ICE BURIAL: The Oldest Human Murder Mystery (The Mother People Series Book 3)

by JOAN DAHR LAMBERT

  “We must go,” she mumbled, rising to her feet, but Lief did not move. Her discomfiture amused him but he also found it endearing. His fingers itched to caress those flushed cheeks, the slender body, but he held them back. She wanted him as badly as he wanted her, but he must be careful, must not rush her.

  “There is one way in which we can almost fly,” he remarked instead.

  “How is that?” Zena asked, glad of the distraction.

  “In Akat,” he replied. “Sometimes in the act of love, if both people understand each other well, I am told this is possible, though have not experienced it myself.” His voice was even deeper than usual, and as soft as a caress.

  “Nor have I,” Zena answered, her lips stiff as she tightened them to control their trembling. Not looking at him, she reached down for her pack. He had removed his tunic to bask in the sun and the gleam of his bronzed skin caught her eye anyway.

  Lief rose in a swift movement and clasped her arm, forcing her to face him. He could see the need on her face; feel her desire palpable against his own even as she struggled to push it away, and a joyous delirium filled him.

  “We can do this,” he murmured. “For many days now, I have felt that it would be so. And so have you, have you not?”

  Zena’s eyes flicked up to his for a moment. Did he mean now? Here? “We should go on,” she mumbled, but even to her own ears her voice sounded uncertain. His hand felt so warm and the long fingers were so gentle on her wrist...

  “Yes, we should, but we need not go right now.”

  Lief looked into her face, and once again his voice was as soft as a caress. “This is the place for us, Zena, here among the high peaks, where both of us love to be. Did you know I came here for those peaks as well as to know more of you? I could not live away from the mountains and I could not rest until I had found you. Once I had seen you I knew I had to come to you.”

  “To me?” Her voice was only a whisper.

  Lief did not answer, only touched her face with his gentle fingers. The desire was so strong now Zena thought she would burst with it. Her legs shook and she sat down again abruptly, knowing that this time they really would not hold her up any longer. Lief lowered himself to the ground beside her. Every motion he made was graceful, she thought, and wondered at what he had said. Had he really come here for her?

  Slipping her garment from her shoulders with a fluid gesture, he drew her against him, reveling at the smoothness of her skin, at the heat that rose between them. She sighed deeply, finally beginning to relax.

  “Imagine now that you are a bird,” he murmured as he stroked her arms, the length of her body, with delicate fingers, “not a large one that hunts, like the one we just saw, but one of the graceful swallows that darts effortlessly above the fields, the lakes and streams. As my fingers touch your arms, imagine the feathers there, soft and strong, that allow you to fly; as I stroke your body, imagine the wonderful bursting strength that will propel you into the skies. There, you can feel it, can you not, in a secret place deep inside you? Close your eyes as my lips touch them and know that they are the eyes of a bird that sees all as it soars, feel the bird plunge toward the earth as my mouth covers yours, then rise again with the fluttering wing-tips that are your fingers...”

  His voice ceased as he took her fingers, one at a time, into his mouth. With his other hand he went on caressing her arms, her breasts and belly and thighs. She groaned, an agonized cry of physical need. She wanted more, much more…

  The sound exhilarated Lief, and a desire so fierce he felt burned by it threatened to overwhelm him. Never had he felt like this, never, but he must go slowly, slowly…

  He moved his lips to her eyelids, her cheeks and forehead, and then her mouth. A gasp rose inside Zena at the intensity of the passion that rose up between them, but no sound emerged. His lips were too hard, too demanding, too bonded with hers for even a whisper to pass between them. Her mouth clamped down still harder in response. She did not know herself like this. She could not stop her mouth, her body. They pressed against his with frenzied strength; she felt her arms wrap themselves around him, her hands search every part of his straining body.

  He could not wait much longer, Lief thought desperately. And then he felt her hips thrust up and out, grinding eagerly toward him over and over again, and he knew he did not need to wait. Almost out of control now, he slid into her welcoming flesh and was fleetingly aware that he had never in all his life known such joy, such utter ecstasy.

  For Zena it was the same. Before he came into her she thought for a moment she would stop breathing from the intensity of her need. But when finally she felt him inside her the tension slowly smoothed out and she felt herself rise, held up in some unknown place by a warm mass of sensation deep within her. It was red, filled with fire, yet there was gentleness in it too, as if the fire knew its strength and would not blaze all at once, but slowly gather its forces. Higher still it propelled her, so that she was floating on the ever-expanding mass, and then she was flying above it, soaring and darting effortlessly even as she knew the fire inside her must soon explode and send her plunging toward the ground. And then it did; she felt the mass of sensation burst into fragments, sending its warmth, its blazing energy, into every part of her body, her breasts, her belly and buttocks, even her fingertips and toes. Down and down she spiraled, and then began to rise again as the mass came back together, smaller now, gentler, but still there. Lief felt her spasms and moved with them, and then he was unable to think at all.

  She felt his body rise up above her own and then crash down again, saw that he was shaking uncontrollably. His face was strained and the tendons of his neck stood out like great cords. She watched, amazed, then closed her eyes as her body took over again, forcing her to press against him, harder, harder, so that the mass inside her could gather force once more, propel her into the air until the explosion came, then send her fluttering down, this time into the warm gentle calm of satiation.

  Lief was limp inside her. He sighed, a great sigh of repletion. He could not move except to pull her even closer, could not speak except to murmur her name over and over again. She pressed her face against his chest, felt the bristly hair there absorb tears she did not know had formed. Satiated and utterly content, she snuggled drowsily against him and closed her eyes. Warmed by the sun, by each other, they slept.

  ******************

  Wind brought by the gathering clouds made Zena shiver. She sat abruptly, aware that a storm was brewing as so often happened toward the end of the day in summer. Pulling her tunic around her shoulders, she looked down at the still-sleeping Lief. His strong features were relaxed now, and his lips were curved into a half smile. She wanted to take him in her arms again, in gratitude, in wonder for what he had done, how he had made her feel, as if she were truly flying. He was part of her now, she realized suddenly, as she was part of him. The thought was joyous.

  There should be another kind of Akat, she mused, to describe the experience they had had together. Already, there were many types: Akate, which was fast and lustful, Akato, playful and full of laughter, and Akatele, a very tender kind of mating. There was Akatelo, slow and sensual, and Akatalelo, which was spiritual and close to the Mother. Perhaps she could call this new kind Akatolevo, Akat that flies.

  “Akatolevo,” she murmured, trying out the word to see how it sounded. Then she frowned. Had Lief felt this too? Perhaps she had not been able to do for him what he had done for her.

  He opened his eyes and looked at her, and she knew immediately that he had. His gaze was languorous, full of love. His words gave confirmation. “We can fly together, just as I said,” he told her softly, pulling himself up to sit beside her.

  She took his hand and they sat in silence, totally at ease with each other now and feeling no need to speak, until the strengthening wind drove them to their feet. The storm was moving fast, Zena realized. They must leave the high ridges.

  “I can smell it,” Lief said, as if she had spoken.
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  Zena nodded. “We should get down as quickly as we can.”

  Lief took her hand and held it firmly as they hurried over the next pass and down the rocky slope beyond it, skipping from one foothold to the next, legs tensed, bodies balanced precisely, inebriated with the joy of their delight in each other.

  Half-way down, rain hit their shoulders, and just as they reached the valley floor, thunder rumbled behind them. They darted into the woods, looking for shelter of some kind, and to their surprise heard the sound of laughter. Following the sound, they came to a small hut. Inside, they heard women’s voices, and again the laughter.

  “Their Ekali,” Zena whispered, abruptly remembering her mission. “This must be their Ekali, the women’s place. Perhaps I can take shelter from the storm with them. Then I can try to learn more about the young woman who will give birth.

  “But what of you?” she asked, anguished at the thought of leaving him at all, and especially leaving him in his cold, driving rain.

  “I will find a thick tree to shelter me,” he promised. “You must take advantage of this opportunity.” Smiling, he gave her a gentle push toward the shelter.

  Reluctantly, she nodded, but went first to wash herself in a small stream. She would not give her name, she decided. She would just ask if she could rest until the storm passed - and ask a lot of questions, see if they would talk.

  The women’s chatter stopped abruptly when she appeared. “I am sorry to intrude,” Zena apologized, “but I hoped I could take shelter here from the storm.”

  “You are welcome here,” an older woman said.

  “Thank you. I have been traveling for many days,” Zena explained, “and will be glad to rest for a time.”

  A girl, hardly old enough for her first bleeding, Zena thought, watched her with curious eyes. “Where do you come from?” she asked, her voice eager.

  “From a valley to the east,” Zena answered. “But before that I came from the sea, far to the south.”

  Reaching into her pack, she brought out a large shell in shades of smoky blue and pink, and some small pink ones with glossy curved surfaces, and handed them to the girl. “Here are shells from that place. You may have them.”

  The girl’s face lit up. “I thank you. They are beautiful!”

  “Tell me of your tribe,” Zena asked. “I have not been here before, nor have the traders with whom I travel.”

  “There are many people in our village,” the older woman said, “but traders do not come here often.”

  A round, dark-haired woman spoke. “We have a new Leader who is very fine and speaks to us often,” she said proudly. “He will come again soon.”

  “I have heard of this Leader,” Zena commented. “Is he as kind as people say?”

  “He is very kind,” the dark woman answered, but Zena noticed that the girl did not look convinced. She decided to probe further.

  “I have also heard that sometimes the Great Spirit comes to a woman, and then there is a child,” she said. “At the last village that was true, and at others. Has this happened here?”

  The girl looked up abruptly. “It has happened to my friend Pila, who shares my hut,” she admitted, and her face was uneasy.

  “Is she happy about this?”

  “Pila is very proud,” the dark-haired woman said firmly.

  The girl made no reply, but Zena saw her lips tremble, and the fingers that had been caressing the shells fell still.

  “The baby comes soon?” She hated to press the girl but she needed badly to know.

  “Very soon,” the girl whispered. “I think the pains have already begun. But it must be returned,” she added forlornly.

  “Returned?” Zena made her voice a question, pretending she had not understood.

  “To the Great Spirit,” the girl explained. “I know this but I am not sure if my friend understands. Still, I think she is very afraid.”

  “It is not good to speak of these things to a stranger, Brulet,” the older woman rebuked sharply. “You are too free with your thoughts!”

  “Yes. You must not speak so freely,” the dark-haired woman agreed, frowning at Brulet. She turned to Zena. “There will be a fine ceremony in a few days, when the infant will be returned to the Great Spirit,” she said, and again Zena heard pride in her voice. “Perhaps you would like to see it?”

  “I thank you. Perhaps I will,” Zena replied, and decided she would, except that she hoped no one would know she was there.

  The rain had almost stopped, and she stood, anxious to leave before the women began to ask questions she did not want to answer. “I will go on now and find my companions,” she said. “I thank you for giving me shelter.

  “Perhaps we will meet again,” she added, looking at Brulet and holding her eyes. The girl nodded slowly and did not look away.

  Deep in thought, Zena walked slowly back to rejoin Lief. The infant was already on the way, and the ceremony would take place in a few days. She did not have time to talk to these people, to try to make them see that killing an innocent baby was wrong. Many might not listen anyway, like the dark-haired woman. She would be stalwart in her support for the Leader. What, then, could be done?

  Lief had tried to protect himself from the rain with his tightly woven grass cape as well as the trees, but he still looked wet and very cold. Water dripped from every part of him.

  “Fire,” Zena said. “We must build ourselves a fire to get you warm. We must not be too close to the village, though. The Leader is coming soon, they say, and I do not want him to know we are nearby.”

  Lief nodded eagerly. They went deeper into the woods where no one was likely to come, and built a small fire in a cave beneath a sheltering rock ledge. Zena related what she had heard while the blaze warmed them, and they tried to think what could be done.

  “Perhaps we can steal the infant soon after it is born,” Lief suggested.

  Zena looked doubtful. “We would have to find someone to feed it if we did that. A newborn infant cannot go too long without food.”

  “Someone in Mara’s tribe might feed it,” Lief said. “But then the Leader or Korg would hear of it, and the child would be killed anyway,” he added with a sigh.

  “Yes. And it is not easy to keep an infant quiet,” Zena agreed. “Still, we will do that if we must, but I am sure there is a better way, if only we can think of it.”

  Lief made another suggestion. “We could speak to the mother of the infant, see if she will help us. She cannot want her child to die.”

  “I am not sure she understands,” Zena answered, “but even if she does, she may be too afraid to help us. Mara said they make certain of that. Besides, they will probably give her a potion so she does not know what is happening.”

  Later that night, the moon came out and they decided to use its light to watch the village and see if they could find the hut in which the baby was being born. The task proved easier than expected - all the huts were dark and silent save one. There, they heard voices, saw a brightly burning fire. Zena was wondering what to do next when Brulet emerged from the hut and walked toward them with a jug in her hand.

  “She comes for water, I think,” Zena whispered excitedly. “The stream is just behind us. I can speak with her.”

  Brulet’s mouth opened, ready to scream, when Zena touched her arm; then, recognizing Zena, she clapped a hand across it.

  “I am sorry to startle you,” Zena said softly. “I do not wish to be seen.” She stopped for a moment, thinking what she should say, before she continued softly. “Brulet, I thought you were not happy about your friend, about returning the baby. Is that true?”

  The girl nodded. “It is a beautiful boy,” she said, and tears started from her eyes.

  “I would like to save him,” Zena said. “That is why I am here, and my friend.” She pointed to Lief.

  Brulet’s face lit up. “I will help,” she said eagerly.

  “Thank you, Brulet. The best plan would be to take Pila and her baby away before they
can perform the ceremony, and you could help with that. Do you think she would be strong enough after the birth to travel with us to a safe place?”

  Brulet looked doubtful. “I do not know. She is brave but so tired, and also very weak. I do not know if she could walk. There was much bleeding. She was too young, the women say. They also gave her many potions to make her sleep.”

  Zena sighed. Even if the mother agreed to leave, she might not be ready to travel for many days. That would be too late.

  “Has the Leader come?” she asked abruptly.

  “He comes tomorrow, I have heard. Some of the men have gone over the ridge to meet him.” Brulet shuddered. “I do not like what the Leader says as the others do.” The words burst out, as if she had never before dared to say them.

  “This I understand, Brulet, and I believe you are right,” Zena assured her.

  She looked into the girl’s small, courageous face. “Have you heard of the Great Mother, of those who worship Her?”

  Brulet’s eyes brightened again. “Once, we were Mother People. I liked it better then. But the Leader came and we changed.”

  “One day, you may be Mother People again,” Zena told her. “You can help that to happen. First, can I trust you not to tell anyone, even your friend Pila, that I am here, of the words I spoke?”

  Brulet nodded seriously. “I will not tell,” she promised.

  “Also,” Zena said, thinking fast, “you must not let your face show that you have spoken to me, that there may be a chance the baby can be saved. You must act exactly as you did before.”

  “I can do that,” the girl said. “I will be sad as I was before, and afraid, and no one will know that I now have hope.”

  Zena hugged her. “I thank you, Brulet. The Mother Herself thanks you. I have one more question, and then you must get the water before they miss you. Do you know when the ceremony will be performed?”

  The eagerness left Brulet’s face. “Only a few days after the Leader arrives, I have heard. There is not much time.”