by Pedro Urvi
Be careful my love, don’t let anything bad happen to you. He sighed. He remembered the sadness of their parting, when each of them had left on their different missions. He remembered the weight of concern he carried every day in his heart because he had no idea whether Albana was all right. Or Kyra, or the others…
A voice reached him. “An excellent plan. We owe you our victory, Liberator.”
Ikai came out of his reverie and looked up toward the voice. He recognized the woman immediately: Lurama, the leader of the People of the Highlands. She must have been about sixty, but her energy and intelligence made her look younger.
“It could have turned out badly. We were lucky…”
“I don’t believe in luck, I believe in wisdom, intelligence and the brave hearts of my people. Let me thank you on their behalf for what you’ve done for us.”
“You don’t have to, Lurama, I’m here to help you.”
“I’ll say it all the same. My people might be rough and cold, but we can recognize merit in those who deserve it.”
Ikai nodded in acknowledgement.
“Burdin told me we almost lost you today.”
“Luckily he was there to protect me. I believe I have you to thank for that.”
Lurama shook her head. Her face showed concern. “Don’t thank me, what you must do is not put yourself in danger. We can’t afford to lose you. Without you we won’t win, and my people will suffer the rage of the Gods. Those heartless Enforcers of theirs would bring such suffering that it would take us years to recover.”
The gentle scolding affected Ikai because it reminded him of his mother Solma’s. He gazed at Lurama’s pale face, where the wrinkles on her brow became more noticeable as she frowned. Her blue eyes, uncommon among those peoples where chestnut-brown was predominant, were marked by worry.
“You’re right, I’ll be more careful,” he said. He bent his head and stared at the fire.
“There’s too much at stake. I need you beside me to the end. The life of all my people is in our hands now, yours and mine, because it’s us they follow in search of freedom, and we can’t fail them, least of all now, when we’re so close to our goal.”
“We shan’t fail them. You have my word on that.”
“Your confidence comforts my spirit, Liberator.”
“You know I don’t like the title of liberator. Ikai is enough.”
“You’ve led us here: your knowledge of the Gods, of their Boundaries, of the Guards and Enforcers, of how they organize everything, and structure it … you’ve been invaluable. You’ve brought us the confidence we needed to rebel. You plan battles like a master general, far better than my warriors. For us you’re the Liberator who crossed the barrier of the Gods to free us from their yoke.”
“I’m nothing but a man, but all I know, everything I’ve seen and learnt, I put at your disposal to help you reach freedom.”
“I can see you’re not a common man, Liberator. This old woman can feel it inside her. As leader of my people at these critical times in our history, I’m grateful to you.”
“You don’t owe me anything. I came with a mission and I’ll see it through.”
Lurama nodded. “To free this Boundary, as you call it.”
“That’s right.”
“If you’ve already freed yours, as you told me, if your people live free of the tyranny of the Gods, why come to help us? Why risk your life? Shouldn’t you be with your loved ones? Shouldn’t you be enjoying freedom with them?”
“My people live free, but hidden and in fear of being found by the Gods. And sooner or later it’ll happen. Hiding isn’t the answer. I tried it in the past, and failed. We can’t hide, least of all from Gods who are eternal. They’ll find us, it’s just a matter of time. That’s why I’m here. To free the other Boundaries and unite Men in the fight against the Gods. That’s my mission.”
“A very ambitious and dangerous one.”
“I know, we all know. I’d give my right hand to be with my loved ones, but they share that vision just as I do. That’s why they’ve all accepted the mission.”
“And where are they now?”
“They’re in the other Boundaries, doing the same work as I am here.”
“Do you think they’ll manage to make the others rebel against the Gods?”
“I have to believe they will, because it’s the only way. We must unite. All the men and women. Together we’ll be able to defeat them.”
Lurama looked up at the moon, lost in thought.
“It’s one thing to rebel against the tyranny of your brothers and the Enforcers of the Gods, it’s quite another to unite and fight against the Gods themselves. Are you sure they’ll join us?”
Ikai heaved a deep sigh.
“That’s what I’m hoping, for the sake of all mankind.”
Chapter 2
Kyra gazed across the great plains from her piebald mount. The sun was shining intensely in a cloudless sky, and its rays turned the earth a soft red. Everything in that Boundary was reddish in color. The mountains, the plains, and the most surprising thing of all: its inhabitants. They were red as the fluid that would soon be shed on that land of steppes.
She turned to the two riders with her.
“Lone Wolf, how far are we from the Barrier of the Gods?”
The warrior put his hand to his eyes to shade them from the sun. He was young, very strong, and was acting as her personal bodyguard. His skin was dark red, his hair and eyes black, and he had a wild face which radiated fierceness. He gave the impression that he might jump on someone at any moment and cut their throat. His long hair was held back with a leather band around his forehead. He rode a piebald which he cared for as if it were his little brother.
He pointed to the west with his spear. “Two days,” he said.
“Is it all plains?”
“Yes.”
The warrior was a man of few words and very reserved. It was said that no one could defeat him in combat, either on foot or on horseback, as the scars he bore on his arms and side testified. This was a very strange Boundary; the warriors of the tribes were allowed to compete among themselves in fights to the death. Like a sport. Kyra could not understand why the Gods allowed this, still less why the tribes went along with it. Things were very different in that land. When she looked east, all she could make out was a huge herd of bison in the distance. She could now recognize them immediately, although she had never seen them before coming here, since those magnificent animals did not exist in the Senoca Boundary.
“Is there anywhere we can hide?”
“No.”
Kyra gave the warrior a pleading look to encourage him to elaborate a little, but he ignored her. She could not manage to get more than two words at a time out of him. Under that punishing sun, the warriors of the tribe wore only light armor made of bones and reinforced leather over chest and back, leaving sides and arms visible. He wore breeches and footwear of tanned animal leather. For some reason they did not use tunics in that Boundary, preferring leather. Compared with the Senoca, and in Kyra’s own view, the People of the Steppes were rather more primitive, as well as much wilder, at least in their customs and rituals.
“The mountains are more to the north,” Quiet Spirit intervened with a smile.
Kyra turned to her. The Medicine-Woman was slightly older than Kyra, maybe a couple of springs more, and of an extraordinary beauty. The soft red tone of her complexion, together with fine and wonderfully delicate features, was the envy of all the women in the tribe ̶ including Kyra. There was not a man who did not notice her and hardly anybody who did not secretly desire her. But that was not the quality that stood out most in Kyra’s eyes: what she most appreciated in her was her inner peace. She seemed in constant harmony with earth, sky and spirits. Something which for Kyra, no matter how hard she tried ‒ and she did ‒ was unobtainable. But I’ve improved a lot. I’m not half as impulsive as I used to be, or half as stubborn, she thought, and smiled.
“Thank y
ou, Spirit,” she replied to the Medicine Woman. “These plains of yours are beautiful and the coloring is spectacular, but without a point of reference, I get lost.”
“That’s normal, and it’s why you have me.”
“For that, and for a thousand other things. You’ve been helping me for so long I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“More than three years,” Spirit said, “since the spirits of good brought you from the other side of the barrier of the Gods.”
“It wasn’t the Spirits… I came of my own volition. Your beliefs are rather strange…”
“Stranger than believing in Mother Sea?”
Kyra laughed. “If you put it that way, you could be right.”
Spirit gave her a smile which filled Kyra with peace.
“Yes, how time passes…” she mused. It had cost her an eternity to win the trust of the tribe which had taken her in, and even more to begin to plant the seed of rebellion in those people who fought among themselves instead of against the Gods. She was doing it, little by little, and it would not be long now before she reached her goal. But it had taken her three long years of work, and of patience. Her brother Ikai had done better, which did not surprise her, and his work was further advanced. They only communicated every six months, very briefly, as they risked their communication being intercepted and traced to its origin, to themselves. The Gods had put a price on their heads and were hunting them without pause, Asu in particular, and the risks they ran were enormous. But Kyra did not care about the danger; she would simply keep going.
“What are you thinking, my friend?”
“That I haven’t gotten myself into too much trouble, thanks to you,” she told Spirit, with a wink.
“That’s what Lone Wolf is here for. To protect you from the dangers of the earth and the spirits.”
Kyra turned to the warrior.
“Wolf, how would you protect me from the spirits? I don’t think your muscles or your ability with the axe or the short sword or the spear will be much use against a spirit. Shouldn’t we look for one of your witch-men for that?”
The warrior looked at her in annoyance.
“Lone Wolf,” he emphasized with a baleful stare.
“Oh, that’s right, you don’t like me to call you just Wolf, but that’s exactly why I do it.” She smiled at the warrior, looking innocent.
Lone Wolf shook his head in resignation.
“It was a bad day when Chief Silver Eagle appointed me to protect you against all evil.”
“Oh my! He said more than three words!”
Spirit gave a giggle.
Kyra seized her chance. “But deep down, you enjoy it. Otherwise you’d be bored to tears. You’d spend your days hunting, just to hand your catch over to the damn Proxies and comply with their meat quotas. And don’t think I don’t know you hate having to do that. You may speak less than a snake without a tongue, but your face says it all.”
The warrior’s brows arched.
“See? I surprised you!” she said triumphantly. “You’d be a terrible spy, that’s for sure.”
Lone Wolf’s face turned somber and his forehead creased.
“Kyra is right,” Quiet Spirit said. “What your mouth is silent about, your face reflects.”
The warrior heaved a deep sigh, as if trying to stay calm.
“I protect. And I need no witch-man.”
Quiet Spirit muttered: “The spirit world is very dangerous. Better to go on here, in world of men.”
“I don’t fear either man or spirit,” the warrior said, and raised his spear.
Kyra could hold back no longer “And what about a woman?”
Lone Wolf rolled his eyes and complained under his breath. He turned his mount so as to show his back to the two women.
“They’re going to drive me crazy,” they heard him grumble in a whisper.
Kyra and Spirit laughed good-humoredly. Kyra knew that she should not annoy her good bodyguard, but sometimes she just could not help it. He was so reserved and stiff that he was almost asking for it. Luckily Spirit followed her lead, and that scene with the great warrior on his mount, straight and stiff as a board, with his back toward her, in a huff, was often repeated.
“It would be better if we went back…” Quiet Spirit said.
“Yes, you’re right, the big meeting,” Kyra said.
Spirit nodded. “It’s very important, and you must be there.”
“Come on, then. Today the fate of the People of the Steppes will be decided.”
The three of them rode through the beautiful plains for hours. With the sun setting behind them they reached the domains of their tribe, the Black Bears. Like the majority of tribes who lived in the Boundary, they were nomadic. They followed the game they hunted and searched for the best areas to spend the cold winters, but always within the limits marked out by the Gods. Even there, in the endless steppes, the Boundary was divided into Six Counties and the tribes who lived in each county were forbidden to travel from one to the other. The Gods kept the same Boundary plan, with counties, proxies, Regent and enforcers. But the people who lived there lived and understood their existence in a very different way to the Senoca. Kyra had experienced at first hand the tremendous rivalry and hostility between the tribes of each county. If a hunter was caught outside his own county, his throat would be cut. Fights between members of different tribes, even those belonging to the same county, were common. And she did not like it at all.
She dismounted at the entrance to the village, by the river, and two youngsters appeared at once from among the conical tent-dwellings and led her horse away to the communal pen beside the meadows. Her bottom was sore, as was her lower back. Her body did not appear to be getting used to riding those beautiful horses bareback. Short distances she could manage, but when she rode for hours she always ended up sore. Someday I’ll get used to it. I hope. Because I love riding on the plains, it’s just that it wears me out, she thought as she stretched.
Lone Wolf dismounted beside her in one graceful leap.
“You don’t ride properly.”
Kyra was stretching her waist with her hands behind her. She half-closed her eyes and poked out her tongue.
“Bad posture,” the warrior added.
Spirit came over with two other warriors.
“They want you in Silver Eagle’s tent. The other Chiefs have already arrived.”
“Right, I’m on my way. Pray that everything may come out well.”
Her friend looked up at the sky. “The Spirits of good will guide you. Have no fear.”
Kyra smiled and headed to the enormous tent in the center of the plain. Hundreds of tents rose, surrounding that of the Chief of the tribe and forming a dozen concentric circles every dozen steps, with the Chief’s tent in the center. That unique layout, and the picturesque conical tents of animal-skins and wooden poles, would have delighted Yosane. The memory of her friend brought an acute stab of pain to her chest. We’ll do it for you, my dear friend. One day we’ll be free, and I’ll avenge your death. That bastard Asu will pay for it with his life. I haven’t forgotten. I’ll never forget. The memory and the pain helped her focus on the task ahead of her that evening. Today I have to get the People of the Steppes to unite. Get them to forget arguments, distrust and ancestral hatreds and unite as one, which is something that hasn’t been done in a thousand years. I wish my brother were here to advise me, but I’m alone, and I can’t afford to fail.
She entered the big tent, and at once thirty Chiefs pierced her with looks of distrust.
Silver Eagle spread his arms wide in greeting. “Come in and sit with us, Kyra of the Senoca. We were waiting for you.”
Kyra gazed at the Chiefs for a moment. They were sitting on the floor with their legs crossed, forming a circle around the fire which was burning in the center of the great tent.
“Thank you, Great Chief,” she said, and went to sit on his right.
“She’s a woman, she can’t take part in the Counci
l,” said one of the Chiefs. His face was as sullen as his skin was red.
“She’s my guest, Gray Raven, and this is my dwelling. You’ll respect me and you’ll respect my guest,” Silver Eagle said quietly but sternly.
The other Chief grumbled, then muttered: “She’s pale as an evil spirit, I don’t trust her” ‒ then he spat into the fire, but said nothing more. Several Chiefs followed his example, showing their rejection of her presence. But not all of them.
That’s a good beginning, she thought. She thanked her host with a glance.
The Chiefs were weather-worn, middle-aged men, with hard faces and pitiless eyes. They wore animal pelts, and on their faces and arms were designs which established their status as Great Chiefs. They all carried hunting knives at their waists. They had not been allowed to carry any other weapons, although all of them had demanded they be permitted a knife. The distrust among those men was so evident that Kyra had the feeling that at any moment they would hurl themselves at each other’s throats and the leather walls of the tent would be soaked in blood. The escorts of each Chief waited outside the village. They had not been allowed inside, to prevent any altercation.
“Welcome to my home, all of you, Chiefs of the People of the Steppes,” he said. “The tribe of the Black Bears welcomes you. I hope the food has been to your taste. I know the journey has been a long one for many of you. If there is anything you need, you have only to ask for it.” He indicated three youngsters who were waiting by the door. One of the Chiefs turned and asked for drink. Several others followed suit. The plumpest of the Chiefs asked for more food. The youngsters left at once.
“I see the Broken Spears of the First County. Who else is with you today at this Council?” Silver Eagle said, inviting the Chiefs to speak.
The leader of the Broken Spears rose and introduced the other four chiefs of the leading tribes of the First County who had accompanied him.
“We come on our own behalf, and also on behalf of the other minor tribes of our county.”
