Brother, Betrayed Read online

  “We should make it to a better place to rest before nightfall,” Oman said, interrupting their reprieve. They stood and stretched, still partly wishing to remain in their rest, yet satisfied and ready to continue. Their conversation was forgotten as they remounted, and again they were seized by the power of their journey.

  Though Syah had exerted himself more in the last few days than he had ever done in all his life, he felt refreshed and strengthened. He realized he would probably be able to ride late into the night. Oman, however, signaled them to slow their horses as they neared a clearing. It would be good to rest, he knew, to be ready for another long day of riding on the morrow. The enticement of the adventure still pulled him, though the light of the sun was waning.

  They dismounted and guided their steeds to the middle of the narrow clearing, searching for a place with soft earth where they could easily start a fire.

  “Must we stop?” Syah asked as he stroked the face of his mare and tied the reins to a branch. His brothers looked back at him with a grin.

  “Guess we know who’s taking first watch,” Oman remarked.

  “I imagine the horses are pleased to stop,” Syah said.

  “Lightning could ride another day or so.” Fasime laughed, patting the stallion’s back.

  “Lightning could ride to the southern border without rest,” Syah amended.

  Fasime took the saddle off the muscular black steed, smiling. It was probably true. He constantly had to pull the stallion back as they were riding, knowing its desire to lose the others and steal away through the forest.

  “Isn’t it conspicuous, building a fire and sleeping out here in the open?” Syah asked.

  “We are conspicuous as it is,” Oman answered, beginning to set up camp. “At least, to anything that would be in these woods. Only creatures of the forest and wanderers would pass this way. No matter where we sleep, we will catch their attention.”

  “Good point. Hopefully we don’t meet many ‘wanderers’,” Syah responded wryly, but Oman just shook his head. Syah helped Oman start a fire while Fasime unpacked the horses.

  “I will go hunting tomorrow,” Fasime stated, sitting by the fire. He inspected his knife, gingerly testing the sharpness of the blade against his thumb.

  “We haven’t seen much game since the castle,” Syah said, his attention on the flames, competing with the growing unfriendliness of night.

  “The animals have been avoiding us,” Fasime explained and replaced his knife. “Creatures of the forest typically do not wish to be seen by humans.”

  “Then how do you find them?” Syah demanded.

  “Find somewhere hidden and wait,” Fasime answered.

  “You ambush them?”

  “Better than trying to run them down,” Fasime countered. “They know the forest better than we know Anteria.”

  Oman sighed audibly and stood. “Syah, are you taking the first watch?”

  “Yes,” Syah answered, turning away from Fasime, “it is the easiest. I won’t have to wake up in the middle of the night and come to my senses enough to keep myself awake.”

  Oman nodded. “Fasime, we had better start our slumber. It will be a long day tomorrow. Syah, wake me soon. I will be the one coming to my senses in the middle of the night. And wake me if you…”

  “If I hear anything, if I see anything suspicious, or smell something odd that could be likened to ogre’s toenails. Yes, yes, I know,” Syah mimicked Oman’s tone. “Now get some sleep.”

  “Hear anything,” Oman started the teasing again.

  “Just go!” Syah commanded.

  Oman and Fasime, chuckling, laid on blankets near the fire.

  “Good night,” Syah told them.

  Syah watched his brothers over the low, hot fire. Dusk darkened to deep night. Their eyes closed and their bodies seemed to merge with the earth below them. Soon Syah was sure they slept, seeing their chests rise and fall with a calm breath.

  The burden of keeping the watch was heavy upon the Syah. His sleeping brothers trusted him, but did they know?

  He would give anything, everything to protect them.

  Shivering hands stretch wearily towards the fire. Night and the need for rest replace the desperate hunger.

  “Stop thinking about it,” Fasime ordered. He answered himself in the same breath, “But we have almost gone through all our rations, if you fail…”

  Empty stomachs still growl, even as fitful sleep takes them over.

  “Stop it!” Fasime briskly shook his head, trying to drive out the images impeding his concentration. His eyes refocused on the forest, his hands tightened around the wood of the bow. We are still a day and a half’s ride to Romain. The three of us could ration the rest of the food until then. The thought only calmed him a moment. And what confidence would they have in you if you are unsuccessful?

  Stop this chatter! Fasime forced his eyes to close and lowered his head, scolding himself. Images came to his mind, memories. He felt his breathing slow and his body relax. He recalled his first hunt, his aim, and his triumph over doubt. Images of subsequent hunts took turns steadying him, dousing the fears for his brothers, fears of failure. He opened his eyes, lifted the bow, and grasped the leathery string, waiting.

  The day faded beyond the horizon and a soft chill tinged the air. Oman and Syah will begin to worry about you. The thought was only a wisp through his concentration, attentive to the coming shadows of the forest and the noises on the soft wind.

  Then, movement. Fasime’s attention was on it immediately, followed by the aim of the bow. His eyes, glinting like the tip of the sharp arrow, watched the visitor pause and then timidly step forward towards the water’s edge. Its shadow was taking form in the coming night, but the young man sensed it clearly. Graceful, silent strides moved the creature over the water. Fasime could see its delicate head and majestic antlers silhouetted against the light of the stream. He thought to pull back the string, but stayed his hand, hesitating. He sat soundless, breathing the same air as the beast, feeling the same coolness off the wild water. Then, when he pulled back the string, he saw the beast lift its head, as if it sensed the waiting danger but was unafraid. The deer did not move. It stood with its front legs in the running water, its head raised nobly as Fasime steadied the bow.

  Fasime released the arrow, feeling the surge of power leave him. The animal’s body jerked and its hooves clamored on the stones of the riverbed as it turned. Fasime heard the sturdy beast fall, and then he heard nothing but the river. He stood and approached it, hearing no movement, no labored breathing. He couldn’t see it in the thickening darkness, but he knew blood now streamed from the arrow’s opening and mingled with the clear water of the stream.

  “You were a strong, mighty deer,” Fasime told it as he pulled the body out of the water. He lifted the deer and carried it further from the river. He would clean it here, sparing Syah that, at least. He set the deer down on the stones of the riverbed and took out his knife. “Thank you,” he told it. But his words drifted over the chilling body of the beast across the water and darkness, unheard.

  Oman and Syah stood when they saw Fasime emerge from the darkness of the forest with bundles over his shoulders.

  “We were worried about you,” said Syah. He and Oman helped pull the wrapped meat off Fasime’s shoulders and set it beside the fire.

  Fasime didn’t respond at first, opening his hands to the light and heat of the fire. “There was no need to worry, Syah,” Oman said, sitting beside him and opening up some of the meat.

  “It has gotten dark. One of us should have gone with you.”

  “I can hunt better alone,” Fasime answered. Syah shook his head and reached for a package of meat.

  “It will take all night to cook it all,” Oman said. He placed the stakes and cuts of meat he had prepared in the smoke of the fire.

  “This should last us until we reach Keslewood, then Fasime can foolishly go off hunting alone again,” Syah joked. Fasime glanced over his shoulder at h
im, his brows drawn in irritation.

  “Fine, I’ll take you with me next time, since you insist on going.”

  “I didn’t…”

  “You can be responsible for feeding us,” Fasime said angrily, grabbing up several of the bundles and opening them.

  Syah didn’t respond, watching Fasime cut up and separate the meat, scowling all the while. Syah looked at Oman, who shook his head with a smile and continued to work. Syah threaded some chunks of meat on the sharpened end of a stick and let out a thoughtful breath.

  “You did a fine job, Fasime,” Syah told him.

  Fasime stiffened “What?” he demanded, his brows tightening.

  “I am very proud of you,” the youngest said sincerely.

  Fasime let out a disgusted grunt and threw the pile of sticks at his younger brother. Syah braced, but the sticks bounced off harmlessly. He lowered his arms and laughed heartily. Fasime’s jaw tightened when Oman joined in Syah’s amusement. He growled under his breath, forcing himself to concentrate on the meat. Oman and Syah’s laughter calmed as they worked.

  “At least he knows how to take a compliment about his fabulous work,” Syah said casually to Oman. Fasime raised his head. He gave out a warning grunt and set down the meat. “No one else but you, Fasime,” said Syah, “could have brought back this exquisite meal.”

  “That’s it!” Fasime cried, getting to his feet and throwing himself upon Syah. The youngest tossed aside the knife as Fasime grabbed him. Although his brother was by far the stronger, Syah wouldn’t use the blade to ward him off. Syah was laughing as Fasime pounced on him, grabbed him, and pinned him to the ground. Syah cried out in pain, but couldn’t help laughing further at Fasime’s anger. Syah freed his arms and twisted Fasime’s arms in his. Oman came to them.

  “You know, he’s right,” Oman said. Fasime paused, looking up at him. “No one deserves recognition as much as you do.”

  Syah felt Fasime let him go. The middle brother cried out angrily and jumped for Oman. But Oman was ready for him. He caught Fasime, letting his brother’s force pull him to the ground. Syah twisted himself around, chuckling at them as he stood. His gaze fell away from them, towards the menacing, forgotten darkness beyond the light of the fire. His chest tightened.

  “Oman!” Syah cried. His tone was so fearful that Oman and Fasime stopped their tussling immediately and turned towards him. Syah’s eyes were locked on something in the darkness of the woods. His brothers followed his gaze and then straightened, drawing their swords. Shining from the darkness were two watchful, menacing eyes surrounded by a shadowy, crouching form. The eyes lowered closer to the ground, but didn’t blink, glowing eerily like the moon on a clear night.

  “What is it?” Syah whispered.

  “A wolf, or a wild dog,” Fasime answered. “He smells the meat.”

  “It won’t come near the fire,” Oman said and reached to help Syah up.

  “Let’s finish cooking it before we attract more creatures of the wild,” Fasime said, and stepped back to his spot by the fire. Oman turned to join him. But they looked back at Syah, who hadn’t moved, still gazing at the foreboding eyes in the darkness. Syah felt a strange flush of danger and ferocity from the beast. He turned from it finally, towards the fire.

  “It is a reminder, we are not alone,” Fasime said as Syah knelt by the fire. Syah’s face tensed. He snatched a half-burning branch from the flames. Before they could speak to him, Syah turned back towards the forest and hurled the burning branch towards the two glowing eyes. The figure disappeared almost as soon as the fire was in the air and the branch landed very close to where the beast had been. Syah breathed heavily, staring at the quiet darkness of the forest.

  “Good aim,” Fasime said with compassion. “Now come back and sit. He’s gone.”

  Syah turned back and sat with his brothers as they continued to work. His began to fix the stakes that had fallen during their scuffle. He clenched his unsteady hands after he replaced the sticks over the fire.

  “Don’t worry about it, nothing will approach the fire. That’s why we have been taking watches through the night,” Oman assured him.

  Syah grunted, struggling to conceal his unease. “I know,” he said stiffly, swallowing the anger in his throat.

  “It’s just the unknown.” Fasime’s clear voice spoke, and Syah looked up with surprise. His brother gave him a knowing look. “The uncontrollable, the unpredictable,” Fasime continued, “can be unsettling. But it is part of the excitement of the wild.” Fasime smiled and nodded reassuringly. “You’ll grow to enjoy it.”

  Syah lowered his gaze. He turned and finished setting the rest of the meat over the fire.

  “Between the lines of fog and fate,

  Women dance and men can wait,”

  Syah sang to himself, tying packs to the horses.

  “Ask the stone how it knows,

  How from mountains snows blow;

  Journey down the path of the stream,

  Until on the great waters they gleam.”

  He reached for the straps to his mare’s saddle and tightened them.

  “Nowhere on the shores of fate,

  Shall the woman meet her mate.”

  He took the other packs and approached the stallion. Syah hesitated a moment, noticing the stallion turn towards him, sensing him.

  “Easy, boy,” Syah told it. He stepped up to tie the packs to its back, watching the stallion’s large head and muscular legs closely. He pulled the leather to tighten the packs. The stallion looked back as the saddle shifted. Syah stood still, but then sighed, relaxing. He moved carefully towards the stallion’s shoulders, patting the fine black hair on its legs and back. “You’re not so bad,” Syah said, feeling the steed shake its head and then lean towards him as he scratched its neck. The horse shook its head again, letting Syah scratch beneath its ear.

  Then the steed tensed and Syah’s eyes widened. Lightning let out a rumbling snort. The immense power of the stallion erupted. His neigh was almost a scream. He jerked, knocking Syah back, almost striking the prince with his powerful front legs as he reared up. Syah staggered and nearly fell, but caught his balance a few steps from the wild horse. He stood horrified as the horse pounded back to the dirt. “What’s wrong?” Syah cried to the rampant stallion, cringing away from its hooves.

  “Careful!” Fasime yelled, running towards them.

  “I don’t know what I did,” Syah said, shaking, watching the horse angrily pull at the rope. “It’s all right,” said Fasime, putting his hand on Syah’s shoulder, seeing he needed to steady his brother before he did his horse.

  “He just went crazy! I must have…”

  “It wasn’t you,” Fasime said. Syah met his gaze. “Come here.” Fasime put his arm around Syah’s back.

  “No!” Syah cried, trying to step back.

  “It’s all right, I’ll show you,” Fasime insisted, pulling Syah forward. He took Syah’s hand and held it cupped in his own. They approached the stallion, whose head was lowered now as it whinnied and snorted.

  “No, he wants to kill me,” Syah urged, trying to pull away. They were close enough to feel the horse’s hot breath.

  “It’s not you,” Fasime said. He pulled Syah’s hand forward and held it before the face of the stallion. Syah stiffened as the horse raised its head. The hot gush of air came from the steed’s nostrils. It jerked, neighing, but with less agitation. “He smelled the blood,” Fasime explained. He let go of Syah’s hand, and Syah lifted and gazed at it. Fasime released his brother’s shoulders and approached the stallion, speaking soothingly to it as he patted its shoulder and moved its head with the reins. “He was probably more afraid of you than you were of him,” Fasime explained.

  The young prince sensed the stallion had calmed and he warily moved away.

  “If he didn’t like you, he would have trampled you just now,” Fasime said with a smile.

  Syah didn’t feel that was much of a comfort.

  Chapter Four

&n
bsp; THE INN

  As they traveled, their minds left the adventure of the forest and focused on the task that lay before them. They thought of the citizens of Arnith who had never seen or known them, whom they would pass by unnoticed. They imagined returning to the lands of men, strangely finding these more hazardous than the wild.

  Oman knew they were still far from the town. He decided to start the discussion now, to ensure that each knew the precautions to take. “I think we should stick together,” Oman said. Syah and Fasime took deep breaths, readying themselves for the lecture that would ensue.

  “It’s a small town,” Fasime objected. “There’ll be no danger if we separate. And besides, we would be less noticeable if we conduct our business alone.”

  Oman paused thoughtfully.

  “I could take the horses to the stables, and you and Syah could buy our supplies. And then you could find us an inn, if there is one suitable.”

  “So you do want to stay at an inn, then?” Oman asked.

  Syah shook his head and was about to answer, but Fasime spoke before him.

  “It will be nice not to sleep on the ground one night, to have a warm bath,” Fasime said. The youngest pressed his lips together and kept his arguments to himself.

  “Very well, I will find an inn.” He paused, trying to decide how to speak his thoughts. “We must be careful what we say to the townspeople. If they ask us anything, we must remember to…”

  “Stick to the story,” Syah interrupted, trying to remind Oman that they had had this conversation several times before.

  “Stick to the story,” Oman repeated and nodded. “Syah, we’ll put you in charge of nourishments and supplies. And Fasime,” Oman continued in a tone that made Fasime watch him warily, “don’t get into any trouble.”

  Fasime pushed Oman’s shoulder and let loose the eldest’s laughter, interrupting the tension that had developed around them.