Chapter One: Harmony

 

 

 

 

All the land is music. Everyone was singing. A walk through the village is enough for one to witness the majesty of KiTai.

Daily LjuBa walked through the music from her home to shops in town surrounding majestic castle of King ZanDer; passing children leading geese who sang the songs for them to follow; nodding to the young girls singing the water drawing song at the well; ducking sheepishly past the young squires training to be warriors who were singing as they fastened their armor; and listening to the ringing of the hammer as the smithies formed shining new breastplates and shields for the next generation, their song bright and strong. Song made the world lucky. It chased away disease. It also kept LjuBa’s heart steady for another day of living.

For the dark red haired race of Kitai, music was life itself.

So was being a warrior.

LjuBa was the fourth child in a family full of daughters, gifts from the god Jodis their father MiKial, the strong warrior captain for the king’s regiment said. All of them were of age to marry, but LjuBa considered herself the least of his daughters while the eldest, lovely K’sjuSha, was the most beautiful and cunning of them all. K’sjuSha was a warriess—something LjuBa aspired to be. Her other two sisters were also lovely, but they lacked the ambition that K’sjuSha had. Currently the eldest daughter was off dealing with demons in the North Corner of the KiTai Empire, sent on errand by the king. LjuBa wished one day to go on an errand for the king, but right now it just had to remain a dream.

She returned home from her errands well before dusk, the sun barely coloring in the sky as the songs turned to that of baking bread, hushing children, and feeding the livestock. The warriors were returning from training while their young squires were tagging along with dreams like hers, to one day serve the empire with glory. Opening the front gate, she ignored the scattering doves that cooed in the yard, pecking at the leftover seed the chickens had missed. Trotting over the stone, shifting the deep reed basket to her other hip to rest her sore hands, LjuBa pushed the door open.

“S’vjieTa, SoFija, I’m home!”

LjuBa looked around the large wooden divide that separated the front of the home from the back, taking off her shoes and leaving them on the low stoop. In her sock feet, she walked over the washed wood into the kitchen area, immediately slipping on the wood clogs there. Her two sisters looked up, smiling, one stirring the pot she had swung on the iron arm out of the fireplace, the other looking up from her darning next to the other cook stove, clearly waiting out bread.

“Ah! LjuBa! It is about time you arrived,” S’vjieTa, her green-eyed sister with plumper features said, setting down her darning.

Her other sister, SoFija, rushed over to LjuBa and felt her forehead. “Are you wearing yourself out again? I told you to take it easy.”

“I’m fine.” LjuBa brushed SoFija’s hand from her face, trying not to look flushed or winded. “I took my time walking home is all. Nothing more.”

LjuBa set her basket on the table, unfolding the cloth from around it. She lifted out the smaller basket full of goose eggs first, handing them to SoFija who gently heaved them over to the cool box, singing the song to preserve the eggs while they were kept inside. The rest of the contents, LjuBa emptied, taking the pears and the ripe peaches, singing the song to keep them fresh, setting them both in the high basket.

“Sister, you are winded.” S’vjieTa rose, removing the rest of the contents, which were pork cutlets and ham, and taking them to the cellar. “You went out to practice sword play again, haven’t you?”

“You should quit that and marry a merchant,” SoFija added, peering into LjuBa’s gray eyes, stroking her straight hair that LjuBa felt made her so plain in comparison to her sisters’ lovely curls. She was the only one whose hair flattened so easily.

“I’m not lovely enough for marriage,” LjuBa replied, pulling away. She kept back all tears. A warriess did not show emotion. “Not like you two.”

SoFija glanced at S’vjieTa who sighed.

“Sister,” S’vjieTa said, “You are the kind of girl warriors marry. Men keep their distance from women like K’sjuSha. Play on your strengths.”

“Warriors only marry girls like me because they know a plain woman would never leave them,” LjuBa murmured, walking back from the table with a sigh. “I don’t want to be a woman that waits pathetically at home while her warrior goes out. I think my heart would break more from that.”

Both her sisters converged on her, hugging her close. “Oh, don’t talk about your heart breaking!”

“I would die in tears if you did!” SoFija said, wiping her eyes.

“We both would!” S’vjieTa chimed in. “LjuBa, dear—”

The kitchen door swung open, the wind stirring up as their father stomped in, his boots still caked with road dirt. Trailing behind him was a stooped young man, one the sisters had seen a number of times before—a pathetic squire too old to even be called that though unworthy to be considered a warrior. Their father did not bother to take off his boots this time and crossed immediately to the table though the squire skulked to the stool next to the fire to warm up his hands.

“We need soup!” MiKial said, reaching out for someone to give him a bowlful.

S’vjieTa released her embraced on LjuBa and hurried immediately to the cupboard, urging the squire to get out of the way. He hopped to the side of the fire just staring at the ground though he glanced once at the beauty. She swished up onto the stool with a hop, taking down the five bowls. S’vjieTa then cast a glance at the squire and dug out the broken bowl with a slight huff. She hopped down, handing the bowl to SoFija who had been checking the baking bread.

LjuBa took it up instead and immediately went to fill it, heaping spoonfuls of meat and vegetables. She then scooped deep inside the hot pot for broth. The steaming amber liquid poured into the bowl as she sang a small song to avoid drips. She carried it to her father who had already claimed a fork. He would drink the broth straight from the bowl.

“Thank you,” MiKial smiled at her, receiving the bowl with gladness. Lifting it up, he expressed thanks to the northern god, Jodis, then promptly began to eat.

S’vjieTa ladled soup for her and her sisters, setting those bowls onto the table one by one, leaving the last bowl for LjuBa to fill for the squire. It was dishonorable for an older sister to feed a failure like him, so the job always fell to LjuBa. Yet LjuBa gave him extra broth, hoping with a singular song that it would grant him strength, and most of all, bravery. All warriors needed bravery.

Admittedly, LjuBa had a soft spot for him. Pathetic Ljev.

Her father had taken him under his wing around a month ago, swearing to make him to a man. But after a month, the pathetic Ljev proved to be worth nothing but a miserable squire for the rest of his life. Her father MiKial said he was hopeless. In fact, he was about to give up.

LjuBa hated giving up. She handed Ljev the bowl.

“LjuBa!” MiKial called to her, his face contorted with knowing as he beckoned her over to him.

Turning with a cringe, hardly looking at the mournful expression on the squire’s face, as it was not proper for a warriess to make eye contact with such a man, LjuBa lifted her head and trotted over to her father. “Yes?”

“LjuBa,” MiKial reached out for her hand, pulling her to his knee where he made sure she looked him in the eye. “You must not attach yourself to that…squire.” He clearly could not bear to call Ljev a man. Her father never could, his face contorting every time with disgust. “Pitying him will not make him stronger.”

“Yes, Father,” LjuBa replied, trying to rise.

He held her there by his strong grip on her hand. “As a warriess in training, you ought to remember that.”

Her sisters gasped, looking to their father with grief that he was still entertaining LjuBa’s notions. However, the sisters bit their tongues, seeing his fleeting stern glances at their faces.

However, LjuBa glowed. “Yes, Father.”

As a warrior for the king, her father knew how much becoming a warriess meant to her. Despite her weak heart, something of a defect she had been born with that often left her breathless and light headed, her ambition was as strong as the winter wind, as was her skill. When she was young, her father trained her himself. Now he was bent on reforming the degenerates of society.

“So, ladies,” her father then turned to her elder sisters, “Do you have news yet of suitors? You did say that this year you both intended to attract beaus.”

Both S’vjeTa and SoFija shared glances then looked to LjuBa.

“And don’t tell me,” he warned with a sly grin at the pair of them, “That you are postponing until you are sure I will not live off of beans and meat from here on. I can hire a cook.”

“A cook?” SoFija slouched a little, very unladylike but expressive of her dismay that no other look would deliver more properly. “Father, we aren’t just thinking about you and eating. There are many other concerns we have…”

“Cleaning,” S’vjeTa murmured.

“Washing,” LjuBa chimed in.

“…And your safety. What if you get sick?” SoFija asked, frowning at him. “Without us you would be alone.”

MiKial lifted his chin with finality, the light of the cook fire flickering on his face as now the sun was gone and it was the only light in the room. They had forgotten to light the lamps, something LjuBa jumped up to do immediately.

Looking to the older sisters first, MiKial said, “A warrior must be able to fare all weather. And daughters must marry or carry a sword.”

S’vjeTa and SoFija together peered at LjuBa who had taken a stick from the tin above the hearth and lit it in the fire, now going to each of the oil lamps.

“She has made her decision,” he murmured low. “And you two need to make yours.”

SoFija winced, hissing back, “But Father…I worry about her. Any day now…”

“She has exceeded the doctor’s expectations by months,” S’vjeTa added, just as quiet then said in a louder voice to LjuBa, “Please check the bread. Take it out if it is ready.”

LjuBa nodded, pretending that she could not hear the whispering. She knew her life expectancy was over. That was why they were checking her heath every day. Her father was the only one not coddling her.

He said, “Doctors have been wrong before.”

“She is often faint,” SoFija said.

“We need to convince her of a quiet life, Father. Or she’ll die.” S’vjeTa leaned close to him, earnest in her gaze.

But LjuBa set the pan of bread hard on the table in front of her, the oven mitts on her hands steaming. “I will be a warriess, and I will die fighting.”

“I’d rather you didn’t die at all!” S’vjeTa snapped, rising.

“Everyone dies!” LjuBa retorted back.

SoFija jumped up to separate them. “Let’s not talk about this!”

“Oh!” Shouted S’vjeTa though not very loud in case it shook up LjuBa’s heart. “So…so you want to die like the king’s brother? Prince AlEkSei?”

“He died an honorable death!” LjuBa shouted hard back. Then she started coughing.

SoFija grabbed LjuBa to hold her up. LjuBa shook her off, glaring at them both though it was not out of hatred, but frustration.

“He was a child!” S’vjeTa shouted at her, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Why else do you think the king has forbidden his son, the prince from taking the trial? He loves him too much to lose him!”

“That has made him weak!” LjuBa’s countered.

“Agreed,” MiKial answered in a soft voice. “Very weak. Which is why I will not forbid LjuBa from her path.”

They knew that was the final word. SoFija and S’vjeTa sat down, struck as if with a hard blow. LjuBa stood tall though, glad her father saw it her way.

“With our future king to be so weak and useless,” MiKial said with a dark look at his pathetic squire also who hunched even lower over his soup bowl, “We need all the brave warriors we can get.” He then looked to LjuBa. “Maybe Jodis will be so impressed with your bravery that he will heal your heart.”

She nodded to him, grateful. LjuBa went back to lighting the lamps.

When she returned to the table and the uncomfortable silence was over, her sisters cleaning up most of the soup, putting it into tins for the trip their father and his pathetic squire, SoFija murmured over the pear she was sectioning for all to eat, “I wonder how we will survive with such an heir to the throne….”

MiKial chuckled.

S’vjeTa remained silent, watching LjuBa pick up a piece.

“What does a prince do if he is not training to be a warrior, I wonder?” LjuBa said, glancing to SoFija. “Isn’t the strength of KiTai in the warrior king?”

“It is,” their father said.

“I heard he’s charming,” S’vjeTa answered, shrugging.

Their father stared at her as if scandalized. “Don’t you dare entertain that thought! The prince is a pathetic weakling. I’ve tried to train him myself. He is an incorrigible coward.”

“Coward?” SoFija made a face, sharing a look with LjuBa who flinched.

“In fact, the only war he ever has is with words,” MiKial added, snorting. He took up another pear slice. “Words, words, words. All unsubstantiated.”

“You mean, like threats?” LjuBa asked, tilting her head to the side.

MiKial chuckled, shaking his head. The squire perked up his ears to listen.

“No. More like a fool who doesn’t know what he is talking about.” MiKial then laughed more. “His Highness the king ordered him to lead an army into Westhaven, and the prince, typical of his cowardice, refused.”

All three sisters stared at him then shared a look.

“How is that cowardice, uh, exactly?” SoFija asked, wishing not to look foolish.

“Westhaven is full of demons,” S’vjeTa chimed in, nodding.

LjuBa also nodded, agreeing. “Everyone knows that, Father.”

MiKial smirked. “Yes, that has been the rule for the last two thousand years. But that was not the prince’s objection. You see, our scouts snuck into Westhaven recently and discovered that the demons that used to rule are no longer in power. The peasants had risen up and defeated them. The prince is aware of this change, as is the king. The king has decided that now is the time our people enter Westhaven and put the land back into order, just like the way it used to be.”

“Oh.” SoFija nodded. “I see.”

“It is no longer overrun?” LjuBa asked again. “When did this happen?”

Shaking his head, MiKial replied, “Who knows? What we do know is that the barbarians that live there have enslaved their former demon overseers. We can bring back the song of life to their land, make it civilized again.”

“What was the prince’s objection then?” S’vjeTa asked, puzzled. “That we couldn’t do it?”

Cringing, MiKial replied. “No. That we shouldn’t do it.”

“Shouldn’t?” all three sisters echoed at once.

He nodded. “He’s a fool.”

It was silent again. The fire crackled and popped, and the squire set his bowl on the ground, scooting his stool closer to the heat with his arms pulled tight across his chest.

“But what were his arguments?” LjuBa asked.

MiKial looked over to her. “They are irrelevant. He disobeyed his father, the king.”

“That takes a certain level of bravery,” S’vjeTa murmured.

Her father whipped a glare to her. “It is dishonorable!”

She retreated a little, her eyes on his face, as were the eyes of his other daughters.

“Listen here,” MiKial said, nearly through his teeth. “That prince is a good for nothing until he gets out into the world and acts like a man. Pampered, book learned, and raised like a breakable glass—that is no king. And I would sooner leave this land than serve a…boy not even worthy to be called a squire!”

The sisters stiffened.

SoFija leaned in, whispering, “Will you really leave? You know, when he is crowned?”

Moaning, MiKial set a hand over his eyes, shaking his head. “I don’t know. Perhaps I will just start to travel again. I have tried my all with that fool prince. Nothing gets through to him. I will soon be forced to do something drastic if it keeps that way.”

“Drastic? Like how?” SoFija asked.

He was about to answer, but there was a pounding on the front door, then someone calling for MiKial in a sonorous voice.

“MiKial! Captain MiKial! Come to the door! Something urgent has happened!”

Rising, MiKial pointed one finger at Ljev, glaring hard. “You, make yourself scarce, I don’t want them seeing you here in my home.”

The squire nodded, ducking into, of all things, the broom closet. The three sisters rolled their eyes with shared looks for the pathetic man.

Their father kicked off his boots and strode over the clean wood to the front door, stepping down into his clogs. He lifted the latch, peering out. “What is it?”

Two of the king’s men stood in the doorway begging entry. MiKial stepped back and let them inside. They did not remove their shoes but remained on the rough ground. One said, “It is bad news. The crown prince has done a rash thing. He has run away from the castle. We can’t find him anywhere.”

Rolling his eyes, MiKial cringed. “When did you find out?”

With a glance at the three daughters watching in the doorway, the warrior nodded and said in a lower voice, “Two hours ago. His sword is gone as is his armor. We think the fool intends to avoid leading us into Westhaven.”

“He can’t avoid that,” MiKial murmured. “It’s the king’s orders.”

“You saw the way he shouted at the king this morning,” the warrior hissed. “He’s gone out of his mind.”

Sighing with a glance over his shoulder at the kitchen doorway, MiKial then gave a small apologetic smile at his daughters. He said to the warrior. “Fine. I’ll get my horse and a squire, and we’ll help in the search.”

The warrior set a hand on MiKial’s shoulder. “This is no time for training squires.”

Shaking his head, MiKial replied, “This one, I must. But don’t worry. He won’t hold us back.”

Nodding to him, the two warriors departed, marching out to go to the next warrior’s home to spread the news. MiKial turned around and closed his door. He looked up to his daughters. Kicking off his clogs, he stepped onto the wood. “I have little time. Fill my bags with food and water enough for both me and that fool squire. I’ll get my winter cloak.”

“Yes, Father,” the sisters said, curtsying then rushing back to the kitchen.

SoFija drew water, filling the bladders. S’vjeTa gathered up the dried meat. LjuBa collected and wrapped all the bread fit to stuff into his pack. His pack was ready when he returned to the kitchen to pull on his boots.

“Squire!” MiKial shouted out, looking for Ljev.

They heard a clanking in the closet, then a rattling of the doors. The catch had fallen down and locked him in when he had shut the door in haste. Rolling her eyes, LjuBa lifted the catch and opened the door.

Ljev stumbled out.

“Can you be more of a fool?” MiKial snapped with a glare, grabbing the scruff of Ljev’s shirt.

“I’m sorry,” Ljev murmured.

MiKial slapped the back of his head. “Didn’t I tell you not to speak in my house? You are not worthy to have your voice sounded in my walls, understand?”

Ljev nodded.

“Now, let’s go,” MiKial snapped. Ljev rushed to the door, opening it. MiKial called after him, marching out. “And practice subtlety!”

The door nearly slammed after them, the cold wind grabbing hard. The walls seemed to shake.

“Wow,” SoFija murmured, sitting down in a chair at the table. “The prince has gone missing.”

S’vjeTa shook her head, walking over to the fire, taking the tongs to select the coals for their bed warmers. LjuBa was already taking the warmers out, opening the lids.

“I still think,” S’vjeTa said, “that it is awfully brave to defy the king.”

“Stupidity isn’t brave,” LjuBa replied.

Putting down the coal scoop, S’vjeTa peered at LjuBa. “Which is why I think you should not become a warriess. It is stupid for a person with a weak heart to do.”

LjuBa stiffened, her eyes fixed on her older sister.

“Enough!” SoFija pushed between them. “We need to clean up. LjuBa, hurry and carry the coals to our beds. And S’vjeTa, clean up the dishes.”

S’vjeTa rolled her eyes then snapped while filling the third metal bed warmer, “And what are you going to do?”

“I have to clean the floor and tie everything down for the night,” SoFija said, her posture strong though she glanced to the ceiling, her ears taking in the pitch of the wind. “It sounds like it is going to be a great blow.”

The evening wind rattled the windows and doors only for a while, as the women of warrior’s home went about their business, SoFija’s song calming the home until all they heard was the whistling and moan as the wind past. The patter of rain soon followed, but by then, the kitchen was cleaned and the ladies of house were washed and dressed for bed. They climbed underneath their silky blankets, puffed out by layers and layers of warm silk batting. Only their heads peeked out as they huddled together, humming a sleeping song until all three nodded off.

 

*

 

Dawn and the light of the sun caught on the drips that ran off the roof of the home. All around in the village doors opened with song. Mothers woke their children with song. Fathers started their work and dressing with song.

The warriors were still out, looking for the prince. It seemed to leave a strange hole in the fabric of the village harmony, and when LjuBa opened the kitchen door to feed the chickens in the coop as well as gather their eggs, she listened with dismay. In a way, she had wished her father had taken her to look for the prince. A warriess in training ought to have gone. But MiKial did not even think of her that night.

Tossing out the corn, LjuBa exhaled mournfully. The chickens rushed into the mud pecking near her skirts. A warriess did not feed chickens. No. She was just fooling herself. Perhaps S’vjeTa was right. Perhaps she ought to satisfy herself with her lot and accept that a person with her heart would never win battles. But that alone made her clench her chest with pain.

In the middle of the morning song a familiar sound hurried over the melody, the clopping of horse hooves. It rushed up at a speed, stopping with a skid, whinny and a thump of feet that pounded into the yard at a run and around the corner to where the kitchen door was. LjuBa looked up expectantly in hopes to see her father return, triumphantly declaring he had found and whipped that insolent prince soundly on his rump. However, skidding though the mud was that squire, Ljev.

His lips were white, his tied back red hair dripping with mud and rain, the man’s face was smeared with it also though he looked flushed. Grabbing her, panting hard, Ljev stared into LjuBa’s startled face. “You have to come! Your father….”

“What about my father?” LjuBa asked, blinking at the squire, looking for wounds or at least the sign of blood, as it was clear he had been frightened by something.

Swallowing first, Ljev said, “He’s been captured by bandits!”

Chapter Two: Warrior's Code

 

 

 

 

“Captured?” LjuBa could not comprehend it let alone believe it. “My father?”

Ljev nodded, still trying to catch his breath.

“Are you some sort of weakling?” LjuBa snapped, throwing the feed corn at him. It hit him in the face, scattering around his feet. Ljev blinked at her hunching over again with his teeth clenched. “Why aren’t you rescuing him?”

“He told me to run!” Ljev replied, looking stressed out of his mind. “He said he would fight them for me!”

A harder shower of feed corn hit him in the face.

“You idiot!” LjuBa then threw more at him.

Ljev backed up, holding up his hands crosswise to cover his face.

“Don’t you know the warrior’s code?” She chucked more at him, advancing on him. “That was a challenge! You were supposed to say, ‘No! We are brothers! I will fight with you!’ Everyone knows that!”

He just looked like she had hit him with a pot rather than feed corn, staring at her dazed. She threw more at him. This time he caught her wrist, holding back her hand.

“Stop that! I get it, alright,” he snapped, annoyed in a strangely satisfying way. “But how was I suppose to know? If he said he wanted me to stay, I would have stayed.”

LjuBa jerked out of his grip. “That’s not the point! The point was for you to do the brave thing and step up! Be a man!”

Ljev groaned, looking back to the road. But then he blinked and ducked, pulling down to the door. He dragged LjuBa with him. She went along only because the mud was so slick. Digging her heels did no good. For a pitiful squire, he was strong. He whispered, “What am I supposed to do now?”

Punching his arm to make him let go, LjuBa hissed, “Go back, you idiot, and find him. He will give you a sound thrashing, but you deserve it for running away.”

He turned, looking puzzled as he blinked at her.

“Why is that so shocking?” LjuBa set her hands on her hips, glaring at him.

“I said he was captured.” Ljev then peeked to the road.

Rolling her eyes, LjuBa shoved from him. “My father? The king’s captain? Oh, please. No one could possibly—”

“They knocked him out,” Ljev said quickly, moving his face into hers so she could not push him aside. “Real hard.”

“Impossible!” LjuBa snapped, stepping to the right now to get to kitchen door.

Ljev hopped in her way again. “Nothing is impossible. I saw it happen. When your father looked back at me, after he told me to run, he looked stunned. I think they had magic or something.”

LjuBa stiffened. “Magic?”

He nodded.

She shook her head hard. “No. The kings banned all sorcery from our lands. There is no magic in KiTai.”

Turning, Ljev sighed.

LjuBa poked him in the side. “It wasn’t magic, coward. He was shocked because you ran off.”

Ljev blinked. He then leaned back and closed his eyes, shaking his head. “Of course. And they caught him off guard.”

That was enough to upset her. LjuBa shoved him back. “He was not caught off guard!”

“I know what I saw!” Ljev retorted. “They carried him away, unconscious, talking about taking his armor to sell.”

She brought the rest of the feed basket on top of his head, the corn raining down into his shirt. He shivered even as she stomped indoors, her feet echoing on the swept stone. Ljev followed in after her, batting off the basket.

LjuBa went about gathering up another water bladder, also taking up a travel pack and filling it with meat and bread.

“LjuBa!” he called in. “What are you doing?”

She whipped around. “You are not to address me by name, Squire! I am a warriess in training. I passed the test that you failed!”

He pulled back, now silently watching her. But after she had gathered up enough supplies, he noticed her go into the closet and pull out the red striped warriess robe then the tan fur trimmed coat, pulling on both. She adjusted the red jewels in her hair, making sure they were secure. Then she grabbed her training sword. 

“Are you insane?” Ljev asked as she pulled on her boots in the doorway. “What about your heart?”

Lifting her head, LjuBa ground out of her throat, “What about your heart, coward? I intend to save my father. Isn’t that what you came for? A warriess?”

He cringed stepping back. “Actually, I was hoping you would tell someone at the castle, an experienced warrior.”

“They are all out looking for that stupid prince!” LjuBa snapped and shoved him out of the way.

Ljev followed after her. “Ok. I forgot that.”

LjuBa walked backwards out of the yard, kicking the chickens back towards their coop while she went. “Weren’t you looking for him last night?”

Cringing, Ljev peered over towards the castle with a nod.

“So, come on!” LjuBa waved him along. “You’re leading me to where you committed your most recent cowardly act.”

She heard him moan even as she pivoted on her heel to go, practically hopping to the front gate where her father’s horse was waiting. Clearly the horse Ljev had ridden had also been stolen, though it might have been just as likely that her father made him go on foot. It would serve fool right. LjuBa hurried through the gate and climbed into the stirrup, heaving herself into

Impressum

Verlag: BookRix GmbH & Co. KG

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 21.02.2018
ISBN: 978-3-7554-7867-6

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