DANMAR: Warrior of Tears
Kay Murky
DANMAR: Warrior of Tears
By Kay Murky
Published by Jesiruka Press
Copyright 2012 Kay Murky
Licence Notes
Table of Contents
Acknowledgements
Glossary
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
More Tales from Kitra
Acknowledgements
The author wishes to thank all those who participated in the creation of this work.
See https://www.kaymurky.com for full list
Cover art by Stig Anders Klemp Johansen: [email protected]
Disclaimer
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, places and characters are the product of the author's imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or existing fictional characters, is entirely coincidental.
Glossary
For maps, character list, background and an Onlash/English word list:
https://www.kaymurky.com
Chapter One
Marteen swore, and ducked back into the crevice he was hiding in. Just his damned bad luck, as always.
Fifteen years ago he had hoped to one day become a great healer, and one of The Wise Ones. To be the one who would lead his people to throw off the yoke of the Empire. Never had his dreams had anything to do with being stuck on a rocky hill, on a different continent, on loan to another country and surrounded by Imperial and Essian soldiers whom he was supposed to command.
The hills they had picked to set up the ambush for the enemy was all rock, with only small clumps of the dry bushes and grass that seemed to be the only local plant growth. At least the crevices they were hiding in provided some shelter from the merciless sun, but nothing could dispel the discomfort of the oppressive heat and humidity. Wriggling his shoulders under the shiny metal armour plates only caused chafing, and brought no release. Irritably, he swatted at the cloud of ever present insects humming around him.
A rustle next to him announced a new arrival in his crevice. “Another two marks until sunset, I would guess.” The junior Adept sank to the ground in a pool of red cloth, wiping the perspiration off his face with his sleeve. Marteen realised that he had at least one thing to be thankful for; the summer uniform of the Imperial soldiers might have the awkward shiny shoulder armour and breast plates, but the shirts and trousers were made from lightweight brown cloth. The poor mage was boiling inside layered robes of thick red wool.
“At least it will be a bit cooler then.” Marteen looked at the other man, judging him to be about the same age as himself, and half grinned as he passed the waterskin over. “So, Lord Vinterlan. What sins have you committed, to have been sent along on this awful mission?”
The mage stiffened as he studied the Imperial Captain with narrowed eyes. After a moment his face slowly relaxed into an answering grin, which turned into a rueful half laugh, half sigh. “I asked too many questions, Captain Marteen, and I unfortunately voiced my disagreement with the Senior Imperial Adept.”
“Ah.” Marteen almost felt pity for the man. Almost, but not quite. As far as mages went, Vinterlan was not a bad sort. “Then we’re in the same boat. That grey dragon they captured, for example. I understand why they wanted to do it, but did they have to damage the poor beast like that? She felt…”
He managed to shut himself up just in time. No matter how good a sort Vinterlan was, he was still an Adept, and Marteen had not struggled for nothing over the last fourteen years to keep his gift hidden. He had no idea how much of the mage or healing gift he actually had, but he had seen what had happened to those from his country who had shown that ability. They had either been brainwashed into the Imperial Mage School, or driven to suicide. If he had slipped up now and mentioned that he had, however briefly, made contact with the dragon’s mind…
Fortunately the mage had not noticed that slip, too busy swatting at the insects swarming around him, attracted by the smell of his sweat.
“There I have to agree with you; unnecessary cruelty. But everything Rikkelan does, even if not outright cruel, has that underlying vindictiveness. I also managed to put my foot into it by questioning that action.” Vinterlan passed the waterskin back to Marteen and they lapsed into silence, each to his own thoughts.
Dragons. Now that was something he had not thought ever to see. The Wise Ones from his own country had spoken about the dragons of the North, calling them Keepers of Wisdom. The Imperial schools taught that they were a myth, whereas the Imperial Army taught it’s officers that the dragons were vicious tools of the Onlashian military; mindless beasts controlled by magic for only one purpose; warfare. Something the general population of Empire need not know of.
Marteen had always doubted anything the Empire tried to teach him. He had learned by rote and spouted whatever was necessary when called upon, but he questioned everything, if not out loud, at least in his mind. The couple of brief contacts he had had with the poor captured dragon’s mind had been enough to tell him that his doubts were well founded.
Next to him the mage suddenly started chuckling. “I suppose there’s no harm in telling you this. You’ve seen us communicating with the mirrors?”
Marteen nodded, and the mage carried on with a grin on his bony face. “Well. One of my friends gave me an update last night. A couple of nights ago, the night after we left … chaos broke out in the base camp. Someone killed a few mages… the most unpleasant and inept of our lot. Not only that, but whoever it was also managed to burn down four of the main storage tents. While they were trying to put out the fires, a storm cloud broke right over them. It did drown the fires, but also gave cover for whoever retrieved that dragon.”
“Sh… It was rescued?” Marteen felt a flutter of relief in his chest. He had felt so guilty about that beast, even though he knew he was not able to do anything about or for it.
“Apparently, or it healed and rescued itself, including totally dismembering those set to guard it. That’s why Lord Rikkelan’s in such a foul mood, and taking over control of the army. He’s the type that would want revenge.”
Still grinning, the mage rested his head against the rock and closed his eyes. “Just thought you’d find it interesting.”
It was interesting indeed. Someone had outwitted the Senior Imperial Adept. Marteen would have liked to shake that individual’s hand. Eventually he drifted off into a half doze, the buzzing song of the insects lulling him to sleep.
