“It is time for us to go,” Kalie said simply. “Alessa, are you sure about this?”
Alessa hugged Kalie to her in a warm embrace. “I believe we shall meet again,” was her only answer. “But in case we don’t…” She stepped back to meet Kalie’s gaze, a look of mischief pulling at her serene face. “Thank you for offering to geld Nelek for me. It’s an image I shall savor in the years to come.”
Kalie only grinned. Her friend would be just fine. But she wouldn’t bet on some of the others who gathered around Kariik, jockeying for position in the new government.
Riyik reached for her, clearly planning to set her astride Thunder, but Kalie shook her head. She walked to where Blossom stood, anxious to leave the smell of blood and death that already permeated the camp. “I will leave this place on my own horse, under my own strength,” she said. But she had to let Riyik help her mount.
“Will you ride beside me?” he asked when they were both astride their steeds.
“All the way to my home,” she said, then corrected herself. “To our home. And forever after that.”
They rode west, into a blinding sunset that seemed to paint the land the color of blood.
Soon, however, the sun sank into the grass before them, and a mellow twilight showed them where, still far in the distance, their friends were camped. No tracks betrayed the presence of enemies and no scavengers circled above the campsite.
Beside her, Riyik reached out his hand. Kalie reached out with her good arm, and put her hand in his, trusting her balance to her knees and her horse’s gentle nature.
“What will we find, you think, when we reach the west?” he asked.
“That has been my greatest hope and greatest fear since I came here,” she answered. “I’ve had nightmares: cities in flames, fields choked with bodies, a tribe of beastmen sitting on the corpse of my world while we fought here.”
“But have there been good dreams as well?”
She smiled. “Yes. I have seen a land in peace for many years, because of what we did today. I’ve seen horses grazing beside the cattle of my country, and boys and girls learning to ride together. And weavers exclaiming with joy over the wool made by local sheep bred with these hardy eastern ones. And I’ve seen you, Riyik, teaching men and women how to fight. I just can’t tell if that one’s a dream or a nightmare.”
Riyik squeezed her hand. “People can defend what they have without losing what they are, Kalie. And you and I will make certain it happens that way.”
She nodded, but her thoughts were already straying to the dream she’d had last night, as she lay in Riyik’s arms. The one she could not yet speak of. The one where she and Riyik lay together on a warm bed of soft sheepskins with a gurgling baby between them. In her dream, Kalie could smell the milk that dripped from her breasts; feel the soreness inside that could only come from bearing a child. Was it possible?
No fire had been lit, but they found the camp easily in the darkness. Varena was beside Kalie before she worked herself off the horse.
“Are we going home now, Mother?” she asked.
Kalie flung her good arm around the woman who would always be her firstborn child—no matter how many others the future might hold for her. “Yes, my love. We’re going home.”
The End
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Excerpt from: In The Balance
A collection of short fiction by Sandra Saidak, including a new story in the world of Kalie's Journey
Coming 2012 from Uffington Horse Press
Yuraak fought his way through the blinding snow. He had no idea how many men were still with him; no thought of anything but the horse beneath him, and the desperate search for shelter. Of the twenty warriors who had followed him from the steppes of their homeland, only seven were left. At least he hoped so. The howling wind and snow that was more like sheets of ice made Yuraak wonder if he and his mount were the only living things in the world. At least they were out of those cursed mountains.
Haraak had never mentioned mountains in his tales of the land to the west. He had only told of grain and gold and women for the taking. Of fat cattle and sheep, of fruit trees in a rich green land that never knew thirst. Haraak never told him that the winter journey would take Yuraak’s wife and young son from him, along with most of this clan.
“Curse Haraak for a lying bastard!” Yuraak cried.
An answering curse made him look to his right. “Watch out!” Marek was shouting, although Yuraak caught only a muffled whisper, barely in time to keep his horse from sliding down the frozen waterfall he had mistaken for a trail. By the time Yuraak had the blown horse under control, he was having trouble seeing, but at least he was starting to feel warmer. In some corner of his mind, the warrior knew that this was not really a good thing. Then he heard Marek’s voice again, from much farther away.
“There’s light ahead,” the younger man was shouting. “And smoke!”
Zelena stood protectively on the threshold of her home. “The Mother was awake late into the night, helping with a difficult birth,” she whispered harshly. “Whatever the problem is, one of the Elders can handle it until she wakens.”
“This is not something we have ever seen!” the fur-clad young man insisted. While the snow had ceased, heavy clouds made the morning barely lighter than night, and it was bitterly cold. “People—and strange animals! At the foot of the mountain—“
“No one can cross the mountain in winter—“ Zelena began, but by then it seemed the entire village had erupted with voices as people shouted the news, healers gathered torches and supplies, and others argued between carrying the victims of the weather to the village, or going to offer them aid where they were.
“That is why we need the Mother,” the man said quietly.
“I am here,” Laniya said in her voice of practiced calm. She dressed quickly. “Zelena, please start breakfast and look after Aral. Joran, please take me to these strangers.” She followed her one-time consort out of the village, and into a throng of anxious, excited, and many just plain curious villagers. Shining Mountain was small—perhaps just over one hundred souls—but it was also isolated. Even in the summer it received few visitors. In the winter, with the mountain passes buried beneath snow and the little river that nestled the village half frozen and treacherous, travelers were unheard of.
While the healers who had first heard the news and the shepherd who had brought it were already moving, Laniya was soon at their head, projecting an air of calm assurance, while inwardly fearing she would find something that was bigger than she could handle. She swatted the thought away as she always did—then soon forgot it altogether when she saw what lay before her.
Bodies lay like clay figures thrown carelessly around a potter’s workshop. Although clearly human, they were like no people Laniya had ever seen: large and muscular, wearing clothing that seemed to be nothing but layers of animal skin. None of the people moved, but a small group of strange animals clustered together in the shelter of a small hill. But it was clear they would not survive long out here.
The healers and their assistants checked each body for signs of life.
“This one is dead,” said Marnak, senior healer, and one of the oldest men in the village.
“These, too,” said his apprentice Karya. “So sad; a mother and child, frozen together.”
Laniya’s voice carried above the wind. “We must bring all of them back to the village! Only when they are warm, and some time has passed will we know for certain who has passed beyond recalling.”
The people nodded at the wisdom of their Mother’s words. All had heard of people lost in the snow, who had appeared dead when found, yet had returned to life after hours—or even days—of warmth and care. Some had even seen it themselves. Blankets were turned into litters, strong men lifted the smaller victims, and soon all the strangers were brought into the village. The shepherd who had discovered them, and a few who shared a similar affinity to animals, led the strange beasts, who looked a bit like giant goa
ts, away for food and shelter, and whatever care they might need.
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Acknowledgements
Thanks go first to everyone I already mentioned in “Daughter of the Goddess Lands”. Thank you all again!
Those who have added their wonderful help to this second novel (or who I forgot to mention last time) include my high school English teacher Dr. Philip Fisher, for inspiration and mentoring, To Donji Columbine, thanks for the terrific cover art (both times). And to the wonderful ladies of BroadUniverse.com, thank you for showing how to spread the word about the book after it’s published.
And, although I’ve said it before, thank you George for making this novel happen, Tom, for making it possible, and Heather and Melissa—just for being you..
About The Author
Sandra Saidak graduated San Francisco State University in 1985 with a B.A. in English. She is a high school English teacher by day, author by night. Her hobbies include reading, folk music, attending SF conventions, researching prehistory, and maintaining an active fantasy life (but warns that this last one could lead to dangerous habits such as writing). Sandra lives in San Jose, CA with her husband Tom, daughters Heather and Melissa, and cats, Cocu and Oreo.
Learn more at: www.sandrasaidak.com
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