Hey, Everyone. So here are the first two chapters to Book 2. I have to put it in or there will be too much of a delay posting it, so I won't get your answer whether you are interested in the second book or not until after that. -Harp
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The Five Clans of Luteri
Book II: Luteri
Chapter One
Aslin rode in front of Kane on his Luterian warhorse, Shaol. Another horse, small like the ones in Alveria but stocky and with long hair, trudged behind them, a rope connecting the two horses, carrying their bags.
They had disembarked the ship in the morning, coming down the gangway, land strange under her feet. Kane had purchased the small packhorse in Minsk, prudently loading their bags onto its back before releasing Shaol from the hold of the Tinook, the ship that had brought them here.
Shaol had exploded out of the hold, rushing straight up the gangplank toward land, huge, his thick coat black from nose to the tip of his tail. Metal for fighting tipped his front hooves. He was a third larger than the largest Alverian horse, enraged, weeks confined on the ship. People had scattered as Kane hung on to the reins in grim, struggling silence, keeping himself from being dragged, his feet sometimes leaving the ground. Aslin had stood well back, the hood of her cloak up so nobody would see her.
Upon spotting the smaller horse, Shaol had screamed in outrage and lunged at it immediately, murder in his eyes, his clacking teeth met with curses and simple brute strength as Kane got between the two animals and drove the warhorse back, snapping the leather reins at him as Shaol attempted to circumvent him.
The smaller horse, whom Aslin had named Barley—Kane giving her a puzzled look—had reacted, understandably, with terror, bolting repeatedly from the warhorse, only the fact that his reins were tied to a metal ring set in the ground for that purpose stopping him from fleeing the area altogether. Barley had ranged the semicircle of possible movement, his hind end down, his front legs stiff, scraping gouges in the dirt as he attempted to retreat. The bags on his back swayed perilously.
Several other people joined Aslin to watch the spectacle. These were not Luterians in Minsk. Kane had explained to her that they were Siblin, a seafaring people who administered the port city that opened to Luteri in exchange for the profits from a tax on imported and exported goods. It was an old relationship, Minsk having been a permanent port for Siblin ships for a thousand years.
The Siblin she saw didn't seem to be too curious about them, being a secretive, private people themselves. They lived in the colorful ships docked on the western side of the harbor, a whole population of them, nomadic, their ships coming and going.
It was an exhausting process getting Shaol saddled. By the time Kane was standing in front of her, covered in dust, Shaol's froth on his cloak, his face tense and furious, Aslin had simply stepped into his laced hands without comment and let him put her on Shaol. She could tell from the haste with which Kane mounted behind her that he still didn't trust the Luterian stallion not to do something hateful.
Kane turned Shaol and headed him forward through the main road of the port city, the packhorse following. The way was clear, it was straight, it was wide, relatively quiet as they moved away from the chaos of the harbor, the clatter of crates, the rattling of carts. They passed a tavern, a few shops.
But then they passed a Siblin blacksmith working in front of a forge, his face lit oddly with the fire, who pounded his hammer on metal, a muffled clang that sent Shaol into an explosion of startled fury.
Handling the animal in grim silence at first, one arm around her waist to make sure she didn't fly off, Kane grunted as Shaol went sideways, sideways more as if he was going to fall over altogether, Aslin trying to lean the other way, then straight backward until he almost hit Barley behind him, who reared his head and backed up himself. Then Shaol surged forward, coming to the end of the rope between them, dragging the packhorse briefly, Shaol throwing his chest into it. Shaol's peeling call rang in the streets as Kane battled him, abandoning silence.
"Contrary fucking cock of a horse—," Kane spat in Luterian as Aslin closed her eyes behind the cloak's hood.
He finally got Shaol moving in the direction he wanted. Aslin thought about how it was only the fact that the smaller horse was behind Shaol, out of his immediate line of sight, keeping the stallion from falling on Barley now, bags and all, and stomping him to death.
They moved roughly forward—and sideways, and sometimes backward, strange diagonals as Shaol lurched down the street in stubborn rage—Siblins keeping a wary distance. Kane fought the animal all the way through the port city and to the huge iron gates rising far above her at the end of that road. At the top of the gate, bars jutted that ended in sharp points like spears.
A smaller gate—smaller only in contrast, it was still wide and tall enough for five horses to walk side-by-side—was in its center. A moon pattern with five stars was woven delicately into the iron on the inset.
"The pattern in the gates is for Luteri, for the Five Clans, honoring Shai," Kane said through clenched teeth behind her, dealing with the horse.
Shaol, who had never stopped his other-than-forward motion, chose this moment to rush forward briefly and give a truly impressive hop straight up into the air, all four feet leaving the ground, his back bowed under them. For a moment, they floated. She heard Kane curse behind her.
"Hold on, Corsaire," he grunted, pulling her tighter.
Aslin felt their momentum shift downward, Shaol moving in midair so his front hooves crashed first with a sharp jar into the ground that rattled her teeth, throwing her forward, only Kane's hold keeping her from cracking her face on the horse's neck, and then Shaol's back end arrived.
"No more, Shaol!" Kane roared, completely out of patience. "I will have you gelded, you wicked creature!"
Shaol responded with a series of short peeling cries punctuated with back kicks of his legs, again startling the packhorse, Kane getting him moving forward again.
They finally approached the huge high iron gate. Kane dismounted, pulling her down with him, Shaol so tall, setting her on her feet. When he was sure she was steady, he dropped the reins, sending the stallion a disgusted glare, and approached the gate.
Shaol turned his head and looked at her with one roaming eye, completely maddened, sly and evil. Aslin stepped away from the horse and out of biting range, which was a long way, watching him warily as Kane banged on the metal gate, setting up a dull thudding sound.
"Bartok!" Kane called.
"Like we didn't know you're there, Tavishi," a voice came in Luterian, laughing. "Like we couldn't hear you crashing and banging up the Minsk road. Yes, you've entirely snuck up on us. Declare yourself."
"You know me, Bartok," Kane sneered back, glaring through the bars. "I've come through this gate a dozen times. How can we trust you to defend the gates when you're so stupid?"
"Kiss my Noëthe ass, Kane," the figure answered.
Aslin blinked.
"Well, if you know my name, then declaring myself is redundant, isn't it?" Kane pointed out in a fury. "Do you know that word, redundant? Or is it too largish big for you?"
"You can come through, but your companion has to say who she is."
"She does not have to do so," Kane raged. "You are making it up. Open the gate, Bartok. I've got Shaol, you know what a bastard he is just come off the ship."
"I don't care if your cock is hard and you very urgently need someone to suck it, I'm not opening the gate until I know whom you're bringing into Noëthe territory."
