The Dragons Egg : XXVII : The Assassins : Maethilda : Preview

XXVII

The Assassins

Maethilda

Maethilda looked down at the large and in depth map of Summe, and pointed the tip of her index finger upon the largest summerian lake, Loagh which lay fifty leagues north from the city of Nor.

“We make for Loagh next which should be a three day journey from here,” she said to the pickets and Aabe. They had left the great city of Nor behind them a day past, and were now making their way north via the great river of Rada, which sprang from the great lake and made its route south towards the eastern shores of the Black Sea. Upon their left was the great forest of Mayr and upon their right the great green plains of Emir.

“The other groups are not too far behind us,” Marini said with a scowl as she smoked from her pipe. “Wee beasties!”

“The obvious route to take would be via cou road which bypasses the western edges of Myra and passes over the Cou river and meets the lake from the southern shores,” Evalean said, her right hand over her eyes as the harsh winters sun beat down upon her from high in the blue skies above. “I say we follow the Rada river until it meets with Coun river, then we take a detour off the road and travel north by approximately fifteen leagues and then turn west until we approach the eastern shores of Loagh. It is as I can see in all of your eyes the harder route, having to bypass the heavy marshlands, but I believe it the better of the two options.” Maethilda nodded, her eyes upon Aabe.

“What do you think Aabe?”

Aabe, his hands planted upon the green grass below looked at the women with a faint smile.

“The groups are indeed pressing on us and I believe using past experiences as my evidence they will wish you harm, this including the stationed guards at the lake,” he said with a thoughtful gaze, as the thin cloud of grass smoke whirled about his face. “I agree with Evalean, the route will be harder, especially with the white rains upon our heels. However, it is the shortest route and from the eastern shores we can assess the task and evaluate the levels of danger we face from a variable safe distance.”

“All here who agree say aye,” Maethilda said with a clear voice.

“Aye!” the pickets and wizard called out merrily. Maethilda picked up her map and rolled it under her arm before plopping it into one of her satchels. The group made their way back to their mounts and when upon them, carried on west via the narrow and dusty road which made its way up with raging river of Rada. Maethilda led the group alongside Sabia who was also smoking from her pipe. Their journey up the river was arduous due to the rocky road and the now heavy wind which brought with it great clouds that were a fill with white rain. Maethilda brought the hood of her cloak over her head as they journeyed westwards in silence, the heavy rain smashing down against the river and the road. They travelled onwards through the bitter cold wind and heavy rains until Maethilda couldn’t take much more and turned abruptly to the group.

“We need to find shelter, I’m freezing to my bones!” she said aloud.

“My pipe has perished!” cried out Marini as the group halted and turned to face each other. Maethilda looked out across the barren lands of Emir and sighed.

“There are a few trees about a hundred feet north, can you see them?” Aabe called out to Maethilda, the sound of the sound of the heavy rain meeting the ground akin to the sound of a thousand arrows piercing the sky. Maethilda turned her eyes north and saw a small patch of woodland.

“Aye that will do!” she cried out. The pickets and Aabe turned their exhausted horses about and kicked them fiercely into a gallop. They sped off the muddy road and onto the great grass plains and made for the woodland. When upon the woodland, Maethilda guided Art through the trees until she came to a small space, which was dry and well covered. The rest of the group followed suit and within half an hour they were all sitting under a small clock covered space, a small fire within the centre.

“Wintur is upon us,” Evalean said quietly as she worked with her arrows, using the blade of her knife to sharpen their points. “There are snowflakes within the rain.”

“It will be a harsh wintur,” Innis said as she put a small cloth over her short brown hair. “The crops have failed and the animals are slim about the bone. There will be hardship, especially if war is upon us.”

“There are grain reserves in the cities,” Maethilda said as she brought forth her small golden telescope. Snapping it out to its full length she propped herself forward slightly and directed it across the plains to where the road lay.

“You know they only cater to the citizens within the cities, rarely do they distribute their reserves equally,” Sabia said with a groan of displeasure. “My family nearly starved to death last wintur.”

“My father will ensure that all Sumerians will be looked after,” Aabe said as, lifting his eyes from a scroll of paper. “The time has come to put aside such petty differences and unite, for we must be united in the face of our enemies.” The group fell silent upon Aabe’s words, despite his attention fleeting back to his scroll.

“It is strange don’t you think that we haven’t run into the other groups yet?” Sabia asked as she fiddled with her boot laces.

“I say we should be thankful for not running into any of those two faced, deceitful fu…” Innis said with anger, shutting her mouth when her eyes fell upon Maethilda, whose brows were quite high.

“Just because we carry swords, ride like men and in some regards behave like men, does not mean that we lose our sense of who we are,” Maethilda grilled Innis with a sharp tongue. “We are women and should not be ashamed to speak in finer terms or to partake in the ritual of wearing gowns, or in marrying. I will not allow my pickets to turn into foul mouthed gits. Do you understand?”

“I thought you were against the ideology of marriage?” Sabia interceded as she dropped her right foot to the ground and folded her arms about her. “You said quite clearly that it is a human market in which ladies are sold to the highest bidder…”

“Did you really say that Maettie?” Evalean enquired with a surprised look in her hazel eyes.

“Well yes I did, but that does not mean I am against the idea of a true marriage, which is one of consent on both sides,” Maethilda said as she raised a hand in defence. “The point of my heated statement is that our purpose is not to morph into men our purpose is to protect who we are as women, with a sword in one hand and a book in the other. If men are to respect us and see us as equals then we cannot lose our identities.”

“I have much respect for my women,” Aabe mumbled to himself. “Unfortunately our people are steeped in tradition, and when uncertainty and war are upon the horizon they tend to become heavily defensive of their traditions.”

“Aabe you are to modern in thinking for this sadly perturbed generation of men,” Innis said with a disgusted groan as she turned away from Maethilda, red faced and shamed.

“There are many men of my age who think along the same lines, unfortunately they are few,” Aabe returned as he shut a small book loudly. “The rain is settling now, we should move on before the sun sets.”

“Can we not rest a moment longer?” Marini said with pleading eyes.

“No, Aabe is right, we have not the time to rest, we must make for the Coun hills and seek shelter,” Maethilda said as she got to her feet and snapped her telescope back into its original form, packing it into her satchel. It did not take long to ready themselves, and when they were upon the backs of their mounts the group set off once more, finding the path by the river and heading westwards, as far as the horizon in which several small hills lay with a light dusting of trees. The rain did not stop falling, and their journey was rough and exhausting, so much so that when they had finally found the small hills and light forest, they unpacked their belongings, fed the horses and then themselves, all in silence. When night had come, their exhaustion was so that they all fell into a deep slumber, unable to find the strength in which to converse or indeed plan. As the morning birds sang out, Maethilda opened her eyes and felt the heaviness of the previous days riding as she sat up and stretched out her arms. Around her, the rest of the group lay sleeping and their mounts quietly munching on the fresh grass. Her bones and muscles aching, she got to her feet and walked over to the fireplace, shuffling about the ashes with the point of her leather boot. It was a fine morning, and the rain clouds had gone, allowing the marginally warm rays of sunlight to stream through the thin trees above. As she walked about and stretched her long legs she heard the sound of hoofs from afar and stopped in her tracks, suddenly falling to the ground upon bended knee, her eyes turning southwards, scanning the area vividly with her sea green eyes. The sound of hoofs grew louder and by the pattern of the thuds against the ground she knew that there was more than one rider upon the road in the distance. Finding a small stone, Maethilda threw it in Aabe’s direction heralding him from his own deep sleep. Again she picked up several stones and cast them at the pickets, awakening them all with her index finger upon her lips. They made sounds and groans as they awoke slightly dazed, but soon the companions kept still and listened with their ears, each of them making for their weapon of choice. Innis crawled over to Maethilda with her sword.

“Come, follow me,” she whispered as she crawled amongst the grass through the trees, Maethilda closely following from behind. Together, Maethilda’s knife within her mouth, they made it to the edge of the small forest and cast their gazes across the grass plains and towards the river.

“Five men,” Maethilda said as she kept herself low upon the ground. “I do not recognise their faces, do you?”

“No, they are not from the groups, and they wear no summerian colours either,” Innis returned with a concerned gaze. “Do you think they are following us?”

“I’m not sure,” Maethilda whispered as the five men upon their dark steads began to slow down their pace and stop, each of them scouring the ground as though following a trail. “Shit they are! And the tracks lead off the road in this direction!”

“Quick we must get back to the camp!” Innis said with alarm, turning about abruptly with Maethilda upon her heels. When they had reached the camp, the rest of the companions were now readying themselves.

“They are coming towards us!” Maethilda said aloud as she picked up her satchel and swung it over her back, racing across the ground to Art and untying him with rapid speed. “Hurry!” she cried out as the rest of the group also panicking as they untied their horses and jumped upon their backs.

“Which way?” Sabia called out as the riders drew close.

“Through the woods, we head north!” Maethilda said as she kicked Art into a gallop, swerving him through the trees, her heavy satchel’s bouncing upon her back and sides. As she rode onwards with fierce speed, several branches struck her face painfully. She could hear her companions as they were close upon her, Innis and Sabia to her side. It was not long before they were free from the forest and were now ascending the hills of Coun. Looking behind her she could see a small cloud of dust arising from the forest below and new the riders were not far.

“What do we do Maettie?” Marini cried out as she rode to her left.

“We ride hard and hope to lose them!” Maethilda bellowed as she rode over the hill and down the other side.

“Maettie there is a village up ahead,” Aabe called out from behind. “Make for the village!”

Maethilda turned about and nodded to Aabe. The sun beat down upon her back and she felt the heat upon her hair as she rode as fast as the nimble wind and made for the small village, which was but one league in front of the company. Time was of little relevance to her now as her watering eyes stayed ahead, refusing to turn and face the riders.

“Maettie look to your left, a rider is making for us!” Sabia hollered as she brought forth her sword from its sheath.

“He wears a colour upon his breast!” Innis shouted across at Maethilda.

“He is from Summe!” Marini said with shock.

“It is Morad!” Evalean cried out with joy. Maethilda felt her heart stop as Evalean spoke his name aloud. Turing her eyes, she looked upon his distinguishable figure and felt her lips rise.

“How is it possible that he is riding after us?” Evalean said as they made for the small village. Maethilda did not know in that moment whether the tear that fell from her eye was merely due to the wind or the joy and relief she had felt when her gaze fell upon Morad. Soon the company fell upon the village, which was made up of about a dozen round houses, all compiled about a great square. Maethilda slowed Art down as they entered the village, the women, men and children crying out in shock as they entered. As the company came to a great stone monument, they turned their horses about and bent down over them, their breathes hard and laboured. Behind them Morad galloped through the gates in their direction. Maethilda wiped her brow and kept herself to the back of the company as Morad came to a halt before them. He was clad in his dark leather and boots, the colour of summe upon his breast and a heavy cloak upon his back. His dark hair fell over his dark eyes and heavy brows as he tried to control his mount.

“Brother!” Evalean rejoiced with a smile so broad and radiant, Maethilda thought the sun jealous.

“Sister!” Morad returned as he brought his horse to her and embraced her quickly. “What have you done to your hair!” he said with astonishment, his eyes now darting from one woman to the next, widening until they fell upon Maethilda who kept herself quietly subdued. She felt her body quake as his eyes absorbed her, taking in every minute detail.

“Morad how are you here?” Aabe asked, breaking the moment between Morad and Maethilda. Morad turned to his friend.

“Assassins are upon you friend!” Morad said with a hurried voice. “We were in the city and whilst staying in a tavern learnt of their plans to follow you from Nor with a plan to abduct you and Maethilda!”

“That cannot be possible!” Aabe returned quickly. “How could they know?”

“Someone must have recognised you in the city,” Morad said with a shrug. “My men are as we speak following them from behind, they will soon be upon the village! We must ready ourselves for attack.”

“But the villagers!” Innis said as she jumped down from her horse. “They must be warned!”

“Then go and warn them!” Morad said with a roll of his eyes.

“We must find out who sent them!” Aabe said with a growl as he descended from his horse and turned to help down Evalean. Maethilda jumped down from Art and drew out both her long and short swords. The village turned into a flurry of disarray as Innis and Sabia ran about trying to warn them into their houses for shelter. She could see him from the corners of her eyes as the group armed and readied themselves. Evalean and Marina made themselves ready with their bows and arrows, standing before the rest of the company, smaller in height and acting as a wall. She could feel him beside her, his eyes upon her but his mouth silent. She tried to find focus as the riders descended upon the village, their swords and bows drawn. As arrows pierced the air, a great hand came across Maethilda’s stomach and flung her backwards.

“Stay behind me!” Morad ordered darkly as two of the riders jumped down from their horses and ran across the muddy ground in their direction.

“I can fight!” Maethilda growled as she stood up and ran out of Morad’s way drawing her long sword high into the air and wielding her short sword about in a ritual dance as she collided with one of the assassin’s. She fought with strength, valour and need as she floored the man and slit his throat. Blood spurting upon her face she turned and ran across to aid Sabia and one of Morad’s company in bringing down a rider from his horse. A harsh wind whirled its way about her body as she fought sword with sword and struck her enemies, piercing them to the blood stained ground below. As she brought herself up from the ground, wiping her brow she felt a striking sting upon her leg and cried out. Turning, she saw that she had been struck by an arrow and without thinking snapped its tail and sought the owner. She stumbled as another arrow struck the same leg, only a light higher in location. Again she cried out as the metal met with her bone. She felt her leg grow limp and within a minute was upon the ground, her enemy upon her, his bow ready once again. About her her companions were embroidered with their opponents, and she was alone as she bite down on her lip and cried, the pain beyond anything she had felt before. Her skin began to burn as she tried to find her footing, only to fall once more upon the mud. The assassin, his face hidden beneath a dark hood now aimed his arrow at her and drew the nocking point back. Maethilda rolled herself over and felt the arrows deepen in her legs as she did so. When she was on her back once more she saw the figure of Morad as he jumped over her body and struck the assassin head on with his sword, slicing off his right hand arm, the bow falling to the ground with a soft thud. Maethilda watched on as she felt a sudden wave of nausea swirl about within her stomach. Around her the rest of the assassins had fallen to their enemies. Morad turned, his dark eyes upon her and threw his sword to the ground and walked over to her with intent. Falling down to his side, he lifted her leg.

“Bite down on your hand, I must take the arrows out,” he said as he tore off a leather glove and flung it to the ground beside him. With his fingers he pulled the arrow heads out of Maethilda’s leg amidst her cries. As the arrows came forth so did a gush of warm blood. Turning from Maethilda, Morad held out his free hand and with his teeth tore at his shirt until a long piece of cloth fell loose. Quickly, his gaze meeting hers briefly he bound her leg with the cloth tightly. Maethilda felt the tips of her fingers edge into the mud beneath her as she closed her eyes, the soaring pain deepening. Around her the rest of the company were alongside Morad’s men, assembling the dead bodies of the assassins. When Morad had finished binding Maethilda’s leg he placed his arms under her and lifted her into them before lifting himself to his feet.

“I can walk!” Maethilda groaned and he made his way over to the stone monument. He said nothing as he put her down, her back to the monument. Turning to her, his eyes dark.

“Don’t move!”

With a groan he turned away and headed back to the others. Maethilda watched on as the villagers came forth from their houses, women bringing with them bowls of water and cloth. The men went to Morad and Aabe and helped them to lift the bodies of the dead, going through their belongings quickly. Evalean, Sabia, Innis and Marini came to Maethilda and fell down before her, their faces painted red with blood, their eyes wide with horror and elation.

“Your wound needs to be clean,” Sabia said as she took her drinking satchel from Bre and drunk from it heavily before handing it to Innis who thus handed it to Marini who then handed it to Evalean, who then turned to Maethilda and handed it to her.

“She needs something stronger!” Evalean said in desperation as two women came to them, followed closely by three young children. Maethilda felt her head spin as she drank the water.

“Can you carry her?” a young woman with black hair, blue eyes and stubby nose said sternly.

“I am fine here!” Maethilda said with determination not wishing to be cast the role as dying victim.

“Where too?” Sabia said, ignoring Maethilda’s hot eyes.

“My house is near, bring her and I can mend her wounds,” the young mother said as she pointed over towards a small round house. Sabia alongside Innis, lifted Maethilda onto her feet, and each draped an arm under her own. Slowly Maethilda hopped across the square, following the hardy young woman until they reached a small round house. Inside the house was filled with thick smoke, and the air smelled bitter with meat. The women stripped a single wooden table of its contents and lay Maethilda down upon it. “I need someone to hold her leg down,” the woman ordered as she rolled up her sleeves. “Over there is a jug of laman, give her a mouthful and then hand it to me.” Maethilda felt a sudden fear grip her as she lay in agony. Soon Sabia came to her and lifted her head slightly.

“Drink plenty, it will ease the pain,” she said kindly. Maethilda feeling not only nauseous but faint found she could not muster the strength to argue and simply drank before being laid down once more. Innis and Evalean grabbed her leg and Sabia held down her shoulders, her eyes upon her own. “It will be over soon.” Maethilda felt the alcohol seep into her wounds and cried out, her body shaking wildly with green sickness. As her legs burned, she felt her fingers contort upwards and her vision fail her. As she bite down on her lip she felt a hand fall within her own and opened her eyes. He stood beside her with a serious look upon his face as he clasped her hand.

“I cannot believe you cut your hair,” he said roughly, his face stained with blood.

“Such a derogatory statement from a man,” Innis said in defence. “It was actually a very clever move and I will not hear our leader being insulted!”

“Your leader happens to me my oldest friend,” Morad said darkly. “I mean her no ill will.”

Maethilda unable to speak simply looked up into his eyes and held his gaze, her eyelashes fluttering wildly against her skin as she tried to keep herself focused.

“That’s it, keep your eyes on me, it will soon be over,” Morad soothed gently. “Trust you to get shot down with arrows,” he said with a small smile. “Your face looks like it had been horsewhipped!”

“Thank…thank you,” Maethilda whispered before falling unconscious.

*