Keepers of the Ancient Wisdom (Kalie's Journey Book 3)
Page 23
Kalie was relieved to see that most of his brother warriors pulled away from Charnak or looked at him with disgust or anger.
“I did nothing wrong,” he said defiantly.
Kariik moved closer to Charnak, who bowed to his king. “How do you reason that?” Kariik asked softly, but everyone heard him. “Were you perhaps missing the day all my warriors took an oath to treat all women of this land as the wives of chiefs?”
Charnak looked considerably less confident, but persisted. “This one doesn’t count,” he said simply. “None of the ones who play with weapons and pretend to be men could ever be chief’s wives! And that girl I had,” a grin appeared on Charnak’s face, quickly smothered. “She’s had half the warriors you brought here, my king. And plenty of her own dirt-eaters who won’t even try to fight. Hardly the behavior of a chief’s wife. Clearly she gave up the protection we promised of her own free will.”
“So that’s reason enough to break your oath, make your king forsworn, and possibly destroy our alliance?” asked Garm, his smithing hammer shaking in his hand.
Charnak glared. “I did everyone a favor! That girl beat me in a rigged game of combat, with rules and blunted weapons, and even our own warriors acting like teachers breaking up fights among boys! Well, now I’ve shown her what real combat is! No one’s going to yell ‘stop!’ and discuss the merits of technique in a battle. So the women can all just stay home like they’re supposed to, and leave the fighting to the men. Besides,” he grinned again. “After we sparred the first time, I said I wanted a rematch. She said I could have one whenever I wanted. So I did. Just now.”
Kariik stared at Charnak for at least thirty heartbeats. Then, he struck him hard in the face. Charnak fell back, and with no one nearby to catch him, landed hard in the dirt. “Alrik!” called the king. “I believe this man is your nephew. Do you wish to speak for him?”
Charnak got angrily to his feet. Alrik stood before him. “How did my brother ever spawn such filth?” he asked. To Kariik he said, “He broke his oath and betrayed his king. What else is there to say?”
“What?” cried Charnak. “Uncle! You can’t mean that!” This time, Alrik hit him.
“Enough!” called Orin. “Kariik, it is time for you to take your men and leave. When Ladoka is ready, she may decide Charnak’s punishment.”
“What?” Charnak repeated. “For doing what any man does with a whore? This is insane! If someone wants payment for her use, then fine, although it’s hardly fair—no one else had to pay—“
“His punishment is death,” said Kariik.
“That is not our way,” said Orin.
“But it is ours. I cannot undo what has happened, but I can at least make certain nothing like this happens again. I will offer my apologies to Ladoka if she will see me. If she wishes me to spare her attacker’s life, I will. But my instincts tell me it will be better for everyone here, even Charnak, if he dies cleanly, and that others may learn from his mistake.”
“Uncle!” Charnak shouted, clearly expecting Alrik to put a stop to this madness. “Even if you’re angry with me, I know you won’t let them—“
“I believe Kariik may be right,” said Nara. “Since the only alternative by our laws would be castration.”
Charnak fainted.
When he came around, only Kariik and a small group of warriors, including Alrik were with him. Charnak was led to a secluded spot across the river, near the nomad camp. Ten witnesses from the town, including Ladoka, watched as Kariik stood before the young man, and cleanly put a spear through him.
Kalie was not present, but she was told that Kariik had knelt before Ladoka and begged her forgiveness. Ladoka had graciously told the king that only Charnak had wronged her, and that his debt was paid.
The next morning, Kariik marched out of Stonebridge with sixty of his warriors. The last twenty remained in town under Alrik’s command, with orders to continue training with the more than two hundred fighters from the local population, and to guard the dam.
Chapter 27
With Melora strapped to her back, and Yarik comfortably settled in Brenia’s house, Kalie made her way to the group who struggled to build the dam. The town, although less crowded than it had been just days earlier, had become oppressive. She needed to be part of her land’s salvation, and if it couldn’t be on the front lines, it would be here, designing something new, as she had once designed tiny stars of bone which could shift the tide of battle.
The work and camaraderie she found at the construction site did much to ease Kalie’s fears and anger and the empty place left by Riyik’s absence. An old farmer who had built dams in his youth was in charge, and several other skilled technicians assisted him. Everyone else, including Kalie, carried rocks, cut and shaped logs, and dug ditches that would drain off water until the dam was completed.
They worked through the Summer Festival, which suited Kalie fine. She was in no mood to celebrate. But when the long day drew to a close, everyone put down their tools and gathered wood for a bonfire. The food brought from home became a feast, and tired workers found they still had the energy to sing, although the songs were fraught with melancholy, and not the usual tunes chosen for the shortest night of the year.
When a column of people, heavily laden with food arrived just at sunset, even Kalie had to smile. And when she saw that Varena and Noris were among them, she cried.
“I couldn’t miss my sister’s first birthday!” Varena said, tossing Melora in the air and cooing at her.
“I wish her father were here as well,” Kalie said.
“Soon, Mother, he will be.” Varena’s simple faith finally opened Kalie’s heart to the magic of the night. She joined in the singing, now the joyful songs of the season, and the prayers that this sacred night would be celebrated next year, and not forbidden by new owners of the land and its people. No one stayed awake through the short night, but retired early to be ready for another day of work.
And as if in answer to their prayers, the dam was finished the next day. Not by magic like in one of Kalie’s stories, but by hard work through a long day, and by the extra work provided by the people who came to celebrate the solstice. That night, the temporary canals were blocked, and the artificial lake created by humans was finally seen in all its glory.
“It’s beautiful,” Varena said simply, and it was. The water was a cloudy blue, with tiny rivulets adding to it in a sparkling silver spider web.
“This will only hold a short time,” the project leader said, pointing to the incoming water, too small to make a difference as they watched, or even in the course a day. But slowly, the level would rise until eventually it would spill over their carefully built wall. “Within a moonspan, we must release it, or lose all of our work.”
“Somehow, I don’t think we will have to wait that long,” said Aldera, while her daughter played with Melora.
“We need one more thing,” said Kalie. “Horsemen. Warriors who can look at this thing we’ve built, and tell us what Vargas and his men will see if they happen upon this place.”
“Yes,” said a smith who had come to lend his expertise. “If they know what it is, they’ll destroy it, and flood the river before their main force arrives at Stonebridge.”
“Or simply prevent us from breaching it,” said the leader. “Then their army can just ride across the little stream that was once a river, and take the town without a fight.”
“Oh, there’ll be a fight,” said a woman who followed Otera. “Just not one we’re likely to win.”
Messengers were sent to bring the few remaining warriors of Kariik’s band, since they were the newest to the west, and would still see things with a nomad’s eye.
While they waited, the work crew rested for most of the day—something nearly everyone had forgotten how to do. Then Melora took her first step, followed at once by Aldera’s child, and for awhile, Kalie forgot everything else.
Late that afternoon, a group arrived on horseback, led by Alrik. Kalie was sur
prised to see Kestra with him, despite having given birth less than a moonspan ago. Still, she looked well enough, if you could call her vacant stare healthy. She seemed barely aware of anything—not even her healthy new son. Two other warriors had brought their wives, so they made a cheery enough group.
The party dismounted and for awhile just stared at the huge wall of stone and logs, and the newly made lake behind it.
“So what do you think?” Kalie asked Alrik. “More importantly, what will Varlas and his men think?” She stood next to him, trying to see the structure she had helped build as the men of the steppes saw it.
“Hard to say,” Alrik said, rubbing his bearded chin. “Not a weapon, I think. They will have seen enough strange dwellings, built of wood and stone, so this will probably look more like some kind of temple.”
“Or bathing place,” said another warrior. “But no, I don’t think they’ll bother with it, except to drink from the lake and water their horses.”
“What do you think of posting a team of warriors here, to make sure the water breaks free at the right time?” asked one of the workers.
“Definitely,” said Alrik. “It’s crucial to the defense of Stonebridge.”
The others agreed, most of them more interested in removing the stones from their horse’s hooves, and getting away from this rocky, hilly terrain.
Then, too soon for Kalie’s comfort, they were heading back to the once beautiful town that was now an armed camp.
She stretched out every rest break for the joy of watching Melora’s first baby steps. Once, close to the town, when they splashed in water that barely reached their knees, Kalie held out her arms, and Melora ran to her getting close enough before stumbling so that Kalie could catch her up and swirl her around in the misty, rocky stream. Cuddling Melora close, inhaling her clean baby scent, Kalie knew she could never leave her to fight a war.
Once back in Stonebridge, the dam builders, nicknamed “Beavers,” found a much smaller town than they had left. Other than Otera’s band, who were preparing to leave in a few days, only twenty of Kariik’s warriors remained, with sixty of the town’s new warriors to fill the ranks.
“Warriors can be recalled quickly to shore up our defenses,” Orin explained. “And over half the town can use a bow or throw rocks when the time comes. But for now, fighters need to be where the fighting is.”
“And there is news!” cried Garm. “Some of it even good!”
There was always news, thought Kalie, who at that moment wanted nothing more than a long soak in the hot springs, and someone to rub her sore feet. But she stayed to hear what Garm had to say.
“The scouts who brought it have already left,” said Garm. “The fighting is still many days to the east, and many people are fleeing west. Your horse killers are making a huge difference, Kalie. The horde has lost many men, but if they continue to lose horses at this rate…” He trailed off, never having contemplated such a thing.
Sirak, arriving with a group of friends, took up the story. “The traps have done all they can. The warriors know how to spot them now. But our metal weapons are much better than theirs, and that’s making a big difference!” He looked proudly at Garm, who merely shrugged. “The scout said one of every four men who came to our land are dead or injured. Can you even imagine numbers like that?”
Kalie could but did not want to. She focused instead on the pleasure of hearing Sirak referring to the land of the Goddess as “our land.”
“The bastards are getting more brutal, though,” Sirak continued.
“Sirak, we don’t need to go over that again,” Garm began.
“But it’s important!” cried Josan, a boy who had once fallen under Sirak’s spell to bring the ways of the steppes to this land, but who now trained by his side—and was better than Sirak at wrestling and hand to hand fighting. “The bad men are killing everyone they can! People who don’t fight back. People who fight, and then try to call for a time to help the wounded. The scout said they’re raping women to death.” Josan paused as if trying to remember what that meant. Sirak looked away as if wishing he hadn’t brought any of it up.
“That’s enough!” Garm said, effectively dismissing the young people. He looked at Kalie with sympathy. “It’s to be expected, although now it appalls me. But this whole tribe came here expecting easy victories and lives of untold luxury. To suffer so many defeats at the hands of men—and women—they consider inferior…it’s too much for their pride. They have to strike back somehow. But you didn’t need to hear the gory details.”
“Yes, I did,” said Kalie.
She moved slowly through the town on her way to reclaim Yarik from Brenia, watching the walls and fences being built to connect the outer houses, creating, in effect, a walled town—and platforms for firing arrows down at an enemy who would have to shoot up.
The next day brought news of another kind.
“The beastmen have found a defense against the caltrops,” said a grim-faced priestess who brought, along with news, a request for healers to accompany her to the fighting in the east.
“Leather boots for the horses?” asked a leatherworker who had been working on such a solution to protect their own horses.
The messenger shook her head. “One would need to possess a soul to think that way. These beasts have been using their own people—slaves, sick people, young warriors who don’t prove themselves in battle—to walk out ahead of the horses, and ‘find’ the stars. With their feet.”
There were a few exclamations of horror, but far fewer than there would have been a year ago, Kalie thought.
“Then we must not use them,” said Ilara.
“That’s what the people east of here are saying,” said the foreign priestess.
“Hence the need for more healers,” Kalie said. “With less chance of them returning home safely.
The priestess glared at her. “What else can we do?”
“What happens to the nomads who are used in this fashion? After they ‘find’ a caltrop that is?”
“I’m told that if the wound is severe, they are left behind to become food for predators. Or to starve.”
“Then they can be rescued!” Kalie’s words were echoed by several others, all excited by the possibility of a good turn of events.
“Yes, that is the one good thing, I suppose. But only those most gravely hurt are left. The rest are kept to be used again. And those we can help may be crippled for life.”
“Let those to the east stop using them,” said Kalie. “And let us think of a way to rescue those testers by the time they reach us. For I do not intend to fight that battle without my stars.” She walked away, deep in thought, unaware of the admiration in the eyes of those who watched. Or how most of them stood just a little straighter as she passed.
A few days later came the news they had all been dreading.
“The horde has taken a town,” said the hollow-eyed young man who sat in the temple, drinking cup after cup of wine, as if to drown out what he saw. And he hadn’t actually seen anything.
“It’s large; Starfall is nearly as large as Stonebridge, but not so rich, nor as easily defended. The people there tried, though. Arrows from rooftops. Ditches filled with spears. Even fire, but…this time the horde just kept coming. From two directions. When they breached the town, people tried to run. They had a plan, and knew that many have escaped from other towns and villages, especially if there was forest nearby. But this time, it was as if a special group of beastmen had orders to capture those running while the rest secured the town.”
“But some must have escaped,” Orin prodded gently. “Or you would not know the story.”
“Yes,” said the messenger. “A child who hid in the forest for three days without food. Then two women escaped from the town and found him. A pair of scouts found all three, and brought them to a village, deep in a marsh, safe from the horses—for now at least. The things those women described—“ The young man shuddered, then reached for more wine.
The man nodded, and sat up taller. “It’s just that what happened in Starfall does not match what I was told to expect. When all of those of the town who still lived were brought to the main square, this king, Varlas, ordered his men to choose from among the women. They selected mostly young and pretty women but others too, most of the women of the town, in fact. The people of the town had heard…had expected they might be raped and made slaves. But the beastmen…they gathered in groups around each woman…only about two hundred women and about seven invaders for each woman. They raped them until they died! All of them! The beast Varlas said they were not fit to be mothers of warriors. Only the women of the horde would be allowed to live in the town from now on!”
“And the men?” Otera asked, her voice clear despite the crowded room.
“They killed nearly all of them. But they made it last many days.” The messenger hung his head. “I was told they kept only old men and women, a few of the younger women and some children. And most of those they…marked somehow. With fire, or hammers, so that they would be crippled, and unable to leave. One of the women who escaped is older, with a twist in her back. She thinks the beastmen thought her already crippled, and unable to run, so they didn’t watch her so well. But she overcame her challenge early in life, and runs well.”
“Does the horde mean to stay in town?” asked Alrik.
“It seems so,” said the messenger dully. “They lost many men and many horses. The younger woman said she thinks they may hope to rest in the town and regain their strength. But at such numbers, the food and grass will be gone within a moonspan, and there is much forest nearby. The beastmen fear the forest, and so do their horses. But the boy said they were cutting down trees when the three escaped.”