“I jumped into a river to spare my father the grief of killing me.” Malana moved on to another woman who had badly strained nearly all her leg muscles learning to ride. “The river brought me to the Goddess Lands. Strange how easy it was to shed all I knew of life, and replace it with something so—“
“Scandalous?” asked Kalie.
“Different,” Malana said firmly.
Kalie had many more questions, but sensed it was time to leave. She bid the women farewell, feeling a lowering of barriers and a lessening of mistrust. It had been time well spent. Plus, she had gotten a great massage.
It was only after she reached the trail which led to her home did Kalie remember the question she had most wanted to ask. What did Otera mean by her new tribe?
Later that night, Kalie lay alone in her bed, missing Riyik, but comforted by the warmth of Yarik and Melora’s small bodies as they slept peacefully beside her (just for tonight, she told them).
It wasn’t Riyik’s absence that kept her awake. At least not just that.
The latest messengers put the horde of the Wolf at the border of the land of the Goddess. The fighting would begin any day, and Kalie could do nothing about it; not even witness the first, monumental clash.
She knew well enough what the plans were. When she closed her eyes, she could see the map that covered the floor of main temple, complete with every plan, every trap, every contingency that had been devised.
In her mind, Kalie listed each one, as if that would bring sleep:
Nearly half the villages on the eastern border had been evacuated. Some had taken everything useful with them, refusing to participate in the killing which would come.
Others left gifts for their uninvited guests: horse killers, poisoned food and water, and pit traps filled with sharpened sticks that had been smeared with dung.
Villages surrounded or backed by forests would only appear abandoned. Warriors hiding inside would engage the enemy, then retreat into the woods, where more warriors would harry the men of the Wolf while—hopefully—allowing everyone to escape into the trees.
Other traps and ambushes stood ready farther west.
The king of the invading horde had a following of two thousand warriors. If everything went perfectly, the people of the Goddess could hope to kill or disable a third of them. That left over twelve hundred angry barbarians to reach the rich heart of the west. And Kalie doubted everything would go perfectly.
Somehow, all those warriors would have to be brought to Stonebridge, where traps, a flood and sheer numbers of people fighting for their homes would stem the tide.
And that was the final piece of the puzzle. Two groups of volunteers were gathering, but neither had yet to engage the enemy.
The first consisted of women who would allow themselves to be captured, and would beg their masters not to approach the Goddess’s sacred city of Stonebridge, with its stores of gold and virgin priestesses. The second would be a small group of warriors of the steppes who would ride to the king and ask for the honor of changing to the winning side, in exchange for information about the dirt-eaters and the traitors who now ruled them.
Kalie, who had already tried something close enough to the first plan, had voted for the second. But there would be a high risk of failure either way. And an even higher risk that both were suicide missions.
She was tired of suicide missions.
She was tired…
Interlude
King Varlas faced the setting sun and scowled at the shadows of the demon trees that tried to reach out and grab him. A lesser man would have backed away from this unnatural place, so different from the clean lines of endless grass meeting endless sky, where an enemy could be spotted far in advance. Lesser men had backed away from the foreignness and danger that lay before him. But King Varlas was not a lesser man.
He turned, pleased to have the sun behind him and his warriors arrayed before him. The women were setting up the tents along the river they had just crossed, where horses and men had finally been able to drink their fill. Beyond the river stretched the grass of home, but dry and parched in the searing summer heat. There was nothing there that would feed the horses; only goats and sheep could live off of that.
“Warriors!” he called. At once the men formed up into neat groups of forty—fifty in all, each led by a chief Varlas trusted. It was not so much their loyalty to him he trusted, but rather their greed and ambition. Varlas knew he was perhaps the first king in history who need not worry about whispers in the dark or reckless plots. For Varlas, slayer of kings, who now lived in a tent filled with the wealth of those who had thought themselves the rulers of the steppes, their wives and daughters even now awaiting him and ready to serve him in the most intimate ways, had brought his men to a land that would satisfy all of them beyond the dreams of avarice.
“We have endured much hardship to reach this land, and our trials are not yet over. But if we have the courage to face down the superstitions and fears that have kept weaker men out, we will soon ride unopposed across this land of witches and dirt-eaters. Who fears the ugly women who think they own this land?”
“None here!” shouted two thousand voices.
“Who fears the half-men who bow to these women?”
This time the answer was laughter.
“Then let us ride through these trees and pull down their wooden hovels, burn their ‘villages’ so grass can grow for the purpose the gods intended—to feed our herds. Until then, our horses can eat the grain they have grown for us, while we feast upon the meat those fools thought was theirs, and enjoy the pleasures to be found in showing their women who in truth their masters are! Let us roast these so-called men beside their sheep and drink kumis from their skulls!”
Cheers filled the campsite, chasing away the strangeness and the fear. For in truth, there was nothing to fear. A few traitors could not turn dirt-eaters into warriors, no matter how desperately they might have tried. Thousands would die in the season to come. But thousands more would become the slaves of the king’s conquering army. That was Varlas’s secret plan: for the first time, men as well as women would serve the warriors of the gods. Whatever luxury a man might require, whether it be gold, fruit, wine, a saddle that matched his armor or twenty women in one night would have what he desired. And it would be the honor of these witless savages to provide it for them.
Lost in his dreams, Varlas felt his manhood swell. He dismissed his men and made for his tent. The food would not be ready for a while. Before he sampled the pleasures of the wild women who thought they could resist him, he would enjoy the princess he had taken from that fool Kariik, and perhaps her two young daughters as well. Maybe all three together. Varlas grinned.
Chapter 26
“—The monster laughed, but Owl only flew higher than his fiery claws could reach and looked down. She coughed up a mouse she had eaten earlier, and dropped it upon his head. For a moment, nothing happened. Then—“
Kalie stopped her story midsentence at the urgent tapping upon her door. Melora was already asleep, but Yarik was waiting for the end of the story.
“You already know the rest,” she said, for it was one of his favorites, and kissed her step-son on the top of his head. “So finish it with your inner voice, and I will be back soon.”
She tucked both children in again, and hurried to meet the impatient whispers of those outside her house.
It was still light outside, the sky deepening to twilight, with the summer solstice just two hands of days away. Kalie had been avoiding meetings lately, but one look at the messenger at her threshold, and she knew that she had to go. She knew also that Riyik had not returned, or the young man would have told her.
Most of the town seemed to be making their way to the temple, despite the late hour. Minda stood in her doorway, her baby fussing in her arms, and watched her parents trudge down the lane.
“Minda, will you--?”
“Of course. I’ll hear if they need anything, or Yarik will know t
o come get me.”
Kalie nodded her thanks, and joined the stream of people, all silent, all pretending they didn’t already know what the news was.
Once again, the people gathered outside the temple, where there was enough room.
Taran, once a fisherman, and Varena’s first lover, had ridden out with Riyik and Borik nearly a moonspan ago. But a year of training gave him the look of a warrior of the steppes. “It’s begun,” he said simply. “The horde crashed into our lands about two hands of days ago. The first two villages they reached were abandoned.”
“Did that give the invaders the confidence we hoped for?” asked Nara.
Taran nodded. “They gorged on the food, and set their animals to feed on the crops in the fields.”
“The grain could not have been ripe yet,” said Alessa.
The messenger shook his head with a tight smile. “Some of the horses were already getting sick when I left. It will likely continue, until they find enough grass.” No one wanted to say anything hopeful yet and Taran continued. “The next village was one filled with traps and poison. Many invaders died. Others are likely too sick to recover without a skilled healer—which they do not seem to possess.”
The brief, ragged cheer which arose from about half the gathering was cut short by Ruleen’s voice. “And do we now rejoice over the suffering and death of others?” she asked.
Some might have wished to answer, but Orin quickly interjected a question. “Had the real fighting begun before you left?”
“Only one battle that I can bear witness to,” said Taran. “And that was enough.”
Everyone in the courtyard held their breath.
“The town of Dancing Waters had left oil smeared all over their houses, as well as pit traps outside. While this time, the beastmen knew to avoid the traps, and were careful searching the houses, the hidden archers were able to set the place on fire from a distance. Just not a safe distance. Some beastmen were killed, but many townsfolk as well. Those who fled beyond the falls were captured more easily than we expected. I believe most of them are dead.” Taran’s eyes said that he hoped they were.
“And how many invaders dead?” The words sounded pulled from Nara’s insides.
“I can’t say for certain, but at least forty, and many more injured or sick. They were still moving as one body when I began my journey back here.”
“It may well be in our favor if they continue moving as one body,” said Kariik. “Their king would have planned to divide his forces after the first easy victories, after his men were drunk on pride and loot.” At that nearly everyone smiled. “But having lost so many men in those first skirmishes, he may now be unwilling to do so.”
“I agree,” said Taran. “We shall know soon. There will be many more scouts, bringing many more messages as the battles are joined.”
“Thank you, Taran,” said Orin. Food and drink had already been set before him, but he seemed only now to notice. Before he could take his first sip, however, Kalie heard words leaping unbidden from her own mouth.
“And the men you rode out with, Taran?”
Many had left with him, but Taran knew what Kalie was asking, so he got straight to the answer. “When we saw how things stood, Riyik insisted on remaining to lead the fight. And Borik insisted on staying to guard Riyik. In a more personal message to you…” Taran hesitated, but at Kalie’s expression continued. “Riyik said: ‘Tell Kalie I love her. I beg her forgiveness for this decision, but as I once came to this land as a conqueror, I must seize this chance to make amends. Tell my children I love them and will see them soon.’” Borik said, “I will see that Riyik returns to you safely, or there will be no safe place in this land for me.” Then Taran began to eat.
“That sounds like both of them,” Kalie heard herself say. Someone seemed to be helping her remain upright, although she didn’t remember standing up. Then she turned and walked back to her house.
“I’m not leaving until you eat something,” Alessa said the next morning. Brenia sat beside her. “You don’t have to talk about it, but you need to keep up your strength.”
“I’m fine,” Kalie said, shoving a piece of bread in her mouth, and chewing almost well enough. She managed to choke down some tea without choking on the bread. “I’ll sulk a while longer, and then I’ll get back to work. There’s too much to be done for anything else.” The suggestion that her two friends leave was clear in Kalie’s expression.
They only sat silently until Kalie burst out, “He could have at least told me that’s what he was going to do! Did he think I would fall apart like some fragile blossom? Or try to stop him somehow?”
“He may not have planned this!” said Brenia. “You heard: when they saw how things stood, he decided to stay. If Riyik’s leadership could make the difference between victory and defeat—“
“Does he think he’s the only one competent to lead?” Kalie snapped. “That not one of the seventy who traveled with us--?”
“He may well be,” said Alessa. “We weren’t there; we didn’t see. Which brings us to the real problem: you want to be there, too.”
Kalie ate some strawberries, and tried not to look at Melora playing quietly off to one side. “If it did not come down to a choice between leaving a baby who needs my milk, and fighting by Riyik’s side, I would already be there, not sitting here helplessly, wanting to kill him, yet afraid someone else really will!”
“There are others who can nurse Melora if you choose to go,” said Alessa.
Brenia had not displayed shock in a long time, but she did now. “Alessa! How could you suggest a mother leave her child and risk her life doing what—“
“Men do?” Alessa finished. “Better she should go with our support, knowing her children are cared for, than twisting in the wind until she runs off without thinking or planning. Haven’t you seen her caught between two conflicting duties all this time? And what it’s doing to her?”
The knot inside Kalie began to slowly come undone, and for the first time since last night, she almost smiled. As usual, Alessa had seen the problem, and laid it out with simple grace. “I’m being pulled two ways and I don’t know what to do,” she said quietly. Alessa and Brenia each set a hand over one of Kalie’s, and for a time, the three just sat there.
The people of Stonebridge prepared for the refugees that the latest messengers had told them to expect, while Kariik helped make room by selecting thirty of his warriors to accompany thirty local warriors to aid the fighters who were steadily falling back toward the west. They were to leave the next morning.
“I wish he’d send all of them!” said Darva. “Things are so tense now, and you know how men get when there’s no enemy to focus their energy on.”
Kalie knew. They sat with a group of women, filling baskets with healing herbs, while Brenia demonstrated a new way she had discovered for stitching wounds. The local healers were impressed; for all they knew of healing, few here had any experience treating injuries inflicted by tools of war.
“They’re already fighting each other,” Kalie said. “I’m glad Kariik is sending so many warriors to the front lines, but he should have done it sooner.”
The nomad women in the group looked at her angrily, and some made the sign against evil, but no one said anything. Kalie took a moment of satisfaction from that.
It was short lived, for momehts later, a scream pierced the air. Even though it came from the west, near the path to the sea, everyone was on their feet and armed in moments.
A weeping man came toward the temple, carrying an unconscious young woman. The screams were from the victim’s mother, joined by others who saw them. Kalie made way for the more experienced healers, but quickly assessed the situation from where she stood. The woman lived, though badly beaten. And it was clear from her torn clothing and the blood on her thighs that she had been raped.
Alessa bit her lips until they, too, bled. “I really thought we’d get through the whole war without this,” she said as she joined the h
ealers.
Kariik arrived while the healers were still working, and curtly ordered all his men—including those who were to leave in the morning—to form up before him.
“Ladoka fought her attacker,” Nara said, showing no emotion. It was clear from Kariik’s face that he wished she would. “One of them will have injuries that will tell the story.”
However, with the recent fighting among them men, and even the mock battles, many men bore cuts and scratches on their arms and faces.
“The man who did this could save us all time by confessing!” Kariik shouted.
“Don’t you mean bragging?” Kalie muttered. Then to her surprise, a smirk on the face of a young man in the second row, who sported a black eye and a split lip, showed just that.
A crowd had gathered, eerie in their silence. Some had been busy with preparations for the Summer Festival just moments before. Now Kalie wondered if the festival would happen at all. The people here had been pushed to their limits by an invasion many had no way of comprehending. But this, from someone they had been convinced to accept as an ally, might finally push them too far.
Alessa came out of the temple of healing. “Ladoka has named her assailant,” she said, her voice carrying. “She is not ready to face him, but she will be soon.”
“Tell us,” said Kariik. “Everyone here knows she will have spoken the truth.”
“Charnak,” Alessa said, as if pronouncing a curse.
Kalie was already looking at him, for it was the man who was smirking. Then she remembered: he had fought Ladoka in a practice bout, and she had won. Charnak had been angry and humiliated, but he had not been the first to lose to a woman. Most had dismissed his promise to regain his honor as hot temper and empty threats. A mistake, Kalie realized.
He stopped smirking, but showed no sign of fear or regret that she could see. “Charnak!” Kariik shouted. “Step forward.”
Keepers of the Ancient Wisdom (Kalie's Journey Book 3) Page 22
