The Sacrifice

by Nhys Glover

  "You'll have to. Cook up some biscuits. We brought flour. It'll do."

  "Is she staying?" the younger man asked, ignoring the comments about biscuits. What was a biscuit?

  "For now. Stop gaping at her and help Rama unpack the airlings. I'll get her into the house and some water into her, and onto her. She smells like... " he must have realised he might hurt my feelings by his comparison, because he paused before finally finishing with, "... she's spent too many days trapped under a hide in the blazing sun."

  "I would appreciate water. I ran out yesterday, or mayhap it was the day before. I lost track of the days after I ran out on the second day."

  "Where in gods' sake did you come from, Godslund itself?" Dark... in? Yes, Darkin, exclaimed in surprise. I assumed from his tone that he was joking. He did not know just how right he was.

  I shrugged and looked away.

  Something in the gesture must have given me away because he swore viciously. "Godslund? No. It's impossible. No one could've stayed hidden under that skin for so long. What, five days, if those beastlings were travelling at top speed every hour the sun was up. No one could've survived that. Now look at you. Brimming with life! There's even a flush to your cheeks."

  I shook my head. "As I said, I lost track of time when I got sick. I do not know how I survived."

  "There's not a lot to her. I wouldn't have taken her for a woman if the evidence wasn't so clearly on display," the young one said with a flirty grin. I was not used to dealing directly with men. In the harem there were none. All I knew of men was from watching them from the shadows. This young man's blatant interest was embarrassing and yet oddly flattering.

  "Eyes off. I didn't bring her here to service your needs, little brother. She needs our help."

  The little brother threw up his hands in defeat and looked as if he was an innocent accused unfairly. His pose was so exaggerated that I found myself smiling in response.

  In the next moment, Darkin had swung me back into his arms and was striding towards the wooden dwelling. I needed to get out of the heat but I had to wonder how much cooler it would be inside that windowless hovel.

  I found out soon enough. No cooler at all. But the covered portico was bearable, so as soon as Darkin put me down I staggered back outside.

  "Aye, a bit stuffy in there with Jaron's cooking. Stay there and I'll get water from the well. It'll be cooler than what's in the house," Darkin said, before disappearing around the corner of the hovel. Immediately, I looked for somewhere to sit down. My short burst of vitality was fading fast.

  In the next moment, I was again swept up in strong arms, this time Rama's. Up close, his scars were even uglier. I cringed. How had he lived through whatever had caused them?

  "Don't go falling flat on your face, Princess. You might break that uppity little nose of yours."

  I jerked every time he said Princess. How did he know? Surely he could not have guessed. Would news of my escape have travelled so fast to these regions? Where ever I was. I looked around me. No sea in sight. Only leagues of flat, yellowing grassland blowing gently in the hot breeze.

  "Badlunds? I am in the Badlunds?" I croaked out, tightening my grip on Rama's tunic. When had I started gripping him so?

  "You guessed it, Princess. The heart of the Badlunds. Not what you were expecting when you hid in that wagon? Where did you hope to go?" Rama asked, his frown adding further lines to his already heavily lined face. He was no older than Darkin, but whatever had happened to him had added suncycles to him. When I looked into his bright blue eyes I saw an old man staring back at me.

  "One of the sealunds," I answered honestly.

  He laughed. "Wrong direction. Keep heading along the road you were travelling and you'd hit the mountains. How'd you get turned around like that?"

  I slumped against him, letting him hold me close. I no longer had the strength to fight. Or argue. Everything I had planned to do had turned out wrong. I had gone in the opposite direction to the one I planned and had nearly killed myself in the process. Now I was in the hands of four strangers, most of whom did not want me there. I would have to find a way to move on, find a large town, and blend in until my father stopped looking for me. Then mayhap I could take a carriage to the sea. If I had my gems, that was.

  I fought the urge to reach down and feel for them. I did not want to attract Rama's attention more than I already had.

  "Stop trying to bully answers out of her. Can't you see she's all done in?" Darkin said, coming around the side of the hovel again, a bucket in his hand.

  Jaron appeared with a wooden cup and Darkin poured water from the bucket into it. He handed me the cup and I felt the coolness in my hands immediately. Thirstily, I swallowed down the precious liquid. But before I had taken more than three gulps, Rama drew the cup away from my mouth.

  "Slowly, Princess. You'll make yourself sick if you drink too fast."

  I nodded mutely and reached for the cup again. Reluctantly, he returned it to my lips and watched as I sipped daintily at the chilly ambrosia.

  "Much better, Princess."

  "Do not call me that," I said between sips, fighting the urge to drink more deeply.

  "What, Princess? Why, it suits you. Not that I'd know what a princess looked like, but I bet she'd be just as uppity as you."

  "My name is..." I stopped, realising that I could not give these men my real name. If news reached them of Princess Airsha's escape they would be rushing to claim a reward. They were dirt poor, that was plain to see. What might they do for the kind of reward I would attract?

  "Mina, my name is Mina," I finished lamely.

  Rama laughed and shook his head. "Right, and my name's King Braddock of Highlund. Try again, Princess."

  "Leave her alone, Rama. Can't you see she's in hiding? She has no reason to trust us with her name," Darkin argued in annoyance. I saw the dark blue of his eyes was stormy with passion. My heart missed a beat. Two sets of blue eyes, one dark and the other light. Different and yet alike. Brothers, yes. But not like Airshin and I were. They were like day and night.

  "Airsha. I am Airsha," I found myself telling him before I could stop the words from leaving my mouth.

  "Not possible," Jaron exclaimed, clapping his hands as if applauding a skilled fighting move. "Airsha is in the home of the airlings. Who would've thought!"

  "More lies. She was just riding an airling and used them to make up a name," Rama snapped in irritation. "I'm calling her Princess 'til she decides to tell us the truth."

  "Enough," Darkin exploded, tearing me out of his brother's arms and sloshing what was left of the water into my lap as he did so. I let out a disappointed little wail.

  "Don't worry, I'll give you more. But you've had enough of that bastard for the time being. Calun, a stool."

  A moment later the silent man produced a stool and placed it just to the side of the open doorway. Darkin lowered me onto it gently. Once he was assured I was properly balanced on it, he reached for the bucket to refill my cup. I accepted the cold water gratefully and continued sipping. I felt better with every mouthful. But now my stomach was growling.

  The silent brother, Calun, smiled down at me as he heard it and disappeared into the hut. Moments later he reappeared with a bowl of stew. He leaned down and offered me a spoonful. It tasted foul but I ate it hungrily, opening my mouth for more after the first bite, just as a baby might.

  The silent man grinned this time and I blinked back my astonishment. He was as beautiful as a god when he smiled like that. But far more kindly than any god would ever be. I wondered why he did not speak. Was he shy like my brother?

  "Calun can't speak. He was born that way. But he communicates well enough," Darkin said, noticing my bemusement.

  "No one's better at talking to the airlings than he is," Rama added, his tone daring me to laugh at his brother.

  I reached out with the hand not holding the cup and placed my fingertips to the back of the hand that held another spoonful of stew out to me. I smiled.<
br />
  "Thank you."

  Again that grin floored me. He was almost too beautiful to be real.

  The men left me then to Calun's ministrations while they finished unloading the airlings and storing the supplies away. Calun sat on the single step and looked up at me while he finished feeding me. It was incredibly calming being in his presence. I could easily understand why the airlings would respond well to him.

  "You are all being very kind to me. I do not know how I can thank you," I said when the stew was all gone and my stomach was appeased.

  Calun shook his head and reached up to stroke my cheek. I found myself leaning into his touch. Without words he had let me know that I had no need to thank them. My presence was enough. I doubted Rama would see it that way, but I accepted Calun's reassurance.

  "I do not know what to do. I am putting you all at risk by being here," I confided, knowing he could not share the truth with his brothers. It might change his attitude to me, though. And I prayed that would not be the case. I wanted this man's acceptance. Needed it for more than just my safety.

  Calun rested his hand on mine and I felt ready to continue.

  "I am a daughter of the Godling. On the summer solstice I was to be sacrificed to the gods so my father could regain their favour. Four of my sisters have already been sacrificed, all for nothing. I was not willing to be the fifth, especially when I am not even sure the gods exist. So I escaped the harem and hid in a wagon, dressed like a boy. And here I am. If my father finds me, you may all suffer."

  Calun kneeled before me and I could feel my fears and confusion, even my guilt, flowing away. I stared into his emerald green eyes and saw acceptance and support there. A calloused finger slid down the side of my face and poised over my lips in the universal sign of silence. He was telling me to keep my secret. I nodded, dreading the moment his finger would leave my tingling lips. Somehow my whole body had come to life in just the same way as it had when the wind hit my face on the airling. If he moved away I knew I would lose something infinitely precious.

  I have no idea how long we stayed like that, him with his finger over my lips, peaceful eyes staring into mine, but when Jaron came out to call the others to eat, the moment passed. Calun rose smoothly to his feet and strode into the hovel, leaving me to stare out over the flat expanse of the Badlunds.

  Chapter Six

  While I sat outside trying to work out my next move, the men were inside doing the same thing. But, unlike me, they seemed to be working out ways to adjust their lives to fit me in.

  "First off she needs a bath and fresh clothes. That tunic can probably be repaired, but until that's done and her clothes washed and dried, she has to wear something. Any thoughts?" Darkin said.

  "None of our clothes'll fit her," Jaron said, his mouth obviously full of stew.

  "I have an old tunic that might do," Rama offered grudgingly. "The neck's tight, barely wide enough to get my head through, which'd mean it wouldn't fall off her shoulders. It's thread bare and some of the seams are fraying, but it'd cover her to below her knees. It's the arm holes that'll be the problem. They'll gape and reveal..." his voice carried his discomfort to me. "Well, it'd reveal too much skin."

  "It'll only be for a while, until her own clothes are ready to wear again," Darkin said. "I think we can all protect her modesty for that short time by casting our gazes away."

  "You might be able to, big brother," Jaron said impishly. "But I haven't had a woman for longer than I can remember. Winter maybe? Having that delectable little piece wandering around here, wearing nothing but an old tunic of Rama's? I won't be casting my gaze anywhere but at what's on show."

  He yelped, and I had to wonder if one of the others had cuffed him. I was playing my role of shadow, even though I was now in plain sight. If I didn't move, if I didn't look around or react as if I heard them discussing me, they would forget my presence and speak naturally. And though I was dying to know who had cuffed Jaron, looking might lose me more valuable insights into these men and their plans for me.

  "You can spend the next few 'turns working with Calun and the raw airlings. That way you won't have to be tempted," Darkin said, his voice filled with disgust and a little frustrated amusement.

  I had heard the men use the term brother several times now. Did that mean they were all brothers? How could that be when they looked so different? From my experience, siblings tended to share common characteristics, unless they were only half-siblings, like most of the childlings in the harem. They all had the same father but different mothers. And as often as not the childlings looked more like their mother than the Godling. Were these brothers only half-brothers? Did they share the same father?

  More questions I would have to hold back asking until the right time.

  "Maybe she can make the tunic more modest and repair her own tunic. She's a woman, after all." This was Jaron, somewhat more serious now.

  "I'd wager my share of the next sale of airlings that our little princess has never sewn a garment in her life. She'd've had servants to do such lowly tasks." Rama's tone was scathing.

  He was right. Someone else always made and repaired our clothes in the harem. But I could embroider. How much harder would it be to repair a tear or stitch closed a gaping armhole? As long as I had needle and thread I could do a passing job of it, I was sure. I had survived four or five days in a baking wagon, I could sew a seam.

  And I wanted to see Rama's face when I did it. I would show him that I was not the haughty princess he thought I was.

  "We'll need more meat if we have to feed her for any length of time. That means hunting. I hate taking time away from gentling and training the raw airlings, but our bellies come first," Darkin went on. I could almost imagine him checking points off on his fingers. He was clearly the leader of the men and the one who did the planning.

  There was silence for a few moments and then Darkin resumed as if replying to words I could not hear.

  "Good, then you and Jaron follow the airlings guidance and bring us home at least one good size daubler. Just remember not to let your shadow fall over the herd, Jaron. You'll spook them before you've fired off one arrow."

  "I did that once when I was eleven. If you haven't noticed, I'm not eleven anymore," came the exasperated reply.

  "You get caught up. I've seen you. And you lose focus."

  "Did I lose focus when I was stealing the keys to Rama's cell? Did I lose focus when I was distracting those bastards, so you could carry him out without having to fight your way out?"

  "Jaron's right. He's no child. Without his street urchin skills I'd be dead and the rest of you with me." Rama's voice was harsh and brittle, and I was glad I could not see his face. His voice was enough to hint at the agony he had experienced.

  A memory flashed into my mind. Airshin's disgust as he told me about the three unmanly airling troopers who had broken the rules and gone back to save their brother. How they then had their heads shorn and were banished from Godslund as punishment. Was it possible these were those men? But they were not old enough. The way Airshin had told the story it had sounded like it had happened many years ago. But if their hair was only now growing out, that meant it was no more than a suncycle or two since then.

  Someone sighed. It must have been Darkin, as he then went on. "I know. It's sometimes hard to remember you aren't my baby brother anymore. I'm sorry."

  "Apology accepted. So we leave straight away and let you and Rama wash our woman's back for her?" Jaron was his upbeat self once again. I was starting to think he was like me, never holding on to anger for long.

  "Nobody washes her back. Nobody treats her with anything but respect."

  "Respect has to be earned," Rama sniped.

  "And she's done that by surviving that wagon ride, fighting a man twice her size when she could barely stand, and by fearlessly taking her first airling ride. I don't know who she is, but I know she's special. She deserves our respect," Darkin said softly, as if he only just remembered I was close and was h
oping I was not listening.

  There were a few more moments of silence and then Rama's exasperated voice was heard again. "All right, Calun, I get it. You think she's special too. I had no plans of taking her to my bed, anyway. I like my women to look like women, not boys."

  Though I held no soft feelings for Rama, his words stung. I might not have as many curves as many of my sisters, but father had told me often enough that I was beautiful. There were many kinds of beauty, just as there were many kinds of handsomeness in men. There had been many times when I found my focus distracted from fighting moves by a handsome face or a muscular torso. Even a well formed butt. And in every instance I was attracted to a different man. Some tall, some short, some slim and some muscular. I had even found myself mesmerized by the older trainer at one time, as he demonstrated a graceful manoeuvre, and he was likely old enough to be my father. Although, of course, my father was old enough to be my grandfather.

  "She'll fill out with a few more meals. Right now she's skin and bones. Of course she doesn't appeal. But she will," Darkin said.

  I looked down at my ribs, bared by the tear in my tunic. They did stand out more than usual. I had always been small and slim, but there had been flesh on my bones and subtle feminine curves before. Now I was all muscle, bone and sinew. Ugly. I was ugly. And with my hair a rat's nest and my body caked in sweat and filth, I could quite understand why Rama would not be tempted by me.

  "The next few days are going to require a great deal of give and take. We'll need to make up a bed for her and find out what else she can do besides fight. I've heard of women fighting in competitions on the coast, but usually they're street urchins who learned to protect themselves. She fights like an imperial trooper."

  "Maybe she passed herself off as a youth-in-training. That's why she's so comfortable in those clothes," Jaron ventured. "I used to watch those kids and wish I'd had a chance to learn to fight like them."

  "And they probably wished they had a chance to ride airlings. A lot less hard work and more fun," Rama pointed out, and I had to agree.