Demon Child Ch. 12

Jhardron had not spoken the entire time. He sat quietly, riding beside her. He turned to look at her, and saw that she had twisted her reins into a knot, wrapping them in a tangle around her fist. Her face was that curious red shade that signaled strong emotions surging through her. Her lips were pressed together into a tight line, so tight that the red shade of her skin was blanched about them. The little red mare was walking, but her gait was stiff, her ears pinned back, her eyes rolling in her head. Pulling his stallion to a halt he reached and grasped the halter of her mare. Speaking softly, his tone normal, "A Bak warrior never tangles his hands in his reins. If he should fall, he could be dragged." He reached and began to gently untangle the leather straps from her hands.

Aylanna looked up at him, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, her voice quivered, "A Bak warrior is in control of her body, her heart and her mind."

Jhardron touched her face, "Little demon, I see your struggle. You are a fine warrior."

The girl leaned toward his touch, her voice still shaking with pent up emotion, "There is so much in my heart, my Khan."

Gently he covered her lips. "Little demon, my demon, do not reveal your heart. Never reveal your heart. There is too much uncertainty in this world, too much danger. You must learn to keep your secrets and guard your heart. Soon we will be in Bak Pan and there the wolves and the vultures that follow them circle to feed on secrets and hearts."

Aylanna frowned and blinked, confused by his words. Mumbling against his hand she asked, "Bak Pan? What is that?"

"Bak Pan is the holiest of cities. It is the city built by our mother Pan'Shash'Sha'Am, the place of the temple and the home of the high priestess of our mother. It is there that the Aga Khan keeps his court. It is where we are going." Jhardron paused and looked up at the sound of drumming hoof beats. A scout was coming in at top speed. He spoke again, one last time as he wheeled his stallion around, "That is, the place we are going after I deal with this band of Ramaldi bandits." He kicked the tall grey and sped off to meet the scout.

Aylanna sat and watched him go. She could still feel the touch of his fingers on her lips. She turned over the words he had spoken, about wolves and vultures, and secrets. She sensed he was trying to protect her, to warn her about something but exactly what she was not sure.

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This time Aylanna was left at the wagons, with Tollarra and the youngest warriors. Every other warrior was gone with Jhardron. It was difficult to be left behind but it was not once even mentioned that she should accompany the warriors on what was clearly going to be a battle. Kwal'kek urged the heavy draught horses pulling the wagons to a faster pace, hurrying them south. He spoke seriously with Aylanna. "There may be wounded, we will need to be ready. I may need your assistance."

Aylanna spoke nervously, "I know little of wounds. Kharthmah rarely dealt with wounds of battle. The medicine he taught me was village medicine, illness, complications of birth, poisons, and potions. The only time a villager would come with a wound if it was putrefying, stinking."

Kwal'kek nodded, "Well if Jha'Mak'Tah watches over us, you will have little to learn today." He made a reverent gesture and raised his fist to the sky. "We will travel through the night if necessary."

It was late evening when a rider came to meet them. Tim'kah's mount was sweat stained and sagging with exhaustion. "Come quickly, Jhardron says to bring medicines."

Aylanna felt a lance of terror, "Who?"

Tim'kah's face was grim, "Two dead, Klektor is gravely wounded, and many others need care." He swayed in the saddle, and Aylanna noticed his hands were stained with blood.

Her voice was choked, "Are you hurt?"

The young warrior blinked and shook his head. "No, I am uninjured. Come quickly. Klektor he is asking for the demon. Jhardron sent me to fetch her. There is little time."

Kwal'kek had been rapidly filling some bags with medicines and fresh bandages. He handed two to Aylanna and heaved himself up on his heavy stallion. He spoke rapidly to the boys still guarding the wagon, "Keep traveling south and keep the demon's star at your back. Make haste." Then he kicked his mount into a lumbering gallop, Xin'sha easily keeping pace with the massive stallion.

Aylanna rode with her heart in her throat. Visions of battle, like those from her dreams of demons battling in the stone corridors, filled her head. She knew that there was no glory in battle, just chaos, terror and death. She wondered at a god that glorified battle, this Jha'Mak'Tah that Kwal'kek spoke of. She thought about Klektor and his confusing ways, his anger and then his frustrated curiosity, how he had taken her to ride that day above the gathering. The thought that he lay dying was beyond comprehension. And two dead, which two, which of her warriors had she lost? Impatiently she urged Xin'sha to run faster. Slowly Tim'kah and Aylanna outpaced Kwal'kek and were leaving him behind.

The sky was turning lavender in the east when the first guards hailed them. "Where is Kwal'kek?"

Tim'kah's voice was hoarse with fatigue, "He is close behind."

Aylanna's voice was shrill with worry, "Where is Klektor?"

Jhardron's hand on her arm, his voice firm and in control brought her back to herself. "This way."

Harnum was there, holding Klektor in his arms, his face was bleak with grief. An arrow stood out from the younger man's chest and bloody froth dripped down from the wound. Klektor's breath wheezed and gurgled in his throat. He coughed weakly and spat out a mouthful of blood. His voice was weak and babbling, "Give my horse to one of the boys. And tell the demon, tell the demon..."

Aylanna stood frozen, completely unsure of what to do. Jhardron spoke up. "You are far from dead, warrior. You will have need of that horse in the future. And the demon is here, but it is not your turn to lay with her. You have many days to wait for that." His words were jovial but his eyes were grim.

At his Khan's voice, Klektor seemed to calm. He grinned a ghastly bloodstained smile, "I just wanted to look upon her. She is such a pretty thing, and she has cast a spell on my heart."

Jhardron pushed her forward, speaking low. "Let him look upon you. It is a simple thing to give a warrior as he goes to join his gods."

Aylanna stumbled forward, and sank to her knees. "I am here, my warrior."

Klektor's eyes were bright, and he spoke in a soft hoarse gurgling whisper, "Do you remember... remember when you touched my... my arrow?"

Gently Aylanna touched his lips, flinching as she felt the arrow deep in her own chest. Almost falling down in agony, she took a sharp inward gasp and then choked out, "How could I forget? You were wonderful. You brought such honor to all the Twisted Dagger. And then you rode that wild Demon stallion, so tall, so proud. You could have won; you should have won. You were faster than all of them. And the next day, when you took me for that ride, running free for the first time. It was beautiful. I will never forget." Under her hands she felt the struggle to breathe cease and his spirit pull free from his heart.

She stayed there on her knees, a soft cry of protest rising up in her chest and then a sob. "I promise, I will never forget." The sensation of his pain, the feeling of the arrow in his chest was nothing compared to the stabbing grief. It felt like her heart was being torn from her chest. She looked up and met Harnum's eyes and realized that the grief she felt was not hers alone. She was feeling all the sadness of all the warriors huddled around their comrade. Their faces were grim, even stoic, but each of them felt endless agony at this loss of a fellow warrior, their friend. It was too much to bear and she lurched to her feet and stumbled away from them, choking on her tears.

Jhardron found her huddled close to Xin'sha, seeking comfort in her little mare's calmer heart. His voice was soft, "Little demon, a warrior keeps his grief hidden in his heart."

Softly she choked out, "My Khan, I cannot. For I carry all your grief in my heart. Each and every one of you, I sense your pain and it is too much. I cannot keep it in or my heart will burst."

His hand on her turning her to face him, pulling her into his arms seemed to break down a wall and she burst into deep wracking sobs. He held her close, "Then, little demon, you must cry for us all."

The other two Bak warriors that had died were Jaylon, the warrior she had argued with when Xin'sha had refused to stay with the horse herd, and another she had only known briefly as she had shared her blessings with him. Aylanna had looked down at them, carefully laid out next to Klektor, their faces strangely peaceful in death, and felt each of their losses keenly.

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The morning light seemed harsh and too bright. It seemed to stab at her eyes as she helped Kwal'kek anoint and bandage the wounds of the dozen or so warriors that had been cut or shot with arrows. None of these wounds were life-threatening and Kwal'kek showed her how to be generous with the Warrior's Blood medicine to staunch any bleeding. He showed her how to take a hair from a horse's tail and stitch together the worst of the cuts, how to pack the arrow wounds with cloth saturated with more of the medicine and how to wrap the wounds with clean cloths. His voice was gruff, "Any wound can putrefy. We will need to keep close watch."

Tollarra was tending pots of rich meat broth and special herbs known to help strengthen the blood of the casualties and bolster the spirits of the survivors. Aylanna sensed little joy or glory in this victory. In the cold light of day she could see the Bak warriors working quickly, grimly as they piled dozens of dead enemy corpses up in the center of what seemed the ruins of a small tent camp. Nearly three dozen strangers, men, women and youths, were huddled in a small group on the ground to one side, being guarded by more Bak warriors.

Jhardron came to her, "Demon, I have need of your magic. Soon I will need to tell the difference between truth and lies." And Aylanna had followed in his steps her mind numb with exhaustion and grief. As they approached the little group of survivors they all stood up. Aylanna blinked and shook her head at the waves of terror emanating from the group. Jhardron spoke to a guard, and then pointed at one of the adult men, standing in the back of the group, a bloody rag around his head, "We will start with that one."

As he pointed the rest of the captives shrank away from the man, leaving him standing alone, his face pale but his eyes brave. One of the guards grabbed his arm and drug him forward and then forced him to his knees. Jhardron spoke to Aylanna, "Ask him if there were any members of the Ramaldi royalty hiding here in this camp."

Aylanna blinked at the odd question but repeated it in Ramaldi. The man looked up, his eyes narrowed, "I know nothing of any Ramaldi royalty. I thought they were all dead." His words were very guarded, and Aylanna sensed that there was a mixture of truth and lies in them.

She spoke directly to him. "I am a witch, Ramaldi scum, I can tell when you lie. It is truth that they are dead. But you know more than you say." The strange man's eyes widened and he turned even paler but he did not speak. She turned to Jhardron, "This man tells the truth when he says that the Ramaldi Royalty are all dead. But I sense he is not telling me all the truth."

Jhardron smiled a wolf's grin. "Ask him if he knows where the gold is?"

Aylanna's eyes widened at the mention of gold and when she repeated the question to the man he spoke quickly. "Is it the truth that you can tell truth from lies?"

Aylanna pulled off her head scarf exposing her exotic coloration to his eyes. "I am a demon, with demon's magic. I can see into your heart. Do not lie to me."

He nodded, "Then you will know when I tell you the truth?"

Her voice was wary, "Yes."

"Then tell your leader there, whatever his name is, that I do know where gold is; lots and lots of gold. Tell him I would trade that gold for my life."

When Aylanna repeated the words to Jhardron his smile grew even more wolfish. "And is he telling you the truth?"

"There was no lie in his heart when he said he knew where the gold was."

"Ask him who he is. And ask him what happened to the Ramaldi king and his family and how he comes to know about this gold."

The Ramaldi on his knees answered rapidly, almost desperately, to convince Aylanna of his sincerity, "My name is Tollekai. I was a hired mercenary for the Ramaldi royal court. When word came of the Bak raiders they packed up the treasury and fled north. As we came north, a large group of refugees joined us or we joined them. It does not matter. They were poor, starving. We had little food to share. Many of the palace guards deserted, leaving to find food. And then a fight broke out because the others wanted to eat the horses pulling the wagons. The king and his family were killed. I took the gold and buried it."

Aylanna listened carefully and then spoke softly to him, "You killed them. You killed the king and his family for the gold."

The man reared back and looked at her, his eyes suddenly angry now that he had been trapped by his words. "Damn you, yes, I killed them, cowards that they were, running away, abandoning their people, trying to keep the gold for themselves. If they had given the gold in tribute to the Aga Khan like he had demanded, then there would have been peace. And my family would still be alive instead of dead at the hands of these Bak murderers." His voice was low and filled with hate. His eyes blazed with impotent rage, "But you are wrong, I did not even want the gold. I buried it there. All I have now is my life and I would trade the gold for it."

Jhardron made an impatient sound and Aylanna turned and told him the man's story. Jhardron made an impatient sound, "Tell him that he stole a precious thing from me when he took the life of the king. But I will spare him if he leads me to the treasure."

The rest of the survivors were a mixture of grasslands captive women and Ramaldi refugees that had become savage and primitive as their existence had become tenuous. Jhardron separated the groups telling each that they were free to return to their lands but if they lifted a hand against the Bak they would face worse than death. Three horses had been killed in the battle and the carcasses were butchered for meat, the grasslands women quickly setting up drying racks preparing for a long march home. The Ramaldi hung around eyeing the more self sufficient herding women and boys until Jhardron told some of the warriors to hurry them on their way south.

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The following day Aylanna stood with the warriors as they said farewell to their comrades. As was the Bak tradition, they were burned, sending their spirits up to the sky on a column of greasy black smoke. Their belongings were placed in a pile and from the highest rank to the lowest each approached the pile and selected an item and made a brief statement about one or another of the warriors.

Jhardron selected a small narrow gold armband, decorated with a stylized running horse, his words were simple. "They were fine warriors."

Harnum picked up some arrows, "Klektor was like a son to me."

Each warrior selected something that seemed to have some meaning and spoke aloud a simple statement. There did not seem to be any kind of greed. Many of the older, most senior officers took hardly anything, a length of twine, a knife, a vial of oil. The tall red stallion stood unclaimed until Tim'kah approached the dwindling pile of personal affects. He turned and looked at the group with wide eyes, apparently aware that they expected him to take the stallion, a mount rivaling any in the regiment. Harnum gruffly grunted, "Go ahead, boy, it was his last wish.

When Aylanna looked down at the pile, suddenly unsure what to do, she blindly picked up a small shining object and looked puzzled at her own reflection in the surface. She had never held a mirror before and looked up at the group of watching warriors. Her words were simple, "I loved them."

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A small group, Jhardron, Jhu'kresh, Aylanna and the traitor, Tollekai, set out in the morning. They retraced the path that the Bak Warriors had followed as they trailed first the tracks of the bandits and then the tracks of the wagons. They traveled quickly, starting early and riding late. On the second day, Tollekai, called for them to stop by the broken wagon they had found so many days before. "Here, it is here."

He paused and looked at Aylanna, "How do I know you will let me go?"

Aylanna stared at him, her eyes sharp. "My Khan does not lie. He says he will spare you." Her smile was bitter, "Now all you have to do is trust the word of a demon. Or you can let my friend Jhu'kresh carve the location of the gold out of your liver. Either will do."

The Ramaldi man gasped and looked at Jhu'kresh, looking about curiously, oblivious to the conversation, with wide eyes. "I will show you. It is not far." He led them about a hundred yards to a little dry creek bed with low brush growing along the sides. He scraped aside some leaves and branches, revealing a large patch of freshly turned up earth. "I buried the bodies here too, with their cursed gold."

When Aylanna relayed this grisly information to Jhardron, he made a distasteful face. He handed the shovel to the Ramaldi man. "Dig."

Tollekai backed away from the shovel, his face twisted with revulsion. He was shaking his head; protesting that he had brought them there and that should be enough when he felt the prick of Jhu'kresh's scimitar in his back. He froze and reluctantly took the shovel and began to dig.

He had not gone far when the smell of decay began to fill the little clearing. Aylanna backed away, moving upwind, but even there the smell seemed to creep into her nostrils. She found herself breathing shallowly through her open mouth. Finally she turned and walked away and spying a clump of low growing weeds, commonly called flea bane, she picked a big handful of the strong smelling plants and crushed them holding them closely to her nose. The pungent odor was strong, stinging her sinuses and making her eyes water but at least it smelled clean. She gathered some more and walked to where Jhardron and Jhu'kresh stood guard, their faces stoic but their lips twisted in revulsion. "This will help. Hold it to your nose."

Jhardron sniffed curiously at the plants, "What is it?"

Aylanna spoke from behind the handful of herbs, "Common herb, flea bane, you can use it to repel insects, like fleas and lice in your bedding."

Jhu'kresh held the plants up to his nose, inhaling gratefully, "Thank you, ha'akh. It will get worse before it gets better." He gestured at the grisly sight of Tollekai pulling a bloated corpse of an adult sized person out of the hole and staggering to one side and retching. Aylanna flinched and turned her back, shuddering in horror. She kept her back to the scene until she sensed a sudden shift in the mood of the warriors. Before there had been disgust, now there was shock. She turned to stagger back at the sight of the traitor, lifting out a small corpse, hardly more than an infant and laying it down beside the three adults he had exhumed.

Tollekai looked up and sneered at her expression. "How many children did your Bak warriors kill in the Ramaldi valleys? Think about that before you judge me." He nudged at the tiny corpse with his toe. "It would have starved to death without its mother anyway. Killing it was a mercy." Aylanna frowned wondering about that. The Bak had killed everyone, even the children, and she wondered why and how Jhardron could have done such a thing.