CIRCLES IN THE SKY (The Mother People Series Book 2)

by JOAN DAHR LAMBERT

  Katalin slung her rock at him, hitting him a glancing blow across the cheek. "Do not think you can have me again, you brute," she hissed fiercely, after glancing quickly at the other men to make sure they were still motionless. "I will kill you first." She was about to hit Borg with another rock when Marita grabbed her arm.

  "Katalin! Katalin, I am very glad to see you, but why have you hit Borg?" Marita sounded indignant as well as pleased. She went quickly to the big man and bent over him solicitously. "He has helped us. But for him, we would all be dead!"

  Katalin's lips compressed. "That may be so," she conceded, "but he must still answer for what he did. Four times, perhaps five, he forced himself on me. We must not forget that he is one of the men with knives, and they can never be trusted."

  She glared at Borg, as if she expected him to jump up and grab her, or try to escape, but the big man only hung his shaggy head between his knees and rubbed at his eyes, as if he were still trying to wake up. Deciding he was not a threat at the moment, Katalin turned to the others. "Look, here are Zena and Balinor and I have not greeted them - or you, Marita. I am so happy to have found you, so very happy!" Her face lit up with joy as she embraced them.

  "I am happy too,” Zena agreed. "But you must not hurt Borg, even if he did force himself on you. He is good as well as bad. The Mother told me that is possible, to be both at once. And I think he is more good than bad," she added, regarding his limp form.

  Borg staggered to his feet. "I have found you, Katalin," he muttered, in their words. He tried to smile, but the swelling on his cheek marred the effect.

  Katalin glared at him suspiciously. "How is it he speaks like us?" she demanded.

  "He has learned," Marita told her. "We speak together often. Borg is my friend," she added stubbornly. "He is not like the other men. He tried to defend us from them. He told them we came from the North like them, so they would not kill us."

  Katalin grunted. Perhaps, as Torlan had suggested, Borg was not as bad as the others. Still, he had much to answer for, and even if the others trusted him, she did not.

  Zena's voice interrupted her thoughts. "The herbs worked," she announced in a satisfied voice. "I was certain the Mother would help."

  "Herbs? What herbs?" Katalin was puzzled.

  "I put sleeping herbs in the food," Zena replied calmly. "I am afraid Borg got some by mistake. He looks very tired. But the other men got most of it, for they sleep very soundly."

  Lotar looked at her in admiration. "That was good, Zena. I did not know you could think of such things. Or did you dream this? Usually, that is how she knows things, because she dreams them," he explained to the others.

  "So that is why they did not even move," Torlan said. "It was not our rocks." The others looked at him in surprise, that he, too, had their words.

  Before they could ask questions about Torlan, Borg lurched abruptly towards the young man. "You took Katalin from me," he accused, "after I had helped you. I should kill you for that. No man may take another's woman."

  Katalin jumped in front of Torlan. "I am no man's woman," she thundered. "If you attack Torlan you will have to kill me first!"

  Borg backed away, alarmed by her ferocity. She surely was full of fire, even more than the mate he had loved!

  "Tell her I do not wish to kill her," he said to Torlan, unable to frame their words in his distress. "I wish to have her as my mate." He sat down again, still feeling wobbly on his feet. He would have to deal with Torlan later, he decided, when he was stronger.

  "I will take a mate when I wish it," Katalin hissed at him when Torlan had translated, "and it will not be you!"

  Borg glowered at her, furious that she should treat him so badly. He had been so eager to find her again, and all she could do was to shout at him! He was not entirely sure what she had said, but he did know that no woman had the right to speak to the man who cared for her in this insulting way.

  Ignoring his angry face, Katalin changed the subject. "There is no time now to talk more," she said firmly. "We must get away while the men still sleep."

  Everyone nodded. "We can go south again now," Marita said eagerly. "With Katalin to guide us, we can find the rest of the tribe. Borg must come with us," she added with conviction, helping the big man to his feet. "He is one of us now, like Torlan."

  Katalin hesitated. She did not really want Borg to come. On the other hand, he was big and strong and might be useful. Both Marita and Zena seemed to believe he would defend them, and she trusted their judgment. But what of the other men? To let them live was risky. They might follow and attack again. While she had lain in the clearing with Borg, she had wanted more than anything to push a knife into their chests but now that they lay defenseless before her, she found the idea repellent.

  "What of the men?" She looked at Torlan, then at Borg. Perhaps he would be willing to kill them. None of the men with knives seemed to mind killing.

  "I do not wish to kill," Torlan answered.

  "Nor do I," Borg said, to her surprise. "But it would be good to tie them. Then they cannot follow so fast."

  Katalin nodded, relieved. Together, they found stout vines and bound the men's arms, then their feet. One of them opened his eyes for a brief moment and then collapsed again. Zena had done a good job, Katalin thought, amazed that she had managed to subdue three big men all by herself. She had always thought of Zena as living in a world of dreams and visions, but she clearly had practical abilities as well.

  For hours, they crept through the dark woods. After a time, the moon appeared, making the way easier. Once, they heard a huge crash in the trees behind them. They jumped in fear, and then laughed with relief when a large reindeer appeared, shook his antlers and trotted away. Until recently, they had seldom seen reindeer, but now there were many of them, driven south by the spreading ice. All the northern tundra where they had once grazed was covered with it, Katalin had heard. And that was why the men with knives had come, she reflected grimly, would keep coming. They followed the herds, knew no other way of life.

  When they stopped for a few moments to rest, Katalin introduced Torlan to the others. "This is my friend, Torlan," she told them. "He helped me to escape from Borg," she added pointedly.

  A dreadful suspicion entered Borg's mind. What if Katalin preferred Torlan for a mate? Perhaps that was why she was shouting at him. But surely that was not possible. Torlan was hardly more than a boy, not good at hunting or fighting, while he, Borg, was strong and fearless. All women preferred strong men.

  Marita took Torlan’s hand. "I am Marita, and this is Zena, and Balinor," she said, pointing to them. "Lotar you know already."

  Torlan greeted her politely and smiled at Balinor, who was hiding behind Marita’s legs, then strode quickly to Zena. "I have heard this name from my mother," he said quietly, looking into her eyes. "Many years ago she spoke of one called Zena."

  Zena returned his look without speaking. Her gaze was deep and firm, he saw, unlike that of any girl he had known before. Already, the wisdom was within her. Truly, his mother had been right. The ones called Zena must be special to the Goddess.

  "I am glad you are with us," Zena said finally. "Already, you are one of us. This I can feel." A jolt that felt to Torlan like recognition, or perhaps understanding, passed between them. There seemed no need for further words, only the meeting of their eyes.

  “We must keep walking,” Katalin said, breaking the spell. “It is too soon to stop. The men will not stay bound for very long.”

  Balinor was already half-asleep on the ground; Lotar had settled beside her. Borg, who seemed fully recovered now, hoisted one of them into each arm and strode on, ignoring Lotar’s protestations that he could walk. He looked more like the Big People than the men with knives, Katalin thought, perplexed. Unlike most of them, Borg was not tall, but he was just as strong. His body was wide and sturdy, his legs like the trunks of trees, his arms as big as their branches. He would certainly be helpful in defending them.

  Soon Marita b
egan to falter, and Zena looked exhausted. They decided they had to stop. Surely, they were far enough now so the men would not find them. Still, Katalin peered anxiously into the trees as the others lay down to rest. They had tried to leave no tracks, but it was almost impossible for a large group to hide all signs of their passage.

  "I will find some food," she told them. She set off to look. Borg followed her.

  "I do not need your help," she said rudely.

  "I come anyway," he replied. "I care for you."

  Katalin walked on without answering. Together, they gathered berries and nuts, a few tubers, and brought them back to the others. They were sleeping, all but Torlan, who had stayed awake to watch. Katalin snuggled beside him, ignoring Borg's furious look. Torlan, however, moved a slight distance away, as if to appease the older man.

  "Do you fear him?" Katalin demanded furiously.

  "I do not fear him. I respect him," Torlan replied, smiling at her. "Now you must sleep for a time."

  Too weary to object, Katalin closed her eyes. When she awoke, Torlan was asleep and Borg was close beside her, watching the woods intently. "I hear noises. Someone has followed," he whispered, rising silently to his feet. He disappeared into the trees, in the direction from which they had come. Katalin shook Torlan and both of them grabbed the big stones they kept always beside them.

  Borg crept across the thick leaf litter of the forest floor, taking care to make no noise. The air was perfectly still and even the smallest sound would alert whoever was following them - or give the person away, he thought with satisfaction, as his keen ears detected a branch breaking some distance ahead. He went on, very slowly now.

  A movement caught his eye; it was Vetron, crouching down to examine their tracks. There was no sign of the other men. He should leap on Vetron before he looked up, Borg knew, take advantage of his vulnerable position. He hesitated, feeling that the act would be cowardly. A man should see the knife coming.

  In that instant, Vetron's head snapped up. "You!" he snarled, charging at Borg with his knife drawn. "You have betrayed us! For that, I will kill you. And the woman, the old one who drugged us. She will pay for that, I promise."

  Borg's arm shot out to defend his chest from Vetron's sharp knife. The gesture unbalanced Vetron, but he recovered quickly. Hurling his massive body straight at Borg, he knocked him to the ground and pounced on top of him. To his horror, Borg realized that his arm, and the hand that held his knife, were pinned under Vetron. He tried to wrench the arm out, but Vetron was pressed so hard against him that he could not move at all.

  Grinning savagely, Vetron held his knife above Borg's throat. "I have you now," he grunted, his eyes glittering with triumph. Borg twisted desperately, and pounded with all his strength on Vetron's back with his free hand. It was as if he were pounding on rocks.

  Rocks - maybe he could find one. Borg's fingers scrabbled in the dirt but all he could find was a small stone. Still, it might help. Just before Vetron's knife plunged, he raised the stone and brought it down hard on the back of the huge man's neck. Vetron howled, more in anger than in pain, and raised his knife higher to strike again. He also shifted his weight, only a fraction, but enough lift the pressure on Borg's body for just that moment. Borg pulled his hand out and twisted the knife in his grip so that it pointed up.

  Vetron felt the slight movement beneath him and smashed his body back against Borg's, to pin him again. At the same time, he brought his knife down toward Borg's throat. He never finished the gesture. A look of astonishment came over his face, and he grunted in surprise. Abruptly, all the strength went out of him and he rolled to one side.

  Borg pulled himself groggily to his feet. He had taken only two steps when the huge body crashed into him again.

  "You will pay..." Vetron muttered. "All of them will pay, the Mother People. I will kill...." He held on to Borg with all his might, but then his fingers slowly loosened their grip. For a long moment he stood staring at Borg, swaying on his feet. Then he crashed to the ground like a great tree falling, and did not move again.

  Borg turned away, sick with relief and horror. Never had he known such a formidable opponent, and never had he known such distaste for a killing. He could not be sorry Vetron was dead, but he had not wanted to kill him this way, as if by stealth. The feeling of his knife slicing into Vetron's flesh, seeming to go straight from his own belly into Vetron's, was one he would not forget.

  Grimacing, he retrieved his knife, then plodded slowly back to the others. He did not take Vetron's knife, still clutched in the huge man's hand. That, Vetron deserved, to take his knife with him in death.

  Katalin and Borg jumped up to greet him. "What has happened?" Torlan asked, seeing Borg’s weary face and scratched body.

  "He had followed," Borg answered, "the big one, Vetron. He was a cruel man and would have killed the children, Katalin and Marita as well. I could not let that happen."

  Katalin swallowed hard. "The others?" she asked gruffly.

  "They were not there, but they will run when they see he is dead. They know I will kill them too if I must, so they will not follow." Borg slumped to the ground and stared morosely at his feet.

  "I thank you, Borg," Torlan said quietly. "Vetron was indeed a cruel man. I know this because I lived near him for many years." The only person more cruel, he mused, was Vetron's sister, who was called Veeta. All across the north, the pair had been feared.

  Katalin cleared her throat. "I thank you, too, Borg. That was brave."

  "Not brave," he said, in his own words, too distraught to find their words for this thought. "Not brave, but it had to be done."

  Katalin looked inquiringly at Torlan. When he had translated Borg's words, she looked at the big man with new respect.

  Borg remained subdued over the next days, but everyone else laughed and joked as they walked along, giddy with the relief of knowing the men were no longer following. Each night as they sat around the fire, Marita treated them to stories of the old days, of the ones called Zena who had come before, of Zena's mother and all that had happened to her. For hours, she spoke, her voice rising and falling, becoming sad or indignant or joyous as she recounted the dramas and challenges of their lives and the creed of the Mother People, while the others listened, enthralled.

  "The first Zena lived long ago, even before there were words," she told them one evening. "Still, it was because of her love for her people, her desire to save them, that the Mother first taught us Her ways, the ways of love and compassion and respect for all Her creatures. The next Zena could see far more with her mind than others, and she changed our world in many ways. The wise ones she trained went all across the earth, so people everywhere would know of the Mother and follow Her ways. Zena's mother did the same, and that is why there are so many Mother People today. Always, we must do this, the Goddess has told us, for only when all people worship the Mother can all live in peace. We know this to be true, because of the men with knives, who know only violence."

  She stopped, not wanting to speak further of the men with knives. "Now I will tell of Zena's mother, who was also called Zena, and how the man called Gunor saved her life," she resumed more cheerfully. "Gunor was leader of the Big People, who lived near the big caves beneath the cliffs even before Zena's mother came there. Gunor found Zena lying almost dead against the rocks, for she had been many days without food or shelter. He carried her to Conar, who loved Zena more than any other and had come to look for her. Gunor knew that they belonged together. Just like Borg, he did not show himself, only carried Zena and left her at the mouth of the cave where Conar sat. So you see, Gunor saved Zena's life, just as Borg saved mine, by carrying me to the children."

  Katalin frowned. She had heard that Borg had carried Marita to the children and still found it hard to believe. Why should Borg have helped an old woman he did not know? "Why did you carry her?" she asked him curiously.

  To her astonishment, Borg's face flushed red. Shuffling his feet in embarrassment, he looked away. "I
felt sorrow for her, for the children," he mumbled finally.

  "You were not sorry for me when you took me!"

  "I cared for you," Borg insisted, becoming redder still.

  "That is a strange way to show caring," she answered angrily.

  Borg looked puzzled. "But that is always the way," he replied, "that a man takes a woman when he cares for her."

  "No man may take a woman," Katalin told him forcefully. "It is the woman who takes a man when she is ready. That is the Mother's way, the way of this tribe."

  "It was not so in my tribe," Borg objected, angry now. "In my tribe, if a man wants a woman, he takes her and she must do what he tells her to do. That is as it should be!"

  "Then you have a lot to learn," Katalin snapped, enraged by the insulting message. "If you wish to stay with us, you will do as I say. And I say that you may not touch me again unless I wish it. And that is unlikely," she added, watching the big man's jaws clench in frustration.

  Borg did not answer, but stomped away. Why had he wanted this woman? She acted like a man, not a woman, and that was wrong.

  He stayed away from the group until his anger cooled. But then he only felt sad, and that was almost worse. He had wanted so badly to find Katalin again, but the idea that she should tell him what to do, even when he should mate, was too much to bear. It was not right for a woman to tell a man such things. Perhaps she was too fierce, he thought dejectedly, and he should leave, find some other woman. But then what would happen to Marita and the children? They needed him to defend them. If he left, Torlan would be the only man, and Torlan was young and not good at fighting.

  Katalin watched him go. Never would she take such a man as a mate, she vowed. She did not even want him in this group!

  Misery slowly replaced her anger. Everyone else seemed to like Borg, considered him already part of the tribe, and her arguments with him upset them. But for her, it was not so easy. If he stayed in the tribe she would have to mate with him whether she wanted to or not. From the time she was ready to mate, three full circles of the seasons after her first bleeding, Zena and the other women had impressed on her that it was important to invite each of the men in her age group to have Akat with her, so none would be left out.