opponents.
Tairaz Kashijan had nodded and asked, “And the others?”
“Had the blades been true kachen,” the Tachennen had answered, “then they should all be slain.”
Tairaz had nodded again at this and asked, “Did he conduct himself well?”
“He did not cry out,” the Tachennen had said. “He had bested one when the blow landed. He fought on and won single-handed.”
“That is good,” Tairaz had declared. “But he should not have allowed the wounding.”
By his thirteenth year, Tezdal had mastered the Seven Paths and none could defeat him, save by sheer weight of numbers, in the melees. He waited eagerly for manhood and the promised Conquest.
Such was the dream of all within the Jentan-dho. It was to that end that the warriors named themselves the Dedicated, and since the Attul-ki had given the people the Great Dream, it was the hope of all the Ahn.
Once they had dwelt in the Homeland, far to the west across the Kheryn-veyhn. Their gods were the Three and in the way of gods had seen fit to test their worshippers. The cursed Dhar had come out of the north, a locust plague across the land. Their priests and sorcerers stood united in enmity of the Ahn, who then had owned but little magic and been too few in numbers to oppose the invaders. Worshippers of the one god were the Dhar, and they had torn down the temples of the Three and burned the sacred groves, driven the people into hiding or slavery. This was the first testing, and the Ahn had held true and would not forsake the Three, and in answer to that faith the gods had sent the prophet Attul a vision.
In the accoutrements of warriors they had appeared-Byr with promise of a new land; from Vachyn, lordship of the sky; from Dach, safe passage over the sea. “Go,” they had told Attul, “go east across the Kheryn-veyhn with all the people. A new land awaits you there, where you shall grow strong again, and in time come back to conquer what is rightfully yours.”
The promise had burned hot in Attul, and the word had spread amongst the people, and in the secret places of the land the Dhar named Kellambek, the Ahn had built their boats, readying for the journey. Attul had led them and guided them in the exodus, and the gods made good their promises. Dach had granted them the crossing, safe, and Vachyn sent the wind to speed them on their way to the land Byr made for them, which they named Ahn-feshang-the New Place of the People. Attul had set his feet on the new land and given thanks to the triumvirate, and the Three had taken him up, to dwell as one with them.
The Ahn, the promise of the gods yet bright, had found a welcome in Ahn-feshang, and soon they spread throughout the islands, of which there were three-Ahn-zel, Ahn-khem, and Ahn-wa. Byr had been kind in his building: the land was lush, with wooded mountains and grassy valleys, where game was plentiful. Dach gave them rivers of clean water and pleasant beaches and filled the sea with fish. But what gift Vachyn gave was not yet clear.
The Ahn prospered, but the testing was not yet done. Fertile as was the new land, still the islands suffered the ravages of the elements. There were typhoons, and tidal waves, and volcanoes that vented their might against the heavens. This was the second testing, and there were many then who doubted the gods and so fell forsaken. But to those whose faith endured, the Three gave such magic as the world had never known. To those whose faith was strongest they gave power over the elements-the ability to defy the storms, to calm the waves, to soothe the earth-fires. To these sorcerers the Ahn looked for salvation, naming them the Attul-ki, which means “Children of Attul,” and they took the place of the hetmen and the attars, leading the Ahn safe through this second trial.
To them the Three gave word of the final testing, which was trial and prize both, for it was that the people should return to the Homeland to drive out the Dhar and take back what was theirs.
Then did Vachyn bestow his gift. He showed the Attul-ki the way of constructing the great airboats, how the skins might be filled with the breath of the volcanoes, to ride the Worldwinds and carry the Kho’rabi knights across the Kheryn-veyhn to smite the Dhar.
This was the longest of the three trials, for the magic of the Attul-ki was yet as that of infants, albeit powerful, and not even they could master the winds but must travel only on Vachyn’s whim. They persevered, and in reward Vachyn taught them that magic that granted them mastery over the spirits of the air. Slowly, they learned to bind the elemental spirits to their craft, like horses to a chariot, and then were they able to defy the Worldwinds and go against the Dhar usurpers at will.
To this great dream the Kho’rabi were dedicated, for the Three yet chose to test their followers, and those who sailed the sky to the Homeland did not return but gave their lives in service to the triumvirate, that the Dhar never forget but dwell in fear of the Comings.
And for such faith the Three gave due reward: the Attulki grew ever more accomplished in their magicks and found ways to bind the elementals in greater numbers to their pur-pose. In time they saw the final trial approach and warned the people to ready themselves. It should be soon, they said. Not this year or the next, but soon enough as gods count time.
For a while they sent the great airboats against the Dhar, with sorcerer-priests of such power aboard that they were able to send back word, of what magicks the enemy commanded, and the manner of their defenses. Then came a breathing space, for the Dhar found new sorceries to thwart the people and prevent the sending back of word. Then did the Attul-ki bend all their will and all their wits to the dream. They decreed there should be no more attacks for a while, but only small vessels-such as might carry no more than ten men-go out. But these were the key to the Conquest, for the Children of Attul bound to them such numbers of elementals that the boats might return to Ahn-feshang, defying the sorcery of the Dhar and the gusting of the Worldwinds both. And from these scouts came reliable word of fortresses and cities and holds, of the deployment of soldiery, and the resources of the enemy.
And more-they found allies, who vowed to aid them in the conquest of the Dhar.
Then all the people saw that the final trial was near and readied for the Great Conquest. Across all Ahn- feshang they labored to construct the armada, none sparing wealth or possessions or strength but all bound to the single promised purpose: the Conquest.
On the seventh day of the seventh month of Tezdal’s fifteenth year, Tairaz Kashijan, accompanied by the lady Nazrene and a retinue of one hundred Kho’rabi knights, attended the ceremonies in the Jentan-dho in Asanaj. They watched as their son performed the obeisances to the Three and to the Tachennen. Then Tairaz stepped forward and silently bound his son’s hair in the warrior’s braid. Tezdal rose from his knees and bowed. Tairaz presented him with the kachen of manhood and clapped his hands. The five most senior of the Kashijan warriors came forward, full armored as befitted so solemn a ritual, to strip the young man and dress him in his own armor. Tezdal thanked them eloquently and waited as his mother led forward a horse. It was such a beast as fit a Kho’rabi knight, a testament to the wealth of the Kashijan family, a jet stallion of pure blood. Tezdal shouted, “For the Three and for the Conquest,” and severed the head with a single cut.
There was shouting after that, and an end to formality. The families Kashijan and Isadur had supplied the Jentan-dho with food and wine enough that all found their beds that night with bellies filled and heads aswim. In the morning Tezdal departed much as he had come: his head pounding, without a backward glance. He rode a stallion that matched exactly the beast he had slain.
On his return to the Kashijan estates he found the members of both families awaiting him. There followed seven days of feasting, culminating in his betrothal to his cousin, the lady Retze Isadur. She was a pretty girl, and he was pleased with his parents’ choice.
On the eighth day Retze departed with her family to the Isadur estates, and Tezdal did not see her, save on feast days and holy days, for three years. Then, in his eighteenth year, which was Retze’s sixteenth, they were wed. From the Isadur family they received an estate in the mountains of Ahn-khem, with a sizable manor house, nine farmsteads, and a retinue of fifty servants. The Kashijan gifted them with three hundred Kho’rabi, fully equipped and well-mounted. Tezdal was happy in all ways but one: the Great Conquest was promised soon and he lusted for that battle.
His voice tailed off like a dying wind, and upon his face I saw an expression of naked grief. I heard Rwyan gasp and knew she “saw” that same pain. I said, “Tezdal, what is it?”
He said, “My boat was felled,” and offered Rwyan a tortured smile. “By the magicks you threw against us. I was believed slain; died with the rest. That word was sent to Retze, and she mourned a year, then …”
He swallowed, choking on the words. I saw tears lucent in his eyes, running slowly down his cheeks. Rwyan stretched a hand across the table, taking his. I rose and filled a goblet with wine, passed it to him. He smiled wan thanks and drained the cup.
