Kai shaded his eyes, looked towards the sun. And he said: ‘You shall not have another chance, it seems.’ And he heard Gaevani curse, when the man saw what Kai did.
For there were riders to the west. The sun low at their backs, stretching their shadows long, making giants of them. Even at such a distance, he knew them. The slight figure of Tamura, hugging her spear close against her body as if for comfort. Saratos slouched low in his saddle, almost seeming a part of the horse he rode. The little gestures of the others that he knew from the long road they had travelled together, when they had kept company as intimate as lovers. And at their head, a rider on a one-eyed horse, red tassels dripping from the spear. Close-cropped hair, and a face that could have been a mirror of his own.
His sister, and her warriors. Come to claim their blood price at last.
30
They were a ragged band, the riders on the horizon, with the bandit look of those who have lived off the land for too long. Wolves at the end of winter, hard-eyed and hollow-ribbed. But the war gear was clean and well-tended, fresh scalps hanging from the saddles. And when Kai looked amongst the others once more, he saw that they too bore a single tassel of red felt on their spears. A mark from their new captain, a sign of their allegiance.
A mist spread across Kai’s eyes, before he blinked to clear it and turned his face towards the sky – the gods had chosen a good day, at least. No stormtossed rain or lightning dancing on the plain, but the achingly clear light of a low sun. The gods wanted a fine view of what was to come, and perhaps they wanted him to feel, at the last, how sweet and beautiful it was, the world that he was leaving.
Lucius must have returned. For from his side, he heard the Roman say: ‘How did they know where to find us?’
‘They must have been following us for some time. Saratos is a good tracker, and Tamura was always soft-footed in the dark.’
‘Kai, you must tell me. What does this mean?’
‘Oh, Lucius. You have learned much of my people, but this is something you cannot understand.’ Kai’s horse and spear were close by – he took up the weapon, and carefully picked the truce leaves away.
‘We must get our message back across the water,’ said Lucius.
‘You shall. They have not come for you.’
‘There is an army at our backs. We can—’
‘They will not fight for you here. They will follow you on the journey you have promised them, and fight and die in any war you give them. But this is my battle, not theirs, and they know it.’
At last, perhaps, there was an understanding – the orders died on Lucius’s lips before he could speak them. The Roman’s hand, trembling and weak, went to his sword once more.
‘Perhaps it is worth the price I shall pay,’ said Kai, ‘to see this bravery from you. We always know these things too late, don’t we?’
The Roman did not seem to hear him. ‘We shall send one of my men back. Ferox, the fastest rider we have. The rest of us can—’
‘No, Lucius. Stay here,’ said Kai. ‘And whatever happens, do not interfere. One last oath, can you give me that?’
The Roman said nothing, irresolute. For all that Kai had seen that man wounded to the point of death, kept as a prisoner and a slave, perhaps it was the first time he had seen him defeated.
‘I swear it,’ he said.
Kai set his horse forward, a steady, even walk. And he could feel the horse restless beneath him, longing to rush forward and greet its lost companions. For this was a feud it could not understand.
The feel of the sun on his neck and wrists, the spear smooth in the hollow of his hands. And the birdsong, the idle chatter and mating calls of a new season beginning. He tried to let his memories go, to think of nothing but the passage of one moment to the next, the fall of the horse’s hooves, the beating of his heart, each single breath that he cast to the wind. Yet the memories came to him unbidden, all the same.
At some unspoken signal, as he came closer, the warband parted into two lines. A space opening between them, a channel wide enough for a single rider to pass through. Wide enough for the swords to swing and cut.
He was close enough to truly see them now. He tried to make them meet his gaze – they owed him that much, at least. Tamura was staring at the ground, hard-faced and sullen, some light lost from her eyes. Kai could not recall ever having seen Saratos without a smile, but there was no sign of it now as the old man looked straight through him.
Kai pulled the last branch of truce from his spear, the leaves flaking away beneath his fingers, and cast it to the ground. For there was no need to make them break taboo. He could spare them that, at least.
He passed close between them – close enough to smell the sweat of their horses, the stink of leather, the sour scent of men and women too long in the saddle. One of their horses snorted, and his horse’s mane danced from the passage of the breath, so close were they. The rattle and clink of armour like a prisoner’s chains around him, and he listened for the whisper of a sword leaving a scabbard, the sound of a spear cutting air.
He was past the first riders, and the second, and the third, until he was in the middle of the column, surrounded on all sides.
No stroke of sword or spear. No knife opening the thigh, or finding its place beneath rib or shoulder. They simply turned from him, one after another. The companions he had led, and fought for, the broken people that he had made whole once more, turning their horses to put their backs to him until only Laimei, at the back of the line, remained to face him.
A craving then for knife and blade, to scream like a madman and beg for the killing, to raise his spear and force them to it. For one always fears to die, until there is a glimpse of the broken life that lies ahead.
He made himself sit tall in the saddle, to pause and fix his gaze on each of them in turn as he passed. For even if they meant to abandon him, he would not cast them aside. And had one of them turned back, they would have seen Kai looking upon them with pride, and love. But none did.
And so he came, at last, to Laimei.
‘You understand now?’ she said.
He did not answer at first. Then: ‘I understand.’
‘What our father felt, when you would not kill him. You understand it now?’
‘I do.’
‘Perhaps it is that you do, at last.’
‘You brought Bahadur across the water,’ said Kai. ‘No other could have done that.’
‘And you brought Lucius to this place.’ She looked away, towards the Sarmatians gathered upon the plain. ‘You have done what you must, for the peace?’
‘I have.’ He hesitated. ‘I did not know that it mattered to you. Whether our people lived or died.’
‘How little you know me. After all of this. I almost pity you.’ She fixed her eyes on him once more. ‘Yet you broke your pledge. Abandoned your warriors. Once again, you could not do what was demanded of you.’
‘No, I could not.’
She leaned forward over the saddle, and said: ‘So I give you the choice that you would not give our father.’
Kai said nothing. He listened to the wind.
‘A hero’s death I offer,’ she said. ‘A good death upon my spear. I could not before – not for love of you, but for our people. I can do it now.’
He traced a finger across the haft of the spear. No trace of the truce leaves remained. ‘You had to turn my people against me?’ he said.
‘That was not my work, but their choice. You abandoned them. What did you think that they would do?’