The Sworn Knight by Robert Ryan (romance book recommendations TXT) 📗

went into that. Our people are older than theCheng, and our lore is different. Mind you, theirs is a lot closer to ours thanyours. But we are the older people, and we learned the mysteries before theCheng even thought to move out of their caves and build cities.”

Ferla looked at Asana while Kubodin spoke, but she saw nosign of the normal game between them. This was no idle chatter or bantering.Kubodin meant what he said, and there was no sign that Asana disagreed. Itreminded her how little she knew of the Cheng Empire.

“This is what we believe,” Kubodin said, and he spoke in areverent tone. “There are spirits who dwell in the sky and land and waters.Gods, you might call them. But we don’t think of them so. They are powers, andthey have great magic, but they seldom interfere in the affairs of men.Quarrelsome, they call us. A nuisance. But be that as it may, if coaxed in theright ways, through special prayers, they deign to assist us. At least, if itsuits them.”

It was a concept that Aranloth had once told her and Faranabout, but Ferla wished she had been listening more intently. No doubt Faranwas. He enjoyed learning this lore more than she did.

“So those times when you have used magic,” she asked, “I hadthought you were chanting a spell but you were really praying?”

“Exactly. I cast no spells. I just open myself up to theforces of air, land and water. Through me they work their power, if theychoose. For that matter, I don’t really need to even say the words. They hearme when I think them, and that’s enough. But I find saying the words helps me.”

Ferla did recall something that Aranloth said. He had notbeen sure if their magic was as different from lòhrengai as they thought. Itmight even be the same thing, and who was to say if the gods even existed, orif the invocation of power came from the magician himself?

Kubodin grinned. “Sometimes the gods don’t answer at all.They might be busy elsewhere.”

That was not so reassuring. Twice now, the little man’smagic had proved vital. But it was not the only magic he had at his call.

“And the axe?” she asked.

“Ah, that’s a different thing. A long time it’s belonged tomy people, and to my family especially. It has a bad reputation. Dark deedshave been done with it. Very dark. Then again, in our hills the ways of oldstill prevail. It’s a tough land, and people make hard choices. It might justbe that those who carried it were hard men, shaped by their times. Notnecessarily bad.”

“Such weapons are rumored to influence the minds of men,”Asana put in. “We have them too. They are feared, and rightly so. But it issaid strong men prevail against them. I have seen no sign that you are swayedby the axe.”

“Nor have I,” Kubodin agreed. “But sometimes I swear ittalks to me, and sometimes I see it in my dreams. But I use it seldom inbattle, and it may be that the less I use it the more protection against itsinfluence I have.”

Ferla frowned. They spoke of the axe as though it werealive.

“May I touch it, Kubodin?”

The little man looked at her dubiously for a moment, andthen handed it over. It was strange that she had never held it before, but assoon as she felt the long handle in her hand, she knew why.

The axe was like no weapon she had seen before. It waslighter than it looked, and the metal of the blades was dark, as though stainedwith ancient blood. It felt good in her hands, and suddenly she felt a thirstfor battle and the joy of slaying. Almost she could see the wild hills thatwere Kubodin’s home, and an endless struggle of clan against clan and raids andfights and the spilling of blood. She had a sense of its history, and shesensed also that there was some restless spirit in the blades. It was more thanmetal and wood. Discord, Kubodin called it, and that name was apt.

She shuddered, and handed it back. Kubodin took it, andlooked at her knowingly. He knew what she had sensed. What powers it had, shecould not deduce. But she knew he understood them well. The axe was by his sideeach and every day.

11. The Old Blood

Menendil sat upon the bench outside the Bouncing Stone,and he soaked up the morning sun. It was close to opening time now, andregardless that he expected few customers today, nothing could dim his goodmood. He had soaked up more than just the sun.

It had been over a day since Caludreth had been freed, andmuch had happened. All morning, he had sat here. And all morning he hadreceived various reports from his lieutenants. One by one they came to him, asthough by accident, and they appeared to sit down next to him to pass the timeof day before going on their way again.

But his informants had brought him valuable news. It was notall good. Nine men had died to free Caludreth. He had known some of them, butnine was a small number given the task they had attempted. Each death weighedon him, but they had all known going in that some would die. Most hadanticipated about thirty deaths, so the result was better than expected. Goodplanning was the cause of that.

The better news was that no one had been taken prisoner.That had always been a great risk, but the way he had divided the men up intosmall sections that did not know the whole Hundred would have ensured that noteveryone was given up under torture, and tortured they certainly would havebeen. Better to have died, and he hoped the same for himself if it came tothat. He would not fare well in the king’s dungeons. Not with his wife beingtortured first so that he would reveal what he knew.

But their risk had been worth it. The Hundred had freed Caludreth,and the king had no clue where he was.

It was said the king was furious. He had thrown a tantrum