Red Sister

‘Nona!’ Jula and Ruli closed on her from both sides.

‘Glad the Durnish didn’t chop you up, squirt.’ Darla pulled her hood back. She had a black eye and a bloody nose. Nona wondered how the other person looked.

Zole glanced her way but said nothing, remaining close to Tarkax.

‘Why are you here?’ Nona asked it of the cave in general.

‘There are soldiers waiting by the Cut.’ Tarkax didn’t turn his head. ‘Perhaps a dozen. They’re in ambush positions so it’s hard to tell.’

‘Raiders!’ Ara said. ‘This far inland?’

‘Soldiers,’ Tarkax corrected. ‘Not Durn men.’

‘What’s the problem with soldiers?’ Clera remained at the mouth of the cave, out past Tarkax. ‘The emperor’s general probably dispatched them to hold the pass in case the Durnish came this way in force.’

‘Get in out of sight, girl.’ Tarkax waved Clera behind him. ‘And they’re not the emperor’s men. No uniforms. I killed two in the gullies. One died slower than the other. Said he was a Tacsis man.’

‘Thuran Tacsis …’ Ruli held Nona’s arm. ‘But he said he’d leave Nona alone. He swore it to the emperor!’

‘He didn’t swear he wouldn’t come after Ara though,’ Clera said.

Tarkax edged back from the entrance. ‘Some men will swear anything to anyone to get what they want. I wouldn’t place much faith in Tacsis words.’ He drew his tular, the flat blade hissing from its scabbard sounding just like Yisht’s had back in the tunnels. ‘They’re coming. They must have sent more scouts out and spotted you.’

‘We can’t stay here!’ Ara started towards the entrance. ‘We need to run.’

Tarkax lowered his blade into her path. ‘We’d be caught and killed in the open. Here they can only come at us from one direction.’

‘There’s twelve of them!’ Darla from the rear of the cave.

Tarkax rolled his head and shrugged. ‘On the right ground twelve I can take.’

‘You, in the cave!’

It had taken the best part of an hour before the shout came. Perhaps the Tacsis men had spread out to encircle and catch the prey they expected to run. Nona had seen few hours pass more slowly – as if she clung to every heartbeat of it with hunska battle-speed. Tarkax had returned his sword to its scabbard and told them Sister Tallow would bring the Red Sisters out looking for them in two days. He also said that they would all be dead or on their way again before sunset, so whatever Sister Tallow might do was of no relevance.

‘Nona?’ Ara leaned forward, her face in shadow. ‘Are you all right? There’s … something odd about your eyes.’

‘We’ve more to worry about than my eyes.’ Nona looked away towards the brightness beyond the rocky entrance.

The shout came again. ‘You, in the cave!’

‘Only my voice.’ Tarkax held a finger to his lips and backed towards the bunched novices, coming to stand between Zole and Ara. ‘They mustn’t know who or how many stand with me.’ He cupped his hands and called out. ‘You, outside!’

‘We want the girl! Send her out and we’ll go.’

‘I met two of your number in the gully to the east,’ Tarkax shouted back. ‘They have joined the Ancestor. I am Tarkax, the Ice-Spear. If you want the girl you must come and take her.’ He glanced over his shoulder. ‘They’ll waste an hour finding their dead if we’re lucky.’

‘Why would they do that?’ Ara asked.

‘There’s a lot to learn from dead men,’ Tarkax said. ‘Were they shot with an arrow, taken from behind, garrotted, killed in the same place or apart, by one person or more, were the attackers bleeding when they left?’ He shrugged. ‘A cautious man would want to know. These soldiers – they know my name. Now they wish to learn if the man calling it to them is really Tarkax. Perhaps they will wait until they can bring more troops. The longer they spend out in the open growing cold, the better it is for us.’

‘You couldn’t really kill twelve, could you?’ Ara asked.

The warrior puffed out his chest. ‘I am Tarkax …’ He winced and started to turn.

‘Ow!’ Ara’s face creased with sudden pain and she too started to turn.

Nona was already spinning around when she felt the sharp jab in the side of her neck. As she turned Nona saw Clera tangled with Zole, both of them twisting, punching, blocking with a speed that only a hunska full-blood could hope to follow. They fell together, Clera beneath the ice-tribe girl.

‘Get Zole off her!’ Ara dived in snatching at a wrist and missing.

Tarkax stood unmoving for what seemed an age at fight speed, long enough for Ara to finally catch Zole’s arm and hang on despite a kick to the stomach. Nona just watched, flooded with a cold certainty and hot despair. Jula, Ruli, and Darla also stood statue-still, but trapped in the moment as any without hunska blood would be.

Clera tore free, bleeding from the mouth, a hank of her dark hair in Zole’s fist as Ara wrestled the girl from the ice away, gaining momentary advantage from the fact that the whole of her attention was aimed at Clera. For his part Tarkax threw himself back and to the left, towards the cave wall. And Nona watched. Her neck stung where the venom-coated pin had been jabbed in.

Ara held Zole atop her, her arms looped beneath Zole’s armpits, her hands clamped behind Zole’s head and both legs wrapped around the ice-triber, but Zole still somehow managed to reach down and grip beneath Ara’s ribcage, causing her to cry out in excruciating pain. It was all the chance Zole needed to twist out of the hold. She rolled across the floor towards Clera.

Nona didn’t act. She couldn’t act. She had to see this played out. She had to believe it. She stood and she watched through slitted eyes.

Tarkax landed beside his backpack and tore it open.

Zole rose from her roll, hurling herself bodily at Clera. Clera’s foot, aimed at her face, caught her collarbone and brought her down with a snapping sound, the whole of Clera’s thigh muscle absorbing the girl’s momentum.

Tarkax, fumbling, brought out a leather wrap from among his supplies and began to unroll it. It held close on a dozen small leather tubes, sealed with wax and sewn to the wrap. A throwing star blurred across Nona’s vision and took the leather strip, tubes and all, from Tarkax’s grip. Clera’s throwing star.

Ara got up, stiffly. Zole rolled to her side and jerked into a sitting position, eyes blazing. Tarkax drew his tular in a stuttering motion.

‘You?’ Ara stared at Clera, horrified. She took an awkward step towards her. ‘Why?’ She had to jerk her whole body around to take the next step.

Zole tried to stand but fell to her side. Tarkax staggered forward and tumbled, the sword flying from his hand, his head hitting the rocks hard.

‘Money,’ said Clera, rising smoothly to her feet. ‘Lots of money. Enough gold to raise my family to the Sis, and more besides.’ She turned to look at Nona, still standing where she had stood since the first sharp prick of betrayal. ‘It’s Ara he wants, Nona. Thuran Tacsis swore to the emperor not to harm you. He’ll take her, get his concessions from the Jotsis and sell her back. All through third parties. She won’t lose anything but a month or two and some family prospects. And that scarcely matters if she’s to be a Red Sister.’ Clera stepped closer. ‘So you see, it’s hardly anything.’ Closer still. Close enough to whisper. ‘I’ll miss you, Nona.’ She pulled her head back and stared. ‘What in hell is wrong with your eyes? They’re black … every bit—’