The noyens sprang to their feet and cheered. The men watching from outside cheered as well, and the cheering spread through the camp, though most of those cheering could not possibly know the reason. Atark himself joined in. Zarruk had made a good speech. Atark knew that his friend doubted his abilities to lead, but he underestimated himself. He would make a great ka. And if enough of the tribes gathered, he would make a great re-ka, as well. And as the word spread on the Plains of Kaif, enough tribes would gather. Berssia would fall. Then the next kingdom and the next. The Dark Years would be avenged. His family would be avenged. And the Kaifeng would rule all the way to the fabled eastern sea.
The cheering subsided. Zarruk directed that in the morning fast riders would head west. Each one would carry one of the captured banners and other bits of booty. They should ride from tribe to tribe, spreading the news and giving Zarruk’s invitation. Atark nodded in approval. It was good. Soon they would have the strength. He glanced down at the captive girl. She could have no clue that the end of her world had just been ordained. Fear, little slave, fear. Soon all that you have known, everyone and everything you held dear, will lie at the feet of the Kaifeng!
The feasting continued. The noyens and buyantas talked and joked among themselves. Except for Teskat. He did not laugh. He glared at Zarruk and Atark from time to time and drank a great deal. Teskat was ambitious and more than a bit cruel. Things had not gone his way today. Atark suspected that the slave woman beside him would have a hard night. He also knew that he and Zarruk would have to watch Teskat closely.
A motion caught his eye and he noticed another one they would have to watch closely: Gerrik, the shaman of Teskat’s tribe. Those two were made for each other. Gerrik was as jealous of Atark as Teskat was of Zarruk. The Kuttari shaman had more than once demanded to be told the secret of the great magic and had each time rejected the notion that it could not be taught in a day or a month. He had accused Atark of keeping the secrets for himself and refusing to share. It had not been true. At least not at first. Now it was: Atark had no intention of ever giving Gerrik the power. Others, perhaps, but not him.
Gerrik slowly made his way to Teskat’s side and whispered into his ear. After a moment, Teskat’s eyes darted to Atark. What is this? Some new scheme being hatched? Atark became more alert. A few moments later, there was a commotion outside the tent. A group of men had appeared and there was a great deal of talking. A higher-pitched woman’s voice cut through the babble. Someone demanding to see him. Was this what Gerrik was telling Teskat about?
After a while longer, the men crowded into the tent. There was a woman in their midst. Atark looked on in sudden interest. She was dressed in Berssian fashion—or at least she had been; her clothes were in shreds and she was barely maintaining her modesty by clutching bits of the fabric to her. But her hair was blonde and braided in the way of the Kaifeng. He grimaced. A woman of the tribes, taken by the Easterners. It happened far too often. Usually the women did not survive long, but this one apparently had. Too bad for her. There would be no mercy for her now, not here in front of everyone.
But this one did not look to accept her fate quietly. She pulled herself out of the grasp of the man holding her and stepped proudly forward. There was something about her, though...
She came right up before him and threw back her shoulders. She let her hands fall to her sides and the rags of her dress fell with them. She looked him straight in the eyes.
“Hello, Father.”
There was a roaring in his head that had nothing to do with the wine he had drunk. A red haze formed around the edge of his vision, blotting out everything except the face of the woman in front of him. Thelena!
He had no memory of having stood up. No memory of having stepped over the bound girl on the carpet of the tent. He simply had his daughter in his arms. He crushed her to him and he felt her arms clutching his back. “Thelena! Thelena!” he cried. All thoughts of conquest and revenge fled from his mind. Plots and plans and schemes were banished. All that was left was the soaring joy of seeing his daughter alive. He held her and wept.
They stood there for a very long time, locked in a thoughtless bliss. He pulled away slightly to look at her face. It was older than his memory of it and it bore the marks of her ordeal. Her lovely nose was bent and crooked. Her tearful smile was missing teeth. But it was his daughter! She lived! She was here with him and…
“Atark of the Gettai-Tatua,” said a harsh voice. He scarcely noticed, but it repeated his name more loudly and he turned his head. Everyone in the tent was silently looking at him. It was Gerrik who had spoken.
“Atark of the Gettai-Tatua, you know the law,” said Gerrik. His voice was cold, but there was a tiny smile on his lips. “This woman, your daughter though she might be, must die. She has shamed you and your family, your clan and your tribe. She has lived with and submitted to our enemies, and now she must die! Let the women stone her to death!”
A cold lance of fear went through Atark. It was followed by a hot rage. Gerrik had known! Somehow he had learned of Thelena’s presence here. What he said was true: it was the law. But it was a law that was rarely ever invoked. On the rare times that a captive woman did escape and return home, she would usually be taken back by her family and all would pretend that she had never been gone. The law was only invoked when the woman had fled her family on her own. Thelena should have been restored to him in private. All would have known, but none would have objected. But Gerrik had arranged otherwise. He had told the men to bring her here, in front of all the noyens, where the law could be invoked. The swine! That he would take his revenge like this! Atark’s fury grew.
“Stand aside, Atark,” demanded Gerrik. “Let the law be carried out.” The other shaman waved a few men forward to take Thelena.
“No.”
Atark put himself between his daughter and the men. They halted and looked about nervously.
“No,” said Atark again, “You may not have my daughter.”
“It is the law!” cried Gerrik. “If you break the law you will be punished, too!”
“And who will be the one to punish me, Gerrik? You?” Atark turned to face the other shaman. His rage was coming to a peak and he instinctively reached for the Power. Gerrik went pale. Perhaps he realized just what he was dealing with, the danger he was courting.
“It is the law!” cried Gerrik again. He looked wildly to the noyens for support. But the tribal leaders sat there, frozen in shock. Even Teskat was silent. Atark took a step forward. He could let it drop now, he knew. There would be grumbling and whispering behind his back, but no one would actually challenge him or try to harm his daughter. But Atark had no intention of letting it drop. Gerrik had troubled him one too many times!
“Teskat! You promised to stand by me!”
Atark had the Power now. He grasped it and drew it to him. The Ghost had mostly taught him fire magic. It was the magic he used against the Berssians' gunpowder. But there were other uses for fire magic, other things he could do. He raised his arms and a ball of flame appeared in each hand. The people in the tent all cried out and Gerrik screamed in terror. He jumped over a pile of cushions and ran, trying to escape.
But there was no escape. The flame leapt from Atark’s hands and struck Gerrik in the back. Immediately, all his clothing burst into flames and he was wrapped in fire from head to foot. His scream rose to a shriek. He fell and rolled on the ground trying to put out the fire. But he could not. The carpet he lay on flared up and everyone scrambled to get away from the flames. Gerrik thrashed about for a few moments, but then his screams and his struggles ceased. Atark waited for a few heartbeats longer and then waved his hands. The flames were snuffed out and only a blackened, smoldering husk remained. Silence filled the tent. Every eye turned from the remains of Gerrik to rest on Atark.
He returned their stares without flinching, in spite of the fact he could barely stand. The strength it had taken to cast the spell had drained him, even more than the great spell of to
day. With no prisoners to take strength from, he had only himself to draw upon. He swayed slightly, but Thelena was at his side now and he put his arm around her to steady himself.
“This is my daughter,” he rasped. “This is Thelena, my daughter. She will be welcome in my tent. Let anyone raise a hand against her at their peril!”
The silence dragged on and on, but at last Zarruk stirred. “So be it,” he said. “Let nothing more be said by anyone.” Slowly the people in the tent relaxed. Several men wrapped the scorched carpet around the remains of Gerrik and dragged it off. Women scurried in with more wine. Atark guided Thelena over to the cushions and sat down with her at his side. A robe was produced and Thelena wrapped it around herself, covering her nudity. She leaned against him and he hugged her close. The rage in him faded and the joy returned. His daughter lived! He looked at her and smiled. She smiled back at him. He gave her food and drink, but he had no clue what to say to her. Words seemed totally inadequate. He just held her and felt the joy.
* * * * *
Kareen lay on the carpet and stared at Thelena and the man holding her. She was more frightened than she had ever been in her life. But this day had already taught her that there were no limits to fear. A dozen times already she had been more frightened than ever before, but each time something else had happened to make it worse. The arrival of the messenger and her worry about Matt. The appearance of the Kaifeng in the pass. The mass charge across the valley. The ball of golden light and the flying sparks. The terrible, earth-shaking explosions which tore the fort and its defenders apart. Her flight across the parade ground. The slaughter of the troops. The Kaifeng warriors chasing her. Her capture. It all ran together in an ever-increasing storm of fear.
And it only got worse.
She had lain over the saddle of the Kaifeng who had caught her with her heart pounding as they cheered the man on the wall. It had gone on for quite a while. But not all the Kaifeng had stopped to cheer. Even from her limited viewpoint, Kareen had seen the women and children of the fort being routed from their hiding places and caught. There were some male prisoners, too, and Kareen had tried to spot Phell, hoping against hope that he was still alive. Even then, she had some crazy idea that if he were alive, he could somehow make everything right. But she had not seen him. The captive soldiers were beaten and whipped, stripped of their weapons and most of their clothing, and then tightly bound and driven off like cattle. The children were treated with surprising gentleness. They were simply roped together and led away, most wailing piteously for their mothers. Their mothers were with the other women and older girls...
There had been a great many women in the fort. It was a permanent garrison and the soldiers were all allowed to marry. Most of them had a wife or a lover, and many of them had families. Few, if any, of them had been caught in the explosions or the slaughter on the parade ground. They had survived to be caught by the Kaifeng. Dozens of them, older women or those with infants, had been herded together where they wept for slain husbands or stolen children. The rest, the younger ones, were in the hands of the Kaifeng warriors. Some struggled wildly, others, like Kareen, had been bound and could do nothing. Still others seemed too stunned to react at all. And some were already being raped. Kareen could hear the screams. They had a different tone from the earlier screams of terror. She had no doubt what was happening.
Or what was going to happen to her.
Finally, the cheering had stopped and the man on the wall came down to mingle with a crowd of other Kaifeng. The man who had Kareen laughed loudly and called out to some of the others. Then he had slapped her hard on the backside and set his horse into motion. He had trotted out of the fort with Kareen bouncing before him. A dozen other men were close by and they all laughed and shouted. Down the hill they had gone, and Kareen was surprised to see that a city of tents had sprung up. It was nearly dark and there were fires and torches everywhere.
They had ridden up to one cluster of tents, and the man was met by a number of women and older boys. There had been a great deal of shouting and laughing and many of them were pointing at her. The man dismounted and dragged her down from the horse. Her legs weren’t tied, but she found she could not stand, and she collapsed on the ground and sobbed. The other men clustered around her, and after a moment of discussion, they seized her.
She had screamed when they started to strip her, but her struggles were entirely useless. They had removed the ropes that were binding her, but someone always had hold of her arms and legs so all she could do was thrash helplessly. Item by item they had pulled her clothes off. Each piece was given to the women who were gathered about to watch. They laughed and passed them from hand to hand. Her jewelry was taken, too. She shrieked when they took the ring Phell had given her. Soon they were down to her undergarments, but they did not stop. Those were peeled away and she was naked. The men hooted and laughed, and many sets of hands were already touching her. She gave one last convulsive squirm and then collapsed in tears. They were going to rape her. All of them. And nothing could stop them.
But, amazingly, something had stopped them. A man rode up on a horse and shouted to them in a commanding voice. The men and women all looked to him and made some strange gesture of salute. He had another woman slung over his saddle and he tossed her down. Kareen recognized her as the wife of one of the sergeants in Phell’s company. She was bound, but she still had most of her clothes. She had looked about with a blank expression, her face streaked with tears. A great deal of talking had gone on. The man who had first caught her had not looked terribly pleased, but the man on the horse and the others seemed to be cajoling him, and finally he had nodded. There was a small cheer and then Kareen was rolled onto her belly and tightly bound with her hands behind her back. A gag was fitted in her mouth and then she was carried off.
And now she was here.
She lay on the floor of a large tent filled with Kaifeng, and her terror was like a living thing, pulsing inside her. She and seven other girls, girls she mostly knew, had been placed before men who had to be the leaders of the Kaifeng. She, and all the others, were naked. She was shamed like never before in her life. No man had ever seen her naked, not since she was a baby, and now she was on display before dozens of men. She had tried to roll away and hide herself, but a Kaifeng woman had turned her back over, tugged her ears painfully, and spoken to her in a scolding voice. She had not moved since then.
The man she had been placed before was not especially large, nor did he have the weapons or trappings of the other leaders, but he was clearly an important man. As time went by, she heard the name ‘Atark’ again and again, and she realized that this was the man they had been cheering. She had been given to the leader, the man responsible for all this. Her fear had increased yet again. The man had stared at her with a hard expression. The other leaders had laughed and joked. They had groped and fondled the other girls. But this one had done nothing but glare at her from time to time.
And she was his slave.
She had been given to him and he was now her master. He could do whatever he wished with her and she feared him more with every passing minute. The others, the men who had caught her, would have raped her. Somehow that did not seem so bad compared with the cold gleam in this one’s eyes. Eyes that traveled over her bare flesh from time to time, noting every detail. She steeled herself for some fate she couldn’t imagine.
But then something had happened. There was excitement in the tent and the man had gotten up and stepped over her. She had twisted around and was amazed to see Thelena standing there. She had lost sight of her when they left the fort, and she had supposed that she was being raped as she would have been had it not been for the interruption. But here she was. And the man with the cold eyes was embracing her! Calling her by name! He knew her and she knew him! Sudden hope flared in her. Thelena knew the leader of the Kaifeng! She could help her, get him to have mercy on her. Wild visions of she and Phell and Matt being spared and turned loose danced in her head.
But then something else had happened. She did not understand what, but there were angry voices and some other man shouting and pointing at Thelena. The leader had grown angry and then he had...had…
She still could not believe what the man had done, what she had seen. Fire had leapt from his hands, and the other man had been burned alive! It was impossible. It was like something out of legend.
It was magic.
That realization explained all that had happened. This man, the man who owned her, was a magician, a wizard, a sorcerer. Kareen had known of magic all her life. She had seen a few magical trinkets and a few entertainers who claimed to have the power. Magic existed, but it was not something anyone gave much thought. It was a thing of the far past, not the present day.
Or she had thought it was. The events of this day had proved that she had been wrong. Everyone else in the fort had been wrong, too. It had been magic that had caused the disaster. The golden sparks, the terrible explosions, had all been caused by magic.
Had all been caused by this man. And she belonged to him.
But Thelena knew him. And she was someone special to him, too. Kareen had seen him embrace her, had seen his tears. Was he her father? An uncle? Whoever, she was important and she could help her!
But so far, she had not. She was sitting next to him, only a few feet away, but she had only glanced at her a few times. There was no doubt she recognized her, but she had done nothing. What was the matter? Kareen tried to calm herself. She did not know these people or their customs. Perhaps Thelena had a plan. Maybe when the feast was over, and they were alone, maybe then she would speak for her. She had to!
And as she lay there, it became apparent that the feast was coming to an end. The fiery death of the one man had only been a brief interruption, but the festive mood was gone. And the leaders were getting drunk — and impatient. Several of them had dragged the captive girls up to them and were handling them in the most intimate fashion. Kareen blushed when she saw one of them pouring wine down the throat of Letti Jowalsa and splashing it on her breasts. Finally, one of the men stood up and hoisted his girl over his shoulder and slapped her on the bottom. There was more shouting and laughing, and then he carried her out of the tent. Several of the others soon followed.
Fires of Memory Page 11