Stormrider, p.6
Stormrider, page 6
She sat cross-legged in the mouth of the cave, basking in the warmth of mid-day, the wolves scattered around her in the coolness the cave provided while she watched Raptor with a critical eye. Below on thick grasses, he moved through some sort of exercise routine with powerful grace. When had it happened? At what point during his amazingly brief convalescence had he become sleek and supple, swift as a cat? At what point had he left the crippling stiffness behind?
Tanith could not put her finger on his changes, but the time was now right for her to begin her pursuit of The Amulet of The Suonetar. The seasons were beginning to turn. Very soon she would leave Raptor Simic, and this place.
The Amulet, gift of the Sun-Goddess, powerful and alive unto itself, had always been the symbol, and more, of leadership in Antaris. It had become a ritual object to The People of Nashira after most of those who had managed to transport it as far as this land had wound up dead since The People were not ones to acquire such a powerful object by trade. Such a venerated piece required possession by conquest—and by the amulet’s acquiescence.
The Amulet was much more than an ornament smoothly joined to golden torque. Its power was unmistakable. Treated with respect it could bestow immense power, offer protection. Treated with less, so the legend told, it could react violently.
Tanith had been able to ascertain it was now in the keeping of a great Shaman of another band of The People. It would be taken to the yearly gathering when the nomadic tribes came together to trade, socialize, and seek wives for their deserving males. There, she would retrieve it. And she would do it unaccompanied by a bounty hunter.
As for Raptor, she would leave his fate to the Gods of the Fourteenth Moon. She doubted the Goddess would want very much to do with him. Still, her thoughts unguarded, she gazed upon the flow of muscle and sinew across broad shoulders and flat belly with a woman’s eyes. He had begun to exercise; to push his healing body even before it was ready. She had observed when he first began the movements he now flowed through; winced when he had moved with uneven jerks and seized up with pain. He bathed daily in the icy waters of the flowing creek just inside the trees. She began to believe it, too, had curative powers much as the herbs of Nashira contained such. He was clean and vigorous, thoughtful and possessed with a wry sense of humor—nothing like she would expect a bounty hunter to be.
Tanith’s stray thought evoked immediate reaction from the wolves sprawled about her in various states of repose.
Littlefoot rolled from her side to her elbows to stare over the greensward where Raptor moved with every appearance of ease.
It is as I have observed, you would do well to accept him as an ally.
One Eye snorted, rolling in his bed of sand. You were better off when you did not trust him.
“I don’t trust him now,” Tanith returned.
One Eye snorted again.
Strongheart glowered at One Eye, preventing another comment from the powerful male. Perhaps you should suggest a partnership. I have said he is not enemy. He may be a great asset.
“He does what he does for money, for gain of some kind.”
You gain nothing if you succeed?
Tanith hesitated, thinking of satisfaction, of the service she so prided herself on giving, of the promotion she would receive among the Janissaries. “It is not the same. My motivation is not the same.”
Strongheart climbed to his feet and moved to lick Littlefoot’s muzzle in invitation. Is it not? Does motivation mean so much when the result is so important? Would it be so bad for him to collect a reward for his services when he risks so much? He glanced over his heavily muscled shoulder at One Eye who rolled to his feet, gave a vigorous shake, and trotted up to join both Strongheart and Littlefoot. We go to hunt. You must decide what is best.
“What I do I must do alone,” Tanith returned softly. “It is my way, I will not be responsible for another.”
Strongheart gave a wolf-like shrug, tossing his head. Perhaps he feels the same.
Tanith grinned, hands busily at work on more arrows for her bow while she met Strongheart’s steady gaze. “Then he is a moon-blessed fool.”
No doubt you are right. Strongheart agreed and trotted off down the trail, which was considerably steeper since the devastating storm, One Eye on his heels.
Littlefoot came over to give Tanith a playful nudge and sympathetic whine before following the other two out and past the exercising bounty hunter.
Ankle deep in the lush grasses below the cave, Raptor saw the wolves depart. He knew the pattern. They were off to hunt. This time, Tanith was not accompanying them. Sometimes she did and other times she did not.
He kept moving. Slowly, forcing fluidity, though his body felt battered and much older than his thirty solar years. For a bounty hunter such as he, with a reputation such as his, stiffening injuries were the worst risk and his back still felt like an old piece of leather left out in sun and rain. Nonetheless, sweat and control were smoothing his movements, returning strength to his limbs. Color moved in his face with the strain and he was grateful Tanith was far enough away that she would not be able to see it. He did have his pride even if not his full strength.
Stiffness. Pain. Old skin cracking. New skin coming through, pink and shiny. Though Raptor could not see the wounds on his back he knew well the slick, pink appearance of wounds healing. The thought strayed into his mind that he might be approaching an age where it would be wisest to settle down as he had planned from the beginning of his notorious career. Though few knew it, he was a wealthy man.
He moved a little faster, then drew back, put strength into the movement, felt the pain recede, the movement flow more smoothly. With renewed consideration he decided time yet remained to him before he would seek retirement. And, he suspected such time spent with Tanith would be lively indeed.
Raptor considered the female Janissary he had been sent to replace. He had been fascinated by the documentation of her life and accomplishments as well as her mission. Fascinated even when he had believed her dead as had the Circle of Nine. Now, the word fascinated did not begin to cover his feelings. She had come back from the dead to save the life of the man sent to replace her. Raptor found it poetic, if in a backhanded way. And, though Tanith so easily brushed it aside, she would have her payment for the blood debt he owed. Raptor would have it no other way. A man who cherished life, despite outward appearances, Raptor always paid his debts. Paying this one, he thought as he moved through the limbering exercises, would prove no great burden. She was good, but she did not have the Amulet yet. She was brave, and well-accompanied by the pack—but many were the times when the pack was not near. He was not willing to give up his prize—the bounty on the amulet, which was considerable—in order to repay Tanith, but no doubt in a place such as Nashira, there would be other opportunities.
He found her to be hard as tanned leather and sleek as moonlight. A contradiction and a Janissary. Many women were Janissaries, some of them with reputations rivaling his own. But that type had never appealed to Raptor. He liked his women soft, feminine and preferably willing.
Even so, it was less peculiar for Tanith to have chosen the path she did in Raptor’s opinion, as he knew her background; knew what it was that had driven her to this choice. He had to admire her strength. Both, that she received the necessary training and that she had channeled it in the direction of service instead of revenge, because if anyone had the right to revenge, it was Tanith Aesir. To his knowledge, and according to knowledge contained in the records the Circle of Nine and the Council of The Servitors kept, she had never used her information sources and training as a Janissary to strike back at the slavers who had destroyed her innocence at so young an age. It was something he was sure he could not have kept himself from doing.
Noble, Raptor decided, but in the greater scheme of things, probably not wise.
Chapter 6
Slavers. The single word passed from Strongheart to Tanith, both warning and curse.
She drew up short, gazing out into the small clearing where Littlefoot and one Eye trotted across the deserted campsite.
Strongheart shot Tanith a sideways glance and lifted his black nose to sample the air. They are not long gone from here. Use caution.
Tanith nodded, moccasined feet making no sound as she slipped forward into the clearing to examine the faint traces left behind by the hated slavers. If the camp was so recently deserted as Strongheart believed, it would indeed pay to be cautious. She stiffened just a little, memories long buried threatening to resurface, but other thoughts took precedence, banishing cruel memories again to the darker recesses of her mind.
She had left her sheltering cave more than three days past, in the early hours of the night when she had been certain the bounty hunter had slept. She didn’t fear him, but he sought what she sought and she would be a twice-blessed fool to trust him. She did not know or care if he followed, for if he did he was far behind. The wolves had assured her of that. Strongheart, Littlefoot and One Eye had taken turns scouting their back trail and had seen nothing.
The idea of slipping free of her old camp at night by the light of only the blue moon, the paler golden moon still below the horizon, had made her very uncomfortable. Still she had not wanted to discuss, or even think where Raptor Simic was concerned. It had simply been easier this way. Tanith couldn’t help but grin at the thought of Raptor’s chagrin when he had discovered her gone. She knew well he would have sworn it was not possible for her to slip away, fully outfitted, without his waking.
She watched the wolves who were wary, but moving swiftly, noses first to the ground, then elevated, seeking clues to those who had gone before. Tanith edged out into the clearing, soft grasses bending soundlessly beneath her tread. She looked carefully for other signs which might not be familiar to the wolves; depressions in the earth, discarded high-tech trash. She found nothing to indicate anyone had been here besides the slavers and perhaps a few of their victims.
Tanith’s stomach muscles tightened and she swore softly, bending to examine more closely the bent grasses where a number of beds had been laid upon the ground. None of those would have been the slavers. They never deigned to sleep on the cold ground except in times of extreme emergency. When they had to go some distance from their ships they almost invariably had with them their much warmer hammocks and back on their ships, luxury abounded. For them. Not for their victims. Not for those poor souls who had been captured, destined to be used and then sold. Shipped to some place so distant they could never hope to see Nashira again. Too well Tanith remembered the pain of separation and alienation. She felt again that familiar pain in her gut and saw again that dark face hovering over her . . . dark in countenance and soul . . . The Maven, leader of one of the largest packs of known slavers.
Irritated, Tanith brushed the intruding memories from her mind with almost a physical effort, turning to Strongheart as he approached, sleek and loose-limbed.
They are gone.
Tanith nodded. “Thank the Great Cosmic Mother they are—and that it was only the slavers who occupied this clearing. I have found nothing to indicate the Dinh Dinh were here.”
Strongheart cocked his head. I am not familiar with them.
“You have not encountered them yet, but they will come if I do not retrieve the Amulet and depart Nashira before they try again.” She stood gazing off into the distance, measuring her time here. “They are power seekers, rebels against the order. They use violence and destruction to achieve their ends. They know nothing else—nor do they wish to.”
Enemy. One Raptor named as his attacker.
Tanith nodded. “It is to our shame the leader of the Dinh Dinh is the second son of the Imperitor, Presidor of Antaris and highest authority, above even The Council of Nine. The slavers are bad enough, purveyors of human flesh and soul, but they have no use for power. Anarchists, they seek, actually worship, total lack of restraints. They will do anything for money and to safeguard their ways. They are scattered and independent, a threat only to those they attack.
“But they are as children compared to the cruelty and lust for power which possesses the Dinh Dinh. That blight would spread their infection throughout the known inhabited, civilized world and beyond, to places not yet charted. And, if they come to possess the Amulet they may inherit the power to do so.”
Formidable Enemy. Strongheart pricked his ears and thrust his muzzle forward in greeting as Littlefoot and One Eye returned, confirming their aloneness at the campsite. They capered together a few moments, then settled down once again to seriousness, Strongheart taking up the thread of the exchange as if it had never been interrupted. It does not seem wise for men to invest such power into an object. That an amulet could decide the fates of men confuses me. But I understand now why you seek it.
“The Amulet is more than just an object. It is alive. It bestows a power of its own when it accepts a wearer. I was sent here because it was discovered that the Imperitor’s second son had fled to Nashira with the torque and a number of his supporters. When his father died he took the Amulet and fled. Soon after, the first son died in an accident. A daughter still lives. The Amulet was lost to the second son here when he and his group were surprised in a raid by The People. He escaped, returning to Antaris, the others were killed, the Amulet was left behind; left unintentionally to The People. Perhaps he killed his father. Perhaps his brother too. No one knows for sure and because there is no proof, few know of what is happening now while the Imperitor’s second son presides over the Council as the new Imperitor. The Amulet must be found, the truth must be known.”
How will the Amulet bring truth? It is, after all, nothing more than man-wrought metal.
“No, it is more.” Tanith shifted the weighty pack on her back. “It is ancient—there are none living who really know its origins. And it possesses a life-force of its own. It may accept or reject a wearer. Its acceptance of the wearer has determined who would be the Imperitor of Antaris for generations.”
Strongheart was quiet a moment, puzzling over what she had told him.
If it is but a small Amulet made to fit about a man’s throat, how would it reject a wearer?
Tanith smiled “You ask difficult questions. It has not rejected a wearer in many generations of the Imperitor’s line. I do not know exactly how it would do so. There are ancient stories of the Amulet’s power I remember from my days at school in Antaris.”
But the amulet is here and you are here . . . in Nashira.
Perhaps the Amulet does not possess its power here. How could it have been stolen if it has the power to stop such, yet seemed to allow it?
“More difficult questions. Perhaps they will all be answered when we find the Amulet.”
Perhaps.
“But you have your doubts.”
A wolfish shrug. I am a wolf, not a human. Such things as you describe do little but confuse me. Among the pack there is no symbol such as you describe needed to determine leadership. It is clear who is leader.
“Your ways are simpler,” Tanith admitted with a sigh. “But for us, if the Amulet is not found, the truth not discovered, war could erupt among the countries represented in the Council of Nine. Tides of revolution could sweep across our world. People, it seems, are not as stable as wolves.”
True for some. Not for others. Littlefoot interjected cryptically, trotting back from another independent excursion. She sat close beside Strongheart, with a swirled pink tongue over her black nose and panted lightly. The slavers are not far ahead. I found their spoor and followed. They are arrogant and incautious. We would do well to avoid them. She cocked her head, eyebrows quirking in her white mask above golden eyes. I have detected nothing of Raptor Simic, but he will find you.
“He is a bounty hunter—it’s not me he seeks . . .”
Strongheart, just as positive as Littlefoot. He will find you.
With a wry twist of her lips, Tanith glanced from one wolf to the other. Only One Eye had not commented. “Hopefully he will not find me before I return to where I hid his ship.”
Tanith had experienced a few tugs of conscience about that maneuver. The thought of leaving him abandoned while she returned to the Circle of Nine troubled her, but she had determined her mission was the most important thing and out of necessity, her first consideration. She would return for him once the torque was safely in the hands of its rightful wearer. He would have to fend for himself until then. Such are the risks of a bounty hunter. Really, he was fortunate to have run afoul of someone such as she who possessed some honor. Some would leave him with no backward thought. Then if he ever intended to leave Nashira, his only chance would be stealing a slaver’s vessel. As he had so succinctly pointed out, that would be no mean feat.
He seeks more than the Amulet. Strongheart pressed his way into her thoughts.
“Philosophizing again?”
That drew an irritated snort from Strongheart. Uttering truths.
That drew a snort from Tanith. She glanced again at Littlefoot. “How far were the slavers from here? Would it be possible to catch up easily?”
Yes. They are not far. They are moving slowly. I think they do not yet believe themselves finished here.
Strongheart, climbing to his feet and lifting his nose to the warm breeze. Your thoughts are good, Stormrider. You are more of The People than you admit even to yourself.
“My thoughts are insane,” Tanith returned. “I think to steal the slavers’ profit from them; I alone, and I look with disdain upon their arrogance.”
But you are not alone. Strongheart, great silver ruff standing out around his head, framing what could only be described as a kind face.
Yeah. One Eye interjected his thoughts at last. You have us. It will be great sport—like the bear.
Strongheart ignored One Eye. It seemed like the sensible thing to do at that moment. You seek to take their victims from them. Their profit is something else. You seek to free those of The People they have stolen from a life of slavery.
