The Gorge (The Others Book 1)

by Joe Zeigler

  These were exactly Ixchel’s thoughts, culminating in the idea that if she were to find a man, he must be from another group that did not know her history, at best, and whose family and friends did not know, at worst.

  They walked together in silence for a time. Liùsaidh knew not to say too much since she believed she had convinced Ixchel this arrangement was in her best interest. Ixchel gave thought to what guarantees she might need to ensure she would not be dumped from her new family at her most helpless time.

  Finally, after they had walked a mile in silence, she had thought of no better approach than just to ask, “What guarantee do I and my child have that we will not be abandoned to the good will of the group at the worst possible time?”

  “Ixchel,” Liùsaidh answered softly but clearly, “you have my word. Also, when the time comes that I introduce you and our arrangement to Danijel, I will explain to him, in your presence, your duties, your place in our family, and the promises made. If Danijel has no objections to the arrangement, you will have his word as well.”

  “Danijel is a good man and a good leader,” Ixchel replied. “I can ask for no better guarantee, so I agree to your proposal.” Liùsaidh was silent as Ixchel continued. “You must know that I am inexperienced in these things.” She laughed quietly. “If I were not, I would have a man and not find myself in this situation at all. I often think I should have made myself more available to suitors than I did.”

  “Yes,” Liùsaidh agreed, “sometimes, too often, our actions have the opposite outcome from that intended.” Ixchel had expected to find exactly the right man and present herself to him a virgin. Instead, she became a trull for a bunch of old men. It’s a crime, Liùsaidh thought.

  “I had dreams of my perfect man—a man I would be proud of, a man my friends would admire, a man I could make happy, a man who would make me happy. It was important that I please my man, and it was important to present myself to him pure and unsullied,” Ixchel said, echoing Liùsaidh’s thoughts.

  “There is irony in life,” Liùsaidh said sympathetically, “but what is done is done. Do not concern yourself with worries. I will instruct you on techniques and on how to please Danijel. You will find the experience to be much better than your time at the Breeding. In fact, I expect you will come to enjoy sex with Danijel very much.”

  As they walked, she carefully instructed the girl to refuse Danijel’s favorite things. “Do not let him enter any but the proper orifice,” she commanded. “He believes your children, if any, will be horribly deformed as a result of these acts. Do not…do not…take him in your mouth after the initial feeding, as he considers this a vile act that is practiced only by abominable homosexuals and would doom you both to hell. Only let him take you from behind,” she said, knowing that Danijel’s greatest joy was to stare into her eyes as she experienced or pretended orgasm. “Be especially careful not to look into his eyes as he climaxes. If you do, you will go blind instantly from the flash. Most importantly,” Liùsaidh continued, “do not let him see that you enjoy this act! It is a woman’s duty, to be endured, and nothing more.”

  “Really,” Ixchel said wonderingly, “his desires seem quite different from what the girls describe.”

  “Yes, they are, as Danijel is quite different…special, really, and that is why he is the leader. He is a man, though, and thus has the weaknesses of a man. So, he may forget himself and beg for some of these forbidden pleasures. You must not give in to his pleas, as he would hate you and cast you out later.”

  “Yes, yes,” she murmured, “I believe I understand, and I will do as you say.”

  Liùsaidh was satisfied for now and pleased to know Ixchel would find herself becoming unattractive with child about the time Liùsaidh would be ready to receive Danijel back. This is going well, she thought.

  Routing the Raiders

  First, he smelled them. Then he heard the small sounds as the Raiders moved around in their camp. Gedeon raised his arm to halt his group. He and his men slowly and quietly worked their way around to the north; then they would attack to drive the Raiders down the river, past the Traders’ encampment, and into the desert. Now that they were closer, he saw them, silhouetted by their fires, moving around their campsite.

  Earlier Gedeon had rubbed glow moss on the palm of his hands. The moss emitted a slight, soft light that his men would clearly see in the darkness. With the same glowing moss, a scout had marked multiple paths that the warriors planned to use. Just after two in the morning, after the moon set and there was total darkness, they readied their clubs, and adjusted their gear. They donned their headgear, and he positioned them with small gestures, queuing them into a long-practiced formation.

  At his last signal, they rose simultaneously and charged, with noisemakers and flash bangs at full bellow. For those in the encampment, it was so terrifying they instantly chose flight. Fighting the attackers was never a consideration, though Caddarak, second in stature only to the Prophet himself, tried to rally them. That the Prophet was leading the retreat did not help Caddarak’s efforts.

  Nonetheless, they were overrun within the campsite, or just south of it, and were repeatedly struck with wooden clubs. Gedeon had instructed his warriors to scare them badly, bruise them moderately, and take care not to disable anyone. Gedeon wanted them gone, not killed or injured. And he most certainly did not desire any wounded prisoners. Very few Raiders put up any fight, and coordinated attackers who unseen in the darkness quickly subdued those who did.

  Gedeon and his men regrouped just south of the Raiders’ encampment. “Anyone injured?” he asked. When there was no response, he went on. “Any Raiders down?” Again, no reports. “All right,” he continued. “Nergui, take your six men and continue the pursuit using the noisemakers. Drive them into the desert and then stay for two days to ensure they do not return. The rest of you clean out their camp. Pack up everything of value, and report to me immediately if you discover any prisoners.”

  “It will be done,” they responded in unison.

  A Feast

  It was late in the afternoon of a long day as Liùsaidh and Ixchel continued side by side. Nothing had been said between them for some hours, as each was lost in her thoughts. They could see the Smoking Mountains now, far in the distance. Not for the first time, Liùsaidh wondered why the base of the mountains was hidden from view, only becoming visible as she came closer. This world is full of strange things, she thought.

  There were no trees. And it was hot, even this late in the season. Liùsaidh sipped sparingly from the skin that hung from her shoulder and then offered it to Ixchel since she was now part of the family. Only sand, sparse grass, and widely spaced sagebrush surrounded them. She calculated that the amount of vegetation here was only what the available water would support, no more, no less. And that wasn’t much—certainly nothing that would sustain human life.

  She squinted into the falling Sun, trying to make out what appeared to be smoke in the near distance. She knew they were much too far away to see smoke from the mountains, but there was indeed smoke just ahead. And some shapes—people moving around in the smoke. Something was happening up ahead. She estimated it was about where they would stop for the night. Soon she could see figures moving about the fires, and it was clear the head of the column was aimed right at the site.

  The hunters Danijel had sent out had been successful. Pronghorn turned on wood spits over low fires, and a number of turkeys lay wrapped and buried in hot coals. The feast was ready as the lead elements of the group entered the camp. They had prepared copious amounts of various food—from the meat of the pronghorn and the turkeys to desert vegetables such as the fruit from the mesquite trees, prickly pear pads, boiled jojoba nuts, pine nuts, exotics from the Traders, and Claret Cup Fruit—sweetness to fill them past fullness. There was even Squaw Tea.

  When Micaela arrived, bringing up the end of the column because of Uggla’s laggard forward progress, she saw that everyone had disregarded their burdens and joined the festivities
. They would set up camp later—or not. Some, having eaten, were apparently drinking more wine than usual. It was a party such as Micaela had never seen.

  Surprising her, Maxtla met her at the edge of the encampment. “Let me help you,” he said solicitously as he assisted in disengaging Micaela from her load. Then they carried her gear to an empty spot where the shelter could be erected—or not. The sky was clear, and no one was setting up shelters, instead preferring to join the party. Micaela, too, was anxious to join the others. Maxtla followed as they moved into the throng. His first offering was a large piece of turkey that he cut from a well-done and well-butchered bird. Most people, now satiated, had broken into smaller groups—groups of young people playing, more than one group of singers seemingly in competition, and some groups less than sober, many just chatting.

  As Micaela approached, she noticed they were suddenly still and the music fading. They glanced at her furtively and then turned away. Whispers followed her as she passed without speaking or even making eye contact. They had changed. It must be. She didn’t think that she had changed, or had she? She wondered if their stillness was an expression of respect for what she promised to contribute or if it was something else. It was all so strange and confusing.

  I don’t know why they would think less of me. The Breeding was not my doing; it was theirs. They should appreciate and respect my participation and contribution. She saw Maxtla moving away toward the edge of the encampment and thought she understood. Is he embarrassed to acknowledge me? Or, worse, for me to recognize him? Is he ashamed to know me? He is!

  Liùsaidh and Ixchel were there, and they had been singing a bawdy song that faded out as Micaela approached. Surprised at finding herself the only one singing, Liùsaidh looked up, met Micaela’s eyes, and frowned. Ixchel, not knowing what to do, fixed her eyes on Liùsaidh.

  For her part, Liùsaidh turned her body to face Micaela and resumed singing at full voice. Ixchel joined in at a lower volume.

  Confused and again angry, Micaela put her pointless thoughts out of her mind and just wandered about the encampment, enjoying the cool of the evening.

  ***

  “A moment,” Danijel called out. He stood on a construction of stones probably assembled long before memory, for just this kind of occasion. “I trust everyone has eaten enough food and drunk enough wine to satisfy them.”

  A cheer broke out for Danijel, but he waved it down with both hands before he continued, his quiet voice still heard at the far edges of the camp. “Eat your fill tonight and then some. Tomorrow we are going straight for the Virgins. We will pass between them and save a day of travel; however, this will leave us in the desert for another night. We’ll be five days in the desert, with just enough water for all—but no bathing.” This admonition brought a laugh from everyone. “We will travel until complete darkness and be moving again as dawn breaks. A hunting party will go ahead to provision the camp among the trees in the Smoking Mountains. So, eat well and be prepared to leave early in the morning.”

  The scattered singers came together, along with the flute, Tujunga, and drum players, to make music for the dance. They danced late into the night as if denying the arduous part of the journey ahead. Eventually, only the ugly ones were left dancing hard to save face. Their subtle twitching slowly evolved into more dramatic motions, demonstrating their frustration, anger, and unrewarded exhaustion. The music slowly died as the musicians, one by one, retired for the night and the unrequited followed.

  When Danijel returned to his campsite, Ohad was waiting.

  “There is a matter I’d like to discuss with you, Danijel.”

  An almost imperceptible sigh escaped Danijel’s lips as he acknowledged the inevitable. “Yes, Ohad, what is it?”

  “I question whether these free feasts and wild orgies are good for the People. And you are planning yet another feast. I felt I had to say something about this.” Ohad paused for a reaction.

  “And you have a suggestion?” Danijel asked with resignation.

  “I do. The provision of free food will lead our people to expect handouts in the future. It will destroy their work ethic. A much better plan would be to charge them a small pittance, just slightly more than it would cost them in effort to gather the food themselves. Say about two arrowheads.”

  Danijel nodded and tried to appear attentive. He was tired.

  “As I am an experienced businessman, I would, for the benefit of the People, be honored to administer the details. You and I would then split the proceeds. So you would profit by one arrowhead per person fed.”

  “So,” Danijel replied, “you would get one arrowhead per person in exchange for collecting the money, which no one is paying now.”

  Ohad frowned, a little confused as to what Danijel meant, and said, “Yes, and you will get arrowheads, which you are not getting now. Everyone will be happy.”

  “Yes, I understand,” Danijel said noncommittally. “I must give that some thought, as I see that you have. But right now I must rest. It has been a long day.”

  “Of course,” Ohad said. “I will await your decision, which I am sure will be the right one for the People.” He was confident Danijel would do the right thing. This was just the first of the ideas Ohad had planned to implement before Danijel returned and deterred him. This way will work. It’s only half the profit as I have to spilt with Danijel. But, half is better than nothing.

  Micaela’s Seduction

  Micaela sat down near the roasted pronghorn and started to work through a sampling of everything offered. Maxtla hovered nearby, being solicitous and hardly eating. She wondered what his strange behavior was all about and was secretly pleased that he was paying attention to her again. That didn’t make him any more attractive, but it was reassuring nonetheless.

  Finally, as full as it was possible to be, she rose, stretched, and moved toward her sleeping place.

  “Wait, Micaela,” Maxtla said, “there’s something I want to show you.”

  “What is it?” she asked, impatient but not anxious to offend him. His earlier rejection had wounded her, and for the moment at least, she wanted to keep his attention.

  “I have to show you. Come with me.” He grasped her just above her right elbow and led her north toward the edge of the encampment. It was not far to a dry wash that Micaela remembered crossing just before entering the camp. It wasn’t deep, though, just deep enough so that they were out of sight of the People. She could still hear them chattering, and at this distance, they sounded more like a flock of birds than people gossiping.

  “OK, Maxtla, here I am. What do you have to show me?”

  “This,” he answered. Parting his robe, he exposed his rod. Gripping it behind the head, he extended it toward her, a touch of moisture on its tip glistening in the moonlight.

  Micaela leaned back, stunned. But she did not retreat, and this seemed to encourage him. He moved to her, wrapped his free arm around her, and sought her lips with his mouth. With the other hand, he rubbed against her. Now Micaela tried to move backward awkwardly. Her heel caught a small ledge etched out of stone where the water ran, and she went over backward, drawing Maxtla with her. At this point, Maxtla seemed, to her, to be locked on her. Arms extended on both sides, she landed flat on her back with Maxtla on top, undeterred. She felt a loose rock the size of an apple under her right hand, and she gripped it, swinging her arm high and slamming it into the side of Maxtla’s head. With a loud grunt, he collapsed, still on top of her. And he was heavy.

  He started to regain consciousness even as Micaela wiggled out from under him. Once free, Micaela sat beside him as his wits slowly returned. She was not afraid of him, but he had surprised her. She could not help but giggle as he lay on his back with his now limp member still exposed. Then her glance lingered, and she examined it more intently. She had seen men peeing before but had never actually examined one and certainly had never seen one in full bloom as he had been when first presented.

  It certainly doesn’t look very threat
ening now.

  “What did you do that for?” he asked.

  “Me! Me! Are you crazy? I wasn’t the one who got naked. You tried to take me forcibly! What is wrong with you?” She wanted to shout but did not wish to attract anyone else to what could easily be an embarrassing scene.

  “You know I’ve wanted you for a long time,” Maxtla said. “I was even willing to take you as my mate, but you just teased me and laughed when Ohad drove me away. Now…now that you are pleasuring everyone else, I thought that you have come to like it, and I might take my turn. I am younger and stronger and bigger than those old men! I thought you would be kneeling at my feet, given the opportunity.”

  Micaela glanced at his still-exposed, shriveled thing and suppressed a giggle. Bigger indeed. Then the import of what he was saying struck her like a blow.

  “Like it! Those old men, who, with the help of all the People, forced themselves upon me, much as you just tried! How can you imagine that I like it? It was humiliating, terrifying, and awful. I did it because it was and is my duty to serve the family, to bear children so that the family can go on. It was Sun’s will, and that does not make me one of the Traders’ whores or a convenient receptacle for your manhood! I did what was required of me by God, and I will be honored by all as a mother.” Even as she said the words, she knew they weren’t true.

  The Breeding is a perversion. Horrified, she struck down that thought.

  “What’s wrong with you?” he whispered angrily. “Don’t you see how the People look at you? You are a fallen woman! An object of curiosity. There may be other fallen women among us, but none so well known. The others at the Breeding—they are of no import, simply ugly wenches, too ugly to attract a mate. But you, the proud, arrogant, beautiful Micaela. Sun! They saw you fall. Certainly, you are of value as a mother but no longer as a mate, and no man will accept your child as his own.”