When death becomes a dark cloak of flies covering meat.
Why do the legs hold?
Don’t they remember all this? Did the Sieve give them an iron heart, to mercilessly beat for Nothing, to be scorned?
Or do they remain strong exactly because of this? Because those legs have the memory of the entire Tribe within them?
They have walked the steppe of our ancestors. They have fought all the demons and were victorious over and over again. They have crossed the steppe, the mountain, the rivers, and the valleys, and they remember. They remember that the one invincible demon is the one whom our ancestors left inside them. In their minds, their souls, their hearts. And their legs.
Spring was in full blossom when I walked out of the Forest. I reached the outpost where I had left my horse on foot.
This is where I saw him for the first time. He was the most beautiful male I had ever laid eyes upon. His mane so long, rippling and shiny, his eye looking so inviting and proud at the same time, almost female. All the warriors simply stood around and admired him, pointing and gaping; dreaming. He was galloping unsaddled on the young grass, the earth trembling to a distance under its hooves. I wanted that stallion the moment I saw him. I had never had a stallion before; the Truths proclaimed that a man had to reach his twenty springs to claim one. As if the strength of any man could dominate that white and gray-speckled beast of Enaka.
The few Archers who were there turned their gazes away from the stallion when they saw me approaching. I was starving and exhausted, my skins dirty and covered with mud and leaves.
“Bless Enaka. We were looking for you all over,” said the oldest of the pack. Hollow cheeks, a bit of drool at the left end of his lips.
“You can use some milk, hey? Not much meat here, but I’ll boil some gruel,” added the second. He had the rheumy eyes of a madman and was holding a knife. Its blade was slick with blood.
Archers tending after me; this was not to be expected.
“We thought, you, son of Er-Ren and all, would come out of the Forest with a deer on your back. Uh, no luck.” The first Archer was now mocking me, giggling like a little girl with his comrades.
“I need to get my horse and get back to Sirol,” I said.
I wasn’t even certain if I would head back to Sirol, or steal a horse and ride all the way to the North away from all I knew. I just needed to get away from men and talk.
“His horse?” said the one with the knife looking at his companions. He scratched the back of his head and wore a stupid smile.
“Ah, you better wait for the Reghen, Chief.”
“Who?”
“They just made it here this morning from Sirol. A Reghen, a whole swarm of Rods and a couple of your men.”
“My men?” What was a Reghen doing here, looking for me? Nobody knew I had left for the Forest.
“Yeah, they won’t be long now. They said that they’ll be back before noon. They would go hunting or searching for you, or hunting you, that I didn’t get.” A grin spread across his face. “I don’t ask much. But they said that if we saw you to make sure you stay here.”
“And if—”
“I hope you don’t make trouble, Chief. I must keep you here; those Rods were not joking. Have you seen them? Those lucky oafs have meat every night, that I can tell,” the Archer said.
He kept talking words that didn’t make sense to me. He was an older man; a couple more springs and he would be sent to the Guides. He had shaved his beard very short to look younger and his thinning frame helped in that. A man loses his broad shoulders very fast in a starving outpost.
In the distance, I spotted a large group of Rods coming out of the wood from a southern direction. Their dark bearskins were unmistakable. A Reghen. Leke and Temin to the right of them. All galloping faster as they were coming closer, as if they had recognized me too. I just wished I could steal that brave stallion in front of me and get away. I needed to know at least.
“That stallion. What is that beast?” I turned and asked the Archer.
“Oh, you noticed the Northern Boy here? I didn’t think that Blades cared so much for such a horse. Haven’t seen a stallion like that in all my life.”
“Have you put a saddle on it?”
“Yes, but nobody has ridden it for long. We were keeping it for Druug, our Leader. Now…I don’t know.”
“You don’t know what?”
The Reghen was already next to me and the Rods dismounted and encircled me. They stood at a few paces away, neither friendly nor threatening. Dull and solemn looking as Rods always were.
“The Chief is asking about Druug, wise Reghen,” the Archer said. “Better you tell him.”
The Reghen’s squinting eyes showed that he hadn’t come after me for good. “Don’t you know about Druug, Da-Ren? About those other Chiefs?”
“Know what?” I cut my eyes toward Leke; he looked worried. “I was in the Forest, searching for the Dasal,” I said. “What about Druug? Something happened?”
“Many things. In time. Did you find the Dasal?”
“Are you questioning me, Reghen?”
He nodded a slow, confident, smiling yes. “Or we can go back to Sirol and let the Khun question you. He is less patient than I am. Did you find the Dasal?” the Reghen insisted on his question.
“Yes…no. I found traces, their huts, but they have headed south. Now that spring is here. I found a couple left behind but couldn’t speak their tongue. They tried to show me; I made sense of their hand signs. Their kin have gone south to reach the West. Through the southern pass.”
I was making up lies I hadn’t even thought of when I started my words.
“And why are you back, Da-Ren?”
The Reghen continued his relentless questioning. Leke’s silence was not helping me decipher his intentions.
What do you know, Reghen?
“Who asks?” I said.
“Sah-Ouna herself.”
What do you know, Old Witch?
“Are you deaf, Reghen? I was tracking down the Dasal. I can’t hunt them alone; I came to get more men and let Malan know.”
“But why did you leave Sirol in the first place? Who gave you such orders?”
“I had—”
I had run out of lies. The Reghen’s silent stare was trying to enter my mind like a dark worm, seeking the truth.
Leke walked his horse forward and talked.
“Darhul’s nine heads, what are we doing here? Don’t you see that the Chief almost died, trying to save your skins? Didn’t I tell you that much in Sirol? Chief Da-Ren was in shame after we didn’t find the pass last time.”
I shut my gaping mouth as Leke continued.
“The Chief made an oath to walk in the Forest alone and without food until he found the south pass, to lead our Khun back there. This man is no traitor.”
At least that part was true. I was no traitor, only a fool.
Leke even managed to look outraged. He threw me his waterskin and shouted to the Archer. “Fetch the Chief some gruel. Be quick now.”
The water woke my face and my mind up and I found my words again. “So, Reghen, what else do you want to know?”
“Don’t you know anything about Druug? Don’t you know why we flayed that dog in the middle of Sirol?”
“Along with those three other Chiefs of the Blades?” the Rod closer to me added, talking for the first time.
It had all started to make sense now. I could very well guess why Druug was lying flayed in the middle of Sirol. I could still remember the day when Malan—a boy half his age, the One who had beaten out Druug’s own son Redin—had slapped him in front of the council. The only thing that didn’t make sense was how did Leke know what to say and why did he? What had I done to deserve such luck?
“No, Reghen. Tell me.”
“Forgive me, Chief. Your men were right.” The Reghen’s voice lost all its arrogance and his tone changed to wise and calm. “You did a brave thing going alone in the Forest. And when you
came out of it alone, I knew you were no traitor. Just had to be sure.” He continued explaining what had happened, adding the details about flayed bodies, rabid maulers, decapitated Chiefs and crows that nibbled off the eyes of the traitors. “Malan asked us to question all the Chiefs of the Blades. There could be more traitors. When we heard that you were gone…”
“Let’s head back for Sirol. We need you there, Chief,” Leke added, eager to end all this.
“Yes, we are all needed back,” the Reghen added.
It was not meant to be, and I wouldn’t escape to the North alone. If I tried now, Malan would send a thousand men to hunt me.
“My horse,” I turned and shouted to the Archer who had made fun of Er-Ren’s Story. “I left it here for you to look after.”
I had to repeat the order a couple of times until he replied.
“There,” he said, and he pointed me to the hooked pieces of horsemeat drying flayed and bloody. A ribcage, a haunch.
“You stupid dog.”
I didn’t have much strength to fight or even shout at him.
“That old mare was useless, Chief. It had a quick death, and we can use the meat.”
“So, you kill my horse, for…meat and you offer me some…gruel? It was the only horse I had.”
It was a good horse and you, Archer, are going to find the same death someday. I owe you that much.
“All Chiefs get four horses. Even Blades. That can’t be your only horse,” he said.
“Not anymore. No one in the Blades has four horses.”
“Give this man another horse,” the Reghen said. “We need to get back fast.”
A persistent and rhythmic thumping sound had followed all this exchange of words. It hadn’t stopped since the Reghen started talking. I could hear his hooves beating. The most magnificent horse I’d ever seen. I turned to him, and then to the Archer.
“You said that you were keeping that stallion for Druug,” I said with a wide grin. He turned pale then red with fury in the same breath. “Does he have a name?” I asked.
“Arrow…” he said, mumbling half a word.
“Arrow what? Speak up!” I shouted.
“Arrowind.” His face turned sour.
I waited for three long breaths, laughing silently at his face, and scratching my left temple, just to prolong his torture; my enjoyment.
“Fuck Arrowind. His name is O’Ren,” I said. I was already walking toward the animal.
“That’s a stallion, you fool. It was bred for the Leader of ten thousand Archers. You have to be twenty springs old to ride it.” The Archer had turned crimson and purple by now but couldn’t do much more than that.
“Oh, yes, I am twenty. Twenty springs and three days old. You know how I know?” I pulled my hair to the side and showed him the ninestar mark. “Ask Sah-Ouna; she’ll tell you about me. That’s why I can roam the Forest alone, unharmed.”
No one dared say much when I talked of the ninestar mark and mentioned Sah-Ouna as if it were a laughing matter. Still, there were a couple of meaningless complaints.
“I thought you were only eighteen. Same as Khun-Malan,” the Reghen said.
“Truth is I am nineteen. But today I feel like twenty. This is decided; those men owe me a horse, and the Truths also say I get to choose one of theirs.”
“You have to have legs of iron to ride this one,” the Archer said.
No, you don’t.
I had had enough of the Archer and didn’t even reply to him. I was next to the stallion that had stopped his stride and was resting, as if he knew that it was time. I stroked his neck softly and he lowered his head. The gray speckles painted a silvery color on his back, his rump and hind legs were a darker gray. His tail and mane were long and gold-white. Legs of iron. No man’s legs were strong enough to rule this beast. He either wanted me riding him, or he didn’t.
Let’s get out of here, boy. Are you with me, O’Ren? Are your legs strong enough to keep me going? When love bleeds from the sword of betrayal? When glory scatters away like ashes in the demon wind? Are you with me to the end?
I was riding first, challenging the stocky Rods and the frail Reghen to keep up. To make it back to Sirol, to listen once again to the Legends of the Ouna-Mas, to taste their flesh, to lead my loyal men. They had been the one surprise against all that was betrayed.
“Slow down, Chief. What a horse this is! Don’t let Khun-Malan see you riding it.” Leke was trying to keep up with me as a blood-red sun was descending on our backs behind the Forest.
“How did you know, Leke?”
He didn’t say anything at first, and I insisted.
“How did you know I had left for the Forest?”
“Know? I still don’t know. It was a guess. I was with you when we went up to the Dasal, all alone, when you left with that Dasal witch. I saw your eyes when you walked away with her and when you came back. All alone, again and again? That is madness, Chief,” he said shaking his head left and right slowly, his horse trotting next to mine.
“So, how did you guess? You read eyes, is that your claim?”
“Madness, Chief. Only one thing can drive a young man to madness. And don’t ask me how I know.”
“Have you? A woman in Sirol?” I asked.
“Some other night, Chief. Some other day. This one has brought enough.”
Forward, O’Ren. Forward, my brave one. Sirol awaits us.
It had been eight agonizing nights since I had left for Kar-Tioo and I was back at the camp. Only the eagles, the hawks, and the other birds could have done it faster.
Sani was surprised to see me, and he couldn’t hide it. The men were training while he was giving orders.
“We thought you were lost forever. Don’t ever leave alone again, Chief,” he said.
“I thought you liked being Chief,” I said.
Many men stood in front of me, but only nine heads, like those of Darhul, smiled as soon as they saw me. “I had to find the road to the West. I had to go into the oaks.” Nine heads lapped up my lies. “Don’t worry. The Forest doesn’t scare me.”
“The Reghen asked if you had died, Chief. Some even called you a traitor. They wanted to bring someone in your place. You haven’t seen the Chiefs of the other Packs. The maulers are better than most of them,” said Sani.
“How come they didn’t choose you?” I asked.
“They don’t seem to trust us,” he laughed.
But Malan trusted me, or wanted me close to him, and that was proven a few days later when the Reghen brought new Truths.
“You, the First, and four more Packs of Blades will stay to guard Sirol. Summer and autumn. The rest of the Blades leave for raids immediately with the Archers. To the South and to the East.”
Not to the West.
Not all of the men were on my side, and they showed it at once—some more vexed than the others.
“The other Packs will get loot and women, and we will starve here all summer.”
“If you hadn’t left for the Forest, they would have sent us too,” said a second.
Maybe they were right. But I didn’t care. Betrayal. Loyalty. I knew that now and even the Khun did so. These were the only words worth something. Neither glory nor love. Betrayal and loyalty. Death and life. My patience had ended, and I would take no more whining.
“How many of you want to go on the raids with the other Packs?” I asked uttering every word slow and loud.
No one dared raise his hand.
“Weren’t you just now mumbling? I won’t punish you. Speak up.”
Sani understood and raised his hand. More hands followed.
“And how many of you would rather stay behind with me?”
Half of the hands went down. Sani’s and Leke’s stayed up. They would stay with me.
I wasn’t about to beg or drag anyone like a corpse on my back. We still didn’t have a Leader of all the Blades, so I rode alone to find the Chiefs of each Pack who would be leaving for the raids. Every Pack had to have forty men. B
ut all were short a few men. Some two. Others three.
“I have a few strong men. I’ll let them loose. They want to go raiding. Who wants them?”
I went to all the tents until the light was gone for that day. I was giving away my men. Strong, brave, capable men, who didn’t want to stay with me. The other Chiefs looked at me like a welcome fool and took whatever they could.
The strength of any leader in the Tribe was always and everywhere measured by the number of warriors under him.
The One Leader, the Khun, commanded over thirty thousand men. All of us.
The Leader of the Archers, more than ten thousand. Except for the rare day when he was lying flayed on a pole in the Wolfhowl, with the flies kissing his long-gone lips.
The Leader of the Blades? Whoever was finally chosen by Malan would rule almost seven hundred men.
A Pack Chief could lead up to forty men.
A thrice-carved warrior commanded his two legs and his horse, and nothing more.
And a lunatic like me, who was giving away the warriors who didn’t believe in him anymore, had nineteen men. Those who chose to remain with me.
The more the men, the more important a leader was. Or so everyone believed. But not I. The men who follow without believing make the heaviest yet most useless armor. Men without heart, without soul, without legs or eyes. Blind unbelievers. Their apathy and disdain spread like the deadliest poisons and corrupt even the few who remain true.
The nineteen who remained close to me questioned, even doubted, but believed. Those who left were grateful. I never looked behind my back again.
When I made it to the Thirteenth Pack an old friend from the Uncarved approached me. It was Noki, the one who had kissed the Ouna-Ma when we were still kids.
“Can I come with you?” he asked.
“Don’t you want to go on the raids, Noki? Are you scared?”
“All this riding in the heat of summer bores me. And I can’t stand that Pigface Chief.”
He had been unlucky enough to get the worst Chief. Noki had once been an Uncarved and the best of the Sieve. He wouldn’t fall easily. I offered Pigface two men and asked for Noki. He refused. I gave him a third, Urak, the one I cared the least about, and Pigface agreed.
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