Tears of Azna

Chapter two. TeAta is pronounced tea-ah-ta (Te A ta)

2.

TeAta woke suddenly as if someone had called her name. She fumbled about in the semi darkness looking for a weapon and then realised she had been dreaming. She lay down and shut her eyes again. By the Mother she was tired. She remembered her side aching, her cheek throbbing and her legs cramping; but little else. Her body was stiff and sore, but strangely comfortable. She turned over in bed and snuggled into the warmth.

            Her eyes flew open as awareness flooded through. She was in a room, lying on a bed. Not in a tent or lying on cold hard ground. A bed, an actual bed with blankets and everything.  She sat up and ran her hands over the soft blanket looking about. It was a small room, with a table near the bed and a small shuttered window above her in the wall. On the table a stumpy candle flicked merrily away and there was a jug and cup too.

Immediately her mouth became dry, and her head pounded. Te recognised the after effects of Dukka. They must have given her a lot this time. She reached out and found water in the jug which she poured into the cup. Sipping the cool water she saw that she was now dressed in a coarse white bed gown, which felt rough against her skin. She peeped down the front and noticed her wounds had been dressed and cleaned. Gingerly she examined them. TeAta prodded the swelling bruise on her left eye, a gift from Vik, when she didn’t move quick enough for him. The swelling seemed to have gone down. At least she could see out of her eye. Her ribs were tender, but didn’t have the sharp pain she remembered and discoloured bruises crisscrossed her body.

As TeAta sipped her drink, she wondered where she was. Images of dead bodies and fire skipped through her mind, along with strange words and flashes of steel. Had they been attacked? She shook her head, that didn’t feel right.  Or was she rescued? Te Ata frowned. An image of a young man, concern on his face floated past her eyes and then vanished. TeAta started to get nervous.

She was in a room, not a tent, which was unusual enough. No one would go to this trouble to save a slave, even if she had been taken to Falcon Heights. Or would they? Perhaps they were fixing her up so they could sell her to the brothels. Te reached up and scratched her neck, bothered by a persistent itch.

The cup in her hand clattered to the ground as she shot out of her bed, touching the bare skin on her neck. By some agency, the hated collar had gone. She reached all around her neck, feeling old scabs and lumps but no collar. She was unprepared for the emotions that ran through her-elation, excitement and regret.  TeAta wiped away the sudden tears that had formed and struggled to clear her head. She needed a plan.  It was cold out of bed and there was a chill in the air. Te found herself shivering.

First things first, she needed to find clothes, warm clothes and then to find out where she was exactly. If she was in Falcon Heights, then she had to escape before they came back for her. She moved towards the door, but before she reached it, the door opened.

“...a noise, I’m sure...” a woman’s voice trailed off as she entered the room. The woman tsk-tsked at TeAta, her blonde curly hair stuck out from all angles giving her the appearance of a halo around her head. She was shorter than Te and a lot rounder, but the authority in her walk was unmistakable. She took hold of TeAta’s arm.

Seeing the open doorway Te shrugged her off and made a dash for it, only to have her way blocked by a tall shadow.

TeAta found herself staring at the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. He was broad shouldered, with a lean quick body. His face was strong and his eyes were sea green. His black hair hung gracefully in a small ponytail. TeAta reckoned him to be only a couple of seasons older than her. The image of the concerned man flashed through her again and her heart started racing. She didn’t want to become his w***e. She dropped to the ground in obeisance, frantically thinking of a way out.

“Master, I am sorry, please, forgive me.” She bent her head to the ground, shielding her ribs and tensed, waiting for the blow.

“No, don’t do that,” the young man spoke, “Maya would you mind?” He waved his hands in TeAta’s direction.

She felt hands on her arms as Maya pulled her to her feet. The young man had no expression on his face as Maya clucked at TeAta.

“None of that girlie, racing around with only a slip on, you’ll catch your death.” She helped TeAta get back into bed and tucked the blanket up across her chest. TeAta was puzzled. The words spoken by the young man was Sarat, but Maya spoke to her in Descarian, a language she’d not heard in years. It took her a minute to figure out what she was saying.

“... after she’s eaten and had a bath, all right Riyan? Tell her she needs more rest, to heal the exhaustion. Also, find out what her name is.”

Riyan faced TeAta. The girl looked at him warily. The healers had cleaned her up a bit and Riyan was startled to discover she was older than he first thought. He paused for a second to think of the correct wording for his questions in Sarat. Arkle, First Mage Protector, had asked him to get information out of her, anything about Sarat. He flashed a smile and then waited for her to warm to him.

TeAta sat there no emotion on her face. To reveal anything could mean the difference between life and death. “My name is Riyan. I am a Mage Protector. This is Maya, a healer of high regard.” His Sarat was all right, TeAta thought. “You are in the healer’s hall, in Paradise. And you are?”

TeAta sat there for a moment, not really sure if she’d heard him right.

“Paradise?” she said, “Not Falcon Heights.”

“No, Paradise.” A pause, “Did you want be in Falcon Heights?”

 “No!” The word exploded from her making Maya jump. “No. Forgive me master, I meant no offense.” She scuttled forward on the bed and bowed low the blankets falling off her. She heard a strangled noise coming from Maya and felt hands guide Te to the bed and covered her up once more.

“Riyan, tell her to stop doing that. She’s not a slave anymore. Besides, she’s not doing her wounds any favours.”Maya turned and bustled out of the room. “Five minutes, all right?”

 “Yes, well...” he cleared his throat and looked at TeAta. “Listen. You don’t need to do the bowing. We don’t expect that sort of thing.”

“Yes, master.”

“My name is Protector Riyan or Protector if you wish.”

“I’m sorry mas...Protector, it’s just...”

 “Overwhelming? Yes, I can imagine. However, we do need to know a few things like your name?” he grinned again, flashing her one of his best smiles, the one he reserved for the old mothers he wished to charm into doing his laundry or giving him an extra slice of meat.

She wasn’t listening. Hoped flared in her along with a burning desire for revenge. If she was not in Falcon Heights, like Riyan said but in Descara, then she had a chance. Carefully she schooled her thoughts and presented her slaves face.

“Master, the others, Rory and Jona, where are they?”

“The boy that was with you has succumbed to Rock Fever. Sorry.”

TeAta looked away. Jona was only eight and had lived a life of terror since the moment he was placed in the pens. A slow burn began in TeAta at how the Sarat Clans dare treat people this way. They were forever talking about the yoke of oppression from Descara and yet they practiced slavery. Her hands clenched in the blankets as Riyan continued.

“The man has recovered from his wounds nicely and they are finding a place for him in the kitchens. You were a mess and have taken longer to awaken than the man. The bruises and broken bones didn’t help.”

TeAta hunched over in the bed and kept still. She wasn’t interested in reliving those moments. Commander Vik was very thorough in his training.

“Your name?” Riyan’s voice was soft and full of warmth. Tears pricked at TeAta’s eyes. The language of her childhood, the kindness of strangers and a man that sounded much like her father was almost too much to bear. She needed to focus; there was no time for pity.

“Why am I here?” She looked up at Riyan and swallowed. “Am I a gift? For you? Because I’ll not go willingly, no matter who you are.”

Riyan frowned at her and shook his head. The idea was repugnant although the woman was not. He could see how she might be thinking that. Riyan sighed. She had so far carefully evaded any question given to her, and managed to get answers to her own. A nagging suspicion that Prendle may well be right surfaced briefly.

“You are here because you needed help, not for any other...need. We found you and the others on the road. Why were you with those Clansmen who attacked the caravan?” Riyan asked.

“The Clan I was with was attacked by another Clan, and I was taken as spoils. The leader, Vik, made us go with him. I have no idea why they were there. They drug us, Protector,” the word was spat back at Riyan, “so that we can’t fight or so that we are pliable to their will. They put the chain on us so we can’t escape, so it is easier to punish us, easier to force us to...” She took a breath, to calm herself and to stop the sudden rush of blinding anger that threatened to consume her. “What about the Clansmen?” TeAta changed tact. Maybe they’d killed Vik. “Where are they?”

“They were all dead when we found you, except for two that escaped.” Riyan watched the girl as she went from elated to despair, and then shut down completely.

“Commander Vik and his protégé Ramer.” Her voice was flat. Riyan’s eyebrows shot up. Even he’d heard of Commander Vik.

“What was he doing here, so far from the Sarat Plains?” Riyan asked.

She shrugged. “Who knows? I am just a slave.” She cocked her head at Riyan and fixed him to the spot with an intense stare.  A sudden though occurred to her and abruptly she scrambled out of bed so she stood face to face with Riyan. Te noted that he was only a little taller than her, which made a change from the short stocky Clansmen. She pointed at the door.

“She said I’m not a slave here. Is that right?”

Riyan nodded puzzled at her sudden fierceness. “You are free to do what you want, within reason; although I feel it best that you remained here for a while- wait. You understood Maya? How?”

Riyan became alert; his hand went to his sword. Prendle’s warning sounded in his mind. Damn, he was foolish to think a girl would not be a part of treachery. “Well?” he stood straighter and glared at her. He refused to be used as bait. In a fluid motion his sword was free and pointed at her neck. He saw her flinch and go deathly pale, but she didn’t move. His other hand raised up, ready to Beckon his Sense. He could not afford to be too kind.

TeAta heard the accusation in his voice and closed her eyes. He wasn’t the one who had hurt her or killed her father. If she was to get what she wanted, then she had to win him over. Swallowing she opened her eyes and looked up at Riyan, her slave’s wariness and survival skill kicked in.

“Protector Riyan,” she said clearly in Descarian, “I’m sorry to have deceived you, that weren’t my intention.” She paused for a second gathering her thoughts. She had not spoken Descarian for a long time and the words felt strange on her tongue. She raised her head. “I was only ten seasons when the Clans attacked our caravan and killed my father. I was never Sarat.” His eyes narrowed and his sword stayed where it was. “My name is TeAta and...” she trailed off and looked down. She didn’t know what else to say.

“Who was your father?”

“A merchant from Palt, Matai Raku. I am TeAta na Raku.”

Riyan called his Sense to him. Startled TeAta looked up and saw Riyan glowing softly. “If what you say is true, then you won’t mind if my Sense verifies it.”

TeAta frowned, puzzled. “Sure, I guess...” Riyan lowered his sword to touch her shoulder and TeAta felt a stirring, thrumming hum that seemed to answer his glow. Her heart started to beat just a little faster and she shut her eyes, lips parted as if ready for an embrace. The sensation was wonderful and she wanted more. All at once the feeling faded, leaving her hot and flushed.  A swishing noise of a blade being sheath made Te open her eyes. Riyan’s face had softened a little, though there was wariness about him.

“Satisfied?”Te resisted the urge to smirk as she sat down on the bed. Riyan nodded. “Protector, what do I do now? Am I really free to do what I want?”

 “That depends,” Riyan replied, sorry that he’d mentioned it before. If she was a spy or an unwitting pawn, then she wouldn’t have the freedom he’d so blithely promised her. “You should stay here until your wounds are healed and then, well who knows?” He sat down on the bed beside her.

 “I want to learn how to fight. To hold a sword. Can I do that?”

“Why do you want that?”

TeAta started into his green eyes and leaned in, her hand on his shoulder, gripping it tight. “Did you find us? Out there on the road?” she whispered. “Was it you who showed us some human quality, pity? Compassion? Treated us as people not chattels to dispose of how you will?”  Her voice was devoid of emotion. She moved closer still, so that her lips were only centimetres away from his ear “Do you know much about the culture of the Horse Lord Clans?”

Riyan nodded, his heart beating a little faster. “Some. We learn about it as part of our training.”

“Yes. Well I learnt about it firsthand.” Her hand trailed lazily down the front of his chest towards his groin and she nuzzled his ear. “Riyan, do you know what a commons tent is?” He nodded slowly, bringing her hand back up again, turning his head so he looked straight at her. TeAta’s lips brushed lightly against his before she rested her head on his shoulder. “That is why I wish to learn to hold a sword.” She said softly. “Where do you go to learn that?”

Her vulnerability pierced Riyan’s heart and he struggled to compose his thoughts, surprised at the sudden urge in his loins and an intense desire to protect her. He gently pushed her away from him and looked at her a moment. He saw the steel in her face. Riyan could feel a power within her, and felt his Sense respond to her. Perturbed he stood and moved away from the bed. He didn’t think she was a spy but she needed watching. “You could learn it here.”

There was a knock at the door and Maya entered and paused on the threshold, puzzled at the charged atmosphere. “Protector Riyan, she needs to rest now.” Maya waved at a servant who entered with a tray.

TeAta ignored them both, intent on Riyan. “And magic? What about that? The Protectors magic you used. Is it a type of magic? Can I learn it?”

Maya gasped a little at TeAta speaking Descarian and looked at Riyan who held up his hand and spoke directly to Te.

 “Yes, it is a type of magic but you need to go through an exhaustive series of trials and it helps to have some ability in the first place. What do you need magic for? Do you want to be a Protector?”

TeAta shrugged. “I can’t possibly defeat him without it. His God is too strong.”

“Who’s god? Vik’s?” Riyan looked sternly down at her. “The Council will have no doings with you if revenge is your reason. This is not some child’s play thing you can just use and discard. It is powerful, dangerous and must be treated with respect.”

There was a moment’s silence as TeAta glared at Riyan who glared back. Finally she nodded. “I know. I just wish to be able to protect myself, Riyan, that’s all.” She lay back down, suddenly tired. Riyan stood there for a moment looking at her, suspicion etched on his face.  Maya tugged on Riyan’s sleeve indicating he should withdraw. The tray of food was placed on the small table and the smell made TeAta’s stomach gurgle. Riyan knew more questions would have to wait.

“Perhaps later when you are refreshed and Maya says you may leave, we can continue this conversation.”

TeAta nodded more intent on the food tray than Riyan. He bowed to Maya and departed along with the servant. TeAta snatched the bread and stuffed it into her mouth.

“Hey, hey. Be careful. If you haven’t eaten in a while, you’ll make yourself sick,” Maya grabbed at TeAta’s arm, slowing her down.

“Maya,” TeAta mumbled through her food, “After I’ve finished eating, is it possible for me to have a bath? Or at least clean up, you know, wash my hair?”

Maya nodded. “Why didn’t you tell Protector Riyan you could speak Descarian?”

“Well, he started it. No one asked me if I spoke Descarian and he was doing such a marvellous job with his Sarat, I didn’t want to stop him.”

She grinned at Maya who broke into laughter.

Author's Note

Too much talking? Not enough action? Your thoughts please.