Tim Leach - A Winter War

Kai made no answer at first. Then: ‘Where did they find so many stones upon the steppe?’

A hiss from Bahadur. ‘Quiet, idiot. Must you spoil the story?’ A pause, and then he continued. ‘I think that, were I to count them for my own life, I would have more white stones than black,’ he said. ‘But some of those black stones, they weigh very heavy.’

‘It would be the same for me,’ said Kai. ‘And that day upon the ice when I thought I saw you dead, that would be the worst of them all.’

Bahadur nodded. ‘Arite is a beautiful woman, is she not?’

‘She is.’ Kai hesitated. ‘You must know, I thought—’

‘I know, I know.’ A hand taking his, holding it in the darkness. ‘No harm in lying with a dead man’s wife. I was dead, then.’ Bahadur chuckled. ‘Just do not lie with a living man’s wife. At least, not mine. Though I am still not quite living now.’

‘You do live, Bahadur. And I am glad of it.’

‘I am a little mad now, Kai. I can feel it there always. As though there is some fragment of a blade in my heart. Every so often, it cuts something, and I lose myself again. I will try not to.’ A heavy breath that Kai felt as much as heard. ‘She sought to drive us apart. Your sister, I mean, when she spoke to me. We must not let that happen.’

‘It shall not.’

Bahadur looked towards the rest of the company – Saratos teasing a thorn from his horse’s hoof, Laimei kneeling in prayer to a god of love or war, the others snatching what fragment of sleep they could before the order came to move once more. Kai wondered if the other man was trying to remember his courage by looking on them, to find that bravery they shared as freely as wine and song. But when he spoke again, Kai understood why Bahadur’s eyes seemed to linger on the markings on their armour and their banners, the silhouettes of the horses against the low sun.

‘Will you tell me what happened at the ford?’ he said. ‘The truth of it, I mean.’

‘If you are asking, then I think you know already.’

‘I suppose that I do. They were our people that you fought?’

‘Yes. I could not tell which of the clans they came from. But they are Sarmatians that hunt us now.’

Bahadur looked back to Kai then, and there was something of his old self in his eyes. ‘What are you going to do?’ he said.

Kai started at that – for all that he had thought that Bahadur might say, he had not expected those words. Perhaps it had been that he had forgotten that he still had a choice. Perhaps it was that he had wanted to forget. ‘It is her command to continue,’ he said.

‘But what will you do?’

Another man would have given an order, but that was not Bahadur’s way. Always the choice, always the trust that the right choice would be made, and Kai felt a bitter little smile force its way onto his face, for what else was there to do when one could hear the gods laughing?

To the west, he felt a longing stronger than love. It might be death waiting for them there, but a death like a sacred river, a place where all shame might be washed away. He had lived so long in shame that he had forgotten what it was to be free of it. He could almost taste that freedom in his mouth, feel its lightness upon his skin. And to be part of a company once more, to bear that mark of honour, to feel those riders at his back and trust them completely, to have that trust returned. He did not know if he could give that up again.

And to the east, the dark stain of desertion, like wine upon fine silk. For what forgiveness would there be from one who ran from the warband? Whatever shame he had worn, it was nothing compared to that. And if he were caught, the death given only to deserters, the slow death by knife and fire.

He searched the air for an omen – an eagle turning one way or another, a pattern of light upon the grass that might speak of something godly. But there was none that he might see.

‘I will go back,’ he said.

‘Tell me why,’ Bahadur asked, his voice gentle.

‘If I were to stay, I would stay for myself. My precious honour. Not for our people.’ He looked to his hands. ‘I do not know why they hunt us. I do not know what I may do against that, on my own. But I must try. Laimei—’

‘Shall never forgive you? It may be so. But she shall see me to the west first. Nothing matters more than that. Perhaps nothing shall matter after that. I shall try to make the peace with the Romans, and you must see to it that it is kept amongst our people.’

Word passed about the riders then – the command to mount and make ready. Those who dozed about the fire were being kicked awake, the horses stirring and pulling at their tied reins. Bahadur and Kai rose like drunken men, heavy legged and leaning on one another, and made their way to their mounts. And when Kai laid a hand against its neck the horse stirred, fixed one wise eye upon him and turned its head back towards the east. For they always seemed to know before a new journey, to know the mind and heart of their rider.

Bahadur tilted his head to the side – a gesture Kai had seen too many times before, when his friend was trying to piece together a story, or unpick a riddle. ‘There are men and women on the plains,’ he said, ‘who share their lovers as if they are passing wine about the fire. I wish I were one of those men. And if I were, I would want to share my wife with you. But I am not. I cannot.’

Once more, they embraced like brothers. As they parted, Kai felt the sensation of eyes upon his skin, yet when he looked about the company all were busy mounting and arming.

A thought born of darkness and fear, and no more.

A palm laid against the shoulder, light as a lover’s touch. A whisper in the ear, close enough to feel the warmth of the breath. And Kai awoke, his half-dream twisting into the world so that for a moment he thought it was Arite beside him, and he whispered her name.

Laughter in the darkness – the low chuckle of Saratos. ‘Afraid not, lad,’ the old warrior said. ‘It is your watch. You can dream of another man’s wife at a different time.’

Fully awake now, Kai took the man’s proffered hand and stumbled to his feet. They were in the deepest part of the night now, the narrowing moon half hidden by the clouds, and once more, he went to take his place as a sentry.

But something was different this time – the rich scent of pine trees filled the air as they stirred and danced with the wind above him, for they had stopped beside a copse of trees, made a brief camp up against them. And so rather than four other sentries, there was only one that he could see, a young lad half asleep in his saddle, his head lolling and swaying. And without even thinking, Kai gave his horse a gentle touch of the heels, set it forward three paces, waited.

No call came from behind, and so the horse continued, hesitating as it crossed some unseen boundary twenty paces from the camp. Kai felt it too – almost a physical pain, to part himself from the warband, from the thing they were becoming. The weak and foolish found comfort there, and those who were brave found that bravery shared and strengthened amongst the rest until it was a godly power. How hard it was to become but a man once again, when one had tasted such strength. To be just a man and a horse, alone in the night.

A parting of the clouds would undo him, a rotten branch underfoot would be traitor enough, and he waited for the snorted challenge of the horse, the call of the sentry, the questions asked to which there would be no answer. But it did not come.

It seemed that the gods favoured him, as he guided his horse around the copse, and found open ground before him. He had almost made it away when he felt that sensation once more, that feeling of eyes upon his skin.