The Sign of the Golden Archer
1
Ascham Kani reined in as he reached the top of one of the low, rounded hills that broke the monotonous flatness of the plains. His bay mare, Tufenk, gave a gusty snort of relief before dropping her head to sample the tender tips of the tall grass. It had been cropped to mere hock-height on the top of the mound by some other grazing animal, though the grass carpeting the plain around it as far as the eye could see was sometimes higher than a man's head.
Shading his eyes, Kani scanned the horizon and immediately spotted the caravan road they'd left two hours before, right where it should have been.
He grimaced. He'd thought it a simple matter to cut straight across country and shave some time from their trip.
How he had managed to become lost — no, not lost; he had merely miscalculated their direction.
Anyway, it was a fluke, nothing more. Thanks be to Allah that there were no witnesses but Tufenk, who would never tell.
Kani clicked his tongue and Tufenk lifted her head, twisting to look back at her rider, ears pricked. He leaned forward, extending his leather water skin, and pushed the tip between the horse's lips. He squeezed and the horse grunted happily, licking the water as it dribbled out the sides of her foam-flecked mouth. They hadn't dared drink at the river crossing, not with that thrice-cursed river dragon waiting just offshore.
"This is all we may allow ourselves," he warned the mare as he pulled the bottle away. "The way fortune has deserted us, this may have to last us all day."
He did not comment on his decision to leave the caravan road, which followed the river all the way back to the inn, and cut across the grasslands, where water was scarce. It had seemed a good idea at the time.
The horse continued to look at him hopefully. He grinned at her expression and smoothed his free hand along her short, muscular neck. "If all goes well, we will reach the Inn of the Three Bows before nightfall. We can both drink our fill then."
He raised the bag to his lips and took a cautious pull; the tepid liquid trickled down his throat, easing the dryness. He allowed himself no more than a swallow before recapping the bag and hanging it back in place over the saddlebow.
His smile faded as he thought of his Triad, waiting for him at the inn. "That is, if Allysia and Seeker do not send us on another empty quest," he said to the mare. "Do you think they simply wanted us out of the way?"
Tufenk returned to her grazing. Kani sighed and rubbed thoughtfully at the three deep yellow dots on his forehead.
He had expected life as a Ranger to be difficult. No great honor came without a heavy price. But it sometimes seemed that he was paying the price over and over again and receiving little in return.
It was not his fault that the previous Saffron—
No, Allysia and Seeker insisted on referring to their color as Gold, and he must do the same.
Very well. It was not his fault that the previous Gold Ranger had perished so tragically. It was to be expected, after all. A Triad member's life was usually short and violent.
He had expected the surviving Cavalier and Mystic to miss their former comrade, to need time to adjust to the change. He had grown up with the songs and stories of the Triads, had often wept at the ones that told of the deep mourning a Triad felt for a missing member, the pain of having a stranger thrust into their midst in place of the departed, well-loved comrade.
But he had been the Ranger of the Gold Triad for nearly three weeks, and it seemed that if he lived to be a hundred years old he would still be hearing, "Robert wouldn't have done it that way," and "Robert would have managed it. Why can't you?"
Robert, he had decided, had either been a complete paragon or utterly insufferable.
Kani scowled over the expanse of windswept grass below his vantage point. It wasn't as though the other two were the realization of his dreams, either. As a child, he had dreamed of being Chosen by, say, the Blue Faction. Or the Red. Now, there was a Faction of warriors!
By contrast, the Saff — Gold Faction was renowned for valuing nobility of mind and spirit more than strength of arm. Some even claimed that the designation "Gold Warrior" was an oxymoron.
Not that any had done so to Kani's face, as yet, but he was waiting for it. There were too many who equated the Gold Faction's preference for sages and artists with weakness for the insults not to come.
He should know. He'd made enough of them. Of course, he'd been only a boy then, a mere callow youth.
What was far more irksome was that he had been placed in service, not with the mighty armored warrior and cunning mage of his hopes, but with two women. Women. Why the Fey continually chose females to serve in their Triads was another mystery he would never be able to fathom.
But he bore the disappointment well, and tried not to let his new teammates know of his dissatisfaction. Why couldn't they return the courtesy?
For instance, when they had sent him on this fool mission to the river crossing to question the ferryman about a passenger who might have passed that way, he had simply gone, though he had not seen the logic of it.
He had done as they asked. He had questioned the ferryman, his family, and every other traveler he'd met upon the way, a waste of two perfectly good days.
"And for what?" he said aloud, knowing that Tufenk, at least, was listening. "No one has seen anything, or knows anything. The boat people do not question their passengers. Everyone knows that. It would be bad for their business if they did. But did I refuse? No. You and I have risked our lives traveling over this bandit-haunted wasteland, and we return empty handed, as we expected.
"But do you think we will win thanks, or that Seeker will condescend to admit that the great and most perfect Robert could have done no better?" He did not wait for a reply. "No, of course they will not. They will find some fault with what we have done. Wait and see if I am not right."
Tufenk raised her head and snorted as if in agreement, and he stroked her neck again, grateful for the sympathy. "We have done our best, Tufenk," he said stoutly. "They can ask no more." He paused, then sighed. "And yet, they always do. Women. Who can understand them?"
Tufenk took no offense and went back to grazing. Kani blew out his breath. There was no point in indulging in a fit of temper. Anyway, it was too warm.
He stretched lazily, then unbuckled his peaked helm and pulled it off to lift his face to the cool breeze that ruffled his dark, sweat-matted hair.
His leather-lamellar cuirass was hot, but he was accustomed to the discomfort. In any case, young he might be, but he was not fool enough to remove it. The grassy plains of the disputed lands between Kalmar, Yasenovo, and Torsick were home to worse things than human bandits.
In many ways, it reminded him of his home in Sahyun. The tiny Turkish settlement of Zirh, where he had been born and raised, was set in the middle of just such an expanse of grasslands. Though by his own reckoning he had left home only two years before, on his sixteenth birthday, it seemed forever since he had smelled the sweet scent of the tall grass (so much greener than that which grew all around him), listened to the musical sighing of the wind brushing through it.
Two years to him, of course. Who knew how long it had been back home? He wondered if his parents were still alive, if his littlest brother — a plump toddler when he left — was old enough to begin his own Pilgrimage to Tir yet. He had heard of stranger things. Why, the story of Harwin of Killaloe told how he had returned to his home at seventeen, and found his father an old man, his younger brother greying and middle-aged.
Kani tried not to dwell on it. Everyone grew up with the knowledge that once one left home, there was no returning. At least, not for most of the young pilgrims who set out for the Temple of Ohma in Tir with such high hopes.
But sometimes he missed the hearty warmth of his family, his siblings' noisy good cheer, his mother's limitless faith in him, his father's pride, which he bestowed unstintingly on all his children.
K
ani allowed himself a moment's wistful indulgence in nostalgia before banishing thoughts of home and family. His Triad was all the family he had now. Somehow he would win their approval. Somehow he would find that bond every Triad was supposed to have. He had never failed at anything he had put his mind and heart to in all his short life. He would not fail at this either.
Tufenk's head came up, as if she sensed that her rider was about to end their rest. She often knew his intentions, sometimes before he did himself. "Well, we might as well be going," he told her. "We want to reach the inn before dark."
He replaced his helmet, buckled it under his chin, settled the circles of beaten brass over his cheeks, gathered up the reins, and paused.
Tufenk had made no move. Ears flickering like the wings of a butterfly, she lifted her head higher as she stared out over the grass. She blew out her breath softly in a warning snort.
He pulled his bow from the scabbard strapped to his thigh. "What is it?" he whispered, so softly the words would go no farther than the horse's listening ears.
Tufenk remained motionless, but her quivering ears locked forward, toward something in the grass below.
Kani readied his bow, drawing two arrows from the quiver on his saddle. For the first time, it occurred to him that the mound where they stood had not been the wisest choice for a resting-place. He had thought only of giving Tufenk and himself the best view of the area all around, but now he realized that they were perfectly silhouetted against the sky, while the grass below could hide almost anything.
Tufenk's attention was entirely taken up by her search as she scanned her surroundings in an effort to locate whatever troubled her. She was quite bold for a horse, but she had no liking for whatever she heard or smelled. It was clear that she did not yet know exactly where this danger was, or if it was a real threat, and doubtless a good bit of her unease stemmed from her uncertainty. Like most horses, she hated uncertainty even more than open danger.
Kani shaded his eyes and scanned the waving grass around his little lookout. The wind was capricious, blowing the tall grass this way and that, silver shifting to green, to gold, with every passing breeze. Hard to track movement within that waving shelter. But surely if it were something very large, it would still leave some sign of its passing.
Beneath him, Tufenk froze as if turned to stone.
His heart raced in response. Whatever it was, it was close. He raised his bow, drawing breath for a warning shout.
With a bloodcurdling roar, a liontaur burst from the tall grass and launched itself uphill at them.
"Allah!" Kani screamed as Tufenk spun. He dropped the reins, twisting to aim at the creature looming behind. His first shot went wild as Tufenk leaped like a hare and landed halfway down the mound's slope. The liontaur skidded past where she had been, one huge paw from its lion body swiping at them, its human hands snatching the air in their wake.
"Bugger it!" it snarled, and turned to hurl itself after them.
The world slowed, the creature swelling to fill Kani's vision as if nothing else existed, while his pulse thundered in his ears. He felt a faint and faraway wonder that the monster had ever been human, but the crude English left no doubt.
The lower half of its body was larger than any natural lion, but the man, sprouting like a freakish growth from the lion's foreparts, was somehow more frightening. Muscles bulged in brawny shoulders, supporting a head that was neither man nor beast, but a horrible blend of both.
Legend said liontaurs were just another kind of tainted, men who would have become Koshka had they not been on horseback when they rode into a nest of pocket magic.
Legend did not do justice to the horror the thing inspired.
Kani's second shot went wide as the slope collapsed under Tufenk's flying feet, and she stumbled, skidding; the liontaur closed the distance. Kani's thighs locked in the saddle as he frantically whipped another arrow into place and fired.
The liontaur ducked, swearing, and the arrow passed over its maned head. "You asked for it, you little sod," it spat. "I was only after the horse, but now you've gone and made me mad. "With an animal snarl, it lunged.
Tufenk dodged, and Kani dropped his bow over the saddlebow, fumbling for his spear. No horse, not even brave little Tufenk, could outrun a liontaur at such close range. The kill had to be made fast or his Triad would be waiting for yet another new Ranger.
Just as Tufenk reached level ground, the liontaur threw itself from the hillside, blotting out the light as it hurtled toward them. Kani shifted his weight and Tufenk changed direction in mid-stride; the liontaur shot overhead.
Kani yanked the spear from its stubborn tether and thrust upward at the great, golden body.
Too slow — the creature landed and whirled to launch itself again, its semi-human face twisted in a furious scowl. "'Old still, you bloody whelp!"
Kani did not reply as he drove his heels into Tufenk's sides, though the horse did not need encouragement to pour every ounce of speed she possessed into desperate flight. Thank Allah that the liontaur was weaponless — had it a spear, they would not have stood a chance.
Tufenk dodged again and the liontaur leaped to head her off. "Ha!" it snarled, powerful arms and clawed hands spread wide to grab and hold. "Got you."
Kani shifted as Tufenk did, whirling his spear over his head. Allah, but the thing was fast! He thrust wildly, but the liontaur batted the weapon aside and the spearhead scored only a red line along the creature's brawny human shoulder. It ducked, snarling words that fell outside Kani's grasp of English, and Kani thrust again.
This time, the liontaur grasped the spear and yanked, almost jerking him from his seat. "Gimme that—"
No choice — he let go, and the creature grinned, twirling the spear as it ran. "Thanks for the spear, laddy-buck," it shouted, baring sharp teeth in a bloodthirsty grin. "Want it back?"
Fires of all Hells! Kani snatched his bow again, whipping an arrow into place. The creature lifted the spear to throw; at this range, it could not possibly miss.
Kani fired without aiming down the beast-man's wide, red gullet.
The liontaur's triumphant roar turned to a strangled screech as it tumbled end-over-end through the grass, disappearing as Tufenk put as much distance between them as she could.
Kani sat back and grabbed the reins, but Tufenk gave no sign that she noticed. They ought to turn back, make sure the thing was dead…he scanned the tall grass whipping by; nothing leaped out — but suppose it was not alone? And after all, it had nothing worth salvaging, save his spear.
He was not afraid — of course not — but he decided that Tufenk had the right idea. He dropped the reins again to nock another arrow, then leaned low over the mare's neck and let her run all the way to the caravan road.