Magic of Talisman and Blood (Curse of the Ctyri Book 2) Page 11

  Vodnik’s face was covered with a sheen of sweat, and his mouth gaped open as he panted for air. She jabbed him in the nose, the satisfying crunch making her lips curl into a gruesome smile. Lunging for her, he stumbled, and before he could regain his footing, Adaline stepped close, hooked his leg with hers, and sent him crashing to the ground. Dirt billowed out as he struggled back to his feet, his nose gushing crimson. Sir Vodnik dove forward, arms extended.

  Adaline sidestepped, but he swung out, his right hand grabbing a fistful of her tunic and pulling her down. Adaline landed on her back, and she rolled away from the knight. He grabbed her ankle and Adaline kicked her leg, catching his inner forearm so his hand flung back to hit him in the face.

  Vodnik screamed, and Adaline saw the green mist from the ring suck into his skin.

  She blinked, and the mist was gone. She sat on her butt, her hands on the ground, just ready to push herself up to standing as soon as Vodnik flinched.

  Only he didn’t.

  The tumultuous roar in her ears waned after several seconds, and the voices around her rushed in to fill the vacuum.

  “He’s knocked out cold,” a man called from behind.

  Adaline didn’t take her eyes off Vodnik. She knew too well that playing opossum was an effective tactic to lull the enemy closer. Adaline wasn’t willing to do anything until a victor had been declared.

  She stood, wiping her chin with her sleeve, and waited.

  The two Malas she’d seen at the general’s tent crossed to Vodnik, pulling him up by his armpits. One of them stumbled and released the limp knight, swearing in Mal-mal, “Mirin. He’s not knocked out; he’s dead.”

  “Stop!” The Mala woman bellowed in thick Cervenish.

  Adaline turned to face her audience for the first time. Several dozen men, at least half of which were armored knights, stood around the open officer’s tent. Towering over them all was a massive woman. She made the two warriors flanking her appear short. Like them, her white-blond hair was braided back in an elaborate plait which hung past her breasts. She wore armor over thick furs, though she neither looked hot nor uncomfortable. Her eyes were a rich, deep blue, much darker than her accompanying men’s eyes, and her wrinkled skin could’ve seen thirty five summers or possibly a hundred. She radiated sharp intelligence, the type of shrewd intellect that would make this terrifying woman a formidable enemy or alliance.

  Adaline blinked, trying to adjust the stated reality with what she’d just experienced. Dead? How could he be dead? What was in that ring?

  “Take him to our tent,” the Mala woman said to her men in Mal-mal. Then turning to Adaline, the woman said, “Are you ready for my decision?”

  Breathing hard, Adaline nodded. Her mind replayed over and over the words of the warrior. Dead. That man, Vodnik, is dead. The grunting sound of the Malas dragging Vodnik off made Adaline miss the first part of the general’s address, but then a familiar voice bellowed her name.

  “Adaline,” Evzan yelled, pushing his way through the crowd. It was as if he’d materialized from nowhere, suddenly among them.

  A hush fell, and Adaline’s lips thinned as she glanced toward her guard. With his sword drawn and a murderous scowl on his face, he looked ready to kill everyone in the clearing. Lovely. He was supposed to be with the generals all afternoon, so she’d hoped he wouldn’t get notice of the fight until after everything was over and done.

  Adaline opened her mouth to tell him to stop, but another voice halted her utterance.

  “Before this fight began,” the large Mala woman said. “It was put to me to judge. You will all step aside.” She glared at the crowd and then turned her attention to Adaline. “I judged this bout at your request; will you submit to my judgement?”

  The words had a ring of ceremony to them as if she’d spoken them many times.

  “I will,” Adaline said, returning her attention to the general and inclining her head.

  “She will not!” Evzan declared.

  “She’s fine,” Sir Tredak said, stepping in front of Evzan, effectively blocking his path. Both men had their swords drawn, but Evzan’s attention was on Adaline, and Tredak’s was on Evzan. In a lower voice, the Temavian knight said, “Don’t interfere.”

  Evzan swore at Tredak, and Adaline snapped, “Evzan, stop it!”

  But Evzan shoved Tredak to the ground and entered the clearing, stalking to Adaline and swinging his weapon.

  “He’s the boy’s master,” an older knight said from the edge of the crowd although his voice was filled with doubt, and he’d ended the statement like a question.

  “Evzan, step aside,” Adaline said as he moved before her, blocking her view of the imposing woman.

  “No,” he said, shifting into a fighter’s stance. “You will not fight—”

  “The fight is over,” she said, pointing to the still form of Vodnik lying outside the Malas’ tent. “Now, if you have any respect for my authority and judgment, you will step aside.”

  He stilled, and after a long, tense moment, he sheathed his sword. He took the slightest step to Adaline’s left, still holding a fight-ready stance, and cleared the path from Adaline to the Mala general.

  Probably as much as Evzan would give.

  The tall woman watched the spectacle with a cool expression on her scarred, hard features. “What say you?”

  “The same as I said before, Elder of Warriors. I petitioned for your judgment, and I will honor it.” Adaline bowed slightly with the words, in a way that her father had done to other rulers.

  In the time it took to settle Evzan’s temper, the crowd had multiplied. Hundreds of men were crammed into the clearing by the Malas’ camp. The Mala general waved her men forward, and they dragged Vodnik’s corpse back into the clearing, dropping him at the general’s feet, face down.

  The murmurings of the crowd hushed, and Evzan muttered, “You and I will be having a talk, Highness.”

  The Mala woman hooked her toe underneath Vodnik’s body and rolled it over. Vodnik’s glassy eyes gaped open, staring at the sky. Green tears dripped from the corners of his eyes, and crimson blood coated the tip of his chin. His hand flopped to his chest where his ring was also coated with blood.

  “He’s dead,” a young man cried out.

  And another man yelled, “Poisoned . . . that boy poisoned Vodnik!”

  “The boy didn’t touch him, you idiot,” Sir Tredak said, his booming voice silencing the crowd.

  The imposing woman waited until she held the men’s attention again. She glared down at the prostate form of Vodnik and said, “My men came to me minutes ago, informing me of a young boy who was being stalked by a larger opponent. The larger opponent, a knight, hid from them like a coward, waiting for the child to be alone. The pup requested judgment from the Malas to ensure a fair fight . . . even with such a mismatching.” She looked up at Adaline. “My men agreed to petition for the honor because the boy asked only for a fair fight when he could’ve demanded they punish such a cowardly man. I have watched the fight, and these men have witnessed, too, and agree to the judgement.”

  The woman crossed her arms over her armored chest. “The large man attacked the pup with savage intensity, but the boy dodged and countered with respect. He”—she pointed at Adaline—“fought a fair fight, even when he kicked the knight’s hand away. The knight struck his own face with this.” She bent over and grabbed Sir Vodnik’s lifeless wrist, pointing at the ring. “And the cowardly spike weapon he wore, an axu zbran, has killed him.” She dropped the man’s hand to flop back on his belly, turning to face Adaline. “That’s how it appeared, but that’s not the whole truth of this thing.”

  At Adaline’s side, Evzan grabbed the handle of his sword, but before he’d unsheathed his weapon, the woman held her hand out to him.

  “Peace, Kozelnik,” she said in a low voice that did not carry past the three of them. “I’ll not harm her.”

  Adaline looked at her guard, unfamiliar with the Mal-mal word the woman had spoken. But
clearly, Evzan understood and trusted the rest of the message as he released his grip on the pommel.

  “What happened here?” the general said in a loud voice that carried through the crowd, “was our sovereign came to camp in disguise. A man twice her size came to kill her because of his wounded pride. She outsmarted him, out-fought him, and honored my people with judgement as she did it. If full judgment were under my authority, this coward’s body would lie here to rot until scavengers tore it apart—and even that would be too good for him.” She turned to Adaline. “But, Highness, this is your country and your rule.”

  The woman bowed low. Her men quickly followed, and as realization dawned on the crowd, all of the knights followed suit.

  Adaline said nothing, not exactly sure how she should address the bowing crowd. She’d expected to lose the fight but gain some modicum of respect, enough to request an audience with the northern general. But her secret was out now.

  “I am not your sovereign yet,” Adaline said, feeling the need to clarify.

  “You became mine today,” the woman said in Mal-mal. “A young girl snuck into camp, her face resembling her beautiful mother and her skills much like those of her father. Now a queen stands before me.”

  Confidence surged within Adaline’s breast. Her hope to rectify the egregious acts of the soldiers solidified into real probability. “If that’s so . . .” Adaline began cautiously, “then I wish to discuss a pressing matter with you, General.”

  The woman smiled at Adaline, a fierce expression of anticipation. “My name is Gunhild. Come, let’s go to the generals’ tent.”

  Adaline followed with Evzan at her side.

  As they walked away from Vodnik, men rushed into the clearing, the murmur of their voices expressing awe, disbelief, and confusion.

  15

  The general’s tent was even more lavish within than the unique exterior indicated. Long Temavian rugs covered the dirt. Wooden tables overflowed with maps, tomes, and golden mathematical instruments.

  Gunhild stood at least ten feet away, but Adaline still felt that the imposing woman towered over her. Deep lines fissured into the warrior chief's brow as she narrowed her eyelids.

  “They have broken faith with your kingdom. Beloch has paid the ultimate dishonor to your family. I knew your father. We grieve his loss,” Gunhild said, clasping her hand over her heart. “We will not spare Tsar Baine’s people, just as he did not spare Cervene’s.”

  Adaline refused to believe she’d just wasted her breath. She might not be very good with words, especially not in Mal-mal, but couldn’t anyone see reason?

  The princess had explained to the northern elder, Gunhild, why her people needed to spare the Belochian commoners who agreed to peace with Cervene. The dower woman still stood stone faced across from Adaline. She gritted her teeth in frustration, knowing she was losing the ground she’d made in the battle ring.

  “Gunhild,” Adaline said, attempting to keep the exasperation out of her voice, “if a man killed your parent, would you burn his entire village to the ground?”

  “Yes,” the woman immediately replied.

  “Even the children?” Adaline pressed.

  “Honor would demand it. The Celestials would determine their guilt and give them rest.”

  Suppressing a groan, Adaline bit her chapped bottom lip. Gunhild was only repeating what the ancient texts of the Celestial Sisters taught. “Right. But . . .”

  Adaline’s gaze wandered over the darkening tent and landed on the man standing sentinel to one side of the entrance. Evzan met her gaze with a dark look, and the princess knew she would pay for the danger she put herself in with Sir Vodnik.

  “You should dismiss him,” Gunhild said in Mal-mal.

  Adaline blinked and turned her attention back to the giant of a woman. “Dismiss . . . pardon?”

  Gunhild nodded toward Evzan. “No good will come of having a guard who looks at you like that. Boundaries will blur, and someone will be hurt, if it hasn’t already happened.”

  Heat licked up Adaline’s cheeks, and she hoped the low light would cover her embarrassment. Ignoring the woman’s comments, Adaline said, “Gunhild, our customs of war are different, I know. But I heard a woman raped outside my tent. My guard had to restrain me from going to the woman’s aid. I don’t care what country a woman is from, taking her body against her will is wrong. I didn’t hear the cries of my enemy’s defeat that night; I heard the cries of my sister and mother.” Adaline swallowed the emotion rising in her throat and pushed on. “No one should suffer that fate, General. If I could have, I would’ve taken that woman’s place and killed the soldier from my own army. I will not become the man I seek to defeat, nor will I allow my army to enact the same depravity.”

  “You want to know what’s wrong?” Gunhild replied. “There is no clarity of command. You have too many leaders, and the only reason your army is winning is because it is so large. But no one is in charge, so your men cross boundaries and take what they should not.” Gunhild’s guarded expression melted into fury. She clenched her hands and widened her stance. “There is a big difference between defeating your enemy and defiling them. Malas kill the enemy so they cannot sneak back like a snake to bite our heel. But this . . . Malas don’t permit rape. If such a thing occurs, we punish the offender to ensure it cannot ever happen again.” She took a deep breath and continued. “I have long imagined crushing the tsar and all of Beloch with my hands, but for you, warrior-queen, I will refrain. Instead, I will cut off his head and have my sons clean the skull. We will make two goblets in the old way, of bone, and toast while Rizy burns.”

  Bile rose in Adaline’s throat as the image of the Belochian boy’s head rolling across the dungeon floor played in her mind. Adaline swallowed and nodded to the woman. With a trembling voice, Adaline said, “I would be honored to toast in the old way with you when Rizy falls.” As she continued, her voice strengthened, “And I would very much like to implement the Malas’ solution for soldiers who defile women.”

  Gunhild crossed her arms over her chest. “In our villages, if a man or woman forces themselves on another, we make it impossible for a second offence. For the women, we cut her here,” she said, slashing her hand over her throat. “And if a man does it, we cut him here and exile him.” Gunhild did the same slashing gesture, but this time over her crotch. “To the women, we are merciful, but a man will bleed a long time before he dies. If my warriors are defiling the enemy, it is without my knowledge. I’ll have my most trusted find out, and we’ll make sure it does not happen amongst the Malas. But I have no power over what the other soldiers do.”

  Adaline nodded and, with a grim smile, said, “Let’s fix that.” She turned to Evzan and said, “Will you please have the generals join us?”

  Evzan ducked out of the tent and then returned a moment later. “They’ll be right in.”

  Several of the generals must’ve been outside the tent, for they shuffled in almost immediately. Within a few minutes, all of the leaders of the army were in the Mala general’s tent. Adaline glanced through the crowd until she found the man Evzan had called for when they arrived in camp. In Cervenean common, she said, “General Averitt, under my father’s law, what is the punishment for defiling a woman?”

  “If proven, one year imprisonment and a fine to the victim’s father,” the older knight recited.

  Adaline leaned toward Gunhild and whispered in Mal-mal, “I like your punishment better.” The princess raised her voice again, addressing the older generals in their native tongue, “Do you have a facility to imprison soldiers for the remainder of the war?”

  His armor clinked as he shook his head. “We do not, Your Highness. These acts occasionally happen among the less savory. I apologize as a woman of your delicate disposition should never have been exposed to the true nature of war. It is an unpleasant business but part and parcel of invading a foreign country.”

  Fiery anger surged through Adaline, but she gritted her teeth and bided her time. Aft
er he finished speaking, she said, “Thank you for being concerned about my constitution, General. I’m a little confused, so perhaps you could help me understand a couple of things.”

  He took another step forward, a fatherly smile blossoming across his wrinkled face. “Of course, Your Highness. I’d be happy to be of service.”

  “Who is the highest ranking person here, sir?” she asked, pointing at the ground.

  “You are.” He nodded, and several of the generals mumbled their agreement.

  “Lovely. So, if I gave you an order, do you have an obligation to obey it?” She gestured, waving her hand between them.

  He cleared his throat and shifted from foot to foot. “That could be complicated. My orders have come from the queen regent, so if your orders contradict hers, I couldn’t follow yours until your coronation.”

  Adaline tilted her head, considering the kind-faced older man. “Did the queen regent give you orders on how to deal with rapists?”

  He didn’t immediately answer, and as he pursed his lips, wrinkles fissured up his face. Finally, he said, “She left it up to my discretion.”

  “So, General, just for the sake of education, if I gave you an order regarding punishment for soldiers who commit the same crimes that led to this war, namely rape and murder, would you follow it?” she asked.

  “It’s not murder to kill the enemy, Princess.”

  Adaline held up her hand. “I’m well aware of that. But General Gunhild and I have discussed killing only those in open opposition, not those who surrender. If peace treaties can be negotiated with these fiefdoms, they will become our allies instead of Beloch’s.”

  “That’s putting a lot of trust in the enemy’s negotiations.”

  Adaline shook her head. “Beloch’s government is not like Cervene’s. Each fiefdom has a lord; the people have sworn allegiance to the ruler of their fiefdom. The lords pledge to the tsar but only inasmuch as he protects them, which clearly, he is not doing. I’m suggesting we ask the rulers of each fiefdom to pledge allegiance to us.”