“Husband.” Amara saw Kaichen’s eyes widen at the use of the unfamiliar word upon her tongue. “I will tell them my story, with your permission.”
Kaichen did not expect Amara to ask his permission to speak, that was not his way. But the ways of her band were not his. He nodded slightly even as he took a warm blanket and wrapped it around her fragile shoulders. She smiled in appreciation. Her long black hair rested as dark as a raven’s wings over one shoulder, falling in a swath to her waist.
“I am not a storyteller.” Amara was quick to inform the men that gathered underneath the overhang, eager to hear her speak. The burgeoning rays of sunlight cast shadows upon the faces of the men before her. She still held on to Kaichen’s hand and his touch soothed her, lending strength to her voice. “Antuk and Kaichen have often called me Cloud Bringing Woman. My name is Amaranth, but I am called Amara.”
There were murmurs of approval from the men. The women of Tamol’s band were few and far in between but they gathered wild grasses and grain whenever possible. Amaranth was well known to these men and Amara’s use of the word endeared her to them.
“Before the buffalo hunt, Kaichen left me in a place of protection and concealment. I waited patiently with my waterskin and a small amount of dried mesma.” Amara grimaced along with the others as she spoke the name of the dried meat mixed with grasses and seeds. Mesma was a necessity but it was not something that caused the mouth to water with anticipation.
“I drank most of my water by the time that the sun set and the rest of it before morning. It was not until the first night came and went that I grew fearful and questioned myself over whether or not I should have saved some of the water for later. When the first storm cloud appeared I was not fearful. We are born of the same land, so you will understand when I say that I am aware of the sudden storms that can arise, but they fizzle out as if they had never been. I remained in the place of concealment sheltered by rocks taller than me by two times. Something woke me in the darkest part of the night, some sound brought my eyes open and I quickly scrambled up to see. The darkness was so thick that I could not see my hand in front of my face, but I knew that something was amiss, the moon was full and at its zenith, why then was it so dark? Where was the moon’s light?”
The only sound that could be heard was the crackling of the fire. Amara could not know it but she held the attention of each person present.
Even Denoa had managed to lift her head so that she could listen to the story told by the wife of her son. She marveled over the woman’s skill with their language and the way that her lilting voice carried to each person’s ears.
“Frothing water was the first thing that I saw and I admit that I froze in place, like an animal caught fast by the sight of a hunter’s bow and arrow. I stared without moving for moments that became endless and then with a last look over my shoulder I raced toward the tall cliffs.”
“I had no thought but to climb before the water came and swept away everything in its path. In those moments, my heart was not my own. For a moment, I believed the water was alive, a great beast of old seeking to consume the land as prey.”
“The rock walls that saved me were almost the cause of my death. The water caught hold of me just as I began to climb. I was battered against the rock and I fear that I thought all was lost. At the last moment my hands caught and held and I pulled myself from the water. Some instinct told me to climb and I listened.”
Many of Tamol’s men grumbled their understanding at the mention of climbing. They were skilled at traversing the rocks as if it was flat land that held steady under their feet. Their women and children were just as skilled as the men. It was expected and so therefore it simply was.
“The ledge above me seemed too far away but at the last moment I jumped and my grip held. The rock beneath my feet crumbled into nothing and I knew that I would not find a way down on my own. At the time I hoped that the wash below would become a raging river. I hoped that I would be able to find the courage to jump, but the days passed and I could not bring myself to simply throw my life away. There was a small chance of survival but I knew that it was foolhardy to risk it and I never stopped believing that Kaichen would return.”
Amara reached out and gently stroked the side of Kaichen’s face even as her hand traveled to land upon his shoulder.
“My husband is the reason that I am alive. I do not doubt it. The thirst for water has been with me for three risings of the sun. The chill of the night without fire is unspeakable.” Even the thought made Amara shiver. “I cannot imagine that I will ever become too warm to turn away from the fire at night. I will never be able to express my thanks to Kaichen, though he has told me that it was his duty as my mate, I know better.”
“But how is it that you lasted three days without water? You said that you left your waterskin behind when you fled. How did you survive?” Helaku was bold as the others looked to him to ask the question for them. He was already in Tamol’s bad graces and he knew that his punishment would be swift and exacting.
“I would not be alive now if the rain had not come and quenched my thirst.” Amara took a grateful sip of water as Kaichen watched her. She could not read the direction of his thoughts but his eyes shimmered with pride, of that she was certain.
The men had many questions and a few called out to Amara. Kaichen’s eyes were upon Helaku even as the man gulped audibly. Kaichen’s gaze was dark and fathomless as he issued a silent reminder that their best warrior had fallen in battle to him though he had spared the man’s life.
“Is there more to your story?” Kaichen’s words were for Amara and he saw her eyes flash as she sought Antuk’s large form in the crowd of sitting men.
Antuk had not spoken and he had not asked any questions which was unlike him. He simply listened quietly with his eyes traveling everywhere at once.
“There is more to the story, but it could not possibly be what Antuk wishes that it was. Perhaps I should not raise his hopes. Perhaps I should cease speaking.” Amara shrugged her shoulders, leaving the decision up to Kaichen.
“If there is more, I would like to hear it, but you can certainly tell me later. I will always listen to you, little one. But if there is something that will amuse Antuk, I think that he would enjoy hearing it now, more than later.” Kaichen had a feeling that he already knew what Amara would say to the men that strained to hear their hushed words.
“There is more.” Amara turned her eyes to Antuk as she spoke to the men. “The sun burned down upon me for most of the day and I thought that I would not survive another night without water. The river below had already started to die down to a small stream and I lost hope for a time. The music came to me unbidden.”
“I sought comfort in what was familiar, raising my lips to the flute, I called the music forth even as my body fought to hold on to life. One small cloud gathered in the distance and still I played. I spoke to the heavens and asked to be shown favor.”
“Water was needed to keep me alive, I could live without food, but water was vital. I do not know how much time passed. I only know that the heavens opened up and rain poured forth, great gusts of wind came with it, driving the water into a frothing river far below the ledge, which held me secure and protected.
“Do not fight the desert. Those were the words spoken to me by Kaichen and I listened. But I also remembered who I was and it was that strength that saw me through. You know the rest of this story and the telling of it is true and the proof of that truth is as real and alive as the woman standing before you. I am Amara, Cloud Bringing Woman and the wife of Kaichen.”
Amara humbly bowed her head as she finished speaking and Kaichen pulled her gently into his arms before urging her to sit. The men were completely silent as they considered all that they had heard.
Kaichen saw that the men were moved by Amara’s words but also her presence and the echo of awe in her voice that could not be ignored. Kaichen watched as his mother slowly stood. He recognized the signs of weakness an
d pain that shadowed his mother’s face.
“I cannot ask you to remain with Kaichen and take your place in our fight against the roving band of raiders that seek to kill, maim and destroy. Our bands have not always stood together as one but I stand before you now, willing to forget the past and move forward. I hold no grudge against you, I seek only to secure a future for our people. We hope for freedom and the right to live in peace.” Denoa’s enigmatic gaze roamed the faces of each of the men before her, including Tamol. “No matter what you decide, I offer my thanks to the men that brought me to safety and provided for me until my son could return.”
She nodded once as if she had come to some weighty decision on her own and then she turned to face her son. Kaichen took the two steps necessary to stand at his mother’s side. Together they presented a united front before Tamol and his men. Amara and Antuk took up positions to the right and the left of Kaichen.
A voice full of wisdom and seasons upon seasons of living, touched the ears of each person present. Tamol addressed the men that waited in silence, eager to hear what he would say.
“I have lived a long life. I have not always sought to do good, nor have I always acted with honor. My position as the leader of my people is secure…for now. But if I do not stand and fight against the raiders, then who is to say what will come to pass? I stand with the people safeguarded by the red rock canyons. Whatever it is that you will choose, make your choice known!”
Tamol saw the look of stunned surprise upon his men’s faces. They were used to being ordered about by their leader.
Some of the men had even spoken of an uprising if Tamol sought to force them to bend to his will. Pele quickly staunched the flow of murmuring against his father. He immediately walked to stand with Tamol as he glanced back at men that he called brother and friend.
“We should have Farren and his men here with us.” Pele’s voice was hushed as he spoke in low tones to his father. “I could send a runner ahead, so that Farren and his men can meet us here by daylight.”
“No.” Tamol’s answer was immediate. He envisioned the death of the men that walked with Farren and it was too much to contemplate. It was one thing to risk his own life but he would not force Farren to suffer along with him.
“Farren would want to make his own decision.” Pele persisted even though Tamol’s face was cold and impassive. He had known Farren all of his life and he knew that his father’s friend would want to take his rightful place in the fight to come.
Tamol turned to face his son and he shook his head. “You will not interfere.”
“Father, I seek only what is best for our band.” Pele’s objection to his father’s words was cut short by the gesture that Tamol made as he sliced his hand through the air signaling that he was finished with the discussion.
Slowly, one by one, the men decided for themselves which way they would go. A handful of men decided to return to the high cliffs that they called home. Pele reluctantly joined them at his father’s behest. The men refused to fight at the side of people that were not joined to them by blood or vow. Tamol refused to risk Pele’s life and he silently watched as his son disappeared from sight. The majority of Tamol’s men stood with their leader and their eyes were bright with determination.
Kaichen glanced at the group of men that had decided to join his fight against their common enemy and while he was not under the illusion that they would become brothers, the first hand of friendship had been extended and they were at least tentative allies.
Ni’zin looked back at the men, women and children that he had taken captive. Some of the women were openly weeping as their hands were lashed together and secured. The children were confused and frightened by the sight of men riding upon horses as they charged into their small village.
The raiders that walked with Ni’zin were full of boasting and pride as they recounted the ease with which they had taken the village.
The men that had fought against the raiders were rounded up and ready for the slaughter. Ni’zin had not expected any resistance and he was both surprised and irritated by the brief show of spirit displayed by the men of the village.
He relished the thought of marching the people back to the lands that he had claimed for himself. Soon he would have willing slaves eager to do his bidding. By keeping the women and children alive, he had all but ensured the compliance of their husbands, fathers and sons.
“When will I be given my choice of the women?” One of the men boldly questioned Ni’zin only to draw back slightly when their leader turned his cold, soulless eyes upon him.
“Soon.” Ni’zin’s voice was full of promise. “First, we will march the captives back to our village and then you will have your pick of the women before you.”
Ni’zin felt a since of doubt that vied for his attention even as he ordered his men to make ready. He ignored the instinctive reasoning that told him that the taking of this village had been too easy.
It was true that the men had tried to stand as warriors, even going so far as to engage his men in battle. But where were their old ones and the very young? And why did it seem almost as if the people had expected them?
Ni’zin did not have an answer to the many questions plaguing him and as the sun moved overhead he realized that there was little time left to make his first conquest more certain.
“Bring one of the men to me. I will make a demonstration out of him, so that the others will know what to expect.” Ni’zin’s order was met with a round of gruesome smiles from his warriors. The men were covered in war paint much like their leader. Ni’zin alone wore the identifying stripes of black over the right side of his face, neck and chest. He wore only a breechcloth and well made moccasins upon his feet.
Two warriors carried one man forward while securing his hands behind his back. The man’s feet dragged behind him as he grunted from the blows that rained down upon him. The men picked him up only to throw him at Ni’zin’s feet.
“What is your name?” Ni’zin spat upon the ground as he spoke in the tongue of the harvesters.
“I am Urri.” The man looked him directly in the eye though his body shook in fear. Ni’zin nodded as he walked around the kneeling man.
“Wrong answer!” Ni’zin shouted as he whirled and slapped the man across the face. “What is your name?”
The man’s body jerked from the punishing blow and he struggled to remain upright.
“Hold him.” Ni’zin enjoyed the flow of power and the rising crescendo of weeping that besieged the women. “You are nothing more than a slave.”
The man raised his head as if to defy Ni’zin’s proclamation and Ni’zin took that moment to withdraw his hunting knife. The edge of the blade was sharp and untouched by blood or gore.
“I am Ni’zin. Hear me!” Ni’zin stepped forward so that all could see him as he spoke. “We were once strong, we were once a great people that thrived under the hand of my father. I will restore my people to their rightful place and you are now the possession of a great man. I will ask you once more to tell me your name and I will not ask you again.”
Ni’zin turned his attention back to the man before him and he saw that the man’s eyes were now appropriately lowered to the ground at his feet.
“Tell me, weakling, harvester of the ground, what is your name?” Ni’zin’s face was so close to the other man that he could smell the stink of the harvester’s sweat.
“Slave.” Urri shook with anger and fury as the admission was ripped from his throat, urged forward by fear.
In the silence of his mind, he heard the weeping of his people and he felt only regret in his heart. Denoa had been right all along. They were ill prepared for the ferocity with which the raiders had fought.
They were ripe for the plucking as they tried to battle against a much larger force. Urri turned his face away from the man called Ni’zin only to stare into the defeated eyes of his wife and children.
Denoa had tried to warn them of the dire fate awaiting them. Urri’s w
ife and children looked to him for protection and strength and now they saw things as they truly were. He was weak, he was powerless and he could not protect what he had claimed as his own.
Ni’zin’s men cheered loudly, as the people openly wept. No one could withstand the power of the raiders. Ni’zin had proven himself to his men once and for all. No one would challenge the great warrior before them. Their dark gods had been with them and soon, they would all reap the benefits of this great day.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“By now our people have already been taken.” Denoa spoke quietly to her son as they walked.
Tamol’s men scouted ahead as they searched for signs of danger or ambush. Kaichen’s jaw ticked as he turned to look down at his mother. She had insisted on walking on her own, though he had offered to pull her along on a makeshift carrier.
“It is too late for guilt. I did what I could for our people and if they heeded my warning then they took shelter before it was too late.” Denoa’s voice trembled though she tried to hide her fear and upset.
“The rock cavern that serves as the food cache over the warm season is a good place to take shelter. We will circle around the village and check that area first.” Kaichen did not say it, but if there were survivors of the raid, they would be found amongst the rock caverns.
“Yes.” The simple word was tinged with sadness and Kaichen caught his mother’s arm. Her eyes widened in surprise at his touch and the consideration that she saw upon his face.
Denoa could not find the words to question her son but she sensed a difference in the way that he viewed her. No longer did hatred and anger stir within his dark gaze. No longer did he look through her as if she was not standing directly before him. The regard that he showed for her health and wellbeing brought tears to her eyes and Denoa tilted her head back so that the tears would not fall.
Kaichen felt his mother tremble and he instinctively stepped closer to her. Amara shadowed Kaichen’s every footstep and he was taken aback by the depth of tenderness that he felt toward his wife. She had shown a spirit of bravery and strength even when all hope had been lost.
The Last Sundancer Page 33