“Of course! Riyik is away, and I want to hear everything that’s happened since I last saw you!”
For the rest of the day, Kalie and Larren relaxed by the hearth, eating bread and honey, and the first fresh greens of the season.
“Agafa lived to see the flowers of spring,” Larren said. “She died only a few days before I left.”
“I wish she could have seen more of our world.”
“She had many friends at the end. I think everyone who met her fell a little in love with her. And she was lucid until her last moments. Agafa told me she couldn’t afford to grow addled; that if she did, she might miss out on another miracle of this world. And that she refused to do.”
Kalie smiled, though tears threatened. “That does sound like Agafa.”
“She was not alone or in pain when she died,” said Larren. “Two things she would have been for certain in the grasslands.”
“And the others?” Kalie asked.
“Most of those we brought have done well in Green Bower. Sarika is already a respected healer, although she has not taken the vows of a priestess. Saela has become a skilled weaver, and is planning to join with a nice young man at mid-summer.”
“Wonderful.” It came out a sigh.
“And the big news…” Larren paused for effect. Kalie waited. “At the start of spring, a band of raiders from the steppes attacked the town just north of Green Bower.”
Kalie dropped her cup of gillyflower tea. It bounced off her enlarged stomach and landed intact on the soft rug where the two women sat. Spilled tea blended with the pattern in the rug. “And you’re just telling me this now? We have to warn the…wait. You don’t seem very concerned.”
“It probably helped that Malor and Yanal, along with some of their best students were visiting at the time.” Larren smiled. “Trying to convince the people there that they would need the skills the men of the east had to offer. The attack came just as the town council was politely telling the warriors that their help would not be needed.”
Kalie shook her head. “This is beginning to sound like something out of one of my stories!”
“Except everyone would tell you it was too unbelievable,” said Larren.
“True. That is, if it had a happy ending…?”
“Yanal called it ‘target practice’. There were only about a dozen warriors—probably bandits, really. They brought no women, no tents and no flocks. Some of the townspeople were hurt, but no one died—except for the invaders. It only took two warriors and five apprentices to kill half, and send the others running back to the steppes.”
“Probably because they expected to find easy pickings,” said Kalie. “Could anyone tell if they were once Aahk?”
Larren shook her head. “Just outlaws with dreams of greatness. But now our warriors in training have had their first battle—and won! And the people who thought they could just ignore what’s coming are rethinking their views.”
“And are alive and free to do so,” Kalie said, with more venom than she intended.
Larren patted her hand. “It’s going better than we could have hoped. A few more attacks like this, and the people of the Goddess will win every time—while getting the experience they will need when the entire horde shows up.”
“If these attacks stay small,” Kalie fretted. “If the horde waits until we’re ready.”
“There’s no use in worrying about what we can’t control,” said Larren.
“True,” Kalie said, staring into the fire. “But there’s something I’ve kept too tightly controlled. It’s time I start showing people how to make horse-killers.”
“You won’t wait until the delegations return?”
“No. And I want you to take the knowledge with you back to Green Bower.”
Chapter 15
As spring turned to the ripeness of summer, Kalie joined her fellow townspeople in sowing and harvesting, and filling the storage sheds with produce. It was normal work for a pregnant woman of this land, and few people urged her to do more than rest often. But to this rewarding work, Kalie added another, more frightening job. She began to teach the people here to make little stars of bone which could cause great injury to any horse who stepped on one.
“Why did you not show us these weapons before?” asked Janak. “They could save us all from the horsemen!”
“These weapons are powerful,” said Kalie. “And deadly. They have no purpose beyond inflicting terrible pain to innocent animals, and making it easier to kill men who lie helpless on the ground.”
Martel nodded with sudden understanding. “These are not tools, like a knife or a spear, which can be used to slice fruit or put a dying animal out of its misery,” he said.
“Exactly,” said Kalie. “And in the wrong hands, they can be used against humans as well.”
While there were still some in Stonebridge who might doubt anyone was capable of such things, most people simply nodded.
“Let’s begin,” she told the crowd who had stayed to learn how to make horse-killers. While there was no way to test the weapons on real animals, several human volunteers, wearing heavy leather sandals, stepped, ran over and jumped on the bone stars. Few escaped without at least a cut or puncture wound.
While Kalie was never entirely comfortable with this new weapon in so many hands, the beautiful weather and many joys of the season at least took her mind off her worries.
On a bright warm day with the scent of summer on the way, she bid heartfelt farewells to Larren, Shula and Garak, who were returning to Green Bower with horse-killers and the knowledge of how to make them. Then she took a walk through the town, just to enjoy the changes in the lives of people who had followed her here.
Brenia and her children now lived with Martel. People marveled at the change in the once lethargic widower, as his home rang with laughter and energy, always with the good smells of Brenia’s cooking wafting from it. Brenia, now an accomplished weaver, and fascinated by the many dyes available to her, was happier than Kalie had ever seen her.
Darva surprised everyone by moving into the home of another widower: a quiet hunter named Ranal, with no family besides his young son and daughter. Ranal wanted a woman to care for his children while he was away on extended hunting trips, keep his house and greet him with good food and a warm bed when he returned. Few women of the Goddess lands were interested in such an arrangement, but for someone raised as Darva had been, it was perfect. She was now mistress of a fine house, and alone to do as she pleased in it for long stretches. Filled with fur and leather from Ranal’s hunts, it reminded Darva of home—or at least the home she had always dreamed of. And, Kalie guessed, the ruggedly handsome Ranal looked and hunted like a warrior of the steppes—but one who did not beat his woman or children.
The only difficulty came when Darva decided she was ready once again to be mother to her own two children. Sirak came willingly enough. He had been living with so many families since last autumn, he was ready to call one place home, and be with the woman who had adored him all his life. But he was dismayed to find Darva so invested in the new man in her life, not to mention his children and the new domain of which she was now a proud mistress.
For her part, Darva barely recognized the adolescent boy who had so little of the steppes about him. Sirak was happy to help around the house, but no longer had any interest in carving out a kingdom in this land, or giving up his work teaching both boys and girls how to ride and fight. Kalie wondered which Darva found more repellent: Sirak’s lack of ambition, or his willingness to help his mother by stooping to woman’s work.
Myla was a bigger problem. Her memories of maternal love from Darva were few, and she now considered Brenia her mother. Darva wept and screamed that her child had been stolen from her, but gained little sympathy from the priestess who came to assist with the transition—especially when Darva’s torrent of emotions upset Myla. It was as if until that moment, Darva really hadn’t known where she was. Motherhood carried respect in this land, but not
ownership. She was forced to accept that Myla would divide her time between Brenia’s home and Darva’s until such time as Darva could make amends to her daughter for her earlier neglect. Neither mother nor daughter were happy about the arrangement at first, but with the help of the community, things slowly grew better between them.
Tarella was pregnant, and too happy to make trouble for anyone. One by one, each of the former warriors of Aahk found a woman they wished to join with. All except for Borik, who remained in the house that had once been Otera’s with a series of women who lived with him for awhile, then moved out. Whenever Borik found himself without someone to cook for him or wash his clothes, he appeared at Kalie’s door, looking faintly bewildered, but always assured of a warm welcome.
Summer was in full flower, and people were looking forward to the Summer Festival when Riyik and his group finally returned home, with several visitors. Despite the nearness of the Summer Festival, the people of Stonebridge insisted on throwing a small, spontaneous feast for the returning delegation.
Riyik, surprised that he was free to greet his family, and even bathe and rest before reporting to his chief as he would have done at once in his old life, hurried home to Kalie. He grinned at the sight of her huge belly.
“I was afraid the baby would already be here!” Riyik said, embracing Kalie with passion, but careful about the mound that rested between them.
“You may wish it was, when the time comes,” she said, pulling him to the bench by the table where they took their meals, and bringing out a light snack. As a traveler herself, Kalie knew Riyik would be hungry, but she made sure he didn’t eat enough to spoil the feast that awaited them. “First-time births can be long and difficult. You’ll probably spend half a day pacing a trench in our garden.”
“I thought I was supposed to be with you, holding your hand,” Riyik said, wrapping a piece of dried meat in small cake of flat bread, and devouring it in two bites.
Kalie snorted, nearly choking on her tea. “I can see why you might think so, but the people of this land are nearly as orthodox about birth being a woman’s domain as the people of the steppes. You’ll have to wait outside until you’re brought news that the baby is born, just like last time.” Kalie instantly regretted her words, remembering that Riyik’s first wife had died soon after giving him a son with a deformity that should have meant his death, by the warrior’s code.
A knock on their door interrupted any response Riyik might have had. “Come in!” Kalie called, rather than waddle across the room to open it. Instead she wiped a spot of grease from Riyik’s face, while he hurriedly grabbed a sprig of mint from a bowl on the table and stuffed it in his mouth, trying to chew unobtrusively.
Ilara stood in the doorway. “If you are ready, the council—“
“Yes, of course.” Riyik glanced down at his clothing, making sure he was presentable, and strode across the room to follow Ilara outside. He’s embarrassed at being summoned, Kalie thought as she followed the priestess and the warrior to the temple. He’s used to being where he needs to be without being told.
Before Stonebridge’s largest temple, the priests stood conferring. Kalie had been told the meeting would be held inside, but one look at the crowd wishing to attend explained this last minute conference. Cushions and stools were quickly brought outside for the delegation members, elders, and others whose health warranted it, while a tarp was erected above them. Everyone else settled down on the packed earth of the public square, more than willing to endure the day’s heat if it meant hearing the delegation’s news firsthand.
Orin began the meeting by introducing the five visitors, each of whom represented large communities. One, a young man from a farming village, had seen an attack of horsemen first-hand. All were interested in seeing Kalie’s horse killers, and taking the knowledge of how to make them back to their homes.
Kalie listened, grateful for the shade and cool drinks people constantly brought her, but not even the most luxurious cushion could make sitting for long periods comfortable. She rose and walked frequently, wishing the constant contractions she felt would give her some peace. Kalie knew these were harmless “practice” tugs, and that the baby would not come for nearly another moonspan. Still, it made the day’s work difficult.
“Many wished for us to stay, and do more teaching,” Riyik was saying. “But they understood when we explained our promise to return to Stonebridge. One of the towns in which we left a large number of horses—and horsemen—last autumn, will become a central training center, where men and women from the surrounding areas will come to train.”
“I was sent to learn of these ‘fortifications’ which were spoken of,” said a middle aged woman from the foothills of one of the distant mountain regions. “I am pleased to see that much of what you are doing to limit access to your town may work for us as well.”
“I believe our greatest success was in the area of communication,” said Orin. “Whether small raid or invading horde, we will use runners—and now riders—to inform neighboring settlements, and bring those who can help repel an attack. And help with the wounded as well.”
More reports followed, but by the time the summer sun began to set, and the smells of the feast began to distract even the most focused delegate, one thing was clear: the people of the Goddess lands were ready to fight. More importantly, thought Kalie, ready to organize, and bring aid where it was needed in time to help, rather than just after the fact as before.
“Does anyone else wish to speak?” Orin asked.
Some of those sitting on the hard surface of the common area seemed ready to rise and walk to the feast, but when an old woman stood and walked to the shaded area where the town leaders and delegates sat, everyone settled back down to listen.
“I am Ruleen,” she said in a clear voice which could be heard across the crowd. “For fifty-two years I have lived upon the body of the Goddess, most of those years here in Stonebridge. I have seen much in my life, some of it bad, most of it good. But never did I imagine that I would one day hear the people who with whom I have shared bread and life, speaking of killing their fellow humans as if they were organizing a fishing trip, or deciding whether or not to sow a new kind of crop someone has brought from far way.”
Kalie sighed and wished she could simply leave. But she stayed where she was, and listened.
“If there is truly no way to make peace with these ‘monsters’ you so greatly fear,” Ruleen continued, “then we must find a solution that does not involve becoming monsters ourselves!”
“Do you truly not understand?” Durak shouted from his place beside Riyik. “There are men coming to your land who will kill everyone they deem unfit to be their slaves! If I, or any man here they might recognize as a fellow warrior, tried to explain the way of the Goddess to them, they would laugh. And then kill us. You, they would kill before you had time to say anything.”
The pressure of Riyik’s hand gripping Durak’s arm finally stopped his tirade, but Kalie was grateful for his words. Other people of both cultures were echoing Durak’s sentiments, many quite loudly.
Nara the Priestess called for silence and got it.
“You spoke of other solutions, Ruleen,” Nara spoke loudly into the silence. “What are you proposing?”
“I do not know,” the old woman said sadly, but her voice was still strong and her back was straight. Clearly, she was not about to concede defeat or walk away. “I know only what my years have taught me: that things which often seem hopeless when we are young, may turn out, in the course of time, to have solutions which require only great patience and courage.”
Beside her, a man nearly as old as Ruleen stood. “If things are truly as bad as you say, is it not better that we should simply leave our homes and start over in a place these men cannot ride to with their horses?”
“How many here agree with Ruleen and Zenek?” Orin called out.
Slowly, about a dozen people stood. Most were middle-aged or older, and most of them had been sittin
g together throughout the meeting.
When it was clear they would speak only with their numbers, Kalie stood as well. Ruleen’s hard expression softened as she gazed at Kalie’s bulging midsection.
“I understand your words, honored grandmother,” Kalie said. “Perhaps better than most here.”
“Yet it is you who have devoted all your hours to persuading the people of the Goddess to become people of the spear,” said Ruleen. “You, who have designed a weapon that cripples animals and makes men easier to kill.”
“But when I first returned from being the slave of these ‘men’ my answer was the same as Zenek’s. I moved west, and found places to live where horses could not reach me. Marshlands. Mountains. Places of safety can be found. For a few of us. But not even the richest marsh or the most generous mountain dwellers can support the arrival of the entire population of Stonebridge. And there would be fifty times that number if everyone in this part of the Goddess lands were to do as you suggest.”
“We do not suggest everyone leave,” said a woman who looked to be about thirty years—probably the youngest person in the group. “Only that some of those whose understanding of the Goddess remains pure must leave to preserve that knowledge. We are not complete fools. We know that dark times are indeed coming. If these warriors you speak of come in force, our way of life could be lost forever.”
“But if we use their methods,” Ruleen continued. “If we make ourselves the arbitrators of who is worthy of life and who must die for the greater good, then we spit upon the face of the Goddess, and our way of life is lost just as surely.”
Kalie sat down abruptly, as another, more fierce contraction ripped through her.
“I’m fine,” she said to Riyik and the other anxious people who rushed to her side. “I’m just not up for this kind of debate.”
“As always,” Nara said with a slight smile, “we have much more to discuss. Now, let us feast, and welcome our guests, and remember our similarities and not our differences.”
Keepers of the Ancient Wisdom (Kalie's Journey Book 3) Page 12
