by Pedro Urvi
They watched him ride at breakneck speed until he was lost in the distance.
“Good choice,” Quiet Spirit said to Kyra with a smile.
“Every day I’m more like my brother. At this rate I soon won’t recognize myself.” Kyra smiled as she looked up at the sky. “Thank you brother, for your teachings and your example.”
“And now what?” asked Lone Wolf.
“Now you must guide me to the meeting point. It’s time to set the Children of the Steppes on the path of war.”
Days later, sitting with her back against a tree, Kyra was resting in the midst of the war camp. At last she had managed to sleep for a good while, and her body seemed to have regained some energy. The last two weeks had been true hell. She had fought in three battles against the troops of the Guard. Three bloody victories in their advance from the south to the capital with the joint forces of the Fourth, Fifth and Sixth Counties.
Lone Wolf dropped down beside her and fell asleep at once without a word. With every passing day Kyra was growing to appreciate these remarkable red-skinned people. They were bloodthirsty savages, but they were also noble. They lived by and for the steppes, in harmony with the spirits, which according to them every living creature possessed. They also worshipped and respected animals. They were certainly very different from the Senoca. She scratched her wrist, above her communication bracelet, and thought of using it. I’d give my right arm to know that everyone’s all right, that Adamis is all right… But she knew she could not risk it, least of all now that they were at the height of the revolt.
She glanced at her other wrist, at the accursed Ring. They still all wore it, since they needed it to get into the Boundaries: if they were to try crossing without one they would die. Adamis, working together with Notaplo, had offered to try to find a way of freeing them from the Rings, but the ill-omened objects were a golden artifact which was both powerful and well-designed. Not even Notaplo had found an easy way of getting rid of them. She sighed deeply. Thinking of Adamis had brought on a feeling of great yearning. She remembered the time they had spent together since the liberation of the Senoca, a very difficult time but also a very happy one. She leaned against Lone Wolf’s shoulder and allowed herself to be carried away. And she remembered those days.
“Have you contacted him?” she had asked Adamis.
Sitting in a chair a few steps from his bed, barely able to keep upright, the Prince-God raised his head towards her. On his face was an expression of intense pain which he was doing his best to hide.
“Yes, Notaplo will deal with it. Do not worry.”
“You take too many risks.”
Adamis shook his head. “It is Notaplo who is taking risks. If my father found out he is helping us…that he is helping the escaped rebels, he would have his head cut off. Or something worse.”
“Notaplo is a great man. A good man,” Kyra said, thinking affectionately of the wise old man.
“And the best Erudite among the Golden. In any case, here in the home of the Witch of the Lake the risk is less. The temple is protected. They would not be able to trace any communication to this place.”
“I can’t tell whether you’re telling me this because it’s true, or to stop me worrying.”
Adamis smiled. “Both. There is no need to worry. Above, on the surface, the use of the Power is identifiable, traceable. Down here, on the other hand, it is far harder to pick up. That is why my people build underground temples. They do so to hide what is in them, and the use which is made of the Power in those places, from the other Houses.”
“And I thought you were a funereal, deeply gloomy race.”
“That too, I cannot deny it. But the reason the temples are built underground is to hide both them and their inhabitants. Like this one, for instance.”
“What Adamis is telling you is true,” the Witch said as she came into the room. “That’s why they’ve never found me, even though I make use of my Power here.” She no longer wore the mask in the shape of a tree over her face. Kyra had found out many things about her and her group, the Children of Arutan, during the time they had shared in the hidden temple under the lake. The old witch’s name was Aruma. Her face was kind, and the golden hue of her skin was now almost entirely ochre as a result of her great age. Her soft gray eyes shone with undeniable wisdom. Her character on the other hand was the opposite: often she behaved like a spoilt child, even as though she were not all there. This bewildered Kyra, who had grown fond of her.
She poked her tongue out at Adamis. “The more I learn about you all, the less I like you,” she said. She was trying to cheer him up by all the means she could think of, because although he constantly concealed the fact, she knew he was in terrible pain.
“Have they managed to get Notaplo’s monolith to work?” Aruma asked with a giggle. “A brilliant idea of that Erudite, though a bit crazy in my opinion.”
Kyra turned to her. “The monolith is finished, and according to what Idana told me, it works! All thanks to Notaplo!”
“And to the Children of Arutan,” Adamis said to Aruma with a small bow. “They are the ones who have managed to raise and activate it, let us not forget.”
“I haven’t forgotten it. They terrified our people when they appeared to help. Luckily Ikai was able to handle the situation. Half a dozen Gods, appearing from nowhere, just like that… it was a shock.”
“There wasn’t much option,” Aruma said. “Adamis is an invalid, and I’m too old and crazy for this task. I had to entrust it to my brothers. It took me a while to find them and convince them. But it worked. Who’d have thought it? Men and Golden working hand in hand, for the same goal, as allies. Something unthinkable.” She giggled. “Mother Nature must be overjoyed.”
Kyra shook her head. “I’d never have imagined it either. She shook her head. “Now, with the monolith active, we can hide from the Gods. The Senoca have disappeared from the face of the earth.”
“Yes. No Golden will be able to see you or perceive you as long as you all stay within the area of the protective boundary.”
“Don’t worry, I’m sure there isn’t a single Senoca crazy enough to go outside into the open.”
Aruma nodded. “He’s very intelligent, that brother of yours. I was surprised by his plan: it was well thought-out and unexpected. Yes, he has a good head, that young lion. I’ve always liked him.”
“Plan? What do you mean?” Kyra asked in puzzlement.
“The exodus of the Senoca. I expected you to go far away from here, but I always assumed you’d go toward the sea, to your Mother.”
“And so we did, in the end.”
“Yes, but the most logical choice would have been to go east; the sea’s just a few days’ journey from here. We’re on the edge of the continent, at the extreme east. But your brother went west, to the center of the continent, and then he headed south, until he reached the sea. A good move: the Golden searched for you all along the east coast and part of the northern one. But they never thought you’d go in that direction. A very good move.”
“It was very hard, we lost many people during the journey. But Ikai was convinced it was the only way to make them lose our tracks. And in the end, he was right.”
“Your brother’s a good leader. He’s done very well. And he has you to help him. The fact is that you never cease to surprise me.” Aruma gave her usual giggle.
Adamis wrapped himself closer in his blanket and could not hide a grimace of pain. “Anyway, we must prepare for the worst. They will find us, sooner or later, and sooner or later there will be a confrontation. We must be ready. I must be ready.” The Prince-God tried to stand with the help of a staff Aruma had made for him, but was unable to. He remained sitting in his chair.
Kyra hastened to help him.
“No, please. Let me do it myself.”
“But you can’t, my love, let me help.”
“I know you do it out of kindness, but your help makes me feel useless.”
“You’re not stro
ng enough. You need more time. You shouldn’t try to stand yet,” Kyra said, her voice full of concern.
Adamis glanced aside at the marble bed a few steps away, then at the chair he was sitting in.
“Nearly a year, and all I have managed to do is get out of bed and drag myself to this chair.”
“You’ve done a lot. And you’ve suffered terribly to get this far.”
Adamis shook his head, and making an effort he tried to stand. His face became a mask of pure suffering. He held back a grunt of pain. Before Kyra could hold him up he fell to the floor and lay there, unable to move.
“Adamis!” Kyra cried, as she tried to help him.
Her heart broke every time she witnessed his efforts to recover. Every day he tried, tiny fractions in silence, without a single complaint. And every day he managed to regain a pinch of the energy the poison had stolen from him. During those first days, the hardest ones, when he could only move his neck and his body lay dead, he had made her a promise: someday he would go back to being what he had been. Every day he struggled to do so. And although the pain he suffered was abysmal, he would never give up. Never. But the inhuman punishment he was inflicting on himself worried her. She was afraid that one day he might go too far, and either his body or his mind would end up breaking irreversibly.
Aruma glanced at Kyra out of the corner of her eye. “We need you alive, Prince of Ether,” she scolded him,
“I am no good in this pitiful state,” Adamis replied. With a great effort he sat down in his chair again.
“The Children of Arutan need you. Men need you. So stop punishing your ill-treated body, which is barely alive. Or else I’ll have to spank you like a disobedient child.”
Adamis smiled. “And you would, I have no doubt.”
She gave a mocking laugh. “Of course I would,” she said, looking pleased with herself.
Kyra, grateful for her intervention, smiled at her fondly. The wise leader left them alone.
“Promise me you won’t over-exert yourself.”
Adamis took her hands in his. “You know I love you more than life, and that I will do whatever you ask.”
“I’ve already lost you once, and I couldn’t bear to lose you again. I won’t ask you not to try, I know that’s against your fighting spirit, but be careful. Your body won’t take it.”
“Thank you for not stopping me,” he said, gazing at her with love in his eyes. “I will be careful, I promise.”
And for months he tried and tried, struggling every day against the pain, falling back broken on to the bed every night, holding back tears of suffering and rage. But he kept fighting until in the end he was able to walk. Kyra was there to help him every step of the way, suffering with him, witnessing his pain and the incredible strength of his will-power. She now remembered those difficult days with intense nostalgia, for it had been three long years since she had been able to hold her beloved in her arms.
And she fell asleep remembering, while night fell over the war camp. Lone Wolf covered her with a blanket.
“Thanks,” she said, and fell into a dream of past, happier times, alongside her beloved Adamis.
Dawn brought the cool of the steppes, and as soon as the sun rose the whole camp was on its feet, getting ready for that decisive day. It was time for the final battle.
“The Chiefs wish to speak to you,” Lone Wolf told Kyra.
She woke up and saw her bodyguard already on his feet, prepared and armed to his teeth.
“It’ll be best if you don’t let me die in today’s battle,” she replied, her eyes on the steady bustle of warriors and horses all around her.
“That won’t happen,” the warrior said with absolute certainty.
“It’s the moment of truth. Today we either take the capital or we die.”
“You won’t die as long as I’m alive.”
Kyra smiled. “You’d better do that, otherwise I’ll come back from the spirit-world to haunt you.”
“I bet you would.”
“Have you told Quiet Spirit how you feel?”
Lone Wolf stiffened. “I… well… I gave her a mare.”
“By Mother Sea! Is that how you go courting here? You gave her a mare? You didn’t throw in a few hens to make it more romantic?”
Lone Wolf’s face lost its color.
“You might be the best warrior in the whole steppes, but it’s pretty obvious that what with all you say and how well you go courting, you’ll never leave any children behind you.”
Offended, the warrior snorted in disgust, turned his back on her and left.
She smiled. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Quiet Spirit beside a tent. She had heard everything. The girl came over to her.
“Bring him back to me alive, one who walks two worlds.”
Kyra nodded. “I will. Don’t you worry.”
“And when he’s back I’ll take over the courtship myself,” the young Masig said, and winked at her.
Kyra laughed. She hugged Quiet Spirit and went off to join the Chiefs.
They were waiting for her, sitting in a circle on the ground. Behind them, guarding them, stood their champions. She greeted Silver Eagle, Swift Deer, Crazy Cougar and then the other Chiefs. Those of the Fourth, Fifth and Sixth Counties were there too. She sat beside Silver Eagle, who welcomed her with a wide smile on his wizened old face.
“Welcome, one who walks two worlds,” he said.
She nodded and returned the smile with genuine affection. This man had taken her in like a daughter and had become a real father figure for her during the time she had spent there.
“Everything is ready,” Crazy Cougar said.
“And the warriors await the order to ride,” Swift Deer added.
“Very well,” Kyra said. “Today we’ll achieve what we’ve been after for so long. Today we’ll fight as brothers, all of us riding united over the prairies in search of our freedom. We’ll defeat the oppressor. Have no doubt, and follow me, I swear that today the People of the Steppes will be free.”
“We’ll follow you!” cried Swift Deer.
“For freedom!” Crazy Cougar shouted.
The rest of the Chiefs joined in the cry for freedom.
“To battle!” said Kyra.
The Chiefs joined their warriors and mounted their horses. Kyra whispered in Silver Eagle’s ear: “What about your plan?”
The old Chief gave a slight nod. “Ready.”
“I hope it works.”
“It will,” he assured her.
“When it comes to thinking, I’m not as good as my brother. That’s why I trusted you with this.”
“This old prairie fox has lived through a lot. Don’t you worry, it’ll work.”
Kyra smiled at the Great Chief and hugged him tightly.
“Don’t you get near the fighting,” she warned him. “Lone Wolf and I will lead your warriors. Please. Your people need your wisdom, not your old war spear.”
Silver Eagle turned to look at his warriors as they prepared for battle. They were young and strong, fighters raised on the harsh prairies. He smiled at her.
“You’re right. My arm’s not so strong any more, but my mind still is.”
“Thank you, Great Chief,” she said, and hugged him once again.
Lone Wolf came to Kyra and offered her a spear and a bow and quiver. She looked into the warrior’s eyes. He was offering her the same weapons the warriors of the tribe would carry into battle.
“You know I’m not able to wield your weapons.”
“You are one who walks two worlds. You are one of us. You will carry our weapons to battle.”
Kyra had never heard him say so many words at once.
“I appreciate the thought,” she said, a little overwhelmed.
He pointed behind him, where several thousand warriors were waiting on their mounts.
“Now to battle,” he said.
“To battle!” Kyra yelled.
Chapter 7
There came a strident whistle, a
nd Albana opened her eyes abruptly. For a moment she thought she was with Ikai in the shelter. She focused her gaze and saw several bodies with pale green skins asleep beside her. No, she was not in the shelter, she was a very long way away from it. She was in a village built in the tops of giant trees, however unreal it might seem. She would have sold her soul to be with Ikai that morning, or any morning. His absence hurt her every dawn, with a bitter pain. At nighttime, though, it became sweet with the hope that someday not too far in the future they would be together again. And every day that went by meant that the longed-for day was closer.
The dwellers of the hut began to rise and stretch. The first rays of the sun entered through one of the glassless windows of the family dwelling, built of branches, leaves, moss and mud, which stood on two enormous branches. In that world there was no glass, nor many other commodities which other, more advanced civilizations enjoyed.
“Good morning,” Ilia greeted her in the characteristic sing-song accent of the People of the Trees.
Albana pressed her bracelet. It had been failing, and without it she could not understand a word of what those strange green-skinned people were saying.
“And to you, though I’d kill whoever it is who wakes us up every morning with that unbearable whistle,” she replied once the bracelet had translated what the girl was saying.
Ilia smiled. “Soon, very soon. Be patient.”
“My patience is running out, and you know I’m the sort who likes to get to the action,” Albana said in a tone which suggested she was determined.
“I know, that’s why I’m asking you to hold on a little longer. We’re almost ready.”
“I’ve been holding back for a long time, too long,” she said, with frustration in her voice. “I think I’ll be able to hold on a bit longer, though.” She gave the girl a wink and a wry grin.
Albana ate some fresh fruit while the remainder of the family prepared to go down to work, as they had to do every morning. She looked at her reflection in a clay bowl of clear water and noted that her camouflage was holding. To hide her from indiscreet eyes they had covered her whole body with something green, some kind of resin mixed with herbs, which when dry gave her the skin tone of the People of the Trees. But she had to be careful not to let it wear off and reveal her white skin.