The Taleweaver
Renegade

Gringsniffed in the air.

"Somethingwrong?" Arthur asked.

Gring didn'tanswer, and it wasn't until he identified the lack of tingling aroundhis temples he remembered that she needed to cast her magic tounderstand him. He rubbed his temples to make her do so, but she justkept on looking ahead. Something had caught her attention. Behind himhe heard a horse coming up. Chaijrild. Her continuous presence wasbecoming unnerving, and he pretended interest in whatever Gring waswatching. She had to be watching something, or by the look of herface, smelling something.

"Whatis it?" he asked. Again there was no answer.

He squintedto see what she had already noticed, and not for the first time heregretted not having asked Harbend to lend him the binoculars.Without them Arthur only saw an endless blanket of white stretchingout on all sides of him with only the distant, bluish mountains totheir southwest breaking the monotony. In theory anything shouldstand out as dark blots against the snow, but irregularities made itdifficult to see anything as small as a human from far away.

There wasnothing more for him to do but wait until Gring agreed to tell himwhatever she had sensed. In the meanwhile he might as well lectureChaijrild about the dangers of riding alone. He retraced his stepsand faced her.

"Damnyou idiot!" He searched for the right words. "This place...too dangerous for... be alone."

"I knowhow to... a horse," she answered sullenly.

"Ifhorse falls it... be hours before you found, if ever."

"Hours?"

He stared ather. Ah, hell."Measurement, Terran standard unit time." He had to stopmixing De Vhatic and English. Well, he hoped the message had comethrough anyway.

Gring wasstill staring out into the whiteness, and no matter how hard he triedhe couldn't see what she saw. Then he felt the tingling telling himGring intended to speak.

"Problems.Big problems."

"Whatdo you see?"

"Riders.I smell them. Hundreds of riders coming."

Somethingcold crawled up Arthur's spine. "Dangerous?" he asked.

"Very.I can smell their tension. They will attack soon."

The caravanwould have no head warning. "Hell, we need to warn them!"Arthur shot out.

"No. Wehide. We can do nothing. The wagons are too far away."

Arthur knewher to be right, but he hated being helpless when something bad wasgoing to happen.

"Areyou sure there isn't anything we can do?" he asked indesperation.

"I amcertain. We can do nothing appropriate. I only know Captain Laidenwell enough to send him a warning, but he's from Keen so there ismuch dishonor in forcing the gift on him."

Arthurlooked at her in surprise. What did honor have to do with theircompanions being in danger? Beside him Chaijrild stood silentlywatching Gring. The girl had paled as Gring told what was about tohappen.

"They'rein danger. You must warn them!"

"No.Captain Laiden would never forgive me, and he's displayed more honorthan I'd expect from a halfman. He'd hate you and me both if I did."

Arthurgulped down an angry retort as he reluctantly accepted what Gring wassaying. He turned to Chaijrild. "I'm sorry, but you know Gringwould never lie to us."

"Iwould, but not about this. That would be dishonorable," Gringcountered his statement deadpan.

Arthurglared at her, and then he went to his horse, unstrapped a smallshovel and started digging in the snow. Chaijrild followed hisexample. He guessed she wanted to have something to do, and theyworked in silence. The snow was easy to dig into, and he was certainthey would soon have a hole big enough to cover them all. Then athought struck him.

"Gring,how do we hide the horses?"

"We donot. Continue digging. Chaijrild will help me with the horses."

Arthurdidn't answer, but did as told. From the corner of his eye he couldsee Chaijrild leave him to join Gring. He concentrated on the job athand, and within minutes he was warm enough to discard his armoredcoat. He looked around just in time to see Gring sending their horsesback to the caravan.

"I hopeyou know what you're doing," he murmured as the horses vanished.

"Theonly way," Gring answered. "I can't promise it'll beenough."

"Whatdo you mean?" Chaijrild demanded.

"Thehorsemen. They live here. They can still replace us even if we hide. Letus hope they don't. Now, dig!"

Arthur hadto laugh despite their situation. Practical as always. Chaijrild gavehim a dark look and he swallowed the last of his mirth and continuedto expand the small cave he'd created. If Gring was correct it wouldhave to be big enough for all three of them very soon.

"Quicknow! I smell riders close."

They doveinto the hole and Arthur covered it from the inside with the coathe'd put aside earlier. If the riders came at them from this sidethey were bound to notice either the dark leather or the tracesleading here, and he understood Gring's misgivings.

They weresilent. No one had to be told, and they waited. The entire worldbecame a cramped cave of half day, half darkness. They waited untilArthur was stiff and cold, and he dared giving Gring a questioningglance, but she made it clear with only a look that they couldn'tmove yet. So close to each other each breath was a scream, everymovement a thundering avalanche giving away their position to anyonestalking them on the outside. No real darkness and yet blindness. Abrittle cave of snow turned prison and fear clawed itself into hisnostrils and he was unable to discern if it was for real or just thesmell of damp clothes.

SuddenlyChaijrild started. "No more!" she yelled and threw asidethe coat before bolting.

"Damn!"Arthur swore and threw himself after her, but Gring held him back.

"It'ssafe," Chaijrild called from the outside, and he was no longercaught in the iron grip of the Khraga. He slowly crawled outside andhad to blink in the bright sunlight. Gring followed shortly after.

"Look,nothing." Chaijrild giggled.

"Youshould not look ahead of us, but behind us," Gring statedcalmly.

"Butthere's only the caravan behind us," Chaijrild protested.

"Notany longer. Look!"

Arthursquinted in the direction they'd come from. Yes, there were riders,but he couldn't see if they were the patrol to replace the vanguardor others.

"Areyou sure they're not ours?" he finally asked.

"I'mcertain. They ride on a line, all horses breaking snow. Our escortalways rides in a column. Stupid riders. They tire their horses. Evenyou know better."

As theriders neared Arthur's hope slowly evaporated. It was soon evidentthey were not part of their escort, and with a growing lump ofcoldness in his stomach he started to grab for his gun. The riderscame with bows drawn.

"Whatdo we do now?"

"Wefight, and then we die," Gring answered.

Arthur fellto his knees and spread out on the snow, right hand in his left palm,gun as steady as it could be, and prepared for the worst.

Bloodything still can't hit anything at a distance. Well, better thantrying to club them with my mace, I guess.

"Standyou coward!" Gring hissed.

Arthurdidn't answer at first. Death had seemed a welcome release for closeto a year, and he'd become so used to the idea that even now when hefound a new value in life the thought still failed to scare him.Instead he felt a peculiar calm mixed with gratitude that he'dawakened to enjoy living again.

"StandI said!" Gring repeated.

Ah,she thinks I'm hiding. "Where is the honor in dyingwithout leaving an impression. I intend to take as many of them withme as possible."

"How?Lying like a scared animal on the ground?"

"If Idon't try to teach you how to fight with your weapons I expect you toleave me to handle my own. Be certain that when this is over I'llhave slain more than you." Arthur hoped his boast would beenough for Gring to let him be.

She gruntedand drew her own bow. With something that could have been respect shewhispered as she went to her knees, "You are right. You haveshamed me."

Arthur shookhis head in disbelief. "Chaijrild, you are weaponless. Takecover!" The explanation was mostly for Gring's benefit. No needto have her angry over a perceived cowardliness.

To hisrelief he saw the girl crawling to the other side of their snowmound. She'd present a smaller target from there. He turned hisattention to the riders ahead of them. Just out of bow shot theyhalted and one of them called out.

"Khraga,we want you. You walk with us. The other two die."

"Skinlessones, I dare you to take me alive!"

A moment'ssilence. "You don't have a chance. Give up!"

Gringanswered with an arrow. Her hulking frame allowed her to use a farheavier bow than the riders and one of them fell to the ground.

"Don'tmake this more difficult!" The voice held anger now.

She loosedanother arrow, and this time she hit a horse. They charged.

She sent yetone more arrow into the air before the charging bowmen were withinrange for his gun. He fired four shots in rapid succession fellingtwo men. The sharp sounds sent them reeling. Probably as much asseeing two of their own falling to the ground with holes the size oftheir heads.

Momentum,a word he'd been taught long ago. He rose to his feet and strodetoward the horses pulling the trigger as if he was training on afiring range. High explosive rounds tore through four more ridersbefore they fled screaming. Chaijrild wailed. Gring hadn't lost theopportunity brought by the aborted charge, and the retreatinghorsemen lost two of their own to her arrows.

"Maybewe don't die today," she growled.

Arthurchecked his weapon. "Don't count on it. I only have eight roundsleft. That'll be enough for four or five of them, no more. The gunisn't very accurate."

"Rounds?As in arrows?"

He nodded.

"Thenwe fight well and..., what?"

Arthurfollowed her look. "What do you see?"

"Human!"

Arthur wasabout to ask why this was suddenly so important when he rememberedhow her magic worked. He stared ahead of him until he saw the frameof a Khraga trampling its way closer to the riders. It was huge. TheKhraga came up beside a rider and spoke with him. Rider on horsebackand standing Khraga speaking face to face and the former looking up.They seemed to come to some kind of agreement and after a while thegiant stepped closer.

"Thatis a true man, walking so close to death without a weapon,"Gring said, and there was pride in her voice.

He favoredher a surprised stare but kept his silence. I'dbetter just wait and see what happens.

The giantKhraga came a little bit closer before checking his steps.

"I amKharg dhara Braugdi. You fight well," he boomed.

"I amGring ghara Khat. You are brave. The halfman with me fights withhonor."

"I amtold there are two halfmen with you. Only one fights."

"One isa weaponless child. She does not know the way."

"I canagree to kill only her."

"Thatwe cannot accept."

"Hellno," Arthur added. "Wait, I have an idea." He walkedcloser to the giant. "How do you want to die today?" heyelled.

"Whatdo I care about how many of these," Kharg gestured to theriders, "die. You cannot win this fight."

"Win?Do you really believe I'm concerned with winning? Why should I careabout wasting my life on the sorry excuse for soldiers you've scrapedup in a smelly dung heap when you present such a marvelous prizeyourself?"

"Foolishoath breaker! Do you believe you can harm me?"

Arthurgrinned. The Khraga had taken the bait. "Look at the bodies andanswer your own question. I promise I'll bring such destruction toyour body your riders will have to dig five different graves to buryit in."

Kharg turnedover a corpse to have a look at it. It didn't take long.

"Gringghara Khat, if you give up your weapons you will all live."

Whata cold hearted bastard! As if he didn't even see those wounds."Can we trust him?" Arthur asked and was rewarded with afurious glare from Gring.

"Yourignorance is what keeps you alive, halfman! That and your being ataleweaver. Kharg is human. Kharg has said we will live."

"I haveshamed myself." Arthur wasn't sure he wanted to trust thestranger, but he had to trust Gring, and using one of her expressionsto make his own error known was one way to start.

She didn'trespond but turned to Kharg instead.

"I willcome as you demand, and so will the girl. The halfman, Arthur, willcome by his own consent."

"Why?He should come as I demand." There was consternation in thevoice.

"He's ataleweaver."

"I seeno taleweaver. I only see a battle mage who fought well."

"I sayhe's a taleweaver."

"Stillhe will come as I demand. I say he has deceived you into believinghim. You would not dishonor yourself willingly."

Gring hissedbetween her tusks. "I saw him Weave in the Roadhouse, and later.There is no deception."

"TheRoadhouse belongs to the oath breakers. Who knows what dishonorabletricks they will play on us humans?"

Arthur couldsee that Gring was raging by now. "That is shameful! The Weaveis inviolate. Not even oath breakers would stoop as low as yousuggest."

Kharg took astep forward. "Enough! You have said you will come, and so youwill!"

"So Ihave, and so we will, but know that you have brought shame upon yourfamily as well as mine this day."

Gringunstrung her bow, and following her example Arthur shut down theprimer on his gun before holstering it. He didn't understand all thathad passed, only that Gring had attempted to use his status as ataleweaver to give him some kind of advantage, but of what kind hecouldn't even guess. He walked back and picked up his coat. Standingstill was colder than he'd suspected.

They'd bedisarmed, that much was certain. He looked down on his wrist.

They'rebloody not going to get my notepad! He tried to hide it inhis pocket, but it was too large, made as it was to fit around hisarm. Now what? Maybe, yes, itfits in my holster. He pocketed his gun instead.

"Whathappens now?" he asked when he returned.

"We gowith them, but as prisoners," she answered.

Well, thatmuch he could have guessed himself. There had to be a meaning to herwords, but he was unable to grasp what. He was still standing therewhen the horsemen took his mace, bound his hands and tied him to ahorse. For a short while he was afraid they'd all be forced to runbehind the horses, but then he was ordered to mount it.

Chaijrildscreamed, but when it was clear they wouldn't be hurt immediately sheturned quiet and only gave him a frightened look as she was forcedonto a horse. He barely dared to return it with what he hoped was areassuring smile. The glance he shot at Kharg's back was far darker.

Arthurbounced down onto the back of the horse again. He was used to riding,but being bound to the back of a horse was a jarring experience henever wanted to be part of again. It seemed to go on for an eternity.Time was a subjective blur of pain. Three times, at least, he'd seendarkness fall, and during the entire time he'd been allowed off thehorse less than a dozen times to relieve himself. Three days then, ormaybe a little more. They even slept on the horses and he was sore ina way he didn't believe possible after all the time he'd spent in asaddle the last months. There had to be an end to the torment, andfrom the looks of the other horsemen they seemed to be nearing it.Arthur tried to look up, but he was too tired to keep hisconcentration long enough to analyze the small tidbits of informationhe managed to scrap together, too tired and too hungry. They hadn'tbeen fed even once during the ride.

When theyfinally halted he failed to notice even that. Someone untied him, buthe fell asleep before he was dragged off the horse.

Gring woke.She sat up and stretched her sore muscles. They were in a cell, moreof a pen than a proper prison. The wooden bars were not thick enoughto hold her, but the thought of abandoning her companions held hermore firmly than any wall could have done.

She wouldmake sure Kharg paid for his dishonor when they encountered civilizedbeings again. They were still surrounded by oath breakers, and theonly human apart from her made his very best to behave like a halfmanhimself. That shamed her, that and the fact he'd displayed hisdishonor in the presence of halfmen.

She rose andstarted walking to bring warmth to her legs. Carefully. She didn'twant to wake Arthur and the girl. They were weak, as all halfmenwere, but at least Arthur had shown a resolve that was promising. Hecouldn't help being caught in an inferior body, and as long as hismind was strong she had no right to despise him. To do so would be todiminish the honor he'd earned for himself.

The halfmenintrigued her, had always done. They were weak and fickle. Never tobe fully trusted, and yet, sometimes they shone brightly with aninner light as strong as any human. If she hadn't known better, anddarkness knew she'd been given a proper upbringing, she could havethought some of them were almost worthy of being called humans. Notalways, of course, but still. That suspicion nagged at her, shamedher at times and made her wonder if she was indeed behaving in anhonorable way. Who was she, after all, to question the wisdom of herelders?

It wascuriosity and the need to learn more that had driven her to followthe halfman taleweaver when by all rights she should have startedtrekking back to Gaz to receive new orders before spring arrived.Well, she were headed in the right direction. She wouldn't be manyeightdays late if she left the caravan at the Brakish border. Ifshe left the caravan, she corrected herself. They were prisoners now,and darkness only knew when she could go back home again.

She managedanother six full circles before her misgivings finally gave way, andthen she sat down to meditate. They would be called for when itsuited their captors.

That timecame sooner than she believed. Arthur and Chaijrild were stillasleep, and Gring had to force them awake. They complained weaklybefore following her on stiff legs when they were let out.

A temporaryvillage, what the halfmen called a camp. Tents were erected to createa pattern of streets rather than for easy protection. Stupid, butthat was only to be expected from the skinless ones.

In adistance she saw a pyre. Apparently they burned their dead. They hadsome decency after all. She sniffed. The air was filled with thesmell of burning flesh. The pyre must have been burning for close tohalf a day.

Gring sawhalfmen around her, some of them women. They gave her looks filledwith hatred mingled with fear. That was good. They should fear her.She may not be a warrior, but they must still have known she couldkill many of them long before she was brought down.

She growledat a man who came too close, and it was with some satisfaction shecaught the odor of barely controlled fear as he frantically tried tomove out of her way. Gring willed her glands to pour out more of thepredator's scent and locked eyes with those facing her. Theyscattered.

"Whythe show? They are hardly worth it."

Gringgrowled. The smell of Kharg was becoming all too familiar by now.

"Haveyou forgotten that we used to hunt them?"

"No,and nor that we were all but wiped out as a result," he replied.

"Bah!Numbers, nothing else!"

"You'renot a warrior. Any weapon will do in war. A womans womb is as good asany other weapon. They may be inferior in combat, but darkness, theydo know how to breed."

"Ourancestors should have killed them."

"Maybe,but this is a war we can no longer win, and so we share the samelands."

"Share?Do you call making borders like an oath breaker sharing?"

"I donow," he replied with a sharpness surprising her. "Youshould know better. You walk among them."

"I walkwith a taleweaver. That's different." She wrinkled her nose asshe passed one of the tents. Living beings surrounded by the skins ofdead animals. The skinless always killed to get what they lackedthemselves. That made them less than the animals they preyed on.Skinless parasites, a disease spreading its symptoms everywhere itshowed up. Some of that infection had even got a hold of humans likeherself. Didn't she carry a bow to kill from a distance, and weararmor made from leather? A disease!

"Yousay he's a taleweaver," Kharg said. "I still say you'vebeen deceived. As a Mindwalker you're susceptible to the tricks ofthe oath breakers."

Gring hissedslowly. He was bordering on questioning her honor, but he was alsoclever enough to always imply she was merely ignorant, and so she hadno real reason to challenge him.

A sobbingsound behind her made her stop. Chaijrild. The child was crying. Hadshe been hurt? Gring bent down to get a better look. Chaijrildcringed but paid little real attention to Gring's examinations. Nodamage. Gring was confused until she saw that the child was staringintently at the pyre. It made no sense at first, but then Gringremembered the skinless were often skinless inside as well. Some ofthem couldn't stand the sight of their own dead. They were weaklings.Gring turned and resumed walking. Arthur had come up beside her, andshe could see that he was ill at ease as well.

Theycontinued through the camp, a soft wind following them at all times.It was a comfortable day, but for the ever-present stench of unwashedhalfmen. The wind brisk and the day clear above them. That, ofcourse, didn't stop the halfmen from behaving as if it was cold, butthat, at least, wasn't a fault they could remedy. They were skinlessafter all.

Theircaptors led them on through the streets, if those could be calledthat, until they finally arrived at their destination. It was an openarea, almost like one of the squares the halfmen were so fond of. Thesnow was trampled and yellow stalks of grass could be seen in spots.

Only a fewof the halfmen were present, and the reason soon became apparent.Kharg hadn't been alone, and nor had she expected him to be. Warriorsusually went in groups of five or six, and his men were standing,evenly spread out, at the edges of the empty space. Their darkleather armor glistened in the sun and all wore heavy swords strappedto their sides.

This had tobe where she would know the reason for her capture. It was abouttime. She walked to stand in the center, Arthur and Chaijrildfollowing in her steps. They looked worried, and tired. Arthur wasfacing the hunger better than the child, but Gring knew they wereboth dangerously dehydrated. Thirst could be deceptive in winter.

"Idemand water for these two," she said to no one in particular."The skinless can't last long without drinking, and you shouldknow better after keeping company with them."

"Youare not here to demand." Kharg's voice.

"We laydown our weapon at your behest. Honor, at least, demands that youtreat them accordingly."

He waved atone of his men who ran away.

Arthur askedher something, but Gring decided it was not the right time to makehim nor Chaijrild understand what was said. That whatever he said wasunintelligible was a price she had to pay. An unfortunate one. Arthurhad fought bravely at her side and laid down his weapon in her honor.He deserved to know what was going on, and her decision put a stainon her. She would have to repay him later.

She facedKharg again. There was something disturbing about him, somethingsinister. It was as if he was planning or even scheming, but suchwere the ways of oath breakers, not humans. The feeling made heruneasy. Gring wondered what a band of warriors were doing togetherwith skinless riders when the usual contact would have been askirmish between the two.

A faintscent caught her interest. There would be water after all. Animprovement. The warrior Kharg had ordered away did indeed returnwith a pair of buckets which he left at her feet. Gring hoisted oneof them and offered it to Arthur. The other she greedily emptiedherself. She was done long before Arthur had had his fill, and shewatched him almost forcing Chaijrild to drink. Together the two ofthem barely managed to drink half a bucket, and Gring drained therest.

Arthurburped with a satisfied grin spreading over his face and wiped itwith his sleeve. After that he examined Chaijrild and wiped her facedry as well despite her weak protests. Gring growled approvingly. Heobviously knew the ways of winter as well as any halfman could beexpected to do.

She turnedher interest to Kharg who'd been watching them silently while theydrank. He didn't seem especially happy with her forcing him to bringwater to his honor bound prisoners. Another strangeness she didn'tlike.

"Now,"Gring began, "could you tell me why we have been dragged outsideto stand here as if this was a formal questioning?"

Kharggrinned. "That is closer than you might have preferred. This isnot a formal questioning. That will come later."

"Whatreason is there for me to face such a questioning, and if this is notone, what is it?"

Kharggrowled, a dangerous, angry growl telling her he was preparing toattack. "Enough of that insolence!" he roared.

Gring backedaway. A threat never scared her, but his behavior did. Kharg reacted,not like a human should, but like a human who'd lost all control.

"I havea right to know why I am standing here," she stubbornly demandedto the silence following his outrage.

"Youstand accused of being a renegade."

"Onwhat grounds?" she asked. "How dare you question my honor?"

"I'mnot the one questioning you honor. I'm your captor. Others willdetermine if you have shamed us or not."

"You?You who have shamed us with oath breakers witnessing?"

"Quiet!Take them away!"

"Whereare you taking us?"

No oneanswered.