Treva's Children Read online

  Frontispiece

  david l. burkhead

  Published by David L. Burkhead

  Copyright David L. Burkhead 2015

  Cover design and layout by Cedar Sanderson, using an image from grape_vein, © 2015

  About this Work

  TREVA'S CHILDREN

  David L. Burkhead

  Also in this series:

  The Kinmar

  TREVA's CHILDREN

  by

  David L. Burkhead

  The wind howled down off the mountain, blowing snow into Talisa’s eyes. She pulled her ice-encrusted scarf higher over her face and held up a hand to block the tiny frozen daggers. On the slope below the few remaining people of her household struggled single file through the knee deep snow.

  “Milady!” Embron, her huntsman, shouted over the roaring wind. “We need to find shelter and build a fire.”

  “Fire will draw the Schahi,” Talisa said. “They will...”

  “This storm will kill us all,” Embron said.

  Talisa found herself smiling despite their plight. Embron had grown bold in the last few days. “There are many ways to die, Huntsman. Some better than others.”

  Embron shielded his eyes and stared through the snow back the way they had come, as if to conjure an image of their pursuers. “The storm will have covered our trail. Perhaps...”

  “We must be sure.”

  “Let me go back and check, milady. I will be sure.”

  Talisa considered. “And if you are seen?”

  Embron bowed. “Then I will lead them away. But I will not be seen.”

  Talisa smiled again. “No, I suppose you will not. Very well. We will take shelter in the next copse...and build a fire. I rely upon you.”

  Embron bowed again and then hastened down their back trail. The pine boughs tied to his feet allowed him to walk over the snow. She turned and trudged down the hill, wishing she could use Embron’s trick. Every time she tried, she tripped over the branches and fell.

  “Kailin!” she called when she neared the first of the group.

  “Milady?”

  “Next stand of woods, Kailin,” Talisa extended her arm in the direction of their march. “We’ll take shelter there. Hang on that far.”

  “Yes, Milady.”

  Talisa stood by and waited as each of her remaining people passed. To each one she offered a few words of encouragement, telling them that soon they could rest. When the last had passed, she turned and followed in their wake.

  Talisa did not know how much time passed as she marched. The sky grew dark, whether from thickening clouds or the setting sun, she did not know.

  She blinked. Something was wrong. She looked down. The snow ahead of her was unbroken. She shook her head and turned around. There. The column of people had turned. She trudged back through the snow and followed them toward a small stand of evergreens.

  The trees blocked most of the wind. Only a light dusting of snow drifted into the wood. Talisa wiped at her face, feeling ice crystals flake off her eyebrows. She bowed her head and leaned against one of the trees. “Thanks be unto you, Koreb and Mira, in granting us the strength to reach this place. And Holy Treva, I give thanks to you that this copse be here in our time of need. I beg you to be with us, and to strengthen me and grant me wisdom as I try to protect my people.” She kissed her fingers and touched them to the tree, then stood and walked deeper into the wood, following the people of her household.

  The wind died down as she moved deeper into the woods although she could still hear it groaning through the treetops. She ducked under a branch and entered a small open area, not large enough to be called a clearing. It seemed to be large enough for everyone.

  “Everybody,” she called. “Back here.”

  Word passed up the line and people started trickling back. Talisa counted as people gathered around her. Fifteen. Her gaze fell on a boy, Embron’s son. “Marek?”

  “Yes, Milady?”

  She looked him up and down. Ten summers and already he assisted with Embron’s duties as huntsman. “Run ahead. See if anybody didn’t get the word to gather back here. But don’t go too far.”

  “Yes, Milady.” Marek bowed and dashed off.

  "Shago!" Talisa pointed. "Keep those dogs on a tight leash. You know what will happen if they get loose, and the Schahi find them."

  Shago, mute, nodded and pulled the three remaining dogs in close.

  “Ranthar,” Talisa said, indicating one of the other men, “Take two other men and cut boughs from these trees. Pile them between the trunks around here.” She held up one finger and moved it in a circle. Give us some more shelter from the wind and maybe hide the fire from the Schahi if they get this far.”

  “Milady.” Ranthar too bowed. He touched two others on the shoulder. The three spread out and began hacking at low hanging branches.

  “Fire, milady?” A young woman, Banev, looked at Talisa hopefully.

  “Fire.” Talisa smiled and nodded. “Mo-an, dig a pit--“ She pointed at the center of the open area. “--there. Make sure it’s down to bare earth. About this big.” She held her hands up about shoulder width apart. “The rest of you, gather branches, as much as you can find. Pile them--“ she looked around the open area, picked a spot, and pointed. “--there.”

  As her people scurried about their tasks, Talisa leaned against a tree. She wanted to sit but more she did not want her people to see her taking her ease while they worked. She looked around the open area, trying to think what she might have missed. Water? With the snow, that would be no problem. She could send someone for it later. What else? She saw Mo-an, busy with his digging. She nodded. “Mo-an! When you have finished that pit, dig a short trench over there.” She pointed to a spot just outside the ring of threes.

  “Yes, Milady,” Mo-an said.

  Two more of her people arrived, followed by Marek. Talisa set them to work gathering firewood. She pulled her cloak tightly around her and shivered. She had forgotten how cold she was. While she waited, her mind drifted. Her husband was off in the south, fighting the Schahi, her son, a new-made squire, in Norveth, the capital. And her, all alone, trying to save what little remained of their household.

  "Milady?"

  Talisa's head jerked upward. She blinked. "Did I..."

  Banev stood in front of her "Milady, the fire's ready."

  Talisa rubbed at her eyes and looked around. Brush and pine branches piled between the tree boles formed a low wall, about shoulder high. A small gap pierced the wall, in front of which the dogs lay. Well trained, they would sound alarm if strangers approached too close and remain silent else.

  The ruddy glow of the fire reflected off the overhanging trees. Talisa hugged herself and rubbed her shoulders. Already the fire started to warm the small open area. The survivors huddled close around it.

  "Milady, come to the fire," Banev said. "Please?"

  Talisa nodded and followed the girl to the fire.

  Mo-an tended a pot over the fire. "Tea, Milady?"

  "Has everybody had some?" Talisa asked.

  Mo-an hesitated, then nodded, "Yes, Milady."

  Talisa turned her head to the left then followed around the circle of huddled people. They were as comfortable, as safe, as she could make them right then. She returned her gaze to Mo-an and nodded. "Very well."

  Mo-an dipped a ladle into the pot and poured into a tin cup. He handed the cup to Banev who brought it over to Talisa.

  "Thank you, child." Talisa hissed as the cup almost burned her hand. She brought her other hand to it and shifted her grip, allowing parts of her hand to cool while fresh spots of skin endured the heat. She sipped at the tea, reveling in the soothing warmth.

  Again she looked around the circle noting a mi
ssing face. "Embron?"

  Marek spoke up. "Da 'haint come back yet."

  "He'll find us," Talisa said.

  "That he will, Milady," Marek beamed with pride. "Da be the best tracker in Aerioch. No one can catch him. Why, minds me one time..." His mouth closed with a snap.

  Talisa chuckled. "Ah. So the mystery of our poacher is solved. Who would ever have suspected the Baron's own huntsman."

  Marek said nothing. The silence of the camp grew. Fear? Fatigue? Both, probably, Talisa thought. She opened her mouth to speak again when a low growl drew her attention.

  She looked. The dogs had risen, their heads low to the ground as they faced out the opening in the brush wall. From his place in the circle, a place that put him close to the dogs, Shago hissed a low hiss that was almost a whistle. The dogs' growls ceased, but they remained in their guarded posture.

  From outside the camp a pattern of low whistles sounded. Shago grinned and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. The dogs subsided. Talisa rose and turned to face the opening in the wall.

  Embron stepped out of the darkness, a deer carcass draped over his shoulders. He turned sideways to fit through the opening. He slung the carcass to the ground, its open body cavity gaping redly at them.

  "Da!" Marek jumped up and ran to his father. Embron swept the boy up in his arms, heedless of the blood that stained his sleeves.

  Talisa smiled. "I am glad to see you, Huntsman. When you did not return, I worried."

  He grinned. "The storm covered our track well enough. I laid down a false trail. That should confuse them for a time." He shrugged. "Eventually, they'll spread out, maybe find us again. But I think we can rest a while." He grinned. "And I thought we could use some meat."

  "My husband's ever loyal huntsman." Talisa smiled. "Thank you."

  Before Talisa could move, others grabbed the carcass and hauled it to the side of the fire where they began the task of skinning and butchering it.

  After eating, Talisa wrapped herself in her cloak and curled up on the ground to sleep. Just before awareness fled, she heard Embron giving orders to set watches. My husband's ever loyal huntsman, she thought. My ever loyal huntsman.

  Morning brought quiet. Talisa opened her eyes. Aside from the popping of the fire and the occasional rustle as someone move in his sleep, no sound broke the air. She rolled to her feet and stood.

  The dark did not seem so deep as when they had taken shelter in the copse. Embron squatted by the opening to their rude shelter, one hand draped over the head of one of the dogs, idly scratching behind its ear. The dog’s tail thumped rhythmically against the ground.

  “Embron,” Talisa said softly.

  Embron stood. The dog whined as Embron’s hand left its ear. Embron clicked his tongue and the dog subsided, lowering its head to rest on its paws. “Milady.”

  “Is it morning?”

  “Soon, milady. I sent Marek to the edge of the wood to watch. If the Shahi come, he is to warn us. If they do not come, he is to return when the sun crests the mountains. It will not be long now.”

  “After that last few days,” Talisa said, “this almost seems pleasant. Still, I think we had best move on, and soon.”

  Embron nodded. “The Schahi will come again. Be certain of it.”

  Talisa sighed. “They chase and we run. We lose them, and they find us. They chase and we run again. What happens when we cannot run any more.”

  “I do not know, Milady. I suppose we die and the last of Aerioch dies with us.”

  “Do you really think it’s come to that?”

  Embron shrugged. “You heard Duchess Kaila, and that other knight.”

  Talisa remembered. Duchess Kaila and her companion had ridden into their holding. Bertan, Talisa’s son, had accompanied them, proud of his new status as squire. They had warned her of the Schahi army massing on the western border, larger than any the world had ever seen, and of the slaughter that army brought in its wake. Before going on to Norveth to seek a means of stopping the Schahi, Kaila had urged Talisa to flee, to bring her people to Norveth to there stand against the Schahi.

  Talisa shivered at the memory of the tale Duchess Kaila told. The Schahi armies were not human. Mages out of Chanakra summoned demons, lesser demons to be sure, but demons nonetheless, to inhabit the bodies of animals. The possessed animals took on human form, possessed arms and weapons, but lacked any human compassion. In their wake, they left horror.

  But a Baron’s household was not moved in a day. Before she completed preparations, Embron brought word of the Shahi army moving. While they had not reached the manor, staying on the direct road toward Norveth, already they were between her husbands manor and Norveth.

  Schahi raiding parties began to scour the land. Talisa did not have time to complete preparations. The road to Norveth was closed. She took those of her household who would follow her and fled south, into the mountains.

  And in the weeks that had followed she had watched her people die, some taken by cold, some by accidents, others by the great mountain cats. She had watched them die until only these few remained.

  With her husband and her son off fighting the Schahi, she had never been so alone.

  “Perhaps,” Talisa said. “Or perhaps the Schahi will finally give up this pursuit. Or perhaps we will find a safe haven somewhere beyond these mountains.”

  “Nobody has ever passed these mountains in winter,” Embron said.

  Talisa captured his eyes with her own. “Nobody has ever had such need before.”

  Talisa dipped herself a cup of tea from a pot set close to the fire. She frowned at the bitter taste but drank it. By the time she finished, a series of whistles alerted her to Marek’s return.

  Embron moved around the circle, shaking people awake.

  “Milady?” Banev bowed in front of her. “Can we not linger here a while longer. We have been running for so long.”

  Talisa shook her head. “I wish we could. As Embron said, the Schahi will not be deceived long. The sooner we are away, the better.”

  Embron bound the remains of the deer carcass into a bundle and lashed it to a pole. He detailed Ranthar and Mo-an to carry it.

  At least for a time they would not starve.

  When they left the copse, Embron took the lead. Talisa followed him. The remainder of the group trailed behind them. The sun in the clear sky created an illusion of warmth which the biting wind quickly dispelled.

  They marched. Embron, from his place in the lead, directed them toward a saddle between two peaks. Soon, Talisa forgot everything except putting one foot in front of the other, following in Embron’s wake. Her eyes watered from the glare of sunlight on the snow.

  They topped a low rise.

  “Milady?” Talisa almost did not hear the quiet, but urgent call behind her. “Milady!”

  Talisa stopped and turned. Banev, clinging close behind her pointed backward. Shago was running toward her alongside the line of people, his legs kicking up drifts as the plowed through the deep snow. The dogs bounded alongside him.

  “Embron, hold,” Talisa called.

  Shago reached Talisa and pointed back the way they had come. Talisa looked in the direction indicated by Shago’s pointing finger but saw nothing. “Embron, can you see?”

  At her side, Embron held one hand above his eyes, to shade them from the sun and another below, shielding them from the glare.

  After a moment, he lowered his hands. “The Schahi. They are on our trail again.”

  “Pireth take them,” Talisa swore. She rubbed at her eyes. “Onward. There’s nothing else we can do.” She put a hand on Shago’s shoulder. “Good work.”

  Shago grinned. He pointed toward the back of the line.

  Talisa nodded. “Yes, Shago. I want your eyes back there. You did very well. Only wait here. Take your position again when we pass you.”

  Shago thumped his chest and nodded.

  Talisa thought for a moment. “Embron, drop back. Let someone else break trail.” She lo
oked back at the group, her eyes taking in each of the remaining people. “Take Ranthar’s place on the carry pole. Ranthar, you take the lead.”

  “Milady?” Embron said.

  “I’ll follow behind, with Shago and the dogs,” Talisa said.

  As the little column of people started moving again, Talisa chewed on her lower lip and thought. No cover in which to hide. No storm to conceal them. She looked up at the cloudless sky. If another storm did come, it would kill them as surely as the Schahi.

  Their only hope was simple flight, to somehow hope that the Schahi would not catch them before something, anything gave them another chance.

  They struggled through the snow the rest of the day. After the sun set, Talisa called a brief halt until the larger moon rose. Then, by the light of that moon, she urged the group forward again.

  When the sun once again broke over the mountains Talisa took up the second position in their march, once more behind Embron. Embron had pulled away from the rest of the group, leaving Talisa to lead the others about two hundred paces behind him.

  The rest in the copse was barely a memory when Embron crested the ridge in the saddle between the two peaks. He stopped. His pack fell from his shoulders. He turned and waved at her. “Milady!”

  Blinking frost away from her eyelashes, Talisa dredged up the energy to break into a trot. She caught up to Embron, her chest heaving with her labored breathing.

  Embron pointed down the slope before them. Talisa looked. Her jaw dropped open. She wiped her eyes and stared again.

  White. White, broken by an occasional bit of gray was the only color she had seen for days. The greens and browns below her almost seemed to burn her eyes in their brilliance. Trees in full leaf. Grass, just coming into seed. A brook that ran clear, not frozen. A vision of spring, of summer.

  “Sorcery, Milady. It must be.”

  “Sorcery,” Talisa agreed. “Or the Gods. But to our salvation or our doom?” She looked back. Even her eyes could now see the cluster of dots moving in the distance, the Schahi on their trail. “We have no choice. Onward.”