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'For the Emperor. For Raheri. For honour, land, and battle.'

The words came mechanically from Subetai's lips, his dark, almost completely black eyes appearing, at least to the warriors kneeling on the ships deck in front of him, fixed directly on each of them. Warchief Subetai Telkan, 34 years old, leader of his clan, the Raheri, had developed a knack for instilling cold, unshakeable obedience from those under him. Whether it was the detached, emotionless, calculating way he treated people, his success on the field of battle, his ruthlessness when dealing with enemies, or even the fact that he had personally beheaded two of his usurping brothers in front of the rest of the clan, they werent sure. But they obeyed nonetheless.

The clan Raheri, one of the twelve great clans of the eastern land, was answering a call from the Emperor. He wanted new conquest in his name. His predecessor was a man of legend, singlehandedly unifying the 12 clans togethor, and ending the centuries of warring, raiding, and feuding between them all. The new emperor wanted to follow in his father's footsteps, establish himself as equally great, and so had made the call for all those loyal to him to leave the shores of their homeland, cross the ocean, and gain new conquest in his honour.

Subetai Telkan and his clan the Raheri were answering this call. The warchief had picked his finest warriors, including the clan elder, setting sail in the hot months, the makeshift longboat crewed by local sailors. He had been in a rush to depart, with his desire for upholding the desires of the Emperor, and improving the standing of his clan strong. He had take a few younger warriors, who had not even had their naming ceremony yet. Telkan was confident however. He had grown up with five brothers, each of whom had wanted the power of the clan. This competitive upbringing had forced him to become tactical in every decision he made, driven, and rarely discorouged. The younger ones would learn as they fought. He may even blood them himself. The warparty had departed then, taking enough food for a few months.

40 days into the journey, and the Raheri vessel was in trouble. They had found the weather growing colder and colder the further west they went, a few weaker clanbrothers and sisters dying from desease. This weather had grown from biting cold, to a torid snowstorm. Having grown up in a land of everlasting summer, the sailors were completely unused to such conditions. People screamed, and grown men vomited over the side as the vessel was tossed about, waves crashing against the side. The warchief simply stood in the centre of the upper deck, shouting instructions to his warriors, heavy fur coat worn tightly round his body as the elements assaulted him, long braid caught by the wind, and sent around in various directions, expression one of cold, determined indifference.

Suddenly, a sailor screamed. There was a long, jagged rock sticking up out of the water, not 30 yards away from the ship. Men and women frantically pulled at the oars, the sail ripped to shreds, but it was no use. The course of the ship was set, and Subetai Telkan's eyes narrowed.

An almighty crash followed, and everyone in the portion of the ship which struck the rock were thrown overboard, several literally cut in two by the shattering rock. Screams were lost in the noise, the sky appearing to hurl abuse at them as the ship began to tip. The warchief screamed for them to abandon ship, and almost as one, they jumped into the frothing waters.

*

Copperskinned hands found their way onto land, as Subetai Telkan dragged his battered body ashore. He lifted his head, taking in his surroundings.

(end)

They journeyed fast, under canvas most of the time. Tahuri did nothing less than enjoying these days on deck. She was not afraid of the harsh winds and the icy waves, but of the endlessness of the sea in front of them, and the steadily growing distance to the continent behind them. To Riagh.
There were many words to subscribe the meaning of the word Riagh in her mother tongue, too many. Wide, Freedom, Victory, Abundance.
For Tahuri, Riagh meant Home primarily.
Her bow and arrows lay next to her, as did her two slim swords that were slightly curved, while she relaxed at the ship bow of the “Coriarg”, the “Seagull”. Their strong and fast vessel. Her father was sleeping at the moment, in his cabin, therefore the elder commanded the crew in the meantime. As the winds were anything but adverse, there was almost nothing to do for the over three hundred men and women.
“Tahuri!” she looked up, her rebellious green eyes stared in the ones of the second leader. “To the crow’s nest!” She nodded shortly. It was another one of his harassments. She would not see anything, anyway. But he commanded, and she better obeyed. There were no exclusive rights for the daughter of the warchief, she knew this only too well.

Spume sprayed over her leather cloths, as she started to climb up unarmed, everything but her small dagger still lying on deck, salt on her lips.
Her hands and feet, skilful and strong, scaled the hawsers and rope-ladders without problems, like they had done uncountable times before this as well. Squalls tore at her and the hawser, throwing her around defenceless. Tahuri did not care, even though the cold bit through the thin, worn out leather armour sensitively. She spend one single, longing thought at the warm fur cloak that she had left in the female crew’s cabin, where she also had her small bed.
The further they followed the sundown, the colder and less friendly the weather became. Forty days, and no spot of land was sighted. And today there would not be one either, she just knew it.

Exactly as she reached the lookout, the storm reached them. Evil like an irate deity it ripped on the wooden vessel, ready to capsize it. Subetai Telkan, warchief of the Raheri clan, came on deck, now shouting orders himself. The crew, that had been bored only seconds ago, was now resurrected to life. Bustle and chaos broke out as everyone tried to obey these orders as hastily as possible. Tahuri knew enough about sailing that she realized what was the gravest danger of the ship, its wonderful sails, that once taken by the strong wind could easily catch hold of the vessel and throw it upside down, drawing them all into their wet graves.
Mechanically Tahuri caught the next hawser, swinging over on to the topsail. The storm and the salt felted her tiny black braids that reached down to her shoulders and the moment until she finally got there, just in time with three other clan brothers, seemed to last forever. They grimly shortened the sail, without talking to or looking at each other. In front of and behind them other sails were shortened, only some staying hoisted to make sure that the crew had still some control over the ship. Tahuri looked round, appalled of the sea’s fierceness and fury. Her arms ached because of the wet sail’s weight, the weight of heavy, soaked and oily linen. Finally she had clamped it securely, and they could start to climb down, one by one, two of the men before her and one after her.
Waiting for the first and second clanbrother to reach the deck, she heard the scream, coming from the ship’s bow. Involuntarily she turned her attention there, only one hand left on a hawser, the feet on the fluctuating spreader. A cliff. Not even thirty meters away.
“Bring about the ship!” her father barked, deep underneath her. She saw men and women panicking, the deck turning into a brewing cauldron, she herself uninvolved in what was happening.
“Heave!” Too late. They were about to crash into it, with their full broadside… Tahuri looked around. The third clanbrother had fallen – she could hear his cry – but she could not help him. The spreader spun around, twisting and turning, and then the wooden corpse of the “Seagull” burst as it hit the black washed stone. The girl was catapulted, far, far away from the wreck. The icy waters surrounded her like a giant cold fist, the moment after she dashed against the surface.

Coughing and panting for air, she came up again, salt on her copper skin, and felt the strong suction of the sinking wreck at once, that tried to draw her back into the black depths of the unfriendly sea.
Swim, she told herself, swim or you die, and she swam for her life, faster and more persevering than she had ever done before, her blood in a freezing rage.

Ground, finally, was reached. She could see land, and she could see that she was in a cove. She managed to swim and crawl the last few metres that departed her from land, and then lay there with trembling arms and legs, coughing salty water and breathing cold, somehow aromatic maritime air.
“Tahuri?” Her father was there, too, he and two others, finally three others, the former quartermaster Abheek and two yet unknown women. They set up camp at the cove they had reached altogether, then going to scout their surroundings and collect supports. Tahuri strolled through the forest, that began right next to their camp, sneaking for enemies and natives, and watching out for animal trails, like she had done so many times and yet never before like she did it now.

Branches and twigs came in her way, but she did not walk through a forest for the first time. Silent were her footsteps, and inaudible her breath. She had only found an old longbow and some arrows at the coast. Her own bow and arrows, gone, as well as the two wonderful light swords. Gone.
She suddenly stopped, her heartbeat slowing down seemingly and her breath becoming unnoticeable. Ducking down, she disappeared in the brush. Tahuri pulled out an arrow, and readied it with her bow, after her hand had touched the small dagger at her hip as a precaution. The huge figure in front of her moved closer, green skin, and a smell like rotting corpses. She could easily hear every movement, as it came nearer. Her hand trembled shortly, and she crawled backwards slowly, trying to make no sounds. It suddenly stopped and scented, like an animal walking on two legs, huger as any man she knew. And then it turned its head and looked at her, directly in her eyes. Tahuri sprang up and ran, as fast as she could, she knew that in this close distance she could not dare to fight it. Not if her only weapons were a bow and a dagger.
Her feet carried her away, but the animal or man, whatever it was, followed surprisingly quickly. She passed a stone circle, and stood still, listening to her persecutor’s footsteps that advanced. She ducked down once more, and crept aside, waiting in a secure distance. And she had been right, it ran by, and disappeared somewhere between the trees, not realizing she had stopped, because it could not hear her through its own noises.

Tahuri did not waste more time, but scoured the forest for trails. She saw birds she had never seen before, smaller than at home, and also some rabbits that were faster than the ones she knew. However, she was able to shoot them still, she was sure of that. And then she found a trail of deer. A small herd of deer. She followed them, east, back towards the coast, and south, away from the camp. Noises made her sneak close a fireplace, seeing five green men, possibly more, around a fire. They were grilling a deer. Cursing silently, she avoided this place, and came out of the forest, that seemed to reach far south, along the coastline. She followed it, hoping she could at least surround it to make sure how far it reached.

Half an hour later, she rushed back in, and cowered in the brush, her heart beating fast. There was a building, of exotic architecture, using stone instead of logs and building higher than she would have. Crawling further, she tried to see if it was empty or inhabited. A fire at the entrance told her to be careful, this and the many trails she could see even from the forest. No one there, though. No guards. No training warriors, though it clearly was the keep of a warrior group, seeing the many duel trails.
Tahuri stepped outside, and advanced the building from behind. Carefully, almost over-carefully she surrounded it, then trying to interpret all the footsteps she found. There lived quite a bunch of people, most of them male, and they trained often. The length of their steps showed her that they were strong, and well trained, therefore most likely warriors. Them, and the green men in the forest, made her feel uneasy – more out of a feeling than out of her rightful senses. She had to report this, but to make sure she really found everything she fully surrounded the forest. No one had seen her but the green man.

Waking up, Tahuri realized that her body felt all cold and numb. She opened her lids carefully, noticing that she had slept less than four hours. It still was not morning, and the fading moon shone pale onto their hidden camp. She rose halfway, soundless, and listened to the wolves in the Northern Forest, their song fading away and becoming stronger again, as they hunted through the night. One look around, and she knew that there was no danger yet. The Norodaj, as her strange companion had called them, slept in their town, none of them had seen them. And they would not find out they had been here, Tahuri would leave this place before daybreak, and return to the Riaghail camp, at the other coast of this island. Shaking her head, she tried to understand what had happened to her the day before, it was almost too much.

Hunting she had been, on the trail of a wolf, that seemed to be a loner. She always remembered her father’s warning: Most wolves are not hunting on their own. But this one seemed to be, she had followed it for almost a day, and now she was close, she simply knew it, and the trail told her the very same thing, too. Her bow lay in her hand naturally; her sword and dagger would be easily drawn if necessary. She ducked down, and crawled closer through the brush.
It stood there, awaiting her, ready for a fight. It had known she was after him. Intelligent eyes listened amber. Grey fur, cut through by many scars, showed that this wolf was special. A fighter, like her. No easy opponent. Tahuri lifted the bow, pointed and shot, in one single, flowing movement, and then the bow fell down, dropped, she was reaching for her blades instead. The animal snarled and attacked her, the arrow stuck in its neck. She hit it with the sword as it came in range, but still it was not dead, biting her, its teeth deep in her thigh. Tahuri cut off its head, as if nothing would be less easy, ignoring the heat and pain in her leg. Breathing fast, she stood there, a dead wolf underneath her, her own blood and it’s mixing on the forest ground.
A fight, too fast, too abruptly had it ended. Tahuri bended down, to take her bow, and stopped right in the movement, not because of the sudden agony she felt in the bitten leg, but because of this sound. A breaking twig. Not far away. Her heartbeat paused a second, then rushed forward. No wolf, and no human. Something bigger.
She had only time enough to jump back, then it stood there suddenly. In front of the place she had stood only a breath ago. Tahuri grabbed her sword tighter, she could perhaps survive the fight against a single “green man”, even if it was this huge and fast moving. But this thought was washed away quicker than it had come to her mind. Sounds in her back told her that it was not alone. Not at all. She was the one who was standing alone.
Run, she was told by her inner voice, and she listened to it, trying to break and getting away as fast as possible.
She had forgotten that the “green man” moved faster than they mostly did. It grabbed her bag, which had got caught, knotted together with her quiver. What else could she do, but take her dagger, and cut the laces that hold the two items to her body. And run, the bag and quiver left behind, as was the bow.
Return later, she told herself, and catch your things. Now try to save your life first. No one has to get to know this, never, you are far from camp. Far enough, hopefully.
Running was painful, running for her life was something that was almost impossible. Her leg trembled and cramped, and she jumped more that she run most of the time. A bad day, this was.
Finally she had gone away, the sounds of her followers fading away back behind. She started to wander back, not straight but in a long way round, now more careful than she had ever been. It was a long trip, and the morning became afternoon until she finally got back to the glade where she had met the wolf. Searching around, she only found her bow. It was broken. Her bag and arrows, food for three days, her shield that had been bound to her back, everything gone, and the broken bow lay there like a silent memorial, to keep watching your back while hunting and assuming the danger forward.

Tahuri searched over the green men’s trail, for another hour or so. To make sure they had not perhaps thrown anything away. She found nothing. Her weapons and her food, as well as her cloak for the night, were gone, like the wolf’s corpse that should have been here.
She travelled back, through the forest, moving east to get out of the wood and be able to walk faster over the plain. She managed not to limp too much, while the blood run warm out of her wound, in tiny, constant trickles.
She walked and walked, more sneaking than wandering. Her equipment lost, her hand on her sword, the strongest protection she had left.

The sound again came quick, left from her, like the boots of a man that feels secure.
Ducking down, she hided in the brush, creeping backwards. He came closer, and she tried to hold her breath calm. It went fast and deep, some seconds, until she could finally control it.
He was tall, as big as her father at least, and wore shiny armour. His skin was almost white, too pale for a human, and his eyes were blue like steel and long brown hair falling down along his neck. He moved carefully, hand on the hilt of his rapier, but had not recognized her yet – or, had he?
Lifting his hand he protected his eyes from the falling snow, coming closer than she could bare it. Tahuri tried to lay her hand on the hilt of her dagger, and found that its sheath had been ripped away like her shield. She cursed soundless, and took the hand to the sword, trying to suppress any sound.
The man stepped back, and unsheathed his blade, smirking.

“In your situation, peasant, you should not even think of it…” he spoke, in a language she understood well but with an accent that she had never heard before, the smirk on his face unchanged.

Tahuri stood up, also drawing her weapon and trying to ignore the pain this simple movement caused her. She did well, she thought, even her father had been impressed because of her self-restraint.

“Leave me alone, otherwise you might regret it.” Tahuri said in her mother tongue, hoping he understood the full meaning.
He murmured something, she could not understand it, and put the rapier back in the sheath. Talking further on, to himself, he grabbed something in his pocket and threw it at her. It was a piece of fine woven cloth, perfumed in an unknown way.
Scenting this, she threw it back, not knowing what to think of his behaviour.
“Don’t come… any closer!” she commanded, stepping back a bit.
She could hear the green man coming this time, and ran, before he could even react.
She did not know what he was doing back there, and did not want to know, but limped as fast as she could, and finally stood at the forest’s end. The green and the white man were both gone, so she stepped outside and closed her eyes a moment.

She turned faster than he had thought she could, she saw it in his eyes for the glimpse of a moment. “You again…” this time she used the common language he seemed to know better. Although he frowned a bit he seemingly understood what she had said.
“Just… trolls.” Her eyes wandered over his appearance coolly, examining his hair that was shorter than her own. “The green men?” she asked, just to say something. “So this is what they are called…” He nodded, questioning her indirectly where she came from. Realizing his rudeness, she resisted answering anything but “How is this part of your business, stranger? Forget that you ever saw me, and attend your own affairs!” while trying to pass him quickly.
“You almost certainly escaped, and your master can’t wait to get you back.” She stood, startled, and one moment was too puzzled to be insulted like this. Then she turned back, her voice dangerously low. “My…” – “… master, yes, exactly.”
She looked into his eyes, her own narrowed to two thin lines. “Repeat this, just one time…” – “It could be that your freedom, or whatever you hoped to find out here, might get lost, but at least you won’t starve… of bleed to death.” She answered slowly, carefully choosing word after word. “A warrior with that short hair would be better off to mind his tongue when he is in company of a superior opponent!”
He continued to offend her, doubting she was a warrior and able to fight, and she was stupid enough to argue with him. She did not even know why she had done this. Why had she stayed there instead of going away, or ripping out his stupid, annoying tongue? Furthermore, why had she challenged him for a duel? To show him that she was superior? What for?

Tahuri rubbed her forehead, shaking her head. She did not know, the pain most certainly had weakened her mental power.

A long exchange of insults and threats ended in the two of them fighting each other. Tahuri was almost sure she would not show any mercy for this dishonoured, pale stranger.

Both of them prepared, her preparation being only a prayer in her head and some movements to relax her leg and warm up a bit.
She moved around him in a half circle, lurking predatory, and he followed her movements, staying one point and keeping her at distance. Tahuri had her blade rotate one time, playful, before attacking him with a battle cry, at once being countered by the shining rapier.
She now danced around him, seemingly nothing remaining of her injury, a feint pointing at his gorge turning out to be a try to drive her weapon against his belly. Amon did not seem to mind her battle cry, turning slightly and feinting to stab before moving one step backwards, swinging the rapier and then holding it back up. His opponent evaded the stab easily, her blade shied forward like the head of a silver viper. Amon blocked it, redirecting it and then turning past her body, very close, before loosening his wrist and giving her some time.
Tahuri tremored back as the blades hit each other, and jumped back forward, surprising Amon with her quick revival. He almost lost his rapier as the blades met again, but grabbed it tight and pushed her sword away backwards. Two feints of Tahuri covered her aiming at his leg, but he managed to avoid it narrowly. His next sting failed her arm as she turned the upper part of her body without difficulty.

“Is this everything?” she asked, and he did not answer as his eyes retained hers.

Amon waited and moved slower, awaiting an opportune moment, while they were lurking at each other. Suddenly he rushed forward, striking smoothly twice, turning back in defence afterwards. Tahuri managed to escape these stings in the very last moment, and she herself used a long series of differing feint movements, as if she was trying to test him. Her enemy concentrated less on her blade than on her eyes, and what they looked at, guessing the feints he evaded a bit but did not seem to be surprised.
Tahuri’s face showed no sign of exhaustion, but she held the injured side back more and more, wanting to protect it. Recognizing this, the Albarian stabbed to this side tryingly. As the girl tried to avoid him, her leg buckled under her halfway, and she moved back, to breath deeply, hoping he would not follow her at once. Amon gave her a short moment, taking his defence position rather than attacking her. Still, he watched her eyes to guess where she might stab next.
Noticing this, Tahuri changed her tactic and looked somewhere else than she stabbed, managing to hit his right leg, as he stepped back with the left one. Giving him a short moment, the Raheri stepped back.

“There are teachings that help maybe a long time, but fail you someday as well…”
“Fighting styles are always differing, new opponents, new challenges; teachings alone won’t answer the purpose of fighting.”
Tahuri smiled, lowering her head with amusement. “This is not what I said…”

Still speaking, Amon stepped forward, close to her, pushing her sword aside – hitting her chest with the pommel of his epee, and she fell into the snow, robbing aside as quickly as possible and standing back up. Her eyes were still clear, but her cheeks were paler than before. Nodding, she attacked again, less filed this time, just to start an exchange of blows, being countered easily. Tahuri smiled again ironically, her feints and attacks suddenly gaining more personality and precision. The man pressed the rapier against her sword, trying to stop her blade for a moment, and she remained in the middle of her movement, her face close to his, their breath being fast and tempered. He tricked her again, turning the rapier around her sword and pulled it with a short, unexpected twitch. Tahuri saw how she lost her sword, which fell to the snow some yards away. Looking at him, she drew back slowly, and after he gave her a pointing sign, she jumped over and grabbed it again, lifting it defensively, her arm trembling in exhaustion. She nodded once more, signalizing they could continue, and realized that he too had sweat on his forehead moistening his hair, striking it back he readied for her attack. She breathed through deeply, and attacked him again, forcing him back with several hard hits. He slipped, unfortunately stumbling over a snowdrift, in the very same moment as her hair fell in her eyes and blinded her temporarily. Stepping forward, she pushed him with her free hand, and he canted over, still an amused smile on his face. Tahuri was over him faster than he could react, and pointed her sword to his gorge – nodding appreciative: “This was a good fight.”

As she helped him up, they exchanged commendations on their different fighting styles, both admitting that they were even fighters. Tahuri still wanted to be on her way back soon, but she had overestimated her own strength. Falling down on her knees, the pain in her leg suddenly almost made her faint.

She knew she owed him now, after he had helped her to a secret camp, instead of guiding her to the Norodaj settlement. Yes, she owed him, as he owed her for not killing him… Her only reason had been that she suddenly imagined herself lying there, and realized that he would have shown mercy himself. For the first time in her life, she felt even to someone, at the same level, neither subordinate nor superior. It was a wonderful feeling.
Turning her head in his direction, she thought about this stranger that sat there, only a few yards from her. He was still awake, but did not look at her, and therefore had not recognized she was awake. Where did he come from? Who were he an offspring to, his skin as pale as the moon and his eyes light blue? She did not understand half of the things he had said, and was sure that he had not understood her as well.
So why did she feel attracted to him? Why did she think he was her friend? He was not, he could not be.
Shivers ran through her body, and she drew the fur tighter around her. A cold night… that soon would turn into a cold day. It was time to go back, her father would most certainly be very unpleased with what she had done. She did not have to tell him about this stranger, but she could not hide the loss of all her weapons. Standing up, she said flatly “I have to go now.”

And then she looked at him, as he turned to her, surprised that she was awake, and tried to imprint his face in her imagination. To keep it forever.