“Then what do we eat next winter?” cried Kariik. “Where will the milk for cheese and kumis come from?”
“Listen to this foreign slave and we will all be dead by next winter!” shouted one of Kariik’s warriors.
“That may be.” Alessa shrugged as if it was no concern of hers. Then her eyes bored into those of the king. “But there is another possibility. Maylene’s son is in your keeping, Kariik. If you want to try leading your people down a different path, then come next summer, bring them west. Give the boy to his mother’s kin to raise. Watch him grow up and see how a man can still be a man without murder and torture for his daily fare.”
“Alessa, what are you doing?” Kalie cried, but it came out a whisper.
“What I came here to do,” the priestess answered softly. “This tribe will be desperate. And desperate people will try anything.” She met Kariik’s puzzled gaze. “It’s up to you, King of Aahk. Come in friendship—and kinship—and we will help you start over.” Then she turned to Kalie, who realized it was her turn to speak.
Kalie gracefully raised her arm and held a Serpent Fang before Kariik’s face. “But come in haughty arrogance, thinking to take what others have built, and you will be met with these. And you will be met by people who know what life under your rule is like. We will kill every one of you before we let you harm one inch of our world.” She grinned wolfishly. “And what’s more, we will take your women—and make them like us!”
Kariik actually flinched at that, along with several of his men. Alessa merely nodded her approval. “The future will involve grave risks for all of us,” she said.
“But that would have been the case anyway,” said Riyik. “You will have a year to decide, and a Western wife to teach you all you will need to know—“
“What!” Two shouts echoed together. Kalie looked to see who the other voice belonged to, and found herself staring at Kariik—whose confused expression mirrored her own. A ripple of laughter encircled the gathering, easing some of the tension.
Riyik explained. “Alessa is a priestess of high rank. Her words carry great weight with her people. And as the wife of the king, she will have influence here, as well. Perhaps enough to prepare our people for what you yourself have rightly called our great destiny.”
“It could work,” muttered one of Kariik’s warriors. “He’s already got a taste for Western women…”
Kalie moved closer to Alessa. “You can’t stay here!”
Alessa smiled. “I have to, Kalie. It is here I will find my Goddess again. And it’s here that I will atone for my part in all those deaths.” She looked at Kalie with a calm certainty, greater than even what Kalie was used to from her. “You and Larren must return to our people. I must stay here, and prepare the horsemen to join them—in partnership. And perhaps, I can help poor Kestra find her way back as well.”
“Alessa, I can’t just leave you with them!”
“As you so recently said to me,” Riyik whispered in her ear. “It is not your decision to make.”
“Now I really hate it when you’re right!” she snapped.
“I must return to the camp to care for the wounded—“ Alessa was saying when Kalie caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. “Alessa, look out!” she screamed, as a creature from a nightmare rode into the gathering, a spear poised and ready to impale the priestess.
Riyik reacted at once, casting his own spear, injuring the intruder, and spoiling his aim. The spear missed Alessa, but only just, and clattered to the mud at their feet.
“Haraak!” Kalie shouted raising her own spear. Her old enemy bled from a dozen wounds, although none appeared fatal.
“Kalie, don’t!” Riyik cried, pushing her spear down. Men and horses shifted nervously, as the threat to the fragile peace established just moments ago became apparent to all.
“We can’t let him live!” Kalie hissed. “And no, this is not just about personal revenge! If he regains control of Kariik—“
“That is why we must wait. Believe me, I want Haraak dead just as much as you—and he will die today, I promise! But Kariik is on the verge of becoming his own man—but only if he can stand up to Haraak now, by himself, in front of his men…”
Kalie understood, but she didn’t like the odds.
Already, Kariik’s face was clouding, his newfound confidence ebbing. Haraak saw it, but instead of speaking to his puppet, turned to the men.
“These foreign witches are more dangerous than any of us supposed!” he shouted, and again, Kalie was impressed by his skill at storytelling. “You all just saw Riyik—once our brother—shed the blood of the king’s own advisor, while I sought to free our king from the spell this witch has placed him under!” He raised his bloody arm, ignoring the pain he was surely in, and pointed at Alessa. “Riyik, too, is under a spell.” Haraak glared at Kalie. “One I thought I had broken. But I shall do so now, before all of you…”
“Enough of your manipulations, Haraak!” Kariik said, and Kalie saw with amazement that he was angry. To a man, his assembled warriors stiffened in surprise, but none as much as Haraak. He froze, and barely recovered in time to stop his jaw from dropping. “I am king,” Kariik declared, as if puzzling out the meaning of the words.
“Yes,” said Haraak, turning the full force of his charm on his puppet. “You are king, and you will lead us to a glorious conquest of the lands to the West! Once these witches are dead, you will remember your great destiny! Men will sing of your deeds for—“
“I am king,” Kariik repeated. “Which means that I will do what I must for the good of my people. It is not a task I sought, nor one I willingly accepted—even after you murdered my two brothers, for the sole purpose of making yourself king through me—“
An angry hiss erupted from the frightened warriors, but no one knew exactly where to point his spear. Haraak, for once, was speechless. “Oh, yes, I knew,” Kariik continued. “I may lack the strength of my father, and the courage of my brothers, but I have at least as much wisdom as the gods gave a horse. I simply thought it was safer—and easier—to be the witless tool everyone thought I was. But I can’t be that any longer. This tribe—what’s left of it—cannot afford it.” The grin that Kalie was trying to smother appeared on Kariik’s face. “But you were right about one thing, Haraak: our destiny does lie in the west.” He smiled at Alessa, who made no attempt to hide her grin. “Just not in the way you foresaw.”
Haraak’s face grew even redder than his hair. “You sniveling whelp!” he screamed. “I did not put you where you are so some foreign whore could lead to by your cock and turn our warriors into geldings!”
“That may well be,” said Kariik, not sounding at all like the whining boy of just the day before. “But in case you haven’t noticed, Haraak, nearly a third of our warriors are dead. The grasslands are drying and a slave girl has devised a weapon that could turn us into slaves if her Goddess was so inclined. I would say the time for conquest is over.”
Kalie could no longer contain her laughter. “Come now, Haraak!” she taunted. “This is what you have wanted since the day you first came to my land! It is what you have murdered and manipulated and sold yourself for! Your entire tribe is finally moving to the west!”
“Yes!” cried Alessa. “And once there, they will swear allegiance to the Great Goddess, and atone for generations of abuse, cowardice and deceit! You’re getting what you wanted—or at least what you deserve!”
When she saw the look on Haraak’s face, Kalie realized she had just gotten all the revenge she needed. His face was nearly purple and he was having trouble breathing. “You will both die for those words!” he finally managed to choke out. Then he laughed, but it was forced, and there was genuine fear in his eyes. “The warriors of Aahk take what they want, and crush all who oppose them. That will not stop because of some witch’s curse.” Haraak turned to the men. “Watch and follow. We will each of us take these whores upon the ground right now and strip them of their powers. Then I will cut out their he
arts and tongues and bury them where we stand.”
“Actually,” said Riyik, “we are going to conclude the business at hand, and then you are going to die where we stand, Haraak. For the rape of my wife and the murder of my king.”
Kalie noticed that Riyik had placed the insult to her before the murder of a king, and despite the danger they faced, felt strangely happy.
“Please do so, Riyik” said Kariik.
Haraak whipped around to face the king, his face mottled with rage. Then he drew his dagger and with an incoherent roar, flung himself at Kariik. “You are no king!” Haraak spat. “ It was always my destiny anyway! I will lead our people to—“
Whatever else Haraak might have said ended in a muffled thud as Riyik’s spear slid neatly through his ribs and into his heart. Haraak was dead before his body hit the ground.
Everyone looked at each other for a moment. Then Alessa said, “My king, I really must return to care for the wounded.” She slid her gaze to Riyik, then back to Kariik in silent urging.
Kariik nodded and turned to Riyik. “I owe you my life. But my only thanks will be to keep my word to you, and allow you to leave with those who would go with you.”
Riyik inclined his head. “That is all the thanks I wish, my king.”
From behind them, a few warriors suggested that Riyik should remain as the king’s new close advisor, but Kariik shook his head. “I’ve had enough of strong-minded men whispering in my ear. I will do better with men who don’t think much with their brains, and a woman who can actually help me become the king I want to be.” Then he turned his horse and led the remains of his army back to camp.
Chapter 38
Riyik would have preferred to bypass the camp altogether and just ride west until they picked up their companions’ trail. But there were injuries that had to be tended—his included—if they were to ride hard enough to catch up with the others by dark, and now, at least, they could be safely treated there.
If Kariik kept his word.
As the camp came in view, it seemed smaller, sadder and less threatening than it had before. Some of the wounded had already arrived—with news of those who would not be back—and the eerie sound of women keening their grief could be heard on the wind.
Alessa was already organizing the care of the wounded. News of her new status traveled quickly, and now Alessa had many assistants and whatever supplies she called for.
Kalie slipped away to have one last look at the tent she had lived so long as a slave. Women made the sign against evil as she passed and a few spat at her feet, but no one stopped her.
As she drew close to Maalke’s tent, Kalie heard the unmistakable wails of mourning. Maalke lay dead on a blanket in front of his tent. Altia, dressed in her finest clothing was arranging his many possessions around his body, barking the occasional order to her daughters who keened their grief as they worked.
Beside Maalke lay a tiny bundle, also wrapped for burial.
“No!” screamed Kalie, rushing to open the blanket and see for herself.
“Don’t you touch him!” Altia screamed back, pushing Kalie away. “Don’t touch either of them!”
Kalie stared at the dead baby. “When? How?”
It took Altia a moment to understand. Just barely, her face softened. “He is no sacrifice. He breathed his last peacefully, a few hours before my brother returned with Maalke’s body. Everyone knew it was just a matter of time.”
“Everyone except Cassia,” Kalie said.
“If it had to happen, it’s better this way. He will ride to Paradise on his father’s shoulder, just as if he had lived to be a great warrior himself.”
Kalie turned at the sound of the voice, raw with grief, and found Cassia staring at her. She, too, was dressed in her finest clothes, and carried bedding Kalie well remembered: soft, well-made furs, pieced together into intricate patterns of subtle colors. Altia reached out to take them, but Cassia shook her head, and began arranging them around Maalke, save for the last— a rabbit-fur blanket—which she lovingly wrapped around her infant son.
Then she turned to Kalie.
“As you can see, your work here is finished. Why do you remain?”
“I wanted to speak with you one last time,” said Kalie, trying to keep the weakness she felt out of her voice. It was the first lesson she’d learned in this place: a woman must never show weakness before another woman. “To tell you I’m sorry that you and so many others had to suffer. That I wish things could have been different.”
Cassia’s eyes bored into Kalie’s. “They could have been,” she said simply.
“One of our tribes had to lose,” said Kalie. “And it was yours who set those rules, not mine. So I did what you taught me to do: win at all costs. And it has cost us all a great deal.”
“But it is you who will ride out of here,” said Cassia. She took in Kalie’s man’s dress and unveiled hair knotted behind her head. “Flouting our ways to last, it seems.”
“Come with me!” cried Kalie. Cassia burst out laughing. “Please, Cassia. You have skilled hands, a caring heart and a quick mind! You could be happy with my people. You have nothing left here.”
Cassia looked sadly at Kalie. “I have everything here. Already my husband and child wait for me. Tomorrow, we will be together.”
It took Kalie a moment to grasp what she was saying. “No!” It came out as a hoarse whisper. “You cannot. Altia is first wife. Only she…”
“She has agreed to share the honor with me. It is not often so with first wives, and I did not expect it from her. But it seems, in the end, she was a better friend to me than you, Kalie.”
“I suppose we each offered what friendship we could. That is not something I expected when I came here. But I will remember it.”
“Perhaps you will make a story of it.”
“Perhaps.”
Altia returned, carrying two knives. She gave one to Cassia.
“Now?” Kalie asked in terror, seeing, for the first time, that while they had talked, Cassia had seated herself beside Maalke, their child between them, with Altia now on his other side.
“Tomorrow,” said Cassia. “But we will keep watch beside him tonight. In the morning, we will walk beside our husband’s body to the grave that will be prepared.” She gazed across the still half empty camp. “There will be many graves, as I hear it. We will die beside him there, after the sacrifices are complete.”
“Complete?” Kalie choked. “You think your senseless deaths don’t rank with the others as ‘sacrifices’?”
“Leave us, Kalie,” Cassia ordered quietly. “You’ve caused enough harm already. You can laugh with your Goddess over your victory back in your own land.”
“My Goddess will never laugh at this,” said Kalie, backing away. “And neither will I.”
She hurried back to where Alessa was treating the wounded, wanting nothing more than ride away from this place and wash the images of Cassia and Altia from her mind. When she reached the tent, however, she saw at once that something had happened. Riyik stood with Kariik beside a body that lay on a rich fur robe, guarded by six exhausted men.
They were the last of the men who had ridden here with Nelek.
Kalie approached, slipping quietly between Riyik and Borik, and saw that the king still breathed. Alessa was examining a gory wound in his gut with far more compassion that Kalie could have mustered, had it been Maalke.
“The wound is mortal,” she told him.
She tried to offer him a bowl filled with a murky liquid, but Nelek turned his head away from it. “I knew I was dying when I rode here,” he whispered, seeming beyond the pain. “But I had to see you one last time, Alessa. To tell you that I forgive you. That when I am laid in my cairn, you shall lay by my side and travel with me to paradise.”
He waited a moment, perhaps expecting Alessa to fall on her knees and weep with joy. Then Nelek turned to Kariik. “See to it, my brother. Let none prevent her from joining me in death. I know my warriors will think
her unworthy and try to prevent it…” His voice was lost in a horrible choking sound, as blood foamed at his pale lips.
Some of Kariik’s men shifted uneasily, but none dared speak. Kalie knew their dilemma: their future in the West depended on the woman to whom their king would listen. But she was still Nelek’s slave, and who could interfere with a dying king’s choice of companions? Certainly not Kariik, who gazed in horror at his brother king.
But Kalie herself faced no such dilemma. She drew her knife. “Rescind that order, Nelek,” she said mildly. His men growled, though Kariik’s were strangely silent. “If you don’t, I’m afraid you will have to meet your gods with no more manhood on you than a mare has.” She set her knife on the slight bulge between his legs, the blade just brushing his testicles. “And what do you think your fate in the next life will be then?”
Nelek worked his mouth, but only strangled cries emerged, along with more blood. His body seized up, and his lips drew back in a hideous grin.
Alessa pushed the knife aside, and laid a gentle hand on her former master. It seemed to help, for his body relaxed, even as the life faded from his eyes. “There will be no need for that, I promise, Nelek. You will ride to your gods just as they made you. But you will ride without me.” He tried again to speak, but Alessa continued. “I will stay here, and help your people prepare for the day when deaths such as yours—and the kind you sought for me—are remembered only in legend, and your bloodthirsty gods are forgotten. It’s what I came here to do. I thank you for your help, but I need it no longer. So go in peace.”
Nelek gasped once more, and died.
Kalie still held her knife. “If anyone tries to follow that last order…”
“No one will,” said Kariik, rising to his feet. “For to send the priestess of a foreign goddess with the king of the Wolf Tribe would surely anger his gods, and jeopardize his chance to be honored in paradise.” He looked at each of Nelek’s men. “Do you not agree?”
Every one of them nodded. Then they knelt, and offered their oaths to Kariik, who accepted them graciously.
Shadow of the Horsemen (Kalie's Journey) Page 29