by Inmon, Shawn
Bringing up the rear was the third horse and Senta-eh. The horses may not have been fast, but their normal, loping gate was slightly faster than her normal hiking pace, so every few steps she had to speed up to keep up with the parade.
When they ran across a stream in mid-afternoon, Alex called a halt for a meal. When they opened their saddlebags they found Preta-eh had left them with more than just the horses. There was salted meats—perhaps the Tonton-ah traded with Rinta-ah for salt—but there was also hard-crusted loaves of bread, sweet cherries, sour apples, and cheese.
At least for a few days, we will eat well.
Alex asked Werda-ak to unbridle the horses, take them to the stream to drink, then to let them graze. The horses were well-trained, aside from their mischievous personalities. They did not wander far from where the humans sat.
Monda-ak smelled a smorgasbord of wild game not far away, and trotted off to find it.
Alex looked at Senta-eh, who had a fine sheen of sweat on her forehead. “We’ll make better time if you ride.”
“I know.”
“Will you?”
Alex’s question hung in the air a long time. Finally, she said, “Yes.” Alex didn’t pry any further, but before Werda-ak returned, she said, “When I was a very little girl, not yet past my third summer, my older brother put me on an alecs-ta.”
Alex pictured the beast—large, dumb, and with a bad attitude. It most resembled a twenty-first century donkey, except bigger, uglier, and with more bad intentions.
Not something I would put a small child on.
“He wasn’t watching me, I fell off and hit my head. My parents thought I was going to die. I didn’t, but the only fear I’ve ever allowed myself to have was of riding an animal.” She sighed and dropped her head. “But it is past time for me to conquer that fear.”
Alex closed his eyes, summoning a long-ago memory. Finally, he managed to translate the words of Frank Herbert into Winten-ah. “I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.”
Senta-eh’s mouth fell open. “Alex! That is so wise and beautiful.”
Alex opened his eyes again and saw her expression. “Oh, no! No, no, no. Those are not my words. They are from a wise man who lived in the place I came from before I came to Kragdon-ah.”
“Still. Beautiful words. I will take heed of them. I will ride.”
Alex marveled at how little curiosity any of the people he met in Kragdon-ah showed toward his previous life. When he first arrived, he had thought people might press him for details about the cities, the transportation, the life that he had lived. No one ever did. Instead, they seemed to feel sorry for him that he came from a time that relied so heavily on what they considered stama.
Werda-ak returned, they shared a loaf of bread with some of the smelly, wonderful cheese, and filled their new water bags at the stream. Compared to the way they had started their journey—on foot, with only small bags on their backs—they were now traveling in luxury.
Before they remounted the horses, Senta-eh made Alex take off his shirt and rebandaged his arm as she had been shown. A bruise started on his upper bicep and wrapped around most of his arm. The night before, it had been a light purple. Now, it had turned dark, and there were tints of orange at the edges.
“Are you good at everything you try?” Alex asked her.
“Yes,” she said with no false modesty. A pause. “Well, no. I am good at most things I try. I do not always do so well with people. That is why I am a warrior instead of a mother.”
After a few minutes, Monda-ak returned, apparently sated, and they repacked their saddle bags.
Senta-eh did not say anything but stood beside her horse, gathering herself.
I would offer to help you, but that would only attract more attention to the fact you are riding now instead of walking. Alex glanced at Werda-ak. And so help me, boy, if you make fun of her for this, I will let her thrash you first, then I’ll take a turn.
Werda-ak noticed that Senta-eh was struggling to mount her horse, but he had the good sense to look away. When he turned toward Alex, a broad smile played across his face.
I guess we’ll call that progress.
While they rode, Alex did some calculations. He estimated that on foot, they had averaged around fifteen miles per day. He had initially thought they would make more, but terrain, bathroom, and meal breaks and the need to sleep had limited them.
He couldn’t measure precisely, but he was sure they were making better progress with their horses. He even thought they might make double that—thirty miles a day. That made him smile inwardly, until he did a little more math.
If Lusta-ah was in the area he thought it might be, based on the few clues he had, it was likely thousands of miles away. Even at a healthy thirty miles each day, it would take them months to get there. His hope was that once they got within a few hundred miles, they would be able to ask around and find a tribe or village that would recognize the name of the village.
Of course, that didn’t solve their biggest problem. His initial hope had been that they could catch the invaders on the trail, ambush them, rescue Lanta-eh, and return her safely home. That seemed less likely now. That meant he had to first find Lusta-ah, then find a way for the three of them to somehow take on an entire village before spiriting her away.
He put that out of his mind as an unsolvable problem. Something to be dealt with on another day.
The area they traveled through that day seemed devoid of animal life, but Alex knew that wasn’t true. It was just devoid of easily-spotted life. It was not a particularly verdant area, so there weren’t many small and medium-sized critters that might attract larger predators. And, although there was a trail of sorts, it didn’t appear to be used so much that ronit-ta—the wolves, or rutan-ta—the mountain lion, could make a life snacking on humans.
So, aside from a few unfortunate snakes and mice that Monda-ak chased down and gobbled up, and the birds that circled high overhead, it was a tranquil day.
As they approached the mid-point between the summer and winter solstices, the days drew shorter and the nights colder. Late that afternoon they spotted an unusual sight—a single house set a hundred yards or so off the trail.
As they approached, several people came out of the house and stood on the trail.
To that point, Alex had not seen many people living alone—the homesteader life, essentially. Everyone he had met in Kragdon-ah had been socially inclined.
As they approached, Senta-eh riding directly behind him, said, “Careful. Otkan.”
Alex had never heard the Winten-ah word Otkan before and made a mental note to ask her about it later.
Alex was aware that his bandaged left arm might make him look vulnerable, but he approached this as he did any situation—a cursory glance at the people first, looking for weapons, then a more thorough examination of the geography around them. The people showed no obvious threat and Alex couldn’t spot a likely ambush spot, so he relaxed slightly. Even so, a relaxed Alex was still more alert than most people at their most aware.
There were a total of six people standing by the trail—two women, two men, and two children, not much more than toddlers.
“Gunta,” the older of the two men said when the caravan was within hailing distance.
“Gunta,” Alex said, but did not halt his horse.
“I am Benta-ak, welcome to our home.”
“We are just passing through.”
“We do not have much,” Benta-ak said, “but we will gladly share our meal with you.”
Alex looked at the man calmly, then said, “Thank you for your kindness, but we will keep pushing on.”
“Beware of trouble ahead,” Benta-ak said. “There are bands of thieves and rogues who travel this road, and
those are fine horses. They would bring a large price.”
Alex finally stopped his horse and turned casually to Senta-eh and Werda-ak. “Continue on without me. I will be right behind you.”
A struggle played out across both their faces. They did not want to leave if there was to be trouble, but nor did they want to disobey Alex, especially in front of others. Senta-eh broke the spell by smiling casually and moving on up the trail. As she did, she quietly strung her bow and laid her hand on her quiver of arrows. Werda-ak followed behind.
Alex looked steadily at Benta-ak, then at the other adults, and finally the children. The smallest carried a piece of cloth with some stuffing. She held it as if it was the most precious thing in the world. She stared at Alex with wide, cautious eyes. “You are correct. These are fine horses.” He glanced at their home, which was not much beyond a lean-to. “You have the beginnings of a fine home here, as well. You should choose to enjoy it, and the life you have.” Alex’s tone of voice never changed.
The man’s hand drifted unconsciously toward his back.
Fifty feet down the path, Senta-eh turned her horse, nocked an arrow, and waited.
Alex did not move. He waited for the man to make his choice.
A long, tense moment later, Benta-ak turned and walked to the house, trailed by the others. The smallest child smiled brilliantly at Alex and lifted a hand in greeting before following.
Alex clicked his tongue at Monda-ak, who had been standing on alert at the front of his horse. The dog looked at Alex, then turned and padded up the road.
Alex waited until the people had returned to their home, which he figured was well out of range of any weapon they might have, then joined Senta-eh.
“You asked a lot of me there,” Senta-eh said.
“And you did it,” Alex said with a relieved smile. “Thank you. Now, what does otkan mean.”
Senta-eh looked surprised. “You speak our language so well, I forget you did not learn it as a child. Otkan means someone who has been cast out of the tribe. When I was a child, they were what my mother threatened me with when I misbehaved. ‘Go to sleep now, or I will sell you to the otkan.’
Alex had to laugh a little at the thought of Senta-eh, as tiny as the girl he just saw, being cowed by a fairy tale.
“How does a person become an outcast?”
“It is unusual, that’s why we haven’t seen many of them. In most villages, if a person does something wrong, they are held closer to the heart of the tribe. Counseled. Given another chance. If they do something that is a big wrong, they are put to death. But, if the tribe has tried repeatedly to save them and they are unwilling to change, but haven’t done something bad enough to be killed, they are put out.”
“Can they ever return?”
“No. Most of the time, they do not live long on their own. Sometimes, though, there are people who are just not made to be with other people. They actually choose to become outcasts and they will often live by themselves and still have a good life.”
“What about those people?”
“I could tell immediately that they wanted to kill us and take our horses. That’s why I warned you.”
“Why didn’t they?”
It was Senta-eh’s turn to laugh. “You scared them! The man looked into your eyes and saw his own death.”
The caravan pushed on later that night than they had intended. They had no interest in camping so close to the otkan that they could change their minds and ambush them while they slept.
The sun set, dusk arrived, and still they pushed on. Werda-ak dozed on his horse, swaying back and forth slightly as it walked. Finally, Alex saw a defensible position against a hillside and dismounted.
“Too dark to hunt or fish tonight. We’ll rely on the kindness of the Tonton-ah again,” Alex said.
Senta-eh clambered down, much less gracefully than her normal movements. Alex watched her walk out of the corner of his eye. She took several tentative steps, then said, “I am hurting in places I didn’t know I had places.”
Alex kept his expression neutral, and said, “That will pass. You are using different muscles when you ride.” He clicked his tongue at Monda-ak to give him permission to hunt for his supper, then set about gathering firewood.
Werda-ak found a stick and dug a firepit while Senta-eh laid out their meal. It was excellent, even if it did mimic their lunch exactly.
They all gathered one extra armful of wood to keep the fire going through the night, then Alex looked at Werda-ak and said, “You get first watch. You already got a few hours’ sleep on the back of your horse.”
Werda-ak’s mouth fell open in surprise. “How did you know that? I was behind you the whole time.”
“Manta-ak sees all,” Senta-eh said with a smile.
Alex did not correct her. It was a good reputation to have.
The horses moved in close and slept on their feet.
Senta-eh rolled her blanket out, but before she laid down, Alex said, “Take this bandage off me.”
“I will change it for you.”
“No, just take it off.”
“I am supposed to change it—”
“I know what you’re supposed to do. If something does attack us, I am not going to have one arm taped down. I may not be able to use it yet, but I don’t need to tell that to everyone we meet.”
Senta-eh did not argue. She would have felt the same. She unwrapped the bandage, put it in her saddlebag and did not mention it again.
Alex stretched out on the blanket, which smelled strongly of the horse he had ridden all day. He didn’t mind. He liked that smell. Monda-ak came and laid beside him, the best friend a man could have. Alex laid on his back, looking up at the stars and listening to the breeze through the trees.
In many ways, it could have been a scene straight out of the John Wayne or Clint Eastwood movies he had watched as a kid. A campfire, horses, and the stars overhead. Those movies never included a seven-foot-tall female warrior or a gangly teenager who was nearly that tall himself, though.
Alex closed his eyes, grateful for the companions he had.
Chapter Sixteen
The Ancient One
The days turned into weeks and soon a month had passed.
The days of Alex and company passed with almost unrelenting sameness. Up early, on the move, stopping only to water, feed and rest the horses for an hour or so, then moving again, constantly heading east.
They saw villages small and smaller, and even the occasional outcast, but none of them gave them any trouble.
At lunch and again at dinner, Werda-ak fished if there was water, or gathered roots and berries that Doken-ak had taught him were healthy.
Senta-eh rode her horse every day, but didn’t seem to warm to it. As soon as they stopped moving, she swung her leg over, strung her bow, and went on the hunt. Most days she was able to find some sort of meat they could cook over the campfire before they slept.
They might have stopped at some of the small villages to trade for fresh supplies, but they had nothing to trade except for their horses, and Alex wouldn’t consider that.
The weather was changing. Days were shorter, nights were colder, and they encountered a steady drizzle of rain more often than they saw the sun.
They changed trails whenever they came to one that led in a more easterly direction.
Late one evening, they rode on, sodden from the rain, slumped forward on their mounts, trying to think warm thoughts. Ahead, on the side of the road, Alex saw a single figure sitting cross-legged under a spreading oak tree a few yards off the trail they were following.
It was an old man, with long, knotted gray hair and a weathered face. He wore an orange robe that bunched around him as he sat. A large alecs-ta grazed beside him.
ALEX LET HIS HAND DRIFT down to the knife on his belt, but as he drew closer, he sensed there was no danger.
The man turned his face to them as they approached, a small smile on his face. “Gunta,” the man said.
&
nbsp; Alex raised his hand in greeting and said, “Gunta,” then peered at the man’s face more closely. His eyes were completely clouded over.
“We mean you no harm. There are three of us.”
“Only if you don’t count your horses or your rather oversized dog, I would say.”
Monda-ak looked at Alex, a comically surprised expression on his canine face.
Alex looked around for others. He knew there had to be more people around. It was impossible that an ancient, blind man could be traveling cross-country in such inhospitable conditions.
He should be tucked safely away by a fire somewhere, not sitting in the rain.
“Do you mind if I join you?”
“No, not at all. I can only use a small bit of the shelter this magnificent tree offers. There is a small pond not too far behind me, if your animals need a drink.”
Alex signaled Werda-ak to take the horses down to do just that.
“We were just thinking of stopping to rest for the night. Would it trouble you if we shared your spot?”
The wizened old man smiled, as though he knew this was a white lie, and Alex was volunteering to stop to see if he needed help.
Alex turned to Senta-eh. “I’ll build a fire if you want to see if there is any game about.”
“Ah, you are a huntress,” he said, turning his face to Senta-eh.
Alex and Senta-eh both wondered how the man knew so much when he could obviously see so little.
“Can I ask a favor?” the old man asked, his voice raspy with age. “There is a large rabbit nearby. He has kept me company since I stopped. If you wouldn’t mind not killing him, it would mean something to me. But, do as you must. We all must eat. However,” he said with a broad smile, “there is a grita-ta that has been stalking our friend the rabbit. He might make for a good stew with some of the vegetables I have in my pot, ready to cook.”
Alex had so many questions, but didn’t quite know where to begin, so did not say anything. Instead, he dug into the damp ground to make a home for their fire. A copse of nearby trees provided both pitch to make the fire easier to start and dead wood to keep it going.