“There is more,” said Garvas. “There is much dissent among the tribe. Many do not wish to leave the grasslands, even now.” Varlas stiffened, but would not allow his fears to show. Many of his own warriors felt the same way. “Kariik is not the king his father was,” Garvas continued.
Varlas laughed. “That much was known to me before we left our territory in the east. Are you suggesting he may not hold his crown long enough to lead his tribe anywhere?”
“It is possible,” said Garvas. “Especially if we remain here until next year, to prepare and consolidate our newly acquired clans.” By allowing the best warriors of conquered tribes to join the Wolves, Varlas now commanded nearly two thousand warriors. “Kariik’s men fear his wife more than him. They say she is a witch, and his plan to move west is her doing. That land we are to conquer is her home.”
The laughter that erupted from the king cut off at those last words. “Do those men truly believe she has powers? Beyond what lies between her legs, that is?”
For the first time, Garvas looked uncomfortable. “It is something all of them agreed on: the king is under the power of a witch. And they believe that many witches dwell in the land of the dirt-eaters.”
Varlas stroked his beard. “That would explain why the men of that land are so weak. And all the stories of the women who speak their minds and show no fear of men.” This possible explanation to such unbelievable tales brought the king no comfort. Strange lands were challenging enough without adding dark magic.
“Witches can be killed,” Garvas said quietly, as if reading his king’s thoughts. “Or stripped of their powers.” At that, both men grinned.
“Doing so will make a most enjoyable addition to our campaign,” said Varlas. “But first we must catch them.”
“If his own men are too slow,” said Garvas, “we might remove the king of Aahk ourselves. Then add the best of his men to our own pack. At that size, we will be unbeatable no matter what we might face in the west.”
Varlas shook his head. “We are large enough already. I have no wish to divide our spoils any further. I only need one man of Kariik’s.” He met his second’s gaze evenly. “One who, for the right price, will betray his king.”
“I’m certain such a man can be found,” said Garvas.
“Not one who has been captured and tortured. Take a small party under a flag of truce to Kariik and express our interest uniting our two mighty nations. There will be meetings and feasts and much talk until winter. By then the man I seek will have found me.”
Garvas smiled in admiration of his king. “I fear the winter will be most uncomfortable for the tribe of Aahk,” he said.
Chapter 17
Melora’s naming ceremony was made part of the Summer Festival.
Kalie spent most of the festivities curled up in bed with her new daughter, enjoying the company of those who dropped by—usually with food and gifts—and enjoying peace and solitude the rest of the time.
The summer was marked by a bountiful harvest of both crops and trade, and by near silence on the eastern front. Travelers and messengers came through constantly, but only one tale of an attack by a nomad band reached Stonebridge. As was the case in the town near Green Bower, the people of the Goddess fought back, and the few surviving horsemen fled back to the steppes on foot. The extra horses were greatly appreciated, as well as new members for the village, since this group apparently had a few captive women with them. According to reports, the women were recovering nicely, convinced they had found paradise.
“Perhaps things were not as bad as you feared,” Ruleen remarked to Kalie one day when they were both picking berries in the forest east of the town.
“Perhaps,” said Kalie. It seemed likely, on a day as beautiful and peaceful as this.
And as summer turned to autumn, it became easier still to believe, as a bountiful harvest was brought in, and traders began returning from faraway places, with exciting stories—none of which involved raiders on horseback.
“Motherhood agrees with you, Kalie,” Riyik commented one rare night when the whole family was gathered at the table for dinner.
“I’ve always thought so,” teased Varena, who nudged Yarik, who mumbled an agreement around a mouthful of his favorite dish: goat meat, stewed with grain and raisins.
“You know what I mean,” said Riyik. “Since Melora came along…” he trailed off, watching his three month old daughter sleeping peacefully in a basket lined with soft rabbit furs.
“I know what you mean,” Kalie said. “And I agree.” There was a softness about Kalie that was new to all who knew her now—and new to her as well. Even waking often at night to nurse Melora, she slept better than she had in years. The easy rhythms of life and family were all she thought of now.
Most of the time, at least. In her heart, she knew that one day a storm from the east would come and threaten everything and everyone she loved. But if the universe was willing to wait awhile on that, Kalie was happy to wait as well.
And for now, it seemed that it did.
People continued to train with weapons and wait eagerly for their turn at a riding lesson, but it was the birth of two healthy foals that most delighted everyone. The town crafters began to put horse motifs on everything from copper tools and jewelry to woven cloth and clay pots.
Varena found a new love: a boat-maker’s son who shared her interest in farming, something he showed a greater aptitude for than boat-building. There was an abandoned farm just outside the town, and the two lovers began to talk of repairing it, and growing flax and vegetables for the rest of their lives. And having assisted with Kalie’s birth, Varena was extremely careful to drink her contraceptive tea every day.
Brenia, happier than Kalie had ever seen her, continued to live with Martel, raise her children, weave cloth and brew remedies for the healers. She was reluctant, however, to formally join with him.
“Still feel married to Hysaak?” Kalie asked on the first truly cold day in autumn, as they soaked in the hot springs, luxuriating in the water, and the freedom of having others watching their children for them.
Brenia tipped back her head and slid down until only her face was above the water. “Some days, I can’t remember what he looks like. I don’t wake up in pain anymore, thinking he’s beating me.” She pushed herself upright, water streaming from darkened tendrils of hair. “But I still fear a formal joining would somehow bring bad luck to Martel. And that is something I will never do.”
“If it’s fine with Martel, then it’s nobody’s business but yours,” said Kalie.
“Do you think Varena will join with Noris this winter?” Brenia asked. Unlike farming villages, where weddings were generally held at the summer solstice, or the end of the harvest, midwinter was the usual time in the trading towns, when merchants were finally home, wealth counted and distributed, and people looking for celebrations to break up the monotony. Either that, or early spring, just before the traders left.
“They might. She still seems young to me, but Noris is a fine young man, and I think that farm will be the perfect place for them—and all their energy.”
Brenia made a face. “I’ve seen that place. They should join soon. Only the young and foolish would even attempt a project like that.” Kalie laughed.
They were drying each other off when a young boy shouted eagerly from the rocks above that Tarella was in labor, and would her friends come to her house.
“If she’s calling us her friends, she must be truly terrified,” said Kalie, but she hurried to dress and follow the boy to Tarella’s home.
“We are the people she’s known the longest,” said Brenia. “And she’s a much better person than when she first arrived here.”
Kalie paused and regarded her sister-by-marriage. “Sometimes, Brenia, you remind me of Alessa.”
Brenia looked surprised, but obviously took it as a compliment—as it had been intended.
Tarella’s labor was longer than Kalie’s had been, and seemed to her to be mor
e painful, despite many potions the midwife plied her with. Or perhaps, Kalie thought, as she sponged Tarella’s forehead, this was the one time a nomad woman of any station could vent her pent-up anger by screaming as long and loud as she wanted.
Before midnight, Tarella had a healthy baby boy at her breast, and a completely besotted Varian fussing over her, along with the rest of the family and several neighbors.
Tarella was overjoyed—by her healthy son, and by the gifts Varian showered her with. He had created a set of jewelry made from all the riches which could be found in Stonebridge: shells and amber, copper and gold, even a piece of richly veined blue stone from a land so far south no one knew its name, set into the center of a golden pendant in the shape of the sun. Now, as he hovered over Tarella and their new son, it was clear he would deny her nothing.
And apparently, Tarella had a list. “We will need a new house, just for the three of us,” she began. “Your sister should continue caring for your grandmother where they are—she does such a fine job…” Kalie left before she could hear more, but she decided to drop by the temple on her way home, and suggest Nara visit the family, and make sure any changes were agreeable to all concerned.
But that was all she did. In the months since Melora’s birth, Kalie had given up worrying about every problem that occurred in Stonebridge, and every word spoken by a former member of the tribe of Aahk. They had been here nearly a year, and everyone—even Kalie—had become a part of this bustling town. She had a beautiful family, good friends and a fine home. Perhaps one day she would take up pottery again, but if not, she was busy enough looking after her family, telling stories and now, serving on the town council.
Winter passed slowly, happily, as even Kalie had to admit that not even the most determined—or foolish—tribe would attempt to travel this far in weather like this. She loved watching Melora thrive, a happy contented baby, who was fascinated by everything. Yarik, now four years old, was proving to be a patient and devoted big brother. He was a good friend to other children as well, as if his early life as an outcast cripple had left him with a greater sensitivity to the pain of others. And if any beliefs in the superiority of boys had been part of his understanding of the world, they were gone now.
The boredom of late winter was broken for Kalie’s family and their friends by plans for Varena and Norris’s joining, to be held at the Spring Festival. The young couple had spent every spare moment the previous autumn at their future home, shoring up walls, patching the leaking roof, cleaning rot and mildew from the rooms below and planning what would go where. All winter Noris used his boat-building experience to craft furniture, while Varena wove baskets and tanned hides for leather and fur. Kalie even brought up her memories of shaping clay well enough to produce a set of beautiful dishes for the new couple.
When the snow began to melt, and a watery sun offered temperatures above freezing, the people of Stonebridge took to the outdoors, not caring about the cold and mud, simply ready for spring.
It was on such a day that Kalie was with a group of friends in the forest east of the town, gathering the first green shoots, and looking for new things to plant in her garden. She stopped for a moment, her basket half full, at the sound of hoof beats. Horses were approaching.
“Messengers from one of the places the warriors settled?” someone asked
“Too many for that,” said Varena.
“Is this the attack, then?” asked a little girl. She did not sound worried. It was just something the adults were always talking about.
“Too slow for that,” said Brenia. “And they would be shouting their war calls by now.”
Everyone exchanged glances, wondering why no messenger had arrived with news, while Kalie stood frozen, hearing the speculation that swirled around her, as if from a great distance.
Melora began to fuss from her carrier on her mother’s back. Automatically, Kalie reached back to pat her baby. “It’s nothing, my love,” Kalie said. “Nothing to do with us—“
As the words reached her own ears, Kalie was reminded of a lifetime ago, when she had lived a fragile existence at the edge of town built around a temple of healing constructed beside a mineral spring. Two runners had arrived, and while Kalie had said nearly the same words to her dog, the message they carried had changed her life.
At that moment she knew it would be the same today.
Dropping her basket, Kalie pushed through the bare trees, and hurried up a rocky hillside. The calls from those behind her to come back, to not take her baby into possible danger never reached her ears.
The sound of horses grew louder in the clear, cold air. Kalie stared without blinking until her vision blurred. Finally, she wiped her eyes with her hand, and took a deep breath. When she could see again, a ragged column of riders emerged from the trees below her. Behind them, exhausted warriors walked their even more exhausted looking horses. Women and children stumbled behind.
Leading the rabble, on a horse that looked to be in better shape than anyone else, man or beast, rode a man whose young, but careworn face was one Kalie knew at once: Kariik, king of the tribe of Aahk.
And beside him, patting and whispering to her tired mount as she walked beside him, was Alessa, Priestess of the Goddess Lands.
Chapter 18
“Alessa!” Kalie shouted, even though she knew her friend couldn’t hear her. She was about to take off at a run, but by now, others had reached the hillside. They clearly would have prevented Kalie from going anywhere, if she hadn’t thought better of it herself. Fleet-footed youngsters had already run back to the settlement with the news.
“Not here!” Kalie said. Striding purposefully back toward the bridge, she saw the others fall in line behind her. “We must greet them on this side of the bridge, and in large numbers. With food and drink, but weapons as well. Varena! Run to the temple and tell Orin to prepare for sick and injured.” Varena, the youngest person remaining, took off at an impressive clip. “Minda,” she said to the young woman whose infant son was with his grandmother, “can you find some people to help our visitors set up a camp site on this side of the bridge?”
Nodding, the young woman raced across the bridge that the rest had nearly reached. Kalie directed those remaining to fill their water skins from one of the nearby springs, and wait with her, all the while asking herself the same questions everyone else was asking: why had the tribe of Aahk left the steppes in the dead of the winter? And why, after reaching the Goddess Lands, had they continued to travel through snow and rain and mud for another ten to fifteen days while they were clearly exhausted? And why had no messenger arrived ahead of them to share this rather important news?
She would know soon enough, but Kalie felt much better when people from the town began to arrive, bearing the weight of authority. When Riyik came to stand beside her, she had the sense that somehow, everything would be all right.
As the tide of humanity approached, Orin and Nara strode through the townspeople to take the lead.
“Kalie, Riyik, come stand beside us,” called Orin. The couple took their places in the front of the crowd, just as the eerily silent mass of nomads reached them. Kalie was relieved to note that they stopped at a respectful distance from the townspeople.
There was a tense moment of silence while everyone waited for Kariik to speak. Then, Alessa patted her horse gently, and ran to Kalie, flinging her arms around her.
“Alessa!” cried Kalie. Then stepping back, she looked into her friend’s eyes and asked, “Is it still you?”
Alessa understood, and clearly took no offence. “I am still a priestess of the Goddess. My loyalties have not been twisted. But there are many here in need of help. My supplies ran out early in our desperate flight.”
Riyik stepped forward. “Greetings, Alessa,” he said, holding out both his hands. Alessa took them both in hers. “May I present Nara and Orin of Stonebridge?”
The priest and priestess came forward to greet Alessa. “The temples are ready. Those in need will
be escorted to them at once,” said Orin. “As for the rest, we must ask you to camp here, outside of our town.” People moved among the newcomers with water skins and food, as men slid from horses, and everyone crowded eagerly for sustenance.
Finally, Kariik dismounted and walked to the town leaders.
He is afraid, Kalie thought, looking into the king’s lean and ravaged face. More than afraid: shell-shocked. His once fine garments were worn and stained, and hung on his gaunt frame. Kariik’s only jewelry was a heavy gold pendant with a sun sign worked into it; his badge of office.
Yet he greeted the priest and priestess politely, speaking in his own tongue while Alessa translated. “I bring an urgent message to all the people of Goddess Lands,” Kariik said. “A horde from the steppes is massing. They will be here before summer!”
“It looks to me like one is already here,” said Ruleen, holding her basket so tightly her knuckles were white.
“Those I warn you of are many times the size and strength of those few with me,” said Kariik. Then, glancing at Alessa, he added belatedly, “We come in peace.”
The people of Stonebridge exchanged nervous glances. The nomad warriors numbered over one hundred, with a near equal number of women and children. They were not what anyone would consider “few”.
“Let us bring your sick and injured to the temple,” said Nara. Alessa began to coax a number of frightened women and children forward from the back of the group, speaking to them as she had to her horse earlier. There were men in need of healing as well, but only a sharp order from Kariik convinced them to cross the bridge and accept help from those they had long viewed as less than human.
Those who remained were already setting up camp, with the help of people from Stonebridge, who brought them food and firewood, and showed them where to get water. Some of the women from the steppes looked with disgust and barely disguised fear at the strange women who walked confidently and unveiled, working as equals with their men to help strangers. Others exclaimed over the rarely seen wood they were expected to burn in place of dung, but quickly had several fires going, sighing gratefully at the warmth and the prospect of food. Soon the air was filled with the smells of meat cooking, clothing drying and the snores of those too exhausted to do anything but sleep in the limited shelter of their tents.
Keepers of the Ancient Wisdom (Kalie's Journey Book 3) Page 14
