Excerpt

Why do I have to do this?" Khoti asked the slate in front of him as he used the heel of his palm to smear out an answer he didn't like.

"So you can be my Second!" Von said as he slid down the ladder from the loft where they worked their figures. "I'll have important things to do. Taxes'll be your job!"

Khoti let out long sigh. His effort to erase had smudged an earlier answer. What had he put? The numbers blurred in the flickering candlelight of the loft as the wick sank into a pool of wax.

He startled at the soft bump of a branch against the cottage roof then felt the brief prickle of goosebumps at what sounded like a distant wail coiling along the valley floor, like some injured beast or maybe a tempest wind rushing through a canyon. He cocked his head to listen but heard only the constant whoosh of water over the cascades in the valley bottom and the snap of an ember in the fireplace.

He should be on the road with Fa, hunting maybe, or tracking game that sprinted across rocky mountainsides, hooves clacking against stone, but never too swift to escape his perfectly aimed arrow. Or maybe the icy spray of a rapids would mist him as he cast his net to snag a fish leaping forward in search of its birthplace; he'd scoop it from the icy waters with his bare hands and wrestle it to shore, a wriggling beast larger than anyone had seen before. Fa would hold it up for the whole village to see and praise Khoti –

Again he thought he heard something in the wind that made the hairs on the back of his neck crawl. Did he imagine it?

He let out another deep sigh. Number of villagers by bales of fleece times tenths to province, subtract cleaning and transport fees and …

"Maybe someone else can be your Second," he muttered toward his brother's empty mattress crowding the other half of the loft. "I'll be filling the barrels with game and too busy for taxes."

He stole a glance over the loft edge to see if Von still worked his problems. Drawn curtains hid a niche where Mam slept alone with Fa away, as well as the other one where Grandmam snored so softly her night voice sighed like the pines swaying in the Tasch-el Valley. The table in the middle of the room stood empty but for Von's now washed slate and his stack of answers awaiting their father's return.

Of course, Von finished first; then his older brother would climb into the loft and blow out the candle whether or not Khoti had finished. Soon the lambing would begin with too much work to trouble with learning to Second his brother, especially when it could be years before Von took their father's place. Distant rulers, who only remembered Tasch-el to collect the tax or demand more metals from the mines, had named Tsevon of Tasch-el, like his fathers before him, headman of the mountain region. It's just a title Fa told them; the man in the job had to earn the people's respect. Khoti didn't want to be a Second. What did he care about sheep or mines or taxes? Fa's sour-faced cousin and Second, Tegi, likely got that way from figuring the village tax.

Outside, a horse whickered. Again, something hollow sounded just beneath the wind, low and urgent, not quite right, not quite wrong. Maybe he hadn't heard it at all.

He dug his bare toes beneath the straw covering the floor. He squinted at the slate as the silence in the cottage built. His eyes drifted shut as he imagined his father in a distant hunting camp with his fellows enjoying a laugh as they roasted fresh –

"Khoti," Von whispered from the top of the ladder. Khoti yanked his head up. "C'mon sluggard, move your bony butt," Von jabbed Khoti's backside with a stick from the wood box. "Something's stirring up the horses and it looks like one's loose in the paddock."

"Are you afraid of the night without me to protect you?" The candle fizzled out.

Von tapped the tattoo at the base of his neck. The three parallel black slashes marked him a man of Tasch-el. Khoti would have no voice among men for several more months.

"Come child," Von gave him another playful jab with the stick then slid down the ladder with a barely audible thump.

Khoti had no excuse to complain. The village stables were their responsibility. A tawnkat or some other wild beast among the horses could cause devastating harm in minutes.

A piece of bark flew up into the loft in a perfect arc that landed on Khoti's head. Khoti peered over the edge to find Von's broad grin beneath a mop of unruly hair. Von stabbed the stick upward like a pitchfork aimed for a mound of hay.

In bare feet and night shirt, Khoti slid down the ladder. If they hurried, his bed would remain warm. He quickly pulled on lambskin boots and followed Von, bare-legged, into the cold of a mid-spring night. He cursed the wail of wind that raised a cold shiver as it fell from the snowy peaks above. Von disappeared through the dark hole of the stable's side door, Khoti stumbling into him.

With his eyes still adjusting to the dark, Khoti at first could only hear the chorus of stomps, snorts and whickers of restive horses and mark the scents of oiled leather and manure reaching him like a warm breath in his face. Then he noticed the paddock door askew. The plank used to bar it had snapped in two. The door banged a little further open with each gust of wind. Beyond, a pony trotted around the paddock, trailing a broken lead.

Von stood out in silhouette for a moment as he lit a lantern and began checking the line of stalls.

"I see nothing to fear, Von. Still need me to hold your hand?" He peeked over a couple of stall doors to ensure no wild animals had crept in. "I hear my warm bed calling and I still need to finish my figures."

Von turned to grin at him. "What a wee cub you are! Can't handle a bit of cold. Here –" he pushed the lantern into Khoti's hands. "All better now, boy?"

"Who needed his little brother to protect him? Just wait until I've my marks and we'll see who's a cub!"

Von laughed at that as he pulled a second lantern down from a hook to light it from the first. "Men earn their marks. They don't just give 'em to you. And you'll always be Second to me."

"You're the one that has to show up for all the rites and keep the peace. I'll be taking my ease hunting and fishing."

Von laughed, gesturing toward the paddock and the loose pony as he headed for the ladder into the hay mow.

As Khoti hung his lantern from a peg he heard it: a rumble at first, like a rockslide on the mountainside breaking free in the thaw. Hooves pounded frozen ground, growing louder. He turned toward the closed stable doors that opened out onto the village green and main road beside it, wondering if the Duke of Lharan's Guard raced to some tragedy at one of the mines.

An undulating shriek, like wind furies in the peaks ripped at the night raising the hair on Khoti's neck and renewing the stomps and snorts of the horses in their stalls.

"Khoti!" Von shouted from above. "The bell! Raise the alarm!"

Khoti ran for the stable doors onto the green and yanked one open so he could dash to the well where the bell hung. He heard shouts coming from the northeast road toward Sefresal, and saw the bob of lamps as villagers emerged from the cottages fronting the narrow green that ran along the swift creek in the valley floor. A hound bayed and someone screamed. His eyes still blinded by the lantern, he thought he made out the shape of horsemen, cloaks flying out behind them as they raced down the road against the wind, their faces hidden in the shadow of hoods or masks.

Suddenly a torch fell in the stable doorway, quickly igniting a pile of straw near the door. For an instant, Khoti froze, too stunned to move as shadowy figures pounded through the village. He stepped back to look up the ladder into the mow.

"Von! Fire!" Khoti shouted, not sure if his brother could even hear him over the growing din in the village. Turning back, he found the fire already growing out of control. He tried to kick at the edges and grabbed a nearby bucket but the few inches of half frozen water had no effect. "Von!"

Horses neighed as smoke gathered in the low stable rafters. Think! He needed to reach the green and ring the bell. The flames grew so quickly they already blocked the path to the doorway.

He backed away, his limbs trembling. "Von!" He heard no reply but a crash of wood splintering somewhere, like a cottage door burst open, followed by a shriek.

He dashed back through the barn, pulling up the bars from as many stall doors as he could as he headed for the paddock. Several horses, freed, slammed him against the planks as they fled by. He reached the paddock, slipping in the thin layer of frozen mud over the thawing ground and fell to his knees. The village alarm bell tolled out twice then fell silent with a metallic clang.

Smoke poured out of the lower barn windows now and fire snapped at the planks. He fought down the desire to cough, which might reveal him, as his panting breath drew in cold and smoke. His heart pounded in his ears as he struggled to his feet. Horses that hadn't fled the stable squealed in terror. The handful that had escaped had quickly leaped over the paddock rails, leaving behind the smaller pony that frantically trotted along the far side of the paddock trailing her broken lead.

He should have freed all the horses. He should have gone for the bell instead of hesitating. Von knew they needed to raise the alarm – Von!

He heard a clatter of pots somewhere falling from a hearth pole and the din of wood smashing and people shouting. He could just make out that the door to his own cottage hung askew. If he could just get to his knife and bow–

Suddenly a dark figure filled the doorway of his cottage, hood thrown back to reveal a helmeted head and a face concealed by a mask shaped like the skull of some fanged beast. The man yanked hard and pulled his mother from the cottage barefoot and in her nightdress. She grasped at the door frame a moment as another shadowy figure lobbed a torch within.

He couldn't breathe. Mam screamed his name, Von's and for Grandmam. Her captor pulled her toward the road by her dark braids as she kicked and clawed him. Khoti wanted to run to her, his entire body tensed to move but stayed. What could he do? He could only watch as the marauders gathered the village's women and children on the green around the stone wall encircling the well. The bell swayed there, silent. The village burned, roofs crashing inward, flames roaring, horses screaming, hooves beating against plank walls, the shouts of neighbors and cries of children –

A cloaked figure swung a club at the tanner, splitting his head open. The man crumpled to the ground in front of his cottage.

Khoti backed into the shadows where the forest leaned over the paddock. Finding his wits, he looked around franticly for a club, a stone, something he could wield. He couldn't take his eyes off his mother, where she now comforted a neighbor, lit by the glow of fire. Another marauder dragged a young man, a friend of Von's, from the side of his life mate who clutched their newborn and thrust a sword into the man's chest. Khoti stuffed his muddy fist into his mouth and bit down, concentrating on his need to remain silent and keep his wits. The marauders continued to race through the village, running down those trying to escape into the wild and towing women and children to the green where they were bound together in a line to march into the dark night, mothers grasping small children to their chests to hide them from the horror, other youngsters clinging to their mothers' nightdresses. He watched his mother, back straight and hands bound before her, as marauders led her out of sight.

"Think," he whispered to himself. He couldn't just foolishly race into a sword. He couldn't do anything alone.

At the sound of splintering boards Khoti looked up to see the silhouette of his brother framed in an opening pried in the wall of the hay mow as he tried to kick his way free. About to shout, to race to Von's aid, Khoti stumbled to a stop and dropped to the ground as two marauders, swords glinting orange in the firelight, rounded the side of the barn.

"Khoti! Help –" Von's voice cracked as arrows drove him back into the flames.

Von! Khoti choked on his breath, lying still in the muddy paddock, feeling nothing, feeling frozen. Help. He needed help. What could he do?

Rising to all fours as the marauders moved on, he scooted backward into the shadows. Gaze locked on the burning mow, he stumbled into the shaggy gray-black sides of the pony. He swiftly took up her lead and towed the skittish mare deeper into the dark. Von didn't reappear. The village grew eerily quiet except for the suck of flames. No scream of horses or crying children. He needed to think. He needed help to go after what remained of his world. He needed to reach Sefresal and the Lharan Guard. They were hours away on a fast horse.

He couldn't think about it. He gripped the lead on the pony as he carefully dropped two paddock rails. His breath ripped the air. He could barely move his trembling limbs, certain his heartbeat would give him away. He led the pony over the rails then leaped onto her bare back. The cold wind stung tears from his eyes and pulled his breath in sobs as he urged her quietly along the forest edge until well beyond the smoldering village, then raced east as fast as she could carry him.