“Hey!” called the leader raising a fist, and causing his men to slow down and bunch together. “Those are the witches who attacked Brenak and his men!”
More like fought back against their unprovoked attack, thought Kalie, taking advantage of the brief pause to turn her horse and ride with the others toward the trees.
“Varlas wants them alive!” cried the horseman. “Get them! Now! Don’t let a single one of those witches escape!” They spurred their horses to unbelievable speeds.
No hope now, thought Kalie. But the thought of being taken alive, after the insult they had offered that arrogant king turned her blood to ice. I will make them kill me, she thought. They will not take me alive again. At that moment, Kalie’s horse foundered, pitching her head over heels to the ground. She rolled as she had been taught, broken bow dangling from her shoulder, dagger ready.
A greasy hand grabbed her arm, twisting viciously as the warrior tried to pull her onto his horse. But Kalie knew what to do. Using her good hand to rescue her dagger from her captive one, Kalie dug the blade into the horse’s flank. His scream made her forget her own problems for a moment, but now it was Kalie’s attacker who pitched forward, struggling to control his foundering animal, and allowing Kalie’s escape.
She ran, but now the battle was mostly occurring on foot, the warriors just as relentless that way as mounted. She had nearly reached Otera, who, still mounted, turned and held out a hand pull Kalie up behind her. Then Otera’s body went rigid, her hand falling from Kalie’s. Two men worked to pull the large woman from her horse, while a third grabbed Kalie from behind. Kalie stared in horror, expecting to see a spear protruding from Otera’s back. Instead, blood matted her blond hair. Otera had been hit a glancing blow, and was only stunned. Regaining consciousness while the men were still grappling with her, she began to fight.
The startled warriors nearly dropped her. Had Otera her full strength she might have escaped. As it was, they held on and began stripping off her armor—and then the clothing beneath it. “It’s her, their leader,” said one of the men. “The one who controls all the others; makes them act like they’re warriors instead of women.”
“They’re women, all right,” the one in charge said as he untied his belt. “I intend to show them just how true that is. Hold her down and I’ll let you go next.”
“Varlas has special plans for this one,” argued the underling.
“Varlas said to make sure there powers are gone, first,” said the man who held Kalie. “And everyone knows the way to do that.” Kalie felt his erection hard against her back. “Watch the show, pretty thing,” he said into her ear, licking her face with a tongue that stank of kumis and meat. “If you learn something that pleases me, I might—“
He gasped and let go of Kalie, clawing at the arrow that had appeared in his neck. The man about to rape Otera leapt up and raised his spear, only to have his head split in half, brains and blood spraying around the axe still embedded in it. Even in the dark Kalie recognized the only man big enough to wield and axe that size. He freed the axe and gave chase to the third warrior, who didn’t get far.
“Borik?” she cried.
And then the smaller man beside him was beside Kalie, the bow he had used to kill her captor still in his hand as his other reached out to Kalie.
“Are you all right?” Riyik asked, his face white in the moonlight.
“I am now,” said Kalie.
Chapter 32
Warriors were pouring out of the forest, but they were allies; men and women wearing the leather armor in the style of the west. The fighting was intense; everyone, even Otera who should not have been able to, joined the battle, until Varlas’s men finally retreated.
“Hurry!” yelled a familiar voice, and Kalie realized it was Kariik. “Everyone, to the forest. “Ladies, stay behind one of us. The ground is covered in horse spikes.”
“I thought you had to stop using them,” Kalie said. “Isn’t Varlas using his captives to test for them?”
“He was,” said Riyik. “But too many of them just scampered up the trees and escaped.”
“Escaped the warrior’s arrows?” asked Lanara.
“They were usually too distracted to do that,” replied Riyik. “You see, we always keep at least a few of our own in the forest to cover any escape.” He gazed hungrily at Kalie. “Like yours.”
Kalie felt the same hunger for her lover, but had too many questions. “Isn’t the forest where you live?”
“We’ll show you where we live,” said Kariik. “Just be very careful to disturb nothing.”
Through twisting paths in the dark forest, Kalie and her companions followed their allies—about thirty of them—to a rocky clearing. Surrounding the rocks were a perfect circle of very large, very old trees.
“This looks like a temple,” said Danarie.
“It was,” said a warrior who had probably been a priestess before the horde came to her land. “Those trees were planted long before memory. And as you probably know, in ancient times, temples were often connected to a network of underground caves.”
Kariik led the way through an opening Kalie would not have seen had Kariik not just disappeared into it. Carefully, one at a time, everyone slipped though. Borik was last, squeezing himself in with great difficulty.
Rough steps were carved into the rock as they descended a tunnel, which in turn, opened into a large, dimly lit chamber. It was roughly circular, lit with oil lamps and containing perhaps one hundred people, who were engaged in activities ranging from sharpening weapons to repairing gear, cooking food and even playing games with dice and chips of colored stone. Bedrolls and other gear line one wall.
“Our healers are set up over here.” Kariik indicated a short tunnel which led to a side chamber. While not injured, Kalie was curious, and wanted to make certain her friends who did need care got the best. Inside the small, but better lit chamber were all the familiar sights and smells of bundles of herbs hanging from drying racks, pots of ointments, and low cots arranged in a neat row. An elderly man, middle aged woman, and a boy and a girl on the verge of adulthood fell to work as if they’d been working together for years.
“My sisters first,” Otera said, as the women tried to lead her to a padded leather pallet. She turned to Borik, who had also followed the injured. “I didn’t need your help!” she snapped. “I was doing fine by myself. It will take a lot more than a mere two of them to kill me. I just wanted you to be clear on that.”
“Of course,” Borik said with a nod. Someone finally got Otera to sit down to be examined, and Kalie sidled up to Borik.
“I think that was her way of saying thank you,” she said.
“I know,” said Borik.
“I’d still like to wring her neck. You saved her life and she—“
“She’s a proud woman,” said Borik, as if Otera’s behavior was not the complete opposite of how a steppes warrior acted when his spear brother saved his life. “I understand.”
Kalie watched Borik watching Otera, wondered at the strange image that stirred in her mind. Borik? And Otera? Definitely not. And she would not wish Otera on a gentle soul like Borik.
The next thing she knew, Riyik was leading her down a twisting maze of tunnels to a small chamber, obviously for sleeping small groups. “Where are our children?” he asked as soon as they were alone.
“With your sister. There are plenty of women to nurse Melora until I get back.”
“Do you still have your milk?”
Touched that a man of his background would even know of such things, Kalie nodded. “For now.”
“I should be angry at you for leaving them, and running off into danger like a fool,” said Riyik. “But I’m too happy to see you.”
“Good,” said Kalie, pulling him closer. “Because I’ve just now gotten over my anger at you for running off into danger without even telling me.”
“I didn’t plan it this way,” he said wrapping his around her and squeezing her until she nea
rly forgot everything else. “But we both knew when we brought danger to this land, we would have to be in the front of it.”
“How many live here? Do you have a plan to move against the horde?
“About three hundred warriors are here, although not all at the same time. We scout and coordinate with similar groups hiding in caves, and canyons. As for plans? Too many! At least one for every group here.”
“How many groups?”
“Kariik leads the remains of Aahk. I speak for the far west. About four others from other corners of this land. Of course, because we represent this land, everyone has an equal voice.”
“No wonder nothing gets done,” Kalie sighed.
They looked at each other, each thinking there was something they could do, although it had nothing to do with defeating King Varlas and his men.
Then a shout for everyone to meet in the main chamber put a stop to that. With a shared sigh and one last kiss, Kalie and Riyik joined a line of people streaming down the tunnel in an orderly fashion, and then filling the main chamber to capacity. The various leaders Riyik had mentioned stood against a mostly smooth wall of rock, with faded images of animals painted on it. Riyik went to join them.
To Kalie’s surprise, Otera, covered with bandages and a new cast on her arm, followed him.
Kariik spoke first. “Our new Lady of Battle has brought important news,” he said nodding to Otera. “It appears our spies—those who went to gain Varlas’s trust and were never heard from again—may have succeeded.”
“Varlas intends to move the bulk of his warriors to the very spot we have chosen for battle,” said Otera. “Probably very soon.”
“That would make sense,” said a man who spoke for the lands around Green Bower. “Those locusts have stripped the land of everything edible. They’ll have to go somewhere, or send out many more parties to bring food in.”
“Which hasn’t gone well,” said another man, “thanks to our attack bands, harrying their every step.”
“If the marsh-dwellers have succeeded in the plan we left them with,” said Kalie, “the horde will likely travel in the direction of Stonebridge, whether they plan to or not.”
“But the amazing thing,” said a young woman, who had been training in a distant village when her home of Starfall was attacked, “is that they seem to want to go there. All we have to do is let them, and wait for them at the river with all of our forces.”
To Kalie it sounded a little too amazing; that there was something here she should be seeing, but could not.
“But Varlas plans to leave men here to hold Starfall—and our few surviving relatives,” said a local man. “If we allow them to stay dug in as they are, we’ll have to fight two battles. And we’re looking at hunger and homelessness this winter, even in the best outcome.”
“That is a terrible thing,” said one of Kariik’s warriors. “But if Varlas wants to divide his forces, I say, let him! Fighting two small groups has a better chance of success than one large one.”
“Especially after the way you people botched the first battle,” said the warrior beside him. Probably brothers, Kalie guessed, noting the family resemblance. “If you’d made a better stand, Varlas wouldn’t be living in your chief’s lodge, and your people wouldn’t be waiting for rescue.”
“We’re not as experienced as your people are in the ways of murder and death,” a local man said hotly.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” said the warrior, looking confused.
“Let’s stay with the matter at hand,” Riyik said quickly. “Two battles or one?”
There was much arguing back and forth. Kalie could see the wisdom of both, although she preferred a single battle at Stonebridge—as long as her side could determine the conditions under which they fought.
A hush fell over the room. Kalie looked up to see an elderly priestess leading a small group into the chamber. They were emaciated. Some limped on badly injured feet. And the women among them were bald, but for a few tufts on their scalps like badly shorn sheep.
Kalie knew at once that these people had recently escaped Starfall, and more, she realized what she had seen, but not understood, while spying on the occupation.
“What happened to your hair?” Malana asked.
Several people were helping to settle the group on blankets and cushions brought by healers, and a few threw Malana reproachful looks for her tactlessness. But Kalie knew that everyone who arrived with her wanted to know the answer. Especially when, on closer look, scars left from burning and cutting became apparent on many faces and arms.
One of the women spoke up quietly. People strained to hear her. “I am Riana. After the fighting was over; after Varlas had…won. After the monsters had killed so many of us,” Riana caught her breath. Someone brought her water. “Varlas announced that any woman who had taken up arms and pretended to be a warrior would be denied the…” Riana choked, drank more water and continued. “The protection women were normally accorded after a battle.”
“We later learned that meant the chance to entice our masters with our beauty and willing ways,” said another. “To bear their children and become concubines rather than slaves.”
“Not that anyone would have done such a thing,” said a third woman. “But Vargas made quite a show of stripping us of our beauty.” She fingered her shorn scalp, and gingerly touched the ragged scar on her face that had been treated with soothing ointment.
“He said if we thought we were warriors, he would allow us the privilege of looking like warriors.” With a gasp, Kalie realized that the marks cut or burned into many of the women, and some of the men, were a kind of parody of the scars and tattoos that the warriors wore. As she met Malana’s gaze across the room, Kalie saw Malana had seen the same thing.
“Then they gave us to their women, to learn to be slaves, and thus keep our lives a while longer.” Riana’s voice was devoid of emotion. “Some of those women seemed happy at first. They would have slaves to do the work who would not be of any interest to their husbands.”
“But our ugliness was not much of a deterrent,” said a girl of about thirteen years.
“Some of the men seemed to find it exciting,” said another. “’I’ve never fitted my shaft into a warrior’s cunt before!’ That’s what the beast I was given to used to say when he…” She stopped, then got up and left the chamber.
“They did not mutilate the little girls, or cut their hair,” said Riana. “They said it will be the job of the beastwomen to teach them proper behavior; how to be modest women. So someday they will know the joy of pleasing a man and perhaps even becoming a wife.”
“How many…” Otera seemed to be having trouble finding her voice. “How many…? How many captives are still there?”
A man spoke up. “About three hundred when I was last there. Fewer now for certain. I am Cresson, and I spent much time with this monster Varlas, for I studied the nomad tongue when I was an acolyte for many moonspans before they arrived. I foolishly believed I could broker a peace between our peoples.” Cresson snorted, but that seemed to cause pain to the cuts and burns on his face.
“How did so many of you escape?” Danarie asked.
“Some did when we were sent to show the warriors where the horse spikes were, using our bare feet,” said another man. “If we were injured we were left behind. To die, I suppose our captors thought. But we were picked up by our friends here.”
“Always watching,” said Borik.
“Others escaped up trees, although many died that way,” said Riana. “And the rest slipped away at night, or on foraging expeditions.” She looked puzzled. “It was as if those beasts thought that once we had been tortured and named slaves, we would never think to grab the first opportunity to leave, despite knowing the land, and having friends close by.”
“Capture while trying to escape meant death by torture,” said Cresson. “Perhaps they thought that was enough frighten us away from trying.”
Kalie knew now why
they had been allowed to meet the survivors of Starfall and its villages. There was no question of abandoning those who were still captives, not even for the advantage that splitting the enemy forces might prove later in the war.
They had to get those people out now. And they had to reduce the number of able-bodied warriors as much as they could in the process. Kalie suspected most people here were looking forward to that part.
“I have an idea,” she said.
Chapter 33
“I should really learn to keep my mouth shut,” Kalie said early the next morning as two women from Starfall fitted her in the rags they had been wearing, careful to make sure both knives strapped to her thighs were concealed. Dyes made from berries would resemble scars in various stages of healing. Or so they hoped.
“Like that’s ever going to happen,” said Riyik, already dressed like a captive. He ran his hand over Kalie’s newly shorn scalp. “Your beautiful hair!” he sighed.
“If I live, it will grow back. You’re the one I’m worried about, Riyik! Your muscles are bulging through those rags, and you’re far too well-fed! At least I lost enough weight recently to almost pass for one of them.”
“I’ll be in the fields, where the overseers will be too drunk or too busy with the women to notice. And we won’t need much time. Kalie? Promise me: no extra heroics. We get in and out as planned, and save as many as we can. We won’t be able to rescue everyone.”
“I promise. I want to be gone from here as much as you do.” Kalie kissed her lover, and met his gaze. “You promise me the same.” Riyik did.
They joined the other six members of their party. Malana, whose lovely blond hair was gone, looked nervous. As Otera was even now reminding her, she had never been on this kind of mission. But Malana, like Kalie and Cresson, who was also going, spoke the horsemen’s tongue. Gathering intelligence was as important as all the other things they would be doing. Otera would have shaved her head in a heartbeat, but her broken arm and other injuries were keeping her back this time.
Keepers of the Ancient Wisdom (Kalie's Journey Book 3) Page 27
