Eight days before the time of departure, the tension was palpable in the air. Fights were breaking out between the men. But this, it seemed, was normal enough, and nothing threatened the remaining alliance, or the proposed date to bring the tribes of the beastmen to the undefended lands of the west.
The world seemed to be holding its breath. Kalie walked through the still air, through parched grass desperate for rain. It was a wonder the animals could eat this stuff, she thought. The last of them were being brought into camp, and made ready for travel. As Riyik’s wife, it was Kalie’s duty to check each animal, choose the strongest and best able to make the journey, and mark the rest for slaughter. The meat would sustain the travelers through the winter—whichever way they went.
While Kalie had left most of the managing of the household to the servants, this task was highly visible, and her absence would have been noted. So she worked with the other wives and slaves these last days, herding the sheep and goats into pens made with stakes of precious wood, twined with cord made from the ever-present grass.
Older boys pressed into service looked longingly at the men, all gathered in a huge field beside the campsite, exercising the horses in their own preparations for departure. The boys, deeply resentful, and wishing they could be among the men who spent these last days with the horses, took their anger out on the women and animals, making an already unpleasant job worse.
When the sun slanted to the west, Kalie brought the last of the goats to the pen, and left Varena in charge. She stopped in the tent to see Agafa, whom she had ordered to remain in bed. The old woman’s cough was not getting any better, despite all Alessa had done while she had been here.
Agafa was awake, so Kalie stopped to visit. Yarik sat across the tent, playing with the horses his father had carved for him. The other children had rejected him completely now, as their mothers spoke of evil omens and their fathers worried about imperfections angering the gods and endangering their chance for victory in the west. Riyik had told Kalie to keep him inside at all times.
Kalie was seized by a sudden urge to leave now. To take both of these people home with her: one so she could know freedom before she died, the other so he could grow up whole.
As if reading her thoughts, Agafa smiled. “I’m afraid I won’t be coming to that good land with you.” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“Nonsense,” Kalie said, bringing her water. “We have six more days for you to rest. And a horse will carry you if you can’t walk the whole way.”
At that Agafa smiled. “Always the finest of storytellers, Kalie.” Then she began to cough. Kalie tried not to notice the blood that came up. “Fear not,” Agafa said after more water. “I’m not going to die yet. I may not make it to your world, but by the Goddess, I’ll find the strength to walk out of this one. I won’t die in a stinking Aahken tent. That much you’ve given me, and for that I’ll always love you.”
Kalie turned away, not knowing why she didn’t want Agafa to see how much those words moved her. “Can I get you anything else before I go?”
“Where are you going now?”
“Just…out.”
Agafa’s filmy eyes grew sharp. “You take too many chances, girl. The alliance will fall apart on its own now. Stay here. Or go to the practice field and lure that man of yours into the tall grass for a time.”
“I’ll be back soon,” Kalie promised.
She chuckled to herself as she threaded her way through the camp, made even nosier than usual by the crowded pens of sheep and goats, and the sweating and cursing women as they struggled through the last of the marking and sorting. Grateful for the now cool—though still dry—breeze that blew through the tall brown grass, Kalie headed for the small hidden spring she had discovered the day Wolf Tribe left. Now, in these final days, it seemed more important than ever to escape the noise and stink of the camp, just to order her thoughts. Just to take a breath.
But she could never escape the turmoil inside her head.
Kalie had more than twenty skins of kumis hidden in her tent. And nearly that number in Brenia’s. If turning the warriors against each other didn’t work, she could render at least half of them dead or useless for fighting.
If she could figure out a way to be sure they all drank the right kumis at the same time.
Then all she had to do was figure out how to fight the other half while she led a bunch of women and children across the steppes and against a lifetime of conditioning.
Kalie parted the screen of tall grass and stepped into a hidden glade. The spring was little more than a trickle of water into a muddy ditch. But it was hers.
Far from the camp, and hidden from the disapproving eyes of the tribe, Kalie threw aside her veil and cast off her shoes. Lifting the skirt of her heavy black robe, Kalie stepped into the cool water, sighing with pleasure. With one last look around, she slipped off her outer robe. Then, a prickle on the back of her neck warned her she was not alone.
The man was on her before she turned fully around to face him.
“Haraak!” she gasped.
He looked disappointed. “I thought you were sneaking off to meet a lover. I had hoped to disgrace Riyik by showing his wife to be a whore.” His eyes traveled up and down her body, a look of near desperation on his face, which suddenly turned to hope. “Perhaps I still can.” In a single motion he tore her remaining garment from her body.
“Leave here now or I will scream,” Kalie hissed.
“Go ahead,” said Haraak. “No one will hear you from this distance.” He pointed to the screen of grass. “You planned well for privacy.”
Kalie feared he was right but screamed anyway. Haraak slammed his hand over her mouth, looking surprised, though whether because of her volume or the fact that she had tested his statement, she didn’t know.
“Don’t make this harder on you than it has to be,” Haraak growled, using the full force of his weight to push her to the ground.
Kalie put all her energy into moving her head until his hand slipped from her mouth. “Riyik will kill you if you go through with this!” If screaming didn’t work, she would bargain.
Haraak opened the front of his lower garment and began stroking his partial erection. Where was his supposed impotence? Kalie thought desperately.
“He will try, of course,” said Haraak. “He will have to. That is: if you tell him.”
“You think I won’t?” Kalie twisted on the ground, trying to lock her legs shut.
“You must tell him. Our laws demand it. And then he will have to fight me. If he wins, I die, and you are avenged—although dishonored for the rest of your life. But when have your kind ever cared about honor?”
Kalie’s struggles inflamed Haraak’s desire to the point he no longer needed his hands. He used them instead to pin Kalie’s arms to the ground on either side of her body. “But if I win, your beloved dies—and you and everything else he owns will belong to me. Are you willing to risk that?”
He pried her legs apart with one knee and leaned over her, leering. The breath that whistled between his crooked yellow teeth stank of rotten meat and kumis. “Of course, if you don’t tell Riyik, and he finds out later, no one will believe it was rape. Then he will be forced to kill you as an adulteress.”
Kalie had to admire the intricacy of the trap Haraak had set, as he shoved his meaty phallus inside her. His face floated above hers with a look of ecstasy and triumph. As he grunted and moaned, she tried to shake her mind free as she had with Maalke, but found herself anchored to the real world by her rage.
When it was over, Haraak stood up and grinned down at Kalie. “I guess you’re not much of a witch after all.”
“What?” Kalie asked blankly.
“I have eyes and ears everywhere in this camp,” Haraak said as he adjusted his clothing. “I know about your attempts to make trouble; to turn the warriors against each other. Some of the weaker men have even whispered that your so-called goddess had cursed our glorious venture in the west. That you an
d that other slut from your land were witches.” He spat on the ground just inches from where Kalie lay.
Suddenly, things began making sense. It seemed her stories of the Goddess had not only circulated among the women, they’d reached the men as well. And frightened them. And then, just days before the start of the great westward conquest; when superstitious warriors looked for omens in every sheep’s stomach… ”…Their great leader couldn’t get it up with a woman!” Kalie stood up and laughed, then spat in his face. “When word of that began to spread…”
Haraak punched her hard in the stomach. She doubled over and vomited into the mud.
“Now that I’ve shown you and your cursed goddess how much power you really have, I don’t expect any more trouble.” He spat again, this time in Kalie’s face.
Haraak’s anger faded and his satisfied grin returned. “I decided to fuck you just to prove to myself you’re no witch. And I was right. But the men need to see it as well. I don’t have to wait and see what you decide to do. I could just drag you to the middle of camp right now and do it again.”
Kalie forced herself back to her feet, not caring how her legs shook. “And I could just cut off your balls and stuff them down your throat while you’re trying to raise an audience, Haraak! We both know how many women would happily give me a knife for that purpose. But I’ll start by asking Yessenia.”
Haraak’s eyes went wide, and Kalie thought she was about to die. Then he laughed. “I did what I came here to do: before we leave this place, that cowardly traitor Riyik will be out of my way, and so will his slut of a wife. If you want to scream rape, you’d better do it soon. But we both know you loved it.” Then he turned on his heel and left her there.
Kalie turned away from the spring and vomited again.
Then she sat shaking for a long time.
This was no time to lie down and die, she told herself. But it was what she wanted to do. The despair she remembered so well from years ago came welling back up. Even if she killed Haraak; even if she killed them all, it would not change what happened here today. She thought of all her grand plans for escape. They seemed laughable.
Which is exactly what Haraak wants you to think, Kalie told herself as she took inventory. Her outer clothes, though somewhat muddy, were intact. Kalie washed herself and dressed, realizing as she did how well Haraak had planned it all. He had avoided striking her face, as he had avoided damaging her clothing. The only bruises would be on her arms and legs. Places that could be kept covered, even in the confines of a tent.
The choice really was hers.
And that was the terror.
Riyik would believe her, she was certain of that. But then what? Riyik would fight Haraak fairly and in a cold rage, which might dull his judgment. Haraak would never fight fairly: he would do whatever it took to win. Which made it very likely that Kalie—and Varena and Agafa and the other Shadow Women she had rescued, and possibly even Yarik—would soon belong to Haraak.
She began to walk, vaguely aware that she was going farther from camp rather than closer. If she hid what happened, as Haraak clearly expected her to, he would boast about it until everyone in camp knew—Riyik last of all, of course. Or perhaps he hoped her acting ability would desert her one night as she lay beneath her husband, and he would discover the truth of it then.
Of course, if that were the case, Kalie had one advantage. Haraak had no way of knowing that she and Riyik had never slept together. Perhaps, with that factor missing from their marriage, she would be able to explain it to him logically. If Riyik could see how Haraak intended to use him, perhaps he wouldn’t fall into the trap. Perhaps they could even work together on a way to turn Haraak’s plan against him.
Kalie turned and began walking toward camp, clutching desperately at that one hope, when she stopped, a cold hand gripping her insides. What if Riyik couldn’t see what she saw? What if he didn’t listen to her? What if…Kalie’s mouth went dry and she began to sweat. What if he didn’t believe her at all?
She told herself not to be foolish. This was Riyik, after all, not some swaggering bully who thought with his prick; who lashed out first and asked questions later. But try as she might, Kalie could not still the panicked racing of her heart.
She began walking away from camp again. As she walked, she wondered how many other women had been trapped like this. Happily married, confident and secure—all of it taken away in an instant by a man’s will. How many other men had done the same thing? For power, or revenge, or simply amusement?
And how many of the women, ready to rush to the husband they had loved and trusted the day before, found they couldn’t do it now because they couldn’t trust him quite enough? A recent quarrel, a bored look, the lack of a son—all insignificant yesterday, now became signs he was tired of her. Reasons to discard her rather than fight for her. And how could any woman here ever really know how much shame a man would be willing to bear for her sake?
So they kept silent. And fear and shame dogged their steps for the rest of their lives. All their energy went into keeping a secret that grew more dangerous each day. And if years went by without exposure, even if the rapist died, could she ever really feel safe again? And if he did expose her…
“No wonder nothing ever changes here!” Kalie said aloud. “They don’t fight to keep themselves enslaved, they fight to keep themselves alive! But they have to do it a cage of secrecy, where they can’t even trust their closest friend with the truth.” She shook her head, and thought about it some more. “They would lose the power to reach out to anyone, for anything. No wonder they can’t feel another woman’s pain or work to ease their suffering. It’s not about competing for men’s favor, it’s about making sure no one ever has the means to threaten their existence!”
Kalie had lived with these people for over a year, yet standing here today she realized she had never really understood them. Not like Alessa did. And not like Larren.
Even if what happened to her today only happened rarely—which she doubted—to grow up knowing that it could was probably just as crippling.
The sounds of men’s voices raised in cheer caused her to freeze. Her empty stomach began to heave again as Kalie realized she had wandered to the border of the men’s practice field.
Crouching down and carefully parting the tall grass, she gazed at the island of flat ground where the grass had been mowed and the stubble pounded smooth by the racing hooves of many horses. The sharp smell of horse nearly covered the stink of the men. Men from both tribes were there, training young horses, racing older ones, and teaching their sons how to ride.
Not a hint of anything female, Kalie mused. It’s a world of men. How soon before every shrine of the Goddess became buried beneath place like this?
She looked for Riyik, half hoping, half fearing to see him, but he wasn’t there. Kalie knew she should leave before she was seen, yet she remained rooted to the spot, attracted and repelled by the beauty and power of the horses, and the raw energy of the men
She didn’t know how long she had stood there, mesmerized, when the accident happened. Kalie had been watching a race between a red-coated stallion and a grey gelding when the grey suddenly screamed and reared, crashing into the red and sending them both to the ground. Shouts from the agitated men nearly drowned out the terrible cries of the horses. The stallion eventually made it to his feet and was led away, shaking and snorting.
The gelding remained on the ground, thrashing about in pain. Kalie watched in awe as a grim circle of men examined the animal, and came to the dreaded conclusion: one of the legs was broken. The horse’s young owner, a boy of about sixteen, and only recently admitted to the ranks of warriors, wept uncontrollably until one of the other men slapped him across the face, loudly enough for Kalie to hear it from her hiding place.
The boy turned his grief into curses and shouts of rage. Satisfied by this improvement, one of the other men brought him a long knife. The young owner slit the horse’s throat with more sorrow than Kalie had eve
r seen expressed in this land. Then, to her amazement, a group of about twelve men actually lifted the dead animal and carried it from the field. The rest of them men followed in respectful silence.
Kalie waited until long after the dust settled and silence reigned. Then she hurried to the spot where the horse had fallen. The blood made it easy to find, but difficult to discover what had made the animal fall. And Kalie had to know what that was.
Finally she found it: a long piece of bone, splintered down the middle. A jagged section, like a serpent’s fang, had imbedded itself in the horse’s hoof. Gravity and chance had done the rest.
Kalie’s dream of an army of snakes came back to her with crystal clarity.
Gripping the bone until the sharp edges drew blood from her hand and mingled it with that of the horse, Kalie knew that at last, she had found the weapon she had so long sought. The bone she held was, she realized, the bone of a horse. Auspicious, perhaps, but she suspected that any bone would do. It would take some work: the shape wasn’t the most efficient. And even in a land full of bones, one bone per…what was she going to call this thing? It didn’t matter. They would have to be small, and spherical. With splinters of bone in all directions, so whichever way the thing landed, whichever way a rapidly moving horse stepped on it…
She set to work. The sun was a fiery ball on the western horizon by the time Kalie came up with a rough approximation of what she needed. It was shaped like a star, but more beautiful than any that shone in the sky. It had five sharp teeth of varying length and thickness protruding in different directions. No bigger than Kalie’s hand, it lay lightly in her palm. An average sized leg bone from a sheep could produce four or five of these, once she got the hang of it. Standing up and brushing bone fragments from her thighs, Kalie saw how late it was and hurried back to camp.
Shadow of the Horsemen (Kalie's Journey) Page 21