Published 2009 by Pyr®, an imprint of Prometheus Books
Sasha: A Trial of Blood and Steel. Copyright © 2009 by Joel Shepherd. Maps copyright © Kinart. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, digital, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, or conveyed via the Internet or a Web site without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Cover illustration © David Palumbo
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Shepherd, Joel.
Sasha : a trial of blood and steel / Joel Shepherd.
p. cm.
ISBN 978–1–59102–787–4 (paperback)
ISBN 978–1–61592–632–9 (e-book)
Originally published: Australia and New Zealand : Hachette Livre Australia Pty Ltd., 2007.
Printed in the United States on acid-free paper
Lenayin
Valhanan
Sasha……………………. former Princess of Lenayin
Kessligh Cronenverdt……warrior, former Commander of Armies
Peg………………………Sasha's horse
Terjellyn…………………. Kessligh's horse
Teriyan……………………leather worker
Lynette……………………Teriyan's daughter
Jaegar……………………headman of Baerlyn town
Andreyis…………………Sasha's friend
Lord Kumaryn Tathys……Great Lord of Valhanan
Tarynt……………………councilman of Yule village
Tyree
Jaryd Nyvar………………heir to Great Lordship of Tyree
Lord Aystin Nyvar………. Jaryd's father, Great Lord of Tyree
Captain Tyrun…………. Commander of Tyree's Falcon Guard
Lieutenant Reynan Pelyn….. Falcon Guardsman
Lord Tymeth Pelyn………Tyree noble
Sergeant Garys…………. Falcon Guardsman
Wyndal………………Jaryd's brother
Lord Redyk……………Tyree noble
Lord Paramys…………. Tyree noble
Lord Arastyn………….. Tyree noble
Galyndry…………….. Jaryd's sister
Pyter Pelyn……………. nephew of Lord Pelyn
Rhyst Angyvar…………. Tyree noble youth
Baen-Tar
Damon………………. Prince of Lenayin
Torvaal Lenayin…………King of Lenayin
Krystoff………………. Prince of Lenayin, deceased
Koenyg………………. Prince of Lenayin, heir to the throne
Wylfred………………. Prince of Lenayin
Wyna Telgar……………Koenyg's wife
Sofy…………………. Princess of Lenayin
Marya…………………Princess of Lenayin, married in Torovan
Petryna………………. Princess of Lenayin, married
Alythia………………. Princess of Lenayin
Myklas………………. Prince of Lenayin
Queen Shenai………….. Queen of Lenayin, deceased
Anyse…………………Sofy's maid
Archbishop Dalryn……….. Lenay archbishop
Hadryn
Lord Rashyd Telgar………. Great Lord of Hadryn, deceased
Lord Usyn Telgar…………. Rashyd Telgar's son, Great Lord of Hadryn
Farys Varan…………….. Hadryn noble
Lord Udys Varan…………. Hadryn noble
Heryd Ansyn……………. Hadryn noble
Martyn Ansyn……………Hadryn noble
Taneryn
Lord Krayliss……………Great Lord of Taneryn
Captain Akryd……………Taneryn soldier
Udalyn
Daryd Yuvenar……………Udalyn boy
Rysha…………………. Daryd's younger sister
Essey………………….. Udalyn horse
Chief Askar………………Udalyn chief
Banneryd
Captain Tyrblanc………….. Banneryd Black Storm captain
Lord Cyan……………….. Great Lord of Banneryd
Corporal Veln…………….. Black Storm soldier
Isfayen
Lord Faras……………….. Great Lord of Isfayen
Neysh
Lord Aynsfar………………Neysh noble, deceased
Lord Parabys………………Great Lord of Neysh
Ranash
Lord Rydysh………………. Great Lord of Ranash
Bacosh
Duke Stefhan………………. Larosan duke
Master Piet…………………Larosan bard
Saalshen
Rhillian………………….. serrin leader in Petrodor
Aisha……………………. female serrin
Errollyn………………….. male serrin, archer
Terel…………………….. male serrin
Tassi…………………….. female serrin
Others
Jurellyn………………….. senior Lenay scout
Aiden…………………. Nasi-Keth from Petrodor, Kessligh's friend
Historical Figures
Hyathon the Warrior………….. Goeren-yai mythical hero
Markield………………….. Cherrovan warlord
Leyvaan of Rhodaan…………. Leyvaan the Fool, King of Bacosh
Tharyn Askar……………….. great Udalyn chieftain
Essyn Telgar……………….. Hadryn chief
Soros Lenayin………………. former king, head of Liberation army of old
Chayden Lenayin……………. former king, Soros's son
Tullamayne…………………Goeren-yai storyteller
SASHA CIRCLED, a light shift and slide of soft boots on compacted earth. The point of her wooden stanch marked the circle's centre, effortlessly extended from her two-fisted grip. Opposite, Teriyan the leather worker matched her motion, stanch likewise unwavering, bare arms knotted with hard muscle. Sasha's eyes beheld his form without true focus. She watched his centre, not the face, nor the feet, nor especially the wooden training blade in his strong, calloused hands.
An intricate tattoo of flowing black lines rippled upon Teriyan's bicep as his arm flexed. Thick red hair stirred in a gust of wind, tangled where it fell long and partly braided down his back. High above, an eagle called, launched to flight from the row of pines on the northern ridge overlooking the Baerlyn valley of central Valhanan province. The westerly sun was fading above the ridge, settling among the pines, casting long, looming shadows. The valley's entire length was alive with golden light, gleaming off the wood-shingled roofs of the houses that lined the central road, and brightening the green pastures to either side. Nearby, several young horses frolicked, an exuberance of hooves and gleaming manes and tails. From a nearby circle, there came an eruption of yells above the repeated clash of wooden blades. Then a striking thud, and a pause for breath.
Of all of this, Sasha was aware. And when Teriyan's lunging attack came, she deflected and countered with two fast, slashing strokes, and smacked her old friend hard across the belly.
Teriyan cursed, good-naturedly, and readjusted the protective banda that laced firmly about his torso. “What'd I do?” he asked, with the air of a man long since re
signed to his fate.
Sasha shrugged, backing away with a light, balanced poise. “You attacked,” she said simply.
“Girl's gettin’ cute,” Geldon remarked from amidst the circle of onlookers. Sasha flashed Geldon a grin, twirling her stanch through a series of rapid circles, moving little more than her wrists.
“Always been cute, baker-man,” she said playfully. Guffaws from the crowd, numbering perhaps twenty on this late afternoon session. Strong men all, with braided hair and calloused hands. Many ears bore the rings of Goeren-yai manhood, and many faces the dark ink patterns of the wakening and the spirit world. Lenay warriors all, as fierce and proud as all the lowlands tales, a sight to strike terror into the hearts of any who had cause to fear. And yet they stood, and watched with great curiosity, as a lithe, cocky, short-haired girl in weave pants and a sheepskin jacket dismantled the formidable swordwork of one of their best, with little more to show for the effort than sweat.
Teriyan exhaled hard, and repeated his previous move, frowning with consideration. “Bugger it,” he said finally. “That's as good an opening stroke as anyone's got. If someone has a better suggestion, I'm all ears.”
“Improve,” Tyal remarked.
“Kessligh says the low forehand is a more effective opener than the high,” Sasha interrupted as Teriyan gave Tyal a warning stare. “For a man your size, anyhow.”
“Ah,” Teriyan made a mock dismissive gesture, “that Kessligh, what would he know about honest swordwork? You and him can stick to your sneaky svaalverd. Leave the real fighting to us, girlie.”
“Look, do you want to know how I do it, or not?” Sasha asked in exasperation. There weren't many men in Lenayin who would dare call her “girlie.” Teriyan was one. Kessligh Cronenverdt, the greatest swordsman in Lenayin and her tutor in far more than just swordwork for the past twelve years, was another.
Teriyan just looked at her, a reluctant smile creeping across a rugged face.
A bell clanged from the centre of town, midway up the valley. Stanches lowered, and all commotion about the training yard ceased as men turned to look, and listen. Again the bell, echoing off the steep valley sides, and then again, as someone got a good rhythm on the pulley rope.
“Rack your weapons!” yelled Byorn, the training hall proprietor, above the sudden commotion as men ran, boots thundering up the steps from the outside yard to the open, broad floorboards of the inner hall. “No haste in this hall, respect the circles!”
Despite the haste, men did keep to the dirt paths between tachadar circles, careful not to disturb the carefully laid stones, nor the sanctity of the space within. Sasha moved with less haste than some, seeing little point in elbowing through the crush of young men taking the lead. She walked instead with Teriyan and Geldon, up the dividing steps and into the high-ceilinged interior, unlacing her banda, and taking time to select her real weapons from the wooden rack where she'd hung them earlier. With weapons, Kessligh had instructed her often, one never rushed.
Most men did not own horses and began running up the trail toward the main road. Sasha fetched Peg from his field beside the training hall, used a stone paddock wall to mount, and galloped him in their wake…but before she could go racing to the lead, she spotted a familiar bay mare coming up the road to the training hall, a slim, red-haired girl upon her back, waving one-handed for Sasha's attention.
Sasha brought Peg to a halt, and waited. Lynette arrived with a thunder of swirling dust and flying hair, eyes wide within a freckled, pale face. She was panting and the mare—Chersey—was sweating profusely. Maybe enough for a seven-fold ride at speed, Sasha reckoned with a measuring eye, knowing Chersey's abilities every bit as well as Peg's.
“Sasha,” Lynette gasped, “it's Damon. Damon's here.”
Sasha frowned. “Damon came to Baerlyn? With what?”
“I thi…think it's the Falcon Guard.” She brushed a ragged handful of curling red hair from her face as a gust of valley wind caught it. Her long dress was pulled well above her knees, with most unladylike decorum, exposing a pair of coarse weave riding pants beneath. And leather boots in the stirrups. “I'm not sure…I was taking Chersey for a ride out past Spearman's Ridge when I saw them coming, so I turned around and came back as fast as I could…They had the banners out, Sasha, it was full armour and full colours! They looked magnificent!”
Sasha's frown grew deeper. The Falcon Guard had been lately posted in Baen-Tar. “You didn't speak to them? You don't know why they're here?”
Lynette shook her head. “No, I came straight back and told Jaegar, and he sent someone to ring the bell, and then I came looking for you…”
“Damn it. Lynie, I want you to go and get Kessligh—he went to buy some chickens.”
“He'll hear the bell ringing, surely?” Lynette asked in confusion, as more men mounted nearby, and went galloping up the road.
“Kessligh takes his chickens very seriously,” Sasha said wryly. “Just try and hurry him along a bit.”
“I'll try,” said Lynette doubtfully. Sasha kicked Peg with her heels, and went racing up the road as Lynette pulled Chersey about in a circle and followed as best she could. A short way along, Sasha came across Teriyan, Geldon and several others, running at a steady pace. She pulled Peg to a trot alongside and extended an inviting hand to Teriyan.
“Come on,” she said, “council heads should get there first.”
“Leave it, girl,” Teriyan answered without breaking stride. “I still got some pride left, you know.” Sasha scowled. Lynette went racing past on Chersey. “Hey, where'd you send my girl off to?”
“Ask her yourself, if you ever catch her,” Sasha snorted, and galloped once more up the road.
The road wove between paddock fences and low stone walls, catching the full face of the sun before it vanished behind the ridge.
She was gaining fast on two men ahead as she reached the main Baerlyn road. Upon the wooden verandahs flanking the road, Baerlyn folk had gathered—mothers with their children, elderly folk in light cloaks or knitted shawls, and the men now walking or running along the road's broad edge, keeping the middle clear for horses. Peg loved a target, and passed the leading horses in a thunder of hooves.
The road wound past Geldon's bakery, then past the trading houses and side alleys leading to warehouses, and the workshops of jewellers, potters, furniture makers and Teriyan's own leather shop.
Up ahead she saw a gathering of horses and dismounted men in armour blocking the road, milling before the stone facade of the Steltsyn Star, Baerlyn's only inn. Heraldsmen held banners, gusting now in the light valley wind, indicating that Damon was still in the vicinity.
Sasha pulled up beside several men from the training hall and surveyed the scene. There appeared to be an effort underway to lead the regiment's horses down the Star's side lane, to the stables and paddocks that stretched to the southeastern valley wall at the rear. Her searching eyes found Jaegar, Baerlyn's headman, upon the Star's verandah gesticulating in earnest discussion, then waving a thick, tattooed arm across the semiorganised mass of waiting men and horses. He spoke with Damon—tall, darkly handsome and notable by his purple and green riding cloak, the gold clasp at his neck, and the gleaming silver pommel of his sword at one hip. Now twenty-three summers, by her reckoning, and seeming tired and dishevelled from his ride. All the men held a respectful distance, except the Falcon guard captain and a young man in lordly clothes, eagerly surveying the conversation, whom Sasha did not recognise.
Then the guard captain turned upon the step and shouted above the snort and stamp of hooves, the jangle of armour and the busy discussions of men, “In units down the lane! The stables are already half full, fill them as you can, then fill the barn—it should take another ten! The rest, there's three more properties behind the inn toward the valley side, there should be enough room in those barns, if not, move down and knock on the next door. Be polite, I want not a hay bale disturbed without permission, nor a chicken's feather plucked, nor a sow's tail pulled
. I'll not have the good folk of Valhanan saying the Falcon Guard make poor guests! Tend to your mounts, then gather back here for a good hot meal on the king's own coin!”
That got a rousing cheer from all present.
“Men of Baerlyn!” bellowed Jaegar, with a barrel-chested volume that surpassed even the captain. He was a stocky man of middling height but with massively broad shoulders. The angling light appeared to catch only one side of his face, leaving the other darkly ominous…except that the darker side was facing the light. Upon closer inspection, the spirit-mask of Goeren-yai manhood revealed its finer intricacies of weaving curls, waves and flourishes. Sunlight glinted on the many rings in his ears, and upon the silver chain about his broad, sculpted neck. His long hair, parted cleanly down the middle, bound down the centre of his back in a single, leather-tied braid.
“Those with space available indoors, please find a sergeant or corporal and say so!” Jaegar continued. “There's no need for any more than the horse tenders to spend a night in the cold! Illys, we'd welcome some music inside tonight!” There was a cheer from the Baerlyn townfolk who had encircled the Falcon Guard, in all curiosity and eagerness to help.
“And Upwyld with the ale!” yelled someone from the periphery. “Don't forget the ale!” And that got an enormous cheer from everyone, soldiers and locals alike.
Jaegar held both calloused hands skyward to quieten the racket, and then bellowed, “It is the honour of Baerlyn to receive this most welcome visitation! Three cheers for the Falcon Guard!”
“Hoorah!” yelled the Baerlyners. “Hoorah! Hoorah!”
“Three cheers for Master Jaryd!” with an indication to the young man beside them on the verandah. Again the cheers. The young man held up a hand with a cheerful grin. Something about the glamorous cut of his clothes, and the self-assured smile on his lips, made Sasha's breath catch in her throat. The Falcon Guard were all from neighbouring Tyree province of central Lenayin. He must be one of Great Lord Aystin Nyvar of Tyree's sons. Not Jaryd Nyvar? Surely the spirits would not be so cruel to her? “And three cheers for Prince Damon!” And those three cheers, to Sasha's mild surprise, were loudest of all. Damon, she noted, glanced down at his riding boots and looked uncomfortable. She repressed an exasperated smile. Same old Damon.