The Horsemasters

by Joan Wolf

  It was Thorn who one afternoon told her about the Tribe of the Red Deer, whose girls were the ones Siguna had seen practicing with arrows out at the men’s camp. After that, Siguna could not rest until she had a chance to speak to Arika. The women of the Red Deer had chosen to camp at the farthest end of the tunnel, a little distance from the rest of the women of the Kindred, and it took Siguna a few days before she could find an excuse to approach the Mistress.

  She spent a mind-shattering afternoon at Arika’s feet, hearing things she had never dreamed could be thought, let alone said.

  That night, Siguna left her sleeping skins by Fara and the twins, giving the excuse that she had to seek the latrine area. Instead she walked outside the cave, just to be alone and to look at the stars. Her mind had been so stimulated by her conversation with Arika that she knew sleep was impossible, and she found the distant beauty of the stars immensely restful. It was chilly, and she wrapped her fur tunic around herself, leaned against the wall of the cliff, and gazed up at the sky. She had no idea how long she had been there when she heard the low murmur of voices coming nearer. Siguna, who did not want to be disturbed, moved silently to her left, deeper into the shadow of the cliff.

  The moonlight picked out the figures of Nel and Ronan. Siguna had not seen the chief since their first meeting, as he and the men largely kept to the valley where their camp was pitched. Tonight, however, he was walking with his wife, his spear in his left hand, his right arm draped across her shoulders, his dark head bent close to hers in absorbed conversation. They were so intent upon each other that Siguna did not think they would notice her.

  It was Nigak who gave her away. Siguna froze in terror when she saw the wolf coming straight for her. He stopped when he was but six feet away, his lips drew back, and he growled low in his throat.

  “Who is there?” Ronan called sharply.

  Siguna was so frightened she could not make a sound.

  The wolf growled again, and Siguna managed to choke out her name.

  “Siguna?” she heard Nel say. “What can she be doing here?”

  “Come out,” Ronan called. “Nigak won’t hurt you.”

  Siguna was petrified to move closer to the wolf, but she was also petrified that Nigak would attack if she did not do as she was told. Shaking all over, she stepped out into the moonlight.

  Ronan had taken his arm away from his wife’s shoulder and changed his grip on his spear. When he saw the slim girlish figure of Siguna, his fingers relaxed. “What are you doing skulking around here?” he asked her irritably, signaling for Nigak to return to him.

  Siguna was so shaken, both by Nigak and by the danger she had read on Ronan’s face, that she told him the truth. “I came out to see the stars.”

  “The stars?” he repeated blankly.

  “Stars,” his wife said with amusement. “Those tiny bright fires in the night sky.”

  “I know what stars are, Nel,” he snapped. “What I don’t know is why this girl is out in the night, unwatched by anyone. Dhu, she could be heading straight back to her father and we wouldn’t know about it until the morning!”

  “She wouldn’t be so stupid as to try that,” Nel said, unruffled by her husband’s bad temper.

  “I am glad you are so certain of that.”

  “I am. And Fara is too, or she wouldn’t have let Siguna leave her sight.”

  Ronan looked around. “And where, I would like to know, are Thorn and Mait? I thought I told them they were to be responsible for this girl.”

  Nel ignored him, looking at Siguna instead and asking sympathetically, “Did something in particular happen today, Siguna, that you felt the need to look at the stars?”

  Siguna said, “I spoke today to the Mistress of the Red Deer.”

  Ronan groaned. Nel punched him lightly on his shoulder and said with mock authority, “Behave.”

  If one of Fenris’s women had dared to speak in such a saucy fashion to him, they would have felt the weight of his hand. Ronan’s hand simply moved to rest lightly on the nape of his wife’s neck.

  “Is it true,” Siguna asked Nel slowly, “that you would have been the next Mistress of the Red Deer if you had not married?”

  “Who told you that?” Ronan asked sharply. “Arika?”

  Siguna shook her head, not wanting to say Thorn’s name and perhaps get him into trouble.

  Nel answered Siguna with serenity, “Such talk is nothing but speculation.”

  Nigak yawned, showing all his teeth. Siguna shivered.

  “It is growing late and I must be getting back to camp,” Ronan said. “Nel, take Siguna into the cave with you and keep her there. I do not like her wandering around by herself.” He gave Siguna one of his hawklike stares. “It is not safe.”

  “Go ahead, Siguna,” Nel said softly. “I will be right with you.”

  Siguna needed no more encouragement to walk toward the safety of the tunnel entrance. Just before she reached it, however, she turned and looked back over her shoulder.

  Nel and Ronan stood there in the open, framed by the moonlight. His hands were on her shoulders, and she was looking up into his face, listening to what he was saying. She said something in return, and then, as Siguna watched wonderingly, he bent his head, and his mouth came down on Nel’s, and her head tilted back so that her long shining braid fell over the arm that had pulled her so hard against him. Her arms went up to circle his neck.

  Siguna turned and went by herself into the cave.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  The Horsemasters are coming!!! The words ran through the assembled men of the Federation like wildfire. Dai and Tyr had come galloping in a short while before, shouting for Ronan. Then the news began to spread through the camps. At long last, the enemy was on the trail again.

  Ronan immediately moved into action. Over the course of the last few weeks, he had plotted precisely the course he wanted his confrontation with the Horsemasters to take, and his first challenge was to lure them down the river Volp.

  He had spoken to Arika about this, for the Volp was the river that flowed through the sacred cave of the Tribe of the Red Deer.

  “I want to catch them in the gorge that lies a morning’s walk to the north of the cave, Mistress,” Ronan had explained. “The men of the Red Deer would often make a great reindeer slaughter there, and it is a good place to trap a large number of men and horses.”

  Arika had been silent, obviously picturing in her mind the dark, almost sinister gorge that had been cut by the Volp as it rushed through the mountains north of the sacred cave. “Sa,” she had said at last. “That is a good place to set a trap.”

  “They will not get through us, Mistress,” Ronan promised. “I could hold the pass that leads out of that gorge with half the number of men that I have. The sacred cave will be safe.”

  Arika had looked at him for a moment in silence. Then she asked, “What do you think they will do when they have once seen that we mean to stand against them?”

  “I think the first thing they will do is change their ground, That gorge is impossible to cross, and their leader is too smart not to see that. They will go back to the River of Gold. But I am hoping to wound them badly enough at the gorge to somewhat reduce their numbers.”

  Arika nodded. “And a victory might put heart into the tribes of the Fox and the Bear and induce them to join with us.”

  “I hope so,” Ronan said grimly. “They are fools if they think they are situated too far down the River of Gold for the Horsemasters to find them.” He gave Arika a genuinely puzzled look. “I do not understand them. How can they not want to fight?”

  Arika had risen. “They do not have the strength of the Mother, as we do,” she said. “That is the cause of their fearfulness.” And she had walked away, leaving her son staring after her with strained and shadowed eyes.

  * * * *

  Ronan knew he could not count on the Horsemasters to choose of their own volition to follow the Volp. In all of their previous scouting expeditions
, the Horsemasters had always bypassed the smaller river in favor of continuing down the River of Gold. Ronan had to give the invaders a reason for proceeding along a path they had not previously explored, and he planned to do that by stealing their horses.

  In order to accomplish this maneuver, Ronan had hand-picked three handfuls of riders from the Tribe of the Wolf.

  “I do not want any fighting,” he repeated to his chosen raiding party on the night before they left the Great Cave. “We are simply going to gallop into their horse-herd and stampede it. We’ll carry leather thongs and try to drive some of the horses before us when we return up the Volp, but I do not want anyone putting themselves into a situation where they could be captured.” His eyes went from Thorn to Mait to Kasar. “Do you understand?”

  The young men all nodded.

  “Beki?” Ronan said. “Yoli? Do you understand?”

  “Sa, Ronan,” said two feminine voices softly. “We understand.”

  “If we do our job, and scatter their horses, the enemy will not be able to follow us immediately,” Ronan said. “They will have to catch their horses first. We should have plenty of time to return to the gorge and get ready for them.”

  “I am thinking it will not be too difficult,” said Beki, her jaunty tip-tilted nose turning toward her husband, Kasar. She grinned. “They can have no idea that we have horses also.”

  “I do not think they can,” Ronan replied gravely. “When they see that we do, I think they will be interested enough in us to follow us. If they do that…then we will surprise them at the gorge.”

  “The biggest problem is going to be that their horses are mares, and ours are stallions,” Nel warned.

  “You already had us build a big corral to hold whatever mares we may come back with, Nel,” Dai pointed out.

  “I know. But it is not going to be as easy to handle your horses in the midst of a herd of mares as it usually is,” Nel said. “I am just telling you to be prepared.”

  Solemn nods came from all around the circle.

  Ronan said, “I have chosen only the best riders for this job, because the best riders also have the most obedient horses. If there is anyone who does not think he or she can control a stallion under these circumstances, please say so now.”

  Silence.

  “Good,” said Ronan. “We will leave tomorrow at dawn.”

  * * * *

  The Horsemasters made camp for the night not far from the place where a smaller tributary branched off from the wider river they were following. The men pastured the horse-herd in a nearby meadow; the women set up the tents and lit the cookfires. He would remain for another day or two in this place, Fenris thought, so the men could do some hunting. Then he would move the tribe once again down the River of Gold, toward the settlement of people his scouts had discovered earlier in the year.

  Rich tribes dwelled upon the shores of the River of Gold, the scouts had said. The caves and huts were comfortable, the hunting grounds rich in deer, and there was plenty of grazing for the horses.

  Fenris knew that his men were growing restless. They had had no fighting since last summer, and their blood was heating up. They were beginning to fight among themselves; it was more than time for them to redden their spears with the blood of their enemies.

  There was a wind blowing off the river, and Fenris hunched his shoulders against it as he walked slowly toward his tent.

  He missed Siguna. He had not realized how often his eyes had rested upon her silvery fair head until it was no longer there to gaze upon.

  She had been so brave, he thought. And so foolish. A girl who dreamed she could do the things that belonged to a man.

  His fault. He had thought that more than once. It was his fault for indulging her, for allowing her to ride horses, for giving her some of the freedom that she was always so wild for. If he had made her live the life she was born to lead, she would be alive now.

  Fenris regretted very little in his life, but he regretted that he had not successfully protected Siguna.

  He pushed open the flap of his tent and walked in. Silence fell at his entrance, and he lifted his hand. Once more his children began to babble, his women to scold, his anda to boast among themselves. Nothing had changed, he told himself. He was a fool to allow himself to be so sad.

  * * * *

  They came at dawn the following morning. A stallion’s scream pierced the quiet air of the camp, and Fenris sat bolt upright in his sleeping skins.

  “What is it?” gasped Kara, who was once more sharing his bed.

  “A stallion has got in with the mares.” He was on his feet, pulling on his boots. Outside, he heard the sound of men running. “I will have the hearts of the men on herd duty,” Fenris said through his teeth as he ran for the door.

  The air outside his tent was gray and cold and smelled of the fear of horses.

  “Father!” He turned and saw his second-eldest son running toward him. “Horsemen, Father! They are scattering the mares!”

  “Name of the Thunderer!” Fenris began to run toward the corral where his own horses were penned. His stallion, the only stallion kept by the tribe, was going berserk.

  There was the sound of thundering hooves behind him, and Fenris whirled around to see a pack of about fifteen of his own horses pounding toward him. In the midst of them, whistling and shouting and swinging a leather thong, was a black-haired man on a gray stallion. The stallion’s ears were laid flat back and his head was low and snaking as he slashed at the mares with his bared teeth.

  Fenris stared in absolute shock at the man on the stallion’s back. The bastard rode as well as he did! The horses were almost on top of him before Fenris took his only option and ducked inside the corral fence, out of the way of the stampeding herd, The mares swept by, and Fenris’s shock was multiplied when he saw another horseman bringing up the rear, riding a white-legged stallion and expertly keeping any stragglers from falling behind. Only this horseman was a girl!

  “Name of the Thunderer,” Fenris said again.

  Fenris’s stallion, named appropriately Thunder, was frantically screaming after his disappearing mares. The mares in the corral were racing around, trying to keep out of the stallion’s way. Fenris ducked back out of the corral before he was trampled. It would be a while before he would be able to catch and halter any of these horses, he thought furiously.

  A group of his men were running toward him, and he recognized Surtur in the lead. “Are any of our men mounted?” Fenris shouted.

  Surtur came running up. “Vili was grooming his mare and managed to hold on to her. He has ridden after them to see which way they go.”

  Fenris scowled. “Who was on guard at the horse-herd?”

  “They came so fast, Kain, that no one had a chance to do anything against them,” one of the other men said. “It was not the fault of the men on guard.”

  “They were not on guard if they let themselves be taken by surprise,” Fenris said uncompromisingly. “Who were they?”

  Surtur gave him the names.

  “Did the thieves drive off all the horses?” Fenris asked next.

  “They scattered all the horses, but many of them are still in the vicinity.”

  “We shall have to get them back, then,” Fenris said grimly. “The men will have to go out on foot.”

  “Aye, Kain.”

  “When Vili gets back,” Fenris said, “send him to me,” and he strode off angrily toward his tent.

  * * * *

  “They went up the small river, Father,” Vili said an hour later, after he had returned to camp and had sought out the kain to report to him. “There were several small groups of them, and they got about six handfuls of our horses.”

  Fenris was astride one of his own mares, keeping count of the horses as they were brought in. He stared at his son, his thick golden eyebrows drawn together, his eyes as darkly gray as the northern sea from whence his people had come.

  “Up the small river,” he repeated.

 
Vili nodded. “I followed them for a short way to make certain.”

  Fenris stroked his finger lightly up and down the cleft in his chin, something he only did when he was very perturbed. “In the name of the Thunderer, where did these people come from? Our scouts have never seen any sign of a tribe that rides horses.”

  Vili, who did not have an answer, prudently held his tongue.

  “You saw no signs of habitations?” Fenris asked next.

  “No, Father. There were many caves in the hillsides, but I saw no sign of life. I did not follow for very long. I thought it was more important to report back to you.”

  Fenris nodded. “You were right. You did well, my son.” He reached down to put a hand on Vili’s shoulder. “The only man to keep his horse. I am proud of you.”

  Vili’s fair-skinned face, a thinner, younger, less-handsome version of the kain’s, glowed with pride.

  “What shall you do, Father?” he ventured to ask.

  “Go after them,” Fenris replied grimly. “I do not allow anyone to steal my horses and live.”

  * * * *

  Excitement in the Federation camp rose to fever pitch when Ronan and his raiding party came galloping in, driving before them a milling, whinnying group of mares and foals.

  Crim immediately ran to open the corral gate, and the riders urged the bewildered, frightened newcomers into the sturdy pen the tribes had built to hold them.

  After a bit of a struggle, the mares were inside, and the stallions outside. The riders could finally dismount.

  “Dhu!” Thorn said, wiping a hand across his dirty, sweaty brow. “That was not a ride I’ll soon forget.”

  “Nor I.” Mait grinned at him, his teeth showing very white in his filthy face. The boys had been riding at the back of the herd, where the dust was thick. “My legs are shaking.”

  “You did it.” The voice was Siguna’s. She came up beside them and looked at the familiar mares milling around in the corral. She shivered and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. “My father will be furious.”