Savage

by Lila Dubois

  “Beast?” she asked.

  “Yes, your desire, your passion. In Den, each man and woman has a beast, and that beast has many forms. It can be felt in many ways—in battle and fear, but a woman’s greatest beast is in her passion.”

  “I feel…”

  “Tell me.”

  Struggling to understand this new concept of ‘beast’, Siara spoke the truth without editing. “I want to take your hand and force you … force you to touch me.” The moment she finished speaking Siara’s stomach knotted with embarrassment, but Anleeh did not laugh.

  “Your beast does ride you, as she rode you a few moments ago, but your logic, your fear, suppresses your beast, allowing you to repress that need.” Anleeh slid his hand higher on the inside of her thigh. “I will strip that away, until you can no longer control or hide your beast. I will teach her to submit to me.”

  “Touch me.” Siara whispered, his talk of stripping and submission flaming her passion once more.

  “No.”

  At his flat denial, Siara’s arousal fled. She tried to jerk away from his touch, but he tightened his hand.

  “Let go of me.”

  “No.”

  “If you will not touch me as I want, then let go of me.”

  “I will touch you in ways you cannot imagine, but not just yet.” His hand started to knead her thigh, but it was a comforting touch, not an arousing one. “I will touch you, arouse your beast, until you would fly at me in a rage if I denied you.”

  “But you said I must learn to submit. Is anger and willingness to strike you not the opposite of submission?”

  Anleeh shook his head. “It is hard to explain, but there is both passion and defiance in submission.”

  Confused, slightly dizzy from the emotional upheaval of the past hour, Siara nodded, “Indeed.”

  Anleeh laughed, “Yes, indeed.”

  Lifting the fur, he wrapped it around her thigh, asking her to hold it in place as he secured it with a complicated wrapping of leather thongs. The process was repeated on the other thigh and then on each calf.

  When she was completely attired, Anleeh stood and looked her over. She still wore the close-fitting, if not particularly flattering, leather leggings and long sleeved shirt beneath the garments he’d given her .Her upper body, to her hips, was draped by the cloak, the hood framing her face, the layered browns of the bear fur highlighting her eyes so that they appeared large and liquid within the vulnerable oval of her face. Her legs, now revealed to be curvy and lovely, were protected from the cold by the skins, wrapped fur side down over her calves and thighs.

  He was surprised by how strongly seeing her dressed in garments of his people affected him. He desired her, more strongly now than the sweet stirring he’d felt in the Temple.

  “You are beautiful,” he told her, and Siara looked down at herself, lifting both eyebrows. “You doubt your beauty?”

  “Are you sure I do not look like a lumpy mass wrapped in dead animals?”

  Anleeh threw his head back and roared with laughter. The horses danced nervously.

  “What a thing to say.” Anleeh pressed a hand against his aching belly and shook his head. “You look lush and beautiful.”

  “Perhaps you have missed seeing women dressed in the ways of your homeland.”

  “Yesterday I would have denied that statement, but you might be right, lover. I must not let myself forget how smart you are.” Anleeh went to the tree and picked up his own furs. “But do not use that logic to try and dismiss my words, I speak the truth when I say you are beautiful. You, Siara, are beautiful, and I think that I would not find any other woman so attractive dressed in those furs.”

  “I… Thank you, that is a beautiful compliment.”

  “It is most sincerely given.” Anleeh swung on his cloak. “I will warn you that when we return to the Great City I am having your clothes burned and will commission a whole new wardrobe for you.” Siara remained quiet. “What is this? No quips, no protests that you like those ugly dresses or that they are practical?

  “They are practical, but I have often longed for beautiful clothes.” Her voice held a tentative note he’d never heard before, almost childlike with its simple and sweet longing.

  “Why did you not purchase them?”

  “I did not think there was a reason to do so. There was no need for me to dress with an eye to anything but function, and I did not want to appear vain. There is little enough cause for vanity.”

  Again she hinted at poor self-image, and Anleeh almost addressed the issue, but he knew that there would be a better way to show her how wrong she was about herself. He would wait until he could truly show her, using his hands and mouth, rather than mere words.

  “Clothes are not a matter of vanity, they are a matter of pleasure.”

  “I would appreciate your input regarding a new wardrobe.”

  Her appreciation was so formally expressed that Anleeh smiled and couldn’t resist teasing her.

  “It would be my pleasure. By the time we return to the Great City, I will know your body so well that you won’t even need to be measured for garments. I will be able to tell the tailor your sizes.”

  Even in the shadow of her hood, he could see her eyes widen. Anleeh smiled innocently at her and bent to wrap the furs over his legs. With his head bent, face hidden from her, Anleeh let his smile blossom into a grin. She was a delight, and the more he saw of her, the more of her old life that was stripped from her, the greater his desire for her grew. He was first attracted to her desire; a woman who could experience passion was a beautiful thing. Now her body, with its lush curves, was adding its own lure. Above it all was her fierce mind and heart, traits no thinking man discounted in a woman.

  Lost in his musings, Anleeh fumbled with his furs. After two failed attempts to wrap the skins to his own legs, Anleeh asked for her help.

  “I am out of practice,” he admitted ruefully, “I used to be able to wrap these without assistance and in a matter of seconds.”

  “I won’t tell anyone.”

  Anleeh smiled. “Are you ready to go?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good, we have a long day, but if we make good time there will be a cabin to sleep in tonight.” Anleeh helped her get one foot in the stirrup and then boosted her up and over the horse’s back. Seated atop the horse, so close in appearance to a woman of Den, Anleeh felt a stirring of his own beast. Panic rose swiftly. Ruthlessly suppressing it, he checked the lines from the pack horses to his own and then swung into the saddle, pulling his hood up.

  Chapter Three

  “Why did you not tell me you’re unable to ride?” Anleeh’s shout startled three crows from a nearby tree. They rose, cawing angrily.

  “I can ride.”

  “No, you learned to do what your horse told you, instead of the other way around. That is not riding!”

  “I know how to ride,” Siara insisted stubbornly.

  Anleeh threw his hands up in frustration and turned away. Siara dropped her forced calm demeanor and let her knees and hands shake.

  The ride had been going fine until Anleeh decided to up the pace. Siara was only comfortable with walking and trotting. She’d read that a canter and gallop were both easier seats than a trot, and so had thought it would not matter that she’d never actually gone faster than a trot.

  The canter had been frighteningly fast, but survivable, the gallop, as it turned out, was not.

  “Look! You’re shaking!” Anleeh shouted.

  “I’m not shaking.”

  Anleeh grabbed her wrist and held her hand before her face, her trembling fingers only an inch in front of her nose. “Look at yourself.”

  “Stop yelling at me!” she yelled back, her voice high and thin. Siara swallowed hard, trying to force the knot of tears at the back of her throat to subside. She hated that she was so emotional, hated feeling afraid and vulnerable.

  “Ahhh, lover, I’m sorry, but you frightened me.” Anleeh wrapped his arms around her
and pulled her stiff form against his chest.

  “I was … concerned, also,” she mumbled into his chest.

  His laugh rumbled through his chest and into her. The insane urge to cry subsided and Siara took a calming breath. Anleeh’s hand slipped under her cloak and moved up and down her back.

  “Are you ready to continue?”

  “Yes, as long as we do not gallop.”

  “Galloping is fun and easy.”

  “Canter?”

  “Very well, we’ll canter. And next time you’re frightened, pull back on the reins—do not dig in with your heels.”

  “I was pulling back on the reins.”

  “Yes but you also used heel, more heel than rein, which signaled to the horse that you needed to get away, as fast as possible.”

  “Well how was I to know that?”

  “Did you never have riding lessons?”

  “No.”

  “In the name of the Goddess, woman, how did you know what to do at all?”

  “The Temple has an extensive Library, and I watched the mounted soldiers train.”

  Anleeh grabbed her upper arms and gently shook her. “Not everything can be learned from books.”

  “Much can.”

  Anleeh shook his head. “You are a very brave woman to have mounted a horse with no training. I could tell you did not have much experience, but had no idea you’d never had lessons. When we reach my Uncle’s hall, you will learn.”

  “But for now, no galloping?”

  “No galloping.”

  Anleeh helped her back into the saddle and corrected her posture, forcing her heel down, correcting her grip on the reins and explaining why they had to be held that particular way.

  She filed away his instructions and explanations, fitting together the whys and hows of each thing he said.

  “Good, that is enough for now.” After reattaching the leading ropes he’d been forced to unfasten in order to go chasing after Siara’s runaway horse, Anleeh mounted. They’d made good time and would reach the first cabin by sundown.

  They chased the sun into the horizon. As pink and orange light bled through the cold air, the small caravan reached the first night’s destination. Weary but warm inside her fur garments, Siara was able to dismount without assistance.

  After pacing back and forth to regain control of her numbed legs, Siara helped Anleeh unload the horses, setting their bags before the door of the small cabin. There was a large covered stable to one side. Siara poured piles of oats for each horse as Anleeh lowered hide panels on three sides of the structure. The hides served as a windbreak for the horses, and the horses would serve as warning for them. If anything came near, animal or human, the horses would let them know.

  After the last bridle had been removed, replaced by a simple leather harness that freed the horses to eat, they left the animals, grabbed their packs and made their way inside. The door of the cabin had a large musky smelling hide stretched over it. Siara wrinkled her nose as Anleeh lifted it from its hooks and the smell increased.

  “What is that?”

  “Bear urine.”

  “Ugh.”

  “It keeps all the other animals away.” He rolled the skin and placed it beside the door, which was unexpectedly beautiful, the work of a master carpenter set in a rough-hewn cabin.

  “The door is wondrous.”

  “Aye. One of my people’s—Den’s—greatest secrets is woodworking skill.”

  “Such work would fetch a very fine price in the Great City.”

  “It would, but there is a reason Den likes to keep secrets.” Anleeh peered at the door for a moment, and then carefully touched a series of symbols. First a swooping set of lines that looked like a bird’s wing, then a threatening bear claw, and finally the outline of a rising sun.

  As he tapped his finger on the rising sun each of the symbols he’d touched filled with pale light. The light, cold white-gold like the winter sun, bled into each line of the carvings, highlighting the exquisite detail. The pattern of feathers on the wing became visible, as did the impression of fur on the claw and the rays of the rising sun.

  “A bird’s wing, a bear claw, and the rising sun.” Siara murmured.

  “How do you know the sun is rising?”

  Siara cocked her head and considered the question, puzzled by her own certainty. “I don’t know. It would make more sense if it were setting, as this is Den, the land where the sun sets.”

  “It might, but you are correct; it is the rising sun.”

  “Is the combination, the pass code, the same on every door?” The light faded from the carvings and the door of the cabin opened with a faint ‘pop.’ Anleeh ushered her in.

  “No. The symbols relate to the one who begs entrance, not to the door.”

  Siara looked at him, surprised. “You mean to say that each person must touch a different set?”

  “Yes, and they are not always the same. What you touch must reflect what is in your heart. I have traveled far and wide, as a bird does. The second thing is emblematic of yourself; the bear was my first kill and is always a part of me. Finally, thoughts of the future: the rising sun because my life, and our world, is at the dawn of a new time.”

  “Had that not reflected what was in your heart…”

  “The door would not have opened.”

  “This is incredible! I have never read of anything like this. We must document it; it will be the first part of the book I will write.” Anleeh turned his head away, busying himself by hanging the bags from hooks on the walls. Siara paused, the next question poised on the tip of her tongue, but left unuttered. Her companion’s pregnant silence could not be ignored. “You are uncomfortable with this.”

  “The magic of Den is secret.”

  “Our mission is to document these people.”

  “No, that is your mission. Mine is to broker a treaty.”

  “Better understanding will improve relations. Better relations will strengthen the treaty.”

  “Enough. You are correct.” Anleeh hung the last pack and leaned one shoulder against the wall, head bowed. “My reluctance to relate Den’s secrets is not something I expected.”

  “I did not mean to ask for more than you are willing to give.”

  “I must be willing to give all if we are to succeed.”

  “Your reluctance it understandable, this is your home, these are your people.”

  “No. Den was my home. I no longer claim its ways. That makes my reluctance all the more troublesome.”

  Siara opened her mouth to offer further reassurances, but Anleeh turned away. Leaving him to his thoughts, Siara inspected the cabin.

  It was a single large room, constructed of entire tree trunks laid atop each other. The space between the trunks was filled with a pale substance. Poking at it, she discovered the substance was hard, clearly some sort of plaster or mortar. The roof had appeared thatched from the outside, but from within she could see that the structure had been roofed over with small planks, the thatch covering the planks.

  Anleeh left for a few moments to climb onto the roof and remove a cover from the chimney. Siara held a blanket up in front of the hearth to control the dust that fell when he used a long branch to clear it out.

  “The cabin is in good repair. How often is it used?” she asked as she swept up what dust had escaped to scatter over the cabin floor.

  “Often enough, but patrols will stop by and clean it, make repairs if needed, on their rounds.”

  “We are so close to your Uncle’s house that there are patrols? I thought that we still had several days’ ride ahead of us.”

  “We do. There are regular patrols that travel far and wide, protecting the borders and spying on the other Clans.”

  “How many Clans are there in Den?”

  “I do not know for sure. There are several large ones, and my Uncle’s is one of them. There is much fighting between the peoples, but they will unite against a common enemy.”

  “Like the Great City
?”

  “Yes.”

  Anleeh left to hunt, asking Siara to build a fire while he was gone. Siara waited until he was well away to begin experimenting. She’d never made a fire before, but she’d read about it.

  When Anleeh returned an hour later, bringing a cold blast of night air with him, Siara was seated on the floor before the hearth, a tinder box and pile of small twigs at her side. The fire roared, far larger than he would have built, and when she turned to look at him, her cheeks were rosy. The smile on her face had him wondering if her flush was from excitement or the heat in the cabin. He smiled—her joy was infectious—taking the cleaned and spitted foxes and rabbits he’d caught and slipped them into grooves high in the hearth so they could cook over the flames.

  “What are those?”

  “Rabbit and fox.”

  “There are four, why so many?”

  “We will eat what is left for tomorrow as we travel. And we have need of the skins.”

  “Why? We have more than enough skins. I was plenty warm, were you cold? Also, do they not take a great deal of time to tan?”

  “So many questions.”

  Siara refused to be embarrassed or ashamed. “That is why I was sent. To question and learn.”

  “I know, forgive me. We need the additional skins because they will become a part of the clothing you will wear. Normally it does take a long time, but there is a special ointment we use; it will cure the skins quickly.” Anleeh rose and pulled a large squat jar from a chest against one wall. “This is kept stocked in each of these cabins.” As the meat cooked, Anleeh showed Siara how to apply the salve to the inner surface of the skin.

  If he expected her to scream at being shown the slightly bloody skin of a freshly killed animal, he’d sorely misjudged her. Siara claimed one of the skins for herself and experimented with the salve, asking question after question, until Anleeh’s exasperated exclamations convinced her that she’d exhausted his knowledge of the origin, ingredients and preparation of the product. After stretching the skins on frames to dry and cure, they ate, munching silently and washing each bite of food down with the stream water he’d brought back.