the woods I expect you to be of some help, at least.’

  ‘Who held the centre of the trail in our final retreat, Hartraft?’

  ‘The next fight might be different – a running battle through the forest – and there it’s archery and stealth that counts.’

  Asayaga held up his hand motioning Dennis to silence. ‘This argument is ridiculous,’ he hissed. Drawing his blade, he turned and went to the stag, which was still kicking weakly, and knelt by its side.

  He lowered his head, whispered a prayer and then drew the blade across the dying beast’s throat. Its kicking weakened and then finally stopped.

  ‘A dumb beast suffering needlessly tends to divert me,’ Asayaga said coldly, looking up at Dennis.

  Dennis knelt beside Asayaga without comment, and started to gut the animal.

  ‘Why have you taught me this?’ Asayaga asked.

  ‘What?’

  ‘How to hunt.’

  ‘We need food, and also, when we face the Dark Brotherhood again, I need you to understand our tactics.’

  ‘No. I see it as foolish of you.’

  ‘Why?’

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  ‘I am your enemy, Hartraft. In the month that we’ve been here I’ve observed you. You have taught me skills I never knew before.

  It makes me even more dangerous to you now.’

  Dennis leaned back, his hands covered in blood, and laughed.

  ‘You, dangerous? I’ll give you a half hour to go hide, then we can have our fight. You’ll be dead before the hour is finished.’

  ‘When we fight it will be in challenge, as you agreed, in the open, before our men.’

  ‘Why? That gives you the advantage. Let’s do it in the woods instead.’

  ‘And give you the advantage?’ Asayaga replied with a laugh. ‘We agreed to an open challenge, blade on blade.’

  ‘I don’t quite remember it that way.’

  ‘Are you calling me a liar?’ Asayaga barked, and he stood up, reaching to his side, but his sword was back in the long house, with all the rest.

  Dennis shook his head. ‘No, I am not calling you a liar, Asayaga.’

  He motioned for the Tsurani to sit back down. ‘We have to settle how this will be fought.’

  ‘Our pledge is binding, it is to be a duel in the open.’

  ‘All right then,’ Dennis replied wearily, ‘let it be swords, in the open, witnessed by all our men.’

  Asayaga, gave an angry grunt. He watched as Dennis effortlessly gutted the animal. ‘You’ve lived all your life in the woods, haven’t you?’ he asked at last.

  Dennis nodded, saying nothing.

  Asayaga leaned back, looking past him. It had been clear for over a week and there was even a hint of warmth in the afternoon air, sunlight sparkling though the trees, catching the snow still clinging to the branches so that it seemed as if the trees were garlanded with baskets of diamonds. ‘Where I lived the woods were dank jungle.

  I always hated them, they seemed so dangerous, foreboding. The sunlight never shone there, and deadly serpents and stalkers lurked within.’

  ‘Stalkers lurk here too,’ said Dennis.

  ‘Such as you.’

  ‘Yes.’

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  Asayaga nodded. ‘Yes, but it’s different. If there was no war, this would be a good place. Sheltered in winter, the fields look fertile, the game is rich. It could be a good life here.’

  ‘If there was no war . . .’ Dennis hesitated. ‘Yes, it could be.’

  ‘Was your home like this before the war?’

  ‘Don’t ask me about my home, Asayaga.’

  ‘Sorry. I did not mean to bring the return of unpleasant memories.’

  There was silence for several minutes as Dennis finished his job, putting the heart and liver back inside the hollowed-out carcass, then washed his blade and hands with snow. ‘It was like this place,’ he said softly, almost as if speaking to himself. ‘Our valley had good land, by midsummer the grain stood waist-high and there was more than enough for all: even the poorest of my father’s tenants ate well, had a dry roof over his head, and a warm fire in the winter.’ He sat back, absently wiping his hands on his stained trousers. ‘The great forest was thick with game. My father – and when he still was able, my grandfather as well – we would go hunting together and when we returned there would be a feast and all in the keep joined us. The feasting would last for days, especially the great Midwinter festival like the one we celebrated two weeks ago. My grandfather had an old retainer named Jocomo who would dress up as Father Winter and come riding into the courtyard with a bag of sweets for the children.’ With a faint smile Dennis added, ‘He always said that the wolves who pulled his sleigh were ill, which is why he had to borrow one of grandfather’s horses and each year when I was a child I would believe him. Anyone who came to our door was given a place at our table and my grandfather would insist that before we of title ate, those who served or were visitors must eat first.’

  ‘Your people loved him, then?’

  ‘Who could not?’ Dennis said wistfully. ‘He always distrusted the high nobles in the great halls to the east, far away in Rillanon and Salador, where it was safe, saying that they had forgotten why we existed, that our duty was first and foremost to protect those in our charge, and not the other way around.’

  Asayaga sat silent, saying nothing, and after a while Dennis went on.

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  ‘Yes, he was loved. I remember when I was a boy, maybe eight summers old. I told a stable boy to polish the silver trim on my saddle and came out to find him asleep, the silver still unpolished and in my childlike rage I struck him.’ Dennis shook his head. ‘My grandfather saw this.’

  ‘And he beat you?’

  ‘No,’ and Dennis. ‘He said nothing, but the following morning, hours before dawn, he dragged me out of my bed, pushed me down the stairs and threw me into the stable and told me to muck it out.

  ‘How I cried bitter tears, with him standing there glaring at me, not saying a word. After I mucked out the stables, I fed all the horses, then had to walk them, then oil the harnesses, before I could eat breakfast. Then I had to groom every horse, help the blacksmith with shodding, then help to bring in the hay; and thus I worked the whole day, and every day like that for a week. I ate in the stables and collapsed into exhausted sleep in the stables. The humiliation was the hardest part to bear, for all in the keep knew, and all treated me no longer as if I was the grandson of the Baron, but was just a common stable boy.’ He smiled. ‘The boy I struck secretly helped me in spite of my grandfather’s orders for him to take the time off and go hunting and use my horse. Lars was his name and he became one of my closest friends after that.’

  Denn
is sighed and looked over at Asayaga. ‘Lars was killed the night the keep fell, standing by my grandfather’s side.’

  He turned away from Asayaga, not wanting the Tsurani to see his emotion. ‘There was a story how a new man-at-arms –’ he whispered, his voice distant and haunting, ‘– just a boy, fell asleep on watch one night. He awoke to find my grandfather standing above him, in the driving snow, having taken his place in the sentry-box.’

  ‘Did he hang him?’ Asayaga asked. ‘That is our punishment.’

  ‘It is ours as well, but not that night. The terrified boy begged forgiveness and my grandfather raised him to his feet. “You not only failed me,” my grandfather said, “you failed your family whom I nevertheless protected while you slept. You were all that stood between your mother and danger this night and you failed her far more than you failed me. Now go back to your mother and when you are finally man enough to take the responsibilities of a man you 219

  may return to the service of our people. I will serve out the remainder of your watch.” ’

  Asayaga smiled.

  ‘That boy, years later, was my trainer and the sergeant of this company.’

  ‘Jurgen?’

  Dennis simply nodded and looked away. ‘It was a good place, our valley. The border marches were quiet: sometimes a year or more would pass without a single clash with renegades. At times we would see an eledhel or even a dwarf come to our keep for a night’s shelter and a place by the fire.’ There was a long pause. Then: ‘Old Wolfgar,’

  and Dennis smiled, chuckling softly, ‘before he had his run-in with the king, was often at our table. He favoured my grandfather more than any other duke or baron though they would pay him more for a song in their honour than grandfather would. ‘You see a bit of my grandfather in Wolfgar.’

  Asayaga looked at him surprise.

  ‘Beneath that obscene tongue there’s his zest for life, his joy in watching a sunrise after a stormy night, his trading of a jest between friends, and his love of a good song: all things he shared with my family.’ Dennis looked off as if Asayaga was not even there. ‘The night my grandfather died, there was not a man among us who would not have died in his place. I wish I had . . .’

  His voice trailed off for a moment.

  ‘It was my wedding day, the assault coming just before dusk.

  Everyone from the village and the keep was in the great hall when one of the sentries came rushing in, screaming that an enemy host was attacking. Before we could even pick up our arms your men were already scaling the walls. Within minutes we lost the gate and the assault on the great hall began. We blocked the entryway, but you set the roof afire.’

  Again there was a long silence.

  ‘I should have died that night.’

  ‘You didn’t, though.’

  Dennis looked over suspiciously at Asayaga.

  ‘No insult, Hartraft. Fate decreed differently is all I mean.’

  ‘My father and grandfather barricaded the main door, then both 220

  ordered Gwenynth and me to flee through the escape-way, saying that someone had to get help. I refused.’ He stopped for a moment, looking up at the tree tops. ‘Something struck me from behind. I always suspected it was Jurgen, although right up till his death he never admitted to the deed. I awoke outside the keep, with Jurgen and a few dozen of our men.’

  ‘And Gwenynth?’

  ‘She was kneeling over me, wiping my face when a bolt winged in from the dark.’ He lowered his head. ‘She died in my arms.’

  ‘Hartraft, though my words might ring hollow, I am sorry. War should be an honourable affair between men who chose to fight.’

  Dennis, head still lowered, snorted derisively. ‘Tsurani, when was the last time you saw a city burn, or a village overrun by starving troops, or the body of a girl lying in the snow, the crossbow bolt in her back a blessed release from her agony?’

  ‘I know,’ Asayaga whispered. ‘I know.’

  ‘We knew that you, the Tsurani, were coming, but thought you were still days away. Gwenynth and I were pledged to marry and we changed the date to the night before my departure for the wars. My grandfather had patrols ranging forward to guard the passes into our valley and to give warning of any approach, but no warning ever came. How and why the patrol guarding the pass failed us I don’t know.’

  Asayaga stirred uncomfortably. ‘I was not there, I have sworn that to you, Hartraft.’

  Dennis nodded.

  ‘And yet I heard something about it.’

  ‘What?’ Now his gaze was firmly locked on Asayaga.

  ‘The attack-column found four of your men dead in the pass leading to your valley. I remember one of the Strike Leaders talking about it. He said one had a dagger in his back, the others no wounds, and he suspected poison.’

  ‘I never heard this,’ Dennis said coldly.

  ‘I only tell you what I heard around a campfire long afterwards.’

  Dennis sat wrapped in silence and Asayaga could see that this bit of news, which had waited for eight long years to be delivered, came as a profound shock.

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  ‘And this Strike Leader? Is he still alive?’

  Asayaga shook his head. ‘Dead. It’s believed you killed him in one of your ambushes three years ago.’

  ‘Good.’ The single word was spoken with a cold icy satisfaction.

  ‘It doesn’t change what happened,’ Asayaga said, and he struggled to control his own anger, for the commander of a hundred had been of his clan.

  ‘To me it does.’

  ‘And when you’ve killed the last Tsurani who was in that battle, then what? By the gods, they’re likely all dead by now anyhow.

  Dead in battle, dead from the coughing sickness, frozen, drowned; or gone mad and wandered off into the forests. This war has claimed thousands of my people, Hartraft. When will you be satisfied that you are finished?’

  ‘When we bury the last of you, or you finally flee.’

  ‘We can’t leave.’

  ‘Why? The portal is open: just go.’

  ‘Can you leave?’

  ‘You’re on our land, damn it!’

  ‘Not because I want to be. Like you I have rulers above me. I’m here because my clan ordered it. Do you think I want to be here?

  You Kingdom soldiers do not even have the faintest glimmer of an idea about all that is behind this. You have no idea of the clans, of the rivalry, of what some call the Great Game, which is behind all of this madness. It goes far beyond you, me, our men, or even this war itself. Only an idealist would be stupid enough to believe that the purpose of this war is simply for us to conquer you. And I dare say that on your side there is more than one prince who would sell his own brother and the thousands who serve beneath him, if it could advance his own position in the game of kings.’ Asayaga looked over at the stag, its eyes blank, the warmth already leaking from its body.

  ‘We are all pawns, Hartraft, all of us.’ And as he spoke, Asayaga felt shame for allowing his bitterness to show.

  Dennis looked at him and then slowly nodded his head. ‘But your family is safe while mine is dead, my land occupied, my keep in ruins: that is the difference between us, Tsurani.’

  ‘And are you dead as well, Hartraft?’

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  Dennis stared at him. ‘Don’t try to get into my soul, Asayaga.

  You are not my friend, I do not seek your advice. The last one I would allow near me died last month, a Tsurani spear tearing out his heart.’

  ‘I heard Jurgen was a fine warrior: I heard how he saved that young soldier, the one who helps the priest.’

  ‘Not much of an exchange.’

  ‘For the boy it was. He’ll carry that for the rest of his life.’

  ‘I hope so.’

  ‘Three times I’ve had men step in front of me to take an arrow, or a blade that would have killed me. I carry their souls with me.’

  Asayaga’s voice was heavy. ‘That is the nature of war, and the love men have for eac
h other in war. In the retreat to this place I saw one of your men risk his life to save one of mine.’

  ‘That does not mean anything. The heat of battle, nothing more.’

  ‘I wonder.’

  ‘I dislike idealists as much as you do, Asayaga. Don’t read more into it than that. I sit beside you now because I must.’

  ‘I don’t want to be your friend either, Hartraft. I don’t befriend those without souls. We are men and as men we admit that vengeance has its place, but to live for that and nothing else? It’s not much of a life, Hartraft, not one that I want any part of.’

  He said the last words sharply, staring directly into Dennis’s eyes and for once he sensed he had hit a mark with this man, for Dennis lowered his gaze. There was a moment of awkward silence between the two men, which was broken at last by the sound of approaching horses. Dennis tensed, hand instinctively reaching to his bow, but Asayaga had already caught a glimpse of the party riding towards them and he stood up.

  Alyssa, long white cape flowing, reined in, a moment later followed by Roxanne with her father riding beside her.

  Asayaga saw the flicker in Alyssa’s eyes and in spite of his struggle for reserve he knew that his tension in her presence showed. The game between them had been going on for weeks, barely a word spoken, but always the veiled glances, the momentary smile, and then almost a studied indifference.

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  ‘Your first stag?’ Roxanne asked as she dismounted and walked up to the animal to study it.

  ‘How did you know it was me?’

  ‘Both of you left with a dozen arrows in your quivers and, Tsurani, you now have eleven.’

  Wolfgar laughed. ‘Times I think she should have been born a man!’

  She looked back at her father disdainfully.

  ‘A good kill,’ Roxanne observed, ‘put him on my horse.’

  Without comment, Dennis hoisted the animal and laid it across the haunches of the horse which pranced nervously at the scent of blood until Roxanne went back and with a firm hand on the bridle, stilled the animal.