“I promise we will do our very best,” Zena told her. “And surely the Goddess will help us as well.”
“I hope it is so,” Brulet replied soberly, and turned away.
“She is very brave,” Lief said, watching Brulet trudge back to the hut, her small figure bent under the weight of the jug.
“Very brave. I hope I can do what I have promised her I would do!” Zena’s voice was anguished.
Lief took her hand. “We can do no more here,” he said firmly. “Let us go back to the fire and think together.”
For a long time, they traded ideas, but always they faced the same problems - there was not enough time to convince the villagers that what they were doing was wrong, not enough time get help, and no way to be sure they could keep the infant alive if they decided to take him. And when they went to look at the hut to see how that might be done, they realized it would be almost impossible. Three people stood guard at the entrance. Korg and the Leader were taking no chances.
“Perhaps we could hide and then snatch the infant away during this ceremony,” Lief said hopefully as they returned to the fire. “Or maybe we could stop the Leader from coming, and then there would be no ceremony.”
Zena brightened at the thought and then shook her head. “He would come back and we cannot stop him every time.”
“But perhaps we could take the infant just before the ceremony, when they carry him out,” she added thoughtfully. “They might not be so watchful then.”
Lief shook his head. “The whole tribe would be watching. They would soon take him back - and take us as well.” Gloomily, he rose to get more wood for the fire.
Zena sat brooding. The infant had to be taken; that was clear. Maybe the best time would be during the ceremony when everyone was watching Korg or the Leader and they were watching the people. But if she did that, she would have to grab the infant before anyone had time to react, even to think, and that meant whatever she did must be fast - and dramatic. Then maybe either she or Lief could hold everyone’s attention just long enough for the other one to get away with the baby.
She clenched her fists in frustration. That would not work either. Even if one of them got away, what would happen to the other?
Lief threw the wood on the fire and sat down beside her, placing a comforting arm around her shoulder. Zena leaned against him, wishing that she could forget the problem and just relax with him for a few moments, maybe fly with him in Akat as they had before...
Abruptly, she sat up straight. Something Lief had told her on the mountain was stirring in her mind, pulling out an idea that had been buried there. There was something else he had said, too, that the Leader’s ceremony was not real…
Closing her eyes, she concentrated fiercely. Slowly, one piece at a time, a picture unfolded in her mind, and she stared at it in astonishment. She had learned more from Korg and the Leader - and from Lief - than she had realized. But was her plan possible? Even more, would she be able to do it? Lief could play his part; of that she was certain. She was less sure that she would have the strength, the presence, to play her own role. Nor was she certain she liked what she would have to do. Still, to save the infant it must be done. Later, she reassured herself, she would be able to spend time with the villagers, to speak with them of the Goddess and try to convince them to return to Her ways. But for now -
“How do you see me?” she asked Lief abruptly.
Lief looked surprised at the question but he answered readily. “I see a small, well-built woman with long hair that glows with a hint of fire in the sun, with eyes the blue-green color of the sea, a woman who is very strong but does not yet know the fullness of her strength.
“But it is there, the strength - and the power,” he told her seriously, seeing the uncertainty in her face. And the fire, the passion, he thought to himself, but he did not say those words aloud lest he distract her from her task.
“It will have to be,” Zena answered grimly. “Without it, the plan I have thought of cannot succeed. Nor can it succeed without you. I will need Hular and Durak, too. I hope they will come in time.”
She could not do it without her sister, or without the Goddess as well, she thought to herself. All of them must help if her idea was to work.
“I am very glad to have you with me, Lief,” she told him gratefully. “You have helped me more than you can know.
“Now,” she continued in a low, determined voice, “this is what we must do.” Bending her head close to Lief’s, she explained the details of her plan.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Durak pulled Rofina into his arms for a last embrace; then he steeled himself to watch her walk away. He was still afraid for her in a way he could not define, but at least now he knew the separation would be temporary. The next day they would meet again in the big, flower-filled meadow as they had each day since that first time, and then they would leave this place and travel together to his village. Rofina would be safe there and they would be happy together. The realization filled him with joy. Soon, he thought deliriously, he and Rofina need never be apart again.
He set off eagerly to look for Mara and her mother, so he could tell them that Rofina had agreed to come with him when he returned to his tribe. Perhaps they would come as well, which would surely please Rofina.
His joyous face told Mara what had happened even before he spoke. “Rofina wishes to come with me!” he burst out, before she could warn him to be careful.
Her cautious eyes made him remember. “Where can we speak?” he whispered urgently. “We must speak.” Mara’s eyes swept the area carefully; then she nodded and led the way into their hut. Runor sat in one corner, winding flax onto a spindle. Her hands did not cease their practiced motions when she saw Durak, but her face was welcoming.
“I feel excitement in you,” she remarked, raising her eyes to his face.
“It is Rofina,” Durak answered, careful now to keep his voice low. “She has said she will return with me to my tribe. I hope you and Mara will come too. This is not a good place for you to be. Korg frightens me, though I am not sure why.”
“The Leader is more frightening,” Runor said quietly, “for he believes that what he does is good. He cannot see the reality, only his vision, and so he cannot easily be stopped.”
“Korg’s vision,” Mara said bitterly. “The Leader follows Korg, though Korg makes it seem the other way.”
“Where did they come from, Korg and the Leader?” Durak asked curiously.
Runor hesitated. “I have heard that they come from the same tribe far to the north and are brothers,” she answered finally. “All we know with certainty is that they now travel from one village to the next telling people of the Great Spirit.” She hoped this was enough to satisfy Durak. Not to anyone, not even Mara, would she tell the rest of what she knew.
“And people believe what they say,” Mara added somberly. “Not all, but some. And once these people began to worship the Great Spirit, others in the village follow out of fear. To go against the teachings can be dangerous.”
Durak shuddered. “Perhaps that is why I am so afraid each time when we separate and Rofina must return to the Leader.”
“Does she return willingly?” Runor’s voice was sharp.
Durak frowned. “I am not certain,” he admitted reluctantly. “I know she does not wish to leave me, but she does not seem to mind returning to him, either.”
“That may be because she is so accustomed to being there,” Mara said slowly. “Or it may be...” She stopped uncertainly, aware that her half-formed thought that the Leader had made it impossible for Rofina to leave him, made no sense. “It may be that Rofina still tires easily,” she said instead, to reassure Durak.
Runor heard the uncertainty in Mara’s tone and looked up quickly. Had Mara guessed what she herself had finally realized? Probably not, she thought, studying Mara’s puzzled face, and it was better so. Mara was too burdened already. Only if she could leave this place would those burdens fall from her.
>
For the first time, the import of Durak’s words became real to Runor. Never before had she dared to hope that they could actually leave the village. But now, if Rofina had agreed, it might be possible. Rofina might never be truly saved, but Mara... Mara’s life would change if she were among Mother People. All that bitterness would drain away.
Runor straightened her bent shoulders and turned to Durak. “We will go with you,” she announced abruptly. “The time has come.” Her lined face lit up with unexpected joy. “To be among Mother People again is more than I dared to hope for, but perhaps it will happen after all.”
“But will Korg and the Leader let Rofina leave so easily?” Mara asked dubiously.
“I cannot see how they can stop her.” Runor made her voice positive, but Mara did not look convinced. Runor was not convinced either, but they had to try.
“Korg and the Leader leave soon for the village west of here, where Zena and Lief have gone,” she added. “That would be a good time for us to take Rofina away.”
“That is an excellent idea. I will arrange it with Rofina tomorrow,” Durak promised. “With the Leader and Korg gone, we should have no trouble.”
“I hope you are right,” Mara said, still sounding doubtful.”
The next day when Rofina came to the field, Durak saw at once that something was wrong. There were dark shadows under her eyes, and her hands picked ceaselessly at her clothing, at her hair. They were shaking badly.
“Did not you sleep, Rofina?” he asked tenderly, taking her trembling fingers into his own big hands to steady them.
Rofina nodded. “I did not sleep,” she agreed. “I think I should go back now.” She pulled her hands away.
“But you have just come! Let us lie here for a time so you can rest. Then, we can make our plans. Your mother and Mara will come with us to my tribe. That will be fine, will it not?”
“I cannot come,” Rofina said tremulously. “I cannot leave the Leader.”
Durak was bewildered. Yesterday, she had wanted very much to leave, had smiled like an eager child and assured him she would come. Now everything seemed to have changed. He took a deep breath and tried again.
“Rofina, it is not good for you to stay here,” he told her gently. He stroked her arms, her back and shoulders, to soothe her, then urged her to lie down so the tall grasses would hide them. He did not think anyone knew of their meetings, but he did not want to take chances.
Rofina knelt, but she would not lie down. “I must stay here,” she whimpered, and her eyes pleaded with him to understand. “I must. They will not let me go.”
“Then I will take you with me anyway,” Durak said stoutly. “They cannot stop us.”
Covering her eyes with shaking hands, Rofina began to weep. Durak pulled her into his arms to comfort her and felt the terrible resistance of her body, so stiff with misery it could not bend. Over and over, he assured her that it would be all right, that he would find a way to take her without the Leader’s knowledge or Korg’s, but the crying only worsened. Rofina wept with total, helpless abandon, and Durak did not know why. Finally, he stopped talking and simply held her.
Limp now with exhaustion, she let him lower her to the ground and after a time she slept. Every few moments, her body twitched, as if some terrible fear, or perhaps a memory, was buried deep inside her that could not be controlled.
When she woke, she insisted that she must return to the Leader right away. Durak tried to dissuade her, but that only made her weep again and moan with fear. Reluctantly, he let her go without speaking further of their plans. This time, his heart contracted with anguish when he watched her walk away. Before, he had been certain she would come again the next day; now, he did not know.
When he told Runor what had happened, she did not seem surprised. This, too, he did not understand.
“Wait until Rofina is more rested, and then try again,” she advised him. ‘still, we will take her with us anyway if we must,” she added grimly. “There is no choice now.”
Dusk had come already, but Durak was too restless and upset to think of sleep. Instead, he decided to hide in the trees and watch the Leader’s hut. He was certain now that something was terribly wrong with Rofina and that the Leader was involved, or Korg, and he had to know what it was.
“Be careful,” Sorlin warned him, looking worried. “I do not trust these people.”
“I will be careful,” Durak promised, and headed into the thick trees to find a place that gave a good view of the huts. For a long time, he saw nothing but the usual activities in any village - people going to the bushes, speaking softly around the fires, and tending them. Then silence fell. Briefly, he fell asleep, but uneasy dreams of Rofina weeping for him, of Rofina tormented by Korg, soon woke him. Rubbing his eyes to dispel the images, he waited again. Just when sleep had almost conquered him a second time, a sound came, not from the Leader’s hut but from the woods some distance away. The sound was so low he would not have heard it had he not been listening hard. It was the drums again, he realized, not the hard pounding he had heard before but a soft, seductive sound that drew him forward.
He moved cautiously through the trees, determined not to let even a footfall betray him. Still, when he came to the place he almost gasped and gave himself away. Before him was a low fire and beside it sat Rofina. Her beautiful face, white and pleading, was turned up to the Leader, who murmured soothing words. Korg crouched beside them, mixing some kind of potion in a small bowl. No sound came from Rofina, but her eyes begged. Finally, Korg handed the cup to the Leader, who placed it gently against Rofina’s lips. She drank greedily and the tension in her face began to relax. “That is good,” she murmured. Sighing, she slipped to the ground and closed her eyes.
Durak stared in horror. What had they given her? And why was she here, with both of them?
The drumming sounds had stopped, he realized. Then they began again, and he saw that Korg made them, had stopped only to mix the potion. With practiced hands, he beat gently with two slender sticks against a skin stretched across a large wooden bowl. The rhythm was hypnotic, demanding. After a time, Rofina rose and began to sway seductively. Her eyes were glazed, unseeing, and her lips were parted in a kind of ecstasy. Abruptly, she pulled at the closure to her garment and it dropped away, revealing her pale smooth body. Durak saw Korg’s tongue come out to moisten his lips. The gesture was obscene.
“It works, Leader.” Korg did not bother to lower his voice, but Rofina did not seem to hear. “Soon, she will be ready for you.” His eyes glistened avidly in the glow of the fire.
“I thank you, Korg,” the Leader answered. “It is good that this should happen. Rofina will be grateful.” Durak could not see his face, but the tone was gentle.
Mesmerized, almost paralyzed, Durak tried to think what he should do. He must interfere, he realized, must go to Rofina. Rising, he opened his mouth to call her name, but a hand came over it; other hands pushed him to his knees and held him there. He struggled against them, but they were too strong.
The drums were more insistent now, and Rofina stopped, listening intently. Then, with a sudden movement, she bent backward, thrusting out her hips in blatant sexual invitation. Dropping the sticks, Korg went close to watch. Twice, Rofina repeated the movement while Korg watched. His face held no expression, but drops of perspiration formed on his forehead.
Durak turned his head away, unable to look any longer. He struggled again to stand, but the hands held him firm, pressed hard against his mouth. He closed his eyes, determined not to see any more, but he could not block out the sounds.
“She is ready,” Korg said.
Durak heard the Leader rise. “I am here, Rofina,” he said tenderly. “I am here. I will give you what you want.” The soothing voice continued amidst soft rustling sounds, and Durak tried desperately not to imagine the scene. Was he lying above her? But why? Why would she let him do this? She was moaning now, and there were other sounds, sounds that were torn from a woman and a man as their
bodies came together in that frantic moment of need…
Desperate suddenly to be certain, Durak opened his eyes. Rofina’s slender body was almost invisible beneath the Leader’s big form, and their joined bodies were moving in a passionate rhythm that could not be mistaken…
Durak’s stomach heaved, and he retched. Abruptly, the hands forced him to his feet, pushed him back in the direction from which he had come. He stumbled away, choking and gagging, uncaring of the noise he made, unaware of anything except the scene he had witnessed. It would never leave his mind; he knew it would not, and the realization brought an anguish so deep it paralyzed his body, so that his legs froze in mid-stride and he fell again to his knees. Each time he saw Rofina, each time he held her in his arms, he would see the scene, see her pinned under the Leader’s big body, begging for more… Always, he would hear the repulsive sounds...
A deep voice behind him penetrated his paralysis and sent him reeling once more into the darkness of the woods.
“If you speak of this you will die,” the voice warned. Durak did not doubt the words were true.
******************
Sorlin stared at the scene before her with horrified eyes. Too worried about Durak to rest, she had gone to look for him, had spotted him creeping through the woods to this place. She had followed, but she had not dared to alert him to her presence, lest the men guarding Korg and the Leader hear her and know that she, too, was watching. Nor did she dare to hiss Durak’s name as he blundered away, or to creep after him. Instead, she forced herself to sit perfectly still, aware that no one could see her unless she moved, so well was she hidden beneath the big fur she used for sleeping.
The Leader and Rofina were still now. “I am pleased, my dear Rofina,” the Leader murmured to her unresponsive form. “Now you are a woman, and that is good.” Sorlin saw him stroke Rofina’s face with loving fingers before he rose to his knees and pulled his garments together again, and she cringed. To use Rofina in that way and then to comfort her... How was it possible for a man to behave that way?
ICE BURIAL: The Oldest Human Murder Mystery (The Mother People Series Book 3) Page 10