Jean Lorrah - Flight to Savage Empire

“But who attacked you?” asked Zanos. “And why?**

“The clan of the White Crow,” Trel said tightly. “Of all the bandit clans, they’re the most vicious and cowardly. They usually camp southwest of here, robbing people on the trade routes between the lands of the Black Wolf and the Red Dragon. But when the Aventines invaded the lands of the Black Wolf two days ago, the Crows took flight-raiding any settlement in their path. It was bad enough that they took the food we worked so hard to store, but to kill and destroy, just for sport-”

“Perhaps because of envy,” Astra said. “Success draws many jealous enemies. That’s a harsh lesson my husband and I recently learned.”

Zanos said, “We’ll find out what their motives were when we question the prisoner. Is he still unconscious?”

“No, but he’s not going anywhere,” the old man replied. “I bound him hand and foot before he woke up.

He’s been doing a lot of cursing. Why did you save his life? Do you know him?”

“Not exactly,” Zanos replied. “I recognized the sunburst tattoo on his arm. The last time I saw it was over twenty years ago-on the arm of every crew-member of the Sunrider , the slaver ship that took me to the Aventine Empire!”

Zanos cut the ropes that bound the prisoner, then backed away toward the tree stump where Astra was sitting. Except for these three, the village center was deserted. The raider stared at them warily as he rubbed circulation back into his limbs. But he couldn’t get up.

“We stopped the bleeding and closed your wound,” Zanos said as he sheathed his knife, “but I didn’t heal the nerve damage in your legs-so you can forget about running away. We’ll finish healing you after you’ve answered our questions. I am Zanos, and this is Astra, my wife. What’s your name?”

The man said nothing, staring defiantly.

Zanos let out an exasperated breath. “Astra?”

“His name is Sarno,” she said flatly, and terror leaped into the hill bandit’s eyes.

“Yes, she’s a Reader, ” Zanos said. “She could pull every thought, every secret out of your mind, but we’d rather you tell us freely. I don’t want to hurt you, even though I have plenty of reason. You are a former slaver, and I… am a former slave.”

Sarno’s reaction was a laugh full of bitterness and anger. “Aye,” he replied, “I was a slaver. For less than a year.”

“Aboard the Sunrider ?” Zanos prompted.

“Aye.” Sarno slapped at the tattoo on his arm. “I signed on an’ took ‘er mark, then found I was in a dyin’ business-a slaver on a route where slaves were becomin’ hard to get and even harder to sell. They need lots o’ slaves in an empire that’s growin’, not one that’s havin’ its borders pushed back ever’ few years. And there ain’t many kingdoms buys slaves anymore, not in this part o’ the world, anyhow.”

“And the Sunrider got its slaves from the northern islands, right?” the Maduran pressed.

“Wrong,” Sarno threw back. “Hadn’t fer years afore I signed on. Somethin’ happened in them islands…

tales the old crewmen whispered about when they got drunk. Bunch o’ nonsense, sounded like’t’ me.”

“What kind of tales?” Zanos demanded. “Tell me!”

“Only one that made any sense, ” the slaver said. “Another slaver ship, the Hawkwing , was the last one’t’

take slaves out o’ Madura. And the crew didn’t take em on in chains-they run aboard, glad’t’ get away, no matter how!”

“Refugees?” Astra questioned. “What were they fleeing?”

“Don’t know. Whatever it was, it killed every crewman who had any kind of Adept powers, cep the captain-an’ he went mad, they say. The survivors landed on the western shore somewheres, and fell in with the hill people. That was about four years ago. Some o’ me shipmates an’ me left the Sunrider last year, after business dried up an’ smugglin’ had too much competition-”

“Zanos-duck!”

Even as Astra tried to knock him aside, Zanos instinctively dropped and sheltered her with his body.

Two arrows whistled over them-one of them thunking sickeningly into human flesh. Sarno screamed once and slumped, the arrow through his heart. Scrambling behind the inadequate shelter of the treestump, Zanos looked toward where the arrows had originated.

“There!” Astra pointed. “Up in the trees!”

Yes! About fifty paces away. With a wave of his hand, Zanos set the trees aflame. The two archers yelled in fear as they leaped from their hiding place. Even before they hit the ground, the Adept was on his feet, concentrating his powers. The killers’ hearts stopped.

He concentrated again to extinguish the fires, just as Astra warned, “Behind you!”

Zanos spun and leaped aside as a ball of fire came hurtling at where he had been. The Adept who threw it was standing openly at the north edge of the village, pressing his attack with more fireballs. Zanos stood his ground and deflected them, then tried to stop the hill bandit’s heart. The other Adept clutched at his chest, but resisted-just as Zanos had done in his last arena battle. They were locked in a struggle of powers and wills when-

“Zanos!”

He heard Astra’s cry, heard other bandits attacking, felt Trel and Kimma rushing into the fray, swords swinging.

But he dared not move, couldn’t let his concentration slip or the other Adept would win out and kill them all.

He kept up the pressure, knowing they were evenly matched, knowing that only determination would decide the winner-until finally his opponent screamed and dropped to his knees.

But Zanos dared not collapse in relief-it could be a ruse to make him let down his guard.

And as, indeed, the bandit glanced in his direction to see where to direct another Adept blow, Zanos reached out once more with his full powers-and the man collapsed, dead.

Breathing heavily, he turned to look for Astra- and found a world of silence. The battle was over.

Several bandits lay dead. Trel and Kimma were unhurt, looking grimly satisfied, while Astra-

Astra stood by the tree stump, unmoving, staring at nothing. Her dress was covered with blood, as were her hands-and the blade of Zanos’ knife. He didn’t even know when she had taken it from him.

Slowly, her fingers loosened their grip and the knife fell. Zanos ran to her as she tried to sit down on the stump, stumbling over the corpse of the man she’d killed.

Zanos grabbed up his wife and held her gently in his arms. “It’s all right, Astra, ” he whispered. “It’s all right…”

But she was not all right. Her skin gray with shock, she suddenly clutched him with incredible strength, and screamed.

And screamed. And screamed.

” ‘First kill?” Trel echoed.

“It’s the term used in gladiatorial training,” Zanos explained. “Some react to the experience without remorse. Others work it out with their consciences, as I did. And still others”-from his sitting position, he glanced over his shoulder into the hut where his wife lay sleeping-“experience deep trauma, like Astra.”

“I see.” The old man nodded. “Most of us here go through the experience, sooner or later. Kill or be killed is the natural law of this land.”

“I know. Astra had to understand that. I just wish she hadn’t learned it this way. I had to put her into recovery sleep to stop her hysterics, but she’s the one who knows how to help injured minds, not me.”

“Perhaps the rest will be enough,” Kimma said gently. “That… and your love.”

“I hope so, because that’s all I’ve gat.” He sighed. “Mowart! If only I could’ve stayed at her side, to protect her!”