He Who Lifts the Skies

by Kacy Barnett-Gramckow

  Ignoring Sharah’s scornful glance, Keren found a stick, knelt down, and began to loosen the earth around the tubers. She was just lifting a clump of damp soil away from the tubers when a horseman rode out of the trees on the opposite side of the clearing. Another horseman followed him. Then another. Nimr-Rada’s men. Startled, Keren looked up at Sharah. “They’ve come back. Why?”

  “They never left,” Sharah said, perfectly calm, her eyes gleaming.

  “What do you mean? They left two days ago.” Keren stood, clutching a tuber. Nimr-Rada’s horsemen were forming an efficient, orderly line. Now Nimr-Rada himself came riding out of the trees, his eyes fixed on Keren and Sharah, his powerful, broad-boned face actually reflecting pleasure.

  “They’ve returned for us,” Sharah informed Keren. “I told him we’d be here.”

  “Sharah, how could you? I told you I’ll never marry that Nimr-Rada!”

  “You won’t,” Sharah answered, flinging Keren a proud, defiant look. “But I will. And you’re coming with me.”

  “No.” Keren started to retreat, shaking, appalled. Sharah snatched her arm. Keren wrenched herself free, then ran, dropping her digging stick, the tuber, and her shawl.

  “Keren!” Sharah screeched. Keren glanced back, just in time to see Nimr-Rada motion for the guardsmen to follow Keren. Terrified, she ran into the dense, sheltering woods, praying for the protection of the Most High.

  Eight

  KEREN CHARGED INTO the woods, scraped past some coarse shrubs, then scrambled up the nearest tree. As she huddled in the crook of a branch, she fought hysteria, thinking, This is a fruit tree. I can’t hide here; it’s too small. But if I get down now, I’ll be seen. I hear them searching for me.…

  She could also hear her own breathing, ragged and harsh. Trying to muffle the sound, she covered her face with her hands. But her fingers and palms were coated with damp soil; the taste of the dirt filled her mouth and her nostrils, gagging her, making her eyes water.

  Be calm, she told herself, hearing a rustling noise. This tree may be small compared to some, but it’s leafed, and it’s surrounded by shrubs and evergreens. If I keep still, then I’m only a shadow, if those guardsmen don’t look too hard.

  Even as she thought this, a young guardsman—on foot—neared her tree. Lowering his dark-braided head, he poked through the shrubs with a flint-tipped arrow. Keren trembled as he passed. He didn’t look up. She drooped, relieved. A memory arose in her mind, I’ma-Annah saying, “I hid in a tree that night, terrified. And yet, I felt the presence of the Most High surrounding me.…”

  O Most High, please save me now, as You saved I’ma-Annah. Tearful, Keren wiped her eyes against her arms, then stiffened. Another man was passing the shrubs surrounding her tree. Lawkham. He was looking upward, but in the wrong direction. No doubt he remembered seeing her jump out of the willow tree when she was gathering cuttings for Meleah’s basket.

  Why did you have to see that? Keren groaned inwardly. She watched until Lawkham moved away, then shifted her gaze to a thin ray of sunlight flickering over the shrubs below. Surely Nimr-Rada and his men would give up searching soon.

  Now, from the shadows below, a young guardsman’s toughened brown hand slowly reached toward the thin ray of sunlight. Keren watched the man’s hand, perplexed. What was he reaching for?

  His fingers outstretched, the young guardsman pinched at a leaf, and—with the utmost delicacy—drew away one very long, curling, almost invisible hair. One of mine, Keren thought, horrified. For an instant, she saw no one. Then Zehker waded into the shrubs and grasped the lowest branch of her tree.

  Expressionless, he looked up at Keren and motioned for her to descend.

  Keren shook her head, tears welling in her eyes as she begged him beneath her breath, “No, please.” All her fears were in those two words. If she said anything more, she would cry. Zehker’s eyes flickered, deciding. He answered with an almost imperceptible nod. But before he could remove his hand from the tree, a voice called to him.

  “Zehker, you’ve found her!” Another young man hurried into view, looked up at Keren, and laughed, his teeth white in his ferretlike brown face. “I’ll tell He-Who-Lifts-the-Skies—he will reward us both.” He darted away, calling to the others, “Stay with Zehker! Don’t let her escape.”

  Other young guardsmen crowded about the wary Zehker now, hacking away the bushes with their flails and axes. Some of the young men were grinning, watching her speculatively. Keren shut her eyes, humiliated.

  I’m merely a creature they’ve snared. Just listen to them, laughing and congratulating each other over a successful hunt! But I won’t let them win, she thought fiercely. They’ll have to drag me out of this tree; I’m going to climb higher.

  She heard others approaching. Then Nimr-Rada’s rich, strong, unmistakable voice said, “Come down, my sister. You have no reason to be afraid.”

  I won’t answer you, Keren thought, enraged. She stood on her branch, preparing to climb higher.

  Nimr-Rada’s voice hardened. “Do you think you will save yourself? You are mistaken! And if you defy me any further, that Yithran will pay for your disobedience.”

  Yithran. Keren froze.

  Nimr-Rada continued, “How many days has your Yithran been gone? Eight? Nine? Think of him, my sister. He and his two companions are on foot. Perhaps they have stopped to hunt along the way. My horsemen could easily overtake them before they reach the Lodge of the Ancient Ones.”

  Unable to believe what she was hearing, Keren looked down at Nimr-Rada.

  He actually smiled. “His mother won’t even have the comfort of burying his corpse.”

  Keren shut her eyes, aghast, imagining Yithran surrounded by the soldier-horsemen of Nimr-Rada, their arrows aimed at his heart. The blood seemed to stop in her veins; her face, her hands, her feet, all went cold.

  “Come down, my sister,” Nimr-Rada urged. “If you are obedient, then you—and your Yithran—have nothing to fear.”

  He will do as he said, Keren realized. Yithran and his two companions would be dead within days. Nauseated, she crouched on her supporting branch, set one foot on a lower limb, and slowly descended toward the base of the tree. As she scooted onto the lowest branch, Nimr-Rada put out one large hand to steady her. Scorning his help, Keren shied away from his hand and dropped to the ground. She straightened and glared at him. “I’ve obeyed you. Now you must keep your word.”

  “I will keep my word,” Nimr-Rada answered. His eyes incomprehensible, he added, “And you will keep my word as well.”

  Turning, he called to his men, “Listen to me, all of you. This woman is like poison! The instant any man touches her—including me—his penalty is death. And this is how we handle such a one.” Using his elaborate wood-and-leather flail, he prodded Keren through the mutilated shrubs and onto the path. Striking her shoulders, legs, and rump, he goaded her toward the clearing as if she were an animal.

  Seething, Keren thought, This is your revenge because I’ve refused your attentions! How could Sharah admire such an arrogant, spiteful being? But of course, her sister was just like him at heart.

  Sharah was waiting for them at the edge of the trees. Her pale eyes glinting, she shoved Keren. “You’re so stupid that I can’t believe you’re my sister! Look at you; you’ve got dirt all over your face.”

  “I’d rather have a soiled face than a filthy spirit, my sister,” Keren muttered.

  Before Sharah could answer, Nimr-Rada grabbed her. Compelling her to step into his linked hands, he lifted her onto a horse tethered nearby. When he looked back at Keren, she shrugged, unwilling to move. “If I’m like poison, Mighty One, then how can I get on that horse? I can’t mount it by myself.”

  Instantly she regretted her sarcasm. Nimr-Rada was obviously not used to such defiance. He tensed, seeming ready to thrash her, but then he restrained himself. “A way will be found.”

  Lawkham approached. Inclining his head respectfully toward Nimr-Rada, he said, “As you command, Great
King.”

  Quickly, Lawkham took two unfinished, unstrung wooden bow staves from a nearby horse and stood beside Sharah’s horse. Zehker followed him, silent as always. Lawkham aligned the two staves, and he and Zehker held the ends, forming a narrow, branchlike step between them. Nimr-Rada grunted approvingly and swatted Keren toward the horse with his flail.

  “Don’t touch us,” Lawkham warned Keren. “Place your hands on the horse for balance.”

  Infuriated by Lawkham’s inventiveness, Keren obeyed. She mounted the horse behind Sharah, struggling with the long skirt of her tunic, thinking, It’s a shame I can’t be like poison to my sister.

  Sharah was smiling at Nimr-Rada, her pale profile alight with pleasure. Nimr-Rada lifted his dark eyebrows, obviously satisfied as any hunter who has caught a prize. Moving easily, he vaulted onto his horse, snatched the reins of Sharah and Keren’s horse, and motioned for his waiting horsemen to follow them.

  I won’t cry, Keren thought, as they rode away from the lands of the tribe of Bezeq. Somehow, I’ll escape. If I can keep my mind clear, if I can throw Sharah off this horse.…

  Despite being jounced by the movements of the horse, Sharah managed to pick the slender, carved wooden pins from her braided hair. Flinging the pins away, she rapidly finger combed her long, pale hair until it fluttered in Keren’s face.

  Irritated, Keren swiped at Sharah’s hair. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m declaring myself free of Bezeq. I’m no longer his wife.”

  “Are you also no longer Gibbawr’s mother?”

  “He’s better off without me.” Sharah actually sounded lighthearted. She shrugged and changed the subject. “Really, now that we’re grown, it looks so indelicate for us to sit astride like this.”

  “If you can think of a better way to ride a horse without falling off, then do so!”

  Keren longed to slap her. In one breath Sharah had abandoned her baby and then fretted about looking indelicate. How could she be so unnatural? Digging her fingers hard into Sharah’s upper arms, Keren hissed, “You are monstrous! Why have you done this to me?”

  “Let go of my arms.”

  “No! Why have you done this to me?”

  “Because,” Sharah whispered viciously, “the Great King said that your presence is necessary.”

  “Why should I be necessary to him?” Keren leaned into Sharah, feeling as if she were on the edge of an uncontrolled, raving fit. “Doesn’t he know that I despise him for tearing our family apart?”

  “I’ve said no such thing to him.” Sharah jerked her arms free. “And you’d better keep those angry thoughts to yourself if you want to live. The Great King won’t endure your contempt, Keren.”

  “I don’t care! No woman beneath these blue heavens has ever abandoned her husband—not to mention an infant son. And what about our parents? They’ll be devastated by this shame.”

  Stiffening, Sharah said, “It’s too late for me to change anything now. But why should you care? You’ve always said to me ‘Be happy.’ Well, now I am happy, and you’re angry with me.”

  “I meant that you should be happy with what you have! Instead, you always want what you shouldn’t have. You have kicked your blessings in the teeth.”

  “Don’t you dare lecture me.” Turning, Sharah snatched Keren’s hair, almost knocking her off balance. Then, just as suddenly, Sharah gasped and released her. Keren flinched. Nimr-Rada was jabbing Sharah, then Keren with the haft of his flail.

  “I punish my men when they fight,” he snarled. “Believe me, my sisters, I treasure you both, but you will suffer agonies if you don’t behave.”

  I believe you, Keren thought, lowering her eyes hastily. Nimr-Rada’s men, as proud and courageous as they were, feared him and respected his every word.

  Trying to calm herself, Keren focused upon Yithran’s delicate gold-and-crystal bracelet, still gleaming on her wrist. Yithran, I wish I could believe you’re safe. But I’m sure that no matter where I am, Nimr-Rada will always be able to send his men to kill you if I try to escape. He’s contemptible. In despair, Keren looked up at the cloud-dappled heavens, wailing in her heart, O Most High, I don’t understand! I prayed to You with all my might. Why didn’t You save me, as You saved I’ma-Annah? Why?

  Wearily, Keren braced her hands on either side of the horse’s black-and-tawny neck, stretching as much as she dared. Three days of sharing this horse with Sharah had consumed most of her patience, as well as her physical endurance. She stared up at the reddened dusk, aching miserably from head to toe. Soon Nimr-Rada would allow them to stop for the night. Not that it mattered to Sharah, who was behind her, leaning against her in a dead-weighted sleep. Keren longed to push her sister and watch her fall in a graceless heap onto the ground. Even asleep, Sharah was a burden. She’s probably drooling in my hair.

  Grimacing, Keren looked ahead. Lawkham was leading her horse—a task Nimr-Rada had abandoned after the first day of their journey, to Sharah’s disgust.

  As if sensing Keren’s weariness, Lawkham looked over his shoulder, giving her a sly grin of encouragement, then turning away, straight-backed and dignified, as if he had never noticed her at all.

  You’re a prankster and a flirt, she thought to Lawkham, liking him. But as for your “adopted” brother, Zehker, he’s strict enough to be someone’s father.

  Keren watched, irritated, as Zehker brought his horse alongside Lawkham’s and spoke to him, nodding toward Nimr-Rada, who had apparently commanded them to change places. At once Lawkham handed the lead reins of Keren’s horse to Zehker.

  That Zehker is arrogant, Keren decided. But Lawkham doesn’t even care. Don’t they ever fight?

  Lawkham was talking quietly, his hands gesturing in sweeping motions, his eyes shining as he spoke. Zehker merely responded with nods, shrugs, and an occasional word or two of agreement. Studying them, Keren realized that they understood each other completely. My own brothers aren’t such friends with each other.

  Her stomach tightened at the thought, and she wondered when she would see her brothers. The previous night, as they sat near the evening fire, Nimr-Rada had implied that Sharah and Keren would see their brothers soon. But there had been a reproachful note in his voice, making Keren reluctant to question him further. And Sharah, seated beside Keren, had elbowed her hard, signaling her to be silent.

  Stretching now, Sharah yawned, “Who’s leading us? Ugh, it’s that stupid Zehker. He’s made himself our guard.”

  “As your Great King commanded,” Keren murmured.

  “Well, I want to be rid of him as soon as possible; I’ll tell my beloved so.”

  Beloved. Keren clenched her jaw. Sharah was behaving as if she had never been married at all—as if Nimr-Rada would be her first and only husband. She was about to remind Sharah that she was truly married to Bezeq, but the high echoing call of a distant horn stopped her. Keren looked up.

  Nimr-Rada was leading them out of the hills and onto the vast grass-covered plains. A proud, sun-darkened horseman rode toward them, brandishing a hollowed, curving, polished ram’s horn in a triumphant gesture of greeting. Other horsemen rode up to join the first horseman, forming orderly, well-trained lines.

  “Look at all the horsemen!” Sharah exclaimed. “There are more than a hundred.”

  At once Nimr-Rada took the lead reins of Keren’s horse from Zehker. Waving his free hand dismissively, he said, “Move to either side; guard my sisters.”

  Zehker and Lawkham bowed their heads and drew their horses back to ride with Keren and Sharah.

  Keren shivered, grateful for their protection. She knew that Nimr-Rada had trained a large army, but she had never translated this knowledge into multitudes of real living horsemen. Seeing so many of them together was overwhelming—and this was only one portion of Nimr-Rada’s supremely confident, forbiddingly armed followers. Now Keren understood why all the tribes of the earth regarded them with such fear. She hunched her shoulders, wishing she could hide.

  “Straighten up
,” Sharah hissed, thumping Keren’s back with her fist. “Don’t be such a coward. Really, as fearful as you are, I should be sitting ahead of you now.”

  “You wanted me to sit in front so you could rest,” Keren reminded Sharah, her fear negated by a fresh surge of anger. “Don’t worry, O Woman-of-No-Color. Those horsemen will see you wherever you are.” As she spoke, Keren heard the disdain and rage in her own voice. I sound like Sharah, she realized, hating the thought. O Most High, help me; I do not wish to become like my sister.

  Lifting her chin, Keren studied Nimr-Rada’s broad, leopard-skin-cloaked back. The instant she looked at him, Keren was unable to look away; now Nimr-Rada radiated a boundless charisma that commanded the admiration of his followers.

  The Great King’s horsemen were stopping, dividing their ranks so he could ride in among them. Lifting the lead reins of Keren and Sharah’s horse, Nimr-Rada called out to his men, “I have done what I said I would do! I have brought my sisters—who are like no others—to dwell among my people!”

  Hearing this, Keren longed to shrink down into nothingness so she would not have to endure the scrutiny of countless avid eyes. But she kept her gaze fixed on Nimr-Rada. They were riding in among the horsemen, who responded in a high, unified, tongue-rattling cry of triumph. The piercing sound chilled Keren, making the hair tingle and crawl in her scalp. Sharah seemed equally affected and tightened her arms about Keren until Keren couldn’t draw in a full breath.

  Using his free arm, Nimr-Rada lifted his elaborately carved flail, silencing his men. “Tonight, we celebrate the arrival of my two sisters. Go ahead of us to prepare our places!” Grandly he waved his flail toward their encampment, which was already set up in the distance amid the flowing, flowering grasses of the plains.

  Yowling enthusiastically, Nimr-Rada’s horsemen broke their formations and kicked their horses into a full gallop. Unnerved, feeling her own horse start to move after them, Keren dug her knees hard into the creature’s sides, while pulling on its mane, causing it to balk. Ahead of them, still holding the reins, Nimr-Rada was jolted backward by Keren’s action but swiftly released his hold on the reins of Keren’s horse to prevent himself from falling off his own horse.