DemonWars Saga Volume 2: Mortalis - Ascendance - Transcendence - Immortalis (The DemonWars Saga) (189 page)

It all tied together in such a strange and unexpected way.

Brynn held no illusions, though. She was not there for the sake of Lady Dasslerond. No, she was there for the good of the To-gai-ru. If Dasslerond and the elves benefitted from her actions taken for the gain of her own people, then all the better.

And she would take those actions, would free To-gai, the young woman believed. She just wished that Belli’mar Juraviel was there to help her along her road, to counsel her and guide her, to tell her when she was acting foolishly and when she was following the right fork in the path.

How she missed him! Both as mentor and friend!

Lost in the memories, Brynn did not notice Runtly’s ears coming up suddenly, nor even the little nicker the pony offered, in obvious surprise.

The form came out of the snowy haze in a wild rush, charging right beside the woman, club swinging to knock her from her mount.

Purely on instinct and reflex, Brynn ducked to the side and down and kicked a heel into Runtly’s flank, and the strong pony leaped away. The attacker turned to follow, though, and Brynn soon understood that he was not alone.

She brought Runtly into a flat-out gallop, cutting down to the center of the valley, trying to find more maneuvering room away from boxing walls. Riders rose up out of the white-out beside her, all with weapons raised.

Brynn resisted the urge to draw out her sword and instead focused on cutting Runtly into tight turns, kicking him into short bursts of speed, then pulling up fast and changing directions. For these were To-gai-ru warriors attacking her, and not Behrenese, and though their weapons were no less dangerous, Brynn had no desire to kill one of her own.

Of course, the fact that they were To-gai-ru, and on horseback, made them all the harder to shake.

Runtly turned a sharp right, slicing inside the angle of a rider trying to cut Brynn off. The To-gai-ru warrior launched a wild swing at her, his staff coming up far short, but Brynn leaned out and caught the end of it, then quickly turned Runtly back to the left so that she could pull the staff in closer and secure her seat.

The horses passed and Brynn had the stronger seat, and the To-gai-ru warrior tumbled down from his horse. He let go of his club as he fell, and Brynn put it up over her head and gave a great “whoop!”

She brought it around in a circle, then down hard to the side, deflecting the attack of another passing rider, then pulled it in and thrust it back out, catching the man under the arm as he passed and finding enough of a hook there to dislodge him, too, from his seat.

Brynn and Runtly charged straight ahead, directly into the blinding snow. Two large forms appeared before them, blocking the path, but the woman and her pony cut a deft turn.

Right at a tumble of waist-high boulders.

Her strong legs locking on the horse, Brynn went into a half seat and Runtly responded with a great leap, clearing the first boulder, then landing smoothly and launching again after a single stride to clear the second rock. Two strides later, the pony went over the third and largest rock.

Brynn heard pursuit from all around her, but she was smiling, exhilarated, feeling the wondrous interplay of great muscles beneath her.

Rider and horse had become as one, and a series of turns and sudden accelerations had Brynn weaving through the ranks of her pursuers, her staff working furiously to take one, and then another, to the ground.

But then she had to pull up short, for a standing line of dark riders appeared before her, and as she turned her head side to side, she saw that others were filling in about her. At her command, Runtly reared and went right around on his hind legs.

But there, too, behind her, loomed a line of grim-faced riders.

With a growl of defiance, Brynn threw down the staff and pulled forth her sword, and with a thought, set the blade aflame, challenging any and all to approach.

But none did. They sat solemn and stoic, patiently waiting.

And then, after Brynn had turned Runtly about several times, a large man on a black-and-white pinto appeared in the middle of one line, walking slowly and deliberately toward her. He had no weapon drawn, but still seemed to Brynn to be
the most imposing and dangerous of the bunch!

He walked his horse right up before Runtly, staring at Brynn unblinkingly.

“Ashwarawu,” the woman said, and she was indeed surprised. Not because this was the legendary warrior sitting astride his horse before her, but merely because he was so young! He couldn’t even be her age, and she hadn’t seen twenty summers as yet!

He was tall and strong-featured, with a wide face and a square jaw and penetrating light gray eyes—made all the more remarkable because of his dark complexion and black hair. His shoulders were wide, as well, a girth exaggerated by the layers of furs that he wore as armor.

His expression didn’t change when Brynn spoke his name, and he seemed aloof to the woman, as if he had no doubts that she would know who he was. After a long moment, he held up one huge hand, an unthreatening gesture.

“You are far from any village, woman.”

“I am where I meant to be.”

The man cocked his eyebrows, smiling at her confident response. “You ride well.”

“I am To-gai-ru,” Brynn answered. “It is expected of me.”

Ashwarawu smiled and nodded his approval.

Brynn knew that the display that she had just put on had impressed all who had witnessed it, particularly the few warriors who had found the misfortune to cross her path. Given that, her matter-of-fact attitude about her riding skill seemed to impress Ashwarawu even more.

Just as she had hoped.

“Who are you, and why have you come?” the leader asked.

“I am Brynn Dharielle,” she answered loudly, wanting all about her to hear. “I have no home, and was a wanderer until very recently, when I happened upon a village controlled by a despised Yatol.”

“You fled the Yatol?”

“I killed the Yatol, and his Chezhou-Lei lackey beside him,” Brynn answered. “And so again, I have no home.”

“And others directed you to me,” Ashwarawu reasoned, fighting hard, obviously, to keep his expression and voice calm, though those about were murmuring with excitement and disbelief that this young and small warrior had defeated a Chezhou-Lei! To say nothing of the fact that through some magic they did not know, she had just set her sword aflame!

“It seemed a logical road, I suppose,” the woman answered.

Ashwarawu spent a long while studying her then, his eyes roaming over her, over her horse, out to her fabulous, still-burning weapon. “You are To-gai-ru,” he said at last. “We will not turn you out in the winter.”

Brynn let her sword’s fire burn out and slid the weapon away.

“But neither will you enjoy any treatment of privilege!” Ashwarawu roared suddenly. “You will work for your food and will serve as you are told to serve!”

Brynn nodded, expecting nothing more.

“And I will seek to find out the truth of your words, Brynn Dharielle,” the fierce leader promised. “If I find that you have spoken falsely to impress, then know that you have failed. If you have spoken falsely to deceive, to gain advantage for our enemies, then know that a most unpleasant death awaits you.”

“And if I have spoken truly?” Brynn asked slyly.

“Then you are welcome as one of my warriors,” Ashwarawu answered without hesitation. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

Before Brynn could say another word, the leader spun his horse and walked away, passing through the line, which collected into formation behind him.

Brynn waited as the rest of the force walked past her, then took her place at the end of the line, melting into the mountains with the rest of her new family.

Chapter 17
 

B
RYNN SAT ASTRIDE
R
UNTLY NEAR THE FAR END OF THE LONG LINE OF
T
O-GAI-RU
warriors, her position showing her rank within Ashwarawu’s band, which was mostly determined by the time when she had joined. Next to her, higher up the ranking, sat a most curious man, dressed in a tan tunic and breeches, finely made, underneath a heavy bearskin wrap, and with a marvelous sash that seemed black most of the time but every so often flashed a myriad of colors in the light, like a tightly woven rainbow.

“Another caravan,” Brynn remarked, as the Behrenese train came into view far below in the crisp and clear winter-morning air. “How stupid are our enemies?”

Brynn had been with Ashwarawu’s band for three weeks, and this was the third caravan the rebel leader had found out, and now intended to destroy. The first two had proven to be easy victories, with the To-gai-ru warriors sweeping down upon the wagons, slicing apart the drivers and the meager contingent of guards.

“The Yatol of Dharyan hears the desperation of To’in Ru,” the monk replied, referring to a large and well-defended outposter settlement in the region, one that Ashwarawu had not yet gone against. “Perhaps the Yatol’s compassion for his own people blinds him. Or perhaps he does not understand our resolve.”

Brynn always listened carefully to this man, Pagonel, because he had a manner of putting things into a different perspective. It wasn’t always one with which she agreed, as now, but often over the last couple of weeks, she had found herself widening her opinions because of Pagonel’s softly spoken words—particularly concerning the Behrenese. The others of Ashwarawu’s band always referred to them with the derogatory “Wraps,” but never did Pagonel. And often, Pagonel dared to assume the likely perspective of the individual Behrenese, though Ashwarawu surely didn’t like him putting a human face on their enemies!

A To-gai-ru rider came galloping back then, running the line to the middle, where Ashwarawu sat waiting.

“Twenty soldiers guarding seven wagons,” the man reported. “Just like the last one.”

“We should take them as prisoners,” Brynn remarked under her breath.

“Ashwarawu will not,” Pagonel replied quietly.

Brynn turned to regard the mystic. She had not been speaking to him, but could not deny the truth of his response. Ashwarawu had made it perfectly clear to all of them: no Behrenese inside the borders of To-gai would be allowed to live.

Not the women, not the children.

Fortunately for Brynn, she had not been forced into killing noncombatant women and children as of yet. Both of the previous caravans, and this one, too,
apparently, had been comprised mostly of soldiers, warriors, instruments of the imperial Yatols. Brynn could fight and kill such men, and a few warrior women, with clear conscience, for these were the invaders, the source of To-gai’s ills, the people who would destroy the To-gai-ru culture and heritage.

The woman tried not to think of the inevitable conflict that would arise between her and the fiery, dominating leader when at last the warrior band encountered Behrenese noncombatants.

She turned her attention to the situation at hand, eyeing the caravan as it meandered down below. Brynn understood her part well enough, for in Ashwarawu’s sweeping tactics, every role was the same. The raiders would wait until the caravan was directly below them. Then, with war whoops and weapons brandished high, the force would sweep down the sloping ground, slicing through the caravan like a swarm of angry bees, overwhelming the force with sheer numbers and sheer brutality, and with a deep-set confidence, the belief that a To-gai-ru warrior was simply superior to any Behrenese fighter.

The caravan continued along, drivers and guards seeming oblivious to the threat.

And so it began, a whirlwind, a charge, two hundred battle cries rising above the wind.

The drivers and soldiers tried to turn the wagons, tried to get into some sort of defensive position, but the charge was too fast.

On Runtly, Brynn leaped ahead of those closest to her, the strong pony outdistancing the others. Eager for battle, the young ranger veered in toward the center, outpacing even the strong black-and-white horse of Ashwarawu.

She came to the caravan first, her sword alight with fire, slashing across to fell the nearest mounted Behrenese soldier. She veered immediately back to the left as she connected, to meet a second warrior, her pulsating shield deflecting his thrusting spear up high.

Brynn cut even sharper to the left, with Runtly understanding and accepting the angle and smashing hard against the taller horse of the Behrenese soldier. The horse jumped to the side and the man lurched over, and Brynn wasted no time in smashing the soldier across the face with her shield. She pulled Runtly up to a rearing stop and turn, and slashed her sword across.

The soldier’s head dropped to the snow.

Runtly burst ahead, leaping the hitch between a pair of horses and the wagon behind them, then Brynn cut him sharply to the left, bringing her down the line along the undefended side of the caravan. She stabbed at each wagon driver in line, scoring a couple of hits, one fatal, and forcing three other drivers off the other side.

All semblance of defense was shattered as the frightened horses of those four wagons, some aided by a slap on the rump by Brynn, broke formation.