"To Enyalia, yes." Alaysha thought she heard Gael let go a bark of anger, but since none of the women reacted, she supposed it was just her own wishful thinking. Still, she wouldn't agree. She couldn't agree. She didn't own anyone.
"Maga?" Cai prodded.
Alaysha shook her head. "They're not mine to relinquish."
Cai shifted subtly from one foot to the other, and Alaysha felt a brief moment where her she thought the warrior would change her mind. She dared to believe the woman would let them go. Then the moment was over and Alaysha thought the Enyalian looked pleased, but certainly not enough to let them go.
"If they belong to no one, then so now even more they're ours, and you have no reason to remain when Thera is done with you."
Cai stepped away even as Alaysha was trying to decipher exactly what deal had been struck without her consent. The woman stepped behind Gael and looked down at him, saying nothing for long moments. Finally, she edged sideways so that she faced the warrior standing on his left. The blur she created the next instant took Alaysha by surprise; the woman spun hard, the velocity behind her body lending enough energy that when her foot shot out sideways, it landed on the back of Gael's neck and he fell forward without a sound. He lay, unmoving, while Cai looked down at him unemotionally.
Alaysha was already sprinting forward as he fell, but she wasn't fast enough to catch him. Even with the full weight of her anxiety propelling her forward, she landed against the flat of Cai's palm, held outstretched almost lazily.
"He murdered five of my best, little maga." There was a subtle pressure from Cai's hand as she pushed Alaysha away. Her hair was in her face, but she did nothing to sweep it aside. What Alaysha could see of the green gaze beneath was as cold as the waters of the broad sea. "When he wakes, he'll find himself tied to my beast by his ankles."
"You can't do that."
Cai motioned to the two guards who pulled hemp rope coiled around the leather belts that hung on their waists and began wrapping Gael's feet together.
"I can do whatever I like with him. He belongs to Enyalia." She whistled with fingers in her mouth and the rest of the women went into action almost as though they were connected mind to mind. Cai set Alaysha away easily.
"You may ride," she said.
Alaysha watched as Gael was tied to Cai's beast. Thankfully, he was tall enough that even being strapped to the animal by his feet, it was only his shoulders that took most of the ground. Still, who knew how long he'd be dragged along behind before they reached their destination.
"If he belongs to Enyalia, then Enyalia will end up with nothing but a useless bloody mess."
Cai merely shrugged.
"His back will be torn to shreds."
"It's not his back I need to concern myself with, maga."
"You should," Alaysha said, fully aware she was pleading, bargaining. "He'll die."
"All men die eventually, little maga. But we have a very skilled bone witch who will heal any—troublesome—wounds." Cai crawled onto her beast and looked back at her. "You may ride," she said again and indicated the spot behind her.
Alaysha scanned the group. Edulph had been hoisted like a sack onto another beast with two humps and he lay across it facedown. Undignified for a man who a few fortnights ago commanded an admittedly bedraggled but dedicated group of soldiers, and uncomfortable for any conscious person.
Gael still hadn't come to. At least he hadn't seemed to. Alaysha took some comfort in that.
She took note of Gael as he lay on the ground and crossed her arms stubbornly. There was no way she'd let him be dragged while she sat on a beast for the rest of the trip. She either got him untied or she carried him.
"Untie him," she said to the leader.
The woman turned her back on Alaysha and made a short movement with her hand; the beasts nudged forward. Alaysha scrambled to grab for Gael's shoulders and missed as he moved inches ahead. She shouted, begging the woman to stop and was rewarded. The redhead turned again but with a smirk.
"You want on, little maga?"
Alaysha shook her head and grappled for Gael's torso. It took several grunting moments but at last she managed to heft Gael's weight onto her shoulder. The woman pursed her lips and waved her comrades on; the shambling motion of the beast started again and as Alaysha staggered forward she realized something Cai said that had struck a quiet niggling part of her mind.
She'd called the bone witch Thera.
She knew well that Saxa's people named their sons for the mother. Saxa had named her son Saxon even though he was Yuri's heir. And Theron himself was from Saxa's tribe. And Theron had been this way before. It had to be coincidence. Had to be.
Alaysha worked to get at the pivot point of Gael's body as she worked considered the bone witch, twisting and working beneath his deadweight frame so that she managed to get him draped across both of her shoulders and upper back rather than just on one. Even getting him successfully hefted, she didn't think she could take one step with him let alone an entire journey. She wanted to sob in frustration and indeed thought she let go a brief gasp of breath before she caught herself. She had opted for this and she would do her best to see it through. She knew Gael would do the same for her. Except, she thought sourly, Gael was at least three hands taller and weighed at least double Alaysha's nine stone. He could carry her over one arm, draped like a piece of rag and still walk a leagua.
"Put me down."
Gael's voice, groggy, but most definitely aware. They hadn't taken two staggering steps and her thighs were begging her to do as he asked. She couldn't find the energy to answer and him at the same time.
She forced her feet to move, commanded her knees to hold her. Her legs trembled, but she made some progress. Three steps at least. The beast he was tied to never faltered, it's rhythm a shuffling, shambling kind of movement that made each step torture.
"Drop me."
"I won't." There. Another step. Now that he was better balanced, she found she could move, even if it was incredibly difficult. She began to hope.
"You'll kill yourself trying to carry me," he said.
She didn't answer. He was likely right, but what choice did she have. There. Ten steps, ten faltering, painful steps.
The pace of the beast kept on without stopping. She bit the fear back.
A grunt came from behind her left ear and then she was stumbling, falling to her knees; the line went taut and she was free of her burden before she realized she was in danger of losing it. Gael, on his side, and then on his back, slid along the ground—no, drug along the ground behind Cai's beast, his heels in the air and his shoulders making a sickening line in the hard earth. She watched his head bobbing away from her as he tried to keep it held aloft.
If she only had her full control as Aislin did, that cursed witch of flame who could contain fire to a man's own body, these Enyalia would be nothing but husks of leathered flesh. But she didn't; the power leak during the battle proved that she didn't have control. She would have to continue; she couldn't harm these women without harming Gael. And they knew it.
So she might not be able to bear all of his weight, but she might be able to pace herself closely enough with Cai's beast that the animal could do the biggest part of the work. Much like two people carrying a large sack, one on each end. If she kept the line taut enough, yet slack enough, the animal would do the greatest share.
She stumbled to her feet and rushed to catch up. She grabbed for Gael's shoulders and, with a great deal of effort, managed to hoist him. She grinned down at him in victory, only to see he'd passed out again.
By now the light was nearly gone, the sun laying pools of crimson across everything it touched. His face, where the sunset bathed it, showed bruises and swelling. She swallowed hard. It would be a long trek, but she'd see he got there as undamaged as she could.
Six times, she had to let go, but she did so as easily as she could so that he didn't suffer the jolt of falling. It was a blessing for him, she thought, that he was un
conscious most of the journey. He'd taken a bad hit from Cai, and even before that, had fought fiercely against at least half a dozen of the Enyalia. There was no telling if he was injured from his fall, or even if most of his injuries had come from the original fight.
It was also a blessing that the terrain had begun to shift. Gradually, the ground became thick with brush and grass and made dragging him any further more trouble than it was worth. The caravan halted.
Alaysha eased his shoulders onto the ground. Her own shoulder blades felt as though they'd stretched out a fathom, that her knuckles would touch the ground if she stretched them out. She was sweating, she was exhausted, she wished she could just collapse, but she wasn't sure her knees would remember any other state but straining to keep her legs from breaking.
She had to force herself to sit, to gather Gael's head onto her lap while she reached to untie his wrists. She didn't have the energy to go for his ankles and his feet still hung off the ground until the great beast itself groaned to its own knees.
Cai came back to her with a water skin. She looked composed and rested. Alaysha wanted to swat the skin out of her hands.
"Drink," Cai said and held the skin out.
Alaysha accepted it without a word. She remembered her vow not to drink from it, but she knew by now she couldn't be so picky. She pulled at the leathers tying it closed and worked Gael's mouth open, tipped his head up from his chin.
"It's for you, not the man," Cai said, reaching to take it back.
Alaysha bared her teeth at her. "He will drink," she growled and dribbled what she could into his mouth. The bruises showed already on his neck, stretching onto his collarbone from behind, and there was blood caked in his hair. She wished Theron was with them: he'd know what to do. She ran her fingers through Gael's hair, close against his scalp to feel for cuts and bumps. There was one huge knot at the base of his skull, and an abrasion on his forehead just at the hairline that had already coated itself closed with blood.
For one heartbeat, Alaysha wished him dead. She wished him gone and left his body so she could drain each and every one of these women of their water. Then she felt a knot of grief twist into her belly and took it back before the power could realize she'd thought it. She reached again for the water and took a large pull from the mouth of the skin. She gulped three times, swallowing with purpose, giving herself a moment to calm down. When she had, she peered up at the Enyalian.
"You better hope he lives," she said quietly.
A twitch of a russet eyebrow, not much more than that, but the woman responded at least. "Oh I do hope he lives, little maga."
"Then I suggest you send for your bone witch. He'll never make it to your village."
"Oh no?" The Enyalian looked surprised even as she managed to sound teasing. "I think he'll make it; won't you, man?" She toed Gael in the ribs a little too hard for Alaysha's liking, but when she saw an involuntary flinch streak across his face, she knew what the Enyalian had guessed.
Gael was hurt, yes, but not unconscious, not at the moment. He might not have been for the past few, but not now. The woman chuckled and strode off, leaving Alaysha to dig into the packs for a blade to cut his ties. She did his ankles first, then returned to his side to cut the ones on his wrists. She peered down at him as she rubbed blood back into the fingers. He was looking up at her.
Without thinking, she leaned forward and kissed him full on the dry, cracked, and swollen lips. They burned her mouth, and his breath had no vapour. She felt the tip of his tongue dart in between hers and touch her palette playfully just behind her front teeth.
"I'm dead," he said into her mouth. "I've died and received my warrior's due." He sighed in contentment, and she could feel a quick tremor run down to his chest. She flung her arms around him in relief to hear him speak, pressing closer until she realized she was undoubtedly covering over his face—his nose and mouth and that he probably couldn't breathe.
"Sorry," she said.
"Don't be." His voice held a soft rattle.
"How do you feel?" she asked.
"Like I've been drug behind a horse." He coughed but tried a weak smile on her.
Lifting the water skin for him, she said as he drank, "You need Theron."
He coughed on a bit of fluid. "Yes."
"How bad do you think it is?"
She could tell he was trying to shrug. "Bad enough. I think I might've cracked a rib or two. It hurts. But it could've been worse—except for you."
She looked away, unable to meet the bald gratitude in his gaze. She was weary. Every muscle in her body ached and burned simultaneously. The thought of facing his gratitude when she knew she'd not been able to keep him aloft the whole time, that she dropped him at all when she knew he needed her—that alone was more painful than any soreness. She felt him try to shift to his side, realized his cheek had burrowed into her lap. His breath was hot on her thigh, then his lips, burning against her skin in a kiss as delicate as a moth landing.
"My goddess," she thought he said before his body tensed briefly and he passed out again. She searched the group frantically, thinking there must be someone who could help her. One woman, smaller than the others, more squat than tall with only a double circlet around her left thigh, leaned against a pack, chewing a piece of dried fruit. She was eyeing them carefully. Alaysha thought she recognized the grief-stricken warrior from the battle.
"Help me," Alaysha shouted her. "Something's wrong with him. He keeps passing out."
The woman shrugged indifferently. "Then he'll be less trouble." She popped the rest of the fruit into her mouth, lazily, but at least she got up. When she stood over Gael, it was with an inspecting toe prodding him here and there. Finally, she made a smacking noise and sent Alaysha a hopeless look.
"His head swells." She pressed her bottom lip into the top, thoughtfully. "I've seen it before. He won't make it." Then she smiled.
"Won't make it? He has to."
The woman lifted a shoulder. "No, he doesn't. We'll use what we have. If he dies, we'll leave him to the vultures."
"Use? What are you talking about? He has to live."
The woman's face grew hard and for the first time, Alaysha could see true brutality there and something else she didn't expect or understand: hatred.
"Then your man shouldn't have killed my sword sisters. He deserves death." She kicked him in the ribs and he let out a soft groan. "A small shot for Yoliri," she grumbled. "Would that it were more."
Alaysha didn't have time to argue the finer points of defending oneself against attack. She went straight to the one tactic she thought she had.
"I tell you, for your sake, and the sake of all your remaining living sword sisters, this man needs to survive or I swear to you, I will take great pleasure in drinking your every drop of moisture from every tiny hole in your skin until you are nothing but a leathered husk."
"The Enyalia does not threaten easily."
"Then they are fools. If this man dies, you will have no time to pull a sword. Trust me."
The woman glared at her, and in her stoic expression, Alaysha knew she was plotting something; she gave in far too easily. She had the shifty look of someone who wasn't done arguing.
"I will tell Cai." The woman gave him a scrutinous examination with eyes hooded by something Alaysha thought was cold assessment.
"You'd better hurry, woman," Alaysha told her, letting the inflection of the word show her revulsion. The soldier said nothing more, but at least she headed toward Cai's beast where the redhead was inspecting her packs. Alaysha let her fingers run again through Gael's thicket of tangled and bloodied hair.
"Hold on, Gael," she said to him. "Please hold on."
In the end, Cai herself hoisted Gael onto her beast and bid Alaysha sit behind him to hold onto him. Enud, the warrior who had fetched Cai, insisted on following, with the excuse that if the warrior was faking, she wanted the leave to kill him. Cai said nothing to the affirmative; Enud acted as though it was a foregone conclusion. With
Cai in the back, and with the animal loping awkwardly through the brush, Alaysha had time to reflect on things. It was obvious the Enyalian didn't trust leaving Alaysha with the others; she must have realized that her tribe's safety meant Gael's life, and that if she removed Gael altogether she couldn't be certain Alaysha wouldn't retaliate on those left behind.
So it seemed manipulating a witch had its benefits and limitations—something her father had discovered long ago and used to his advantage. Alaysha finally understood she could use it to hers as well.
Trees began to appear as the silver light of a thumbnail moon shifted quietly to a waking sun, becoming more and more frequent. The further they travelled, the stronger the quakes were when they came. Three times, the beast stumbled and Alaysha had to grip the woman's waist to keep from falling. The warrior's stoic posture told Alaysha it was a common thing to feel the earth move so, and she wondered at how such a thing might form a woman into a hard and cold thing in the face of such loveliness she was beginning to see.
She could smell balsam and lavender and what she thought were peach blossoms. Her heart ached for Barruch. How he loved peaches. She hoped, not for the first time, that her comrades had made good use of the rain she'd psyched from the well. She prayed to the deities they were well, and that they'd follow and find them before whatever these women planned to do with them could be done.
As the trees and wildlife grew thicker, she began to realize how breathtaking the land was: lush and heady with fragrance. Birds called to each other in the early morning. Twice, she saw deer race across the path. And then she caught sight of a village. Through the trees, only a few almost natural type formations for lodgings, and then as they drew closer, lodges made of animal hide and some of wood. Finally, the dwellings stretched as wide as they seemed long. A large smouldering fire pit sat in the middle, hides being tanned across racks beside it. She thought she could make out an open-air forge far to the right, a bread oven being stuffed with dough by young boys. There were people within, too, but no one rushing or bustling about. Each step they took seemed purposeful and planned.
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