The Children of the Wind (Seven Citadels)

by Geraldine Harris

  The mountains soared over him and he struggled to climb them, struggled to reach the light. Up and up, climbing away from touch and sound; climbing out of himself into the bright void, but a voice was calling, forcing him to look back.

  Far below him, Kerish saw the plains of Erandachu, infinitely far, painfully near. He saw the whole and every fragment of the whole at once. He saw from the mountains to the ocean and he saw each circle, each tribe, each man.

  Tortured by the contradiction, Kerish fought to get away but the voice was forcing him to see things and tell what he saw. The voice was pushing him further towards the limit. What limit? He could not remember, or even recognize the sensation of terror. He hung in the void, screaming, "No!", but the struggle was hopeless. Kerish let go of the mountain and fell into the dark.

  Chapter 9

  The Book of the Emperors: Chronicles

  But when they begged him to sing of Zeldin, Tor-Koldin said, "I cannot, for I have lost simplicity and my complexity is helpless before him. When life has given me new ears and death a new tongue, then I will sing of Zeldin."

  When Kerish woke he remembered nothing at all after the slaughter of the calf. Forollkin was bending anxiously over him, pressing a bowl to his lips. The Prince struggled feebly.

  "Kerish, it's only a potion to give you strength."

  "No!"

  His brother's agonized whisper made Forollkin put down the cup and hold Kerish until he stopped trembling.

  "A good slap might bring him to his senses."

  It was Gidjabolgo's voice and a healthy anger stirred in Kerish. He turned his head to look at the Forgite and found the hideous face oddly comforting.

  "Forollkin, I'm so tired."

  "Gwerath said you'd need rest."

  Forollkin carefully arranged the fur coverlet around Kerish. "If she had warned me, I would never have allowed . . ."

  He saw that his brother was already asleep and lapsed into angry silence.

  When Kerish woke again, Gwerath was in the tent, sprinkling some scented powder in the lamps. A soft fragrance filled the air.

  "Breathe deeply, cousin," she said, "you will be better soon. The first time is the worst."

  "Your help is much appreciated. Now leave us," snapped Forollkin.

  "I'm sorry. I didn't know you would be angry. "

  "You didn't know," repeated Forollkin incredulously. "You half-killed him!"

  "It is the Goddess..." began Gwerath.

  "It is you. You and your father and your precious tribe. Now leave us alone!"

  Gwerath fled from the tent.

  "The tongue is sharper than the spear," murmured Gidjabolgo. "She'll bleed tears."

  Kerish was trying to sit up but Forollkin pushed him back against the cushions.

  "Forollkin, what happened? I was talking to Tayeb. He said I had my mother's smile.”

  Gidjabolgo snorted. "What does he care how much you remind him of his sister? You are no more than a beast of burden to him, to be used until your strength fails. "

  "I drank from the horn that Tayeb gave me and began to feel strange. I remember the calf and the blood . What happened next?"

  "You were standing by the tapestry in the Tent of the Goddess, looking three days dead," answered Forollkin. "When I tried to speak to you, Tayeb pushed me away. Then you collapsed and they laid you on a pile of furs. They were all crowding round you, but three warriors held me back and I couldn't get close. Tayeb began asking you questions about another tribe; the Geshaka. You answered, though it hardly sounded like your voice. You described their camp as if you could see it from above but your voice got fainter and Gwerath made them stop, I'll give her that. She spoke some prayer over you and they let me carry you back to your tent."

  "What's happening now?" asked Kerish.

  "The tribe are feasting and you are under Tayeb's orders to rest. Tomorrow we are summoned to his Council."

  *****

  By the next morning Kerish was fully recovered and shortly before noon the Galkians were fetched to Tayeb's tent. Ten elders and ten warriors, Enecko among them, sat cross-legged on the furs. Gwerath, kneeling by her father's stool, looked anxiously at Forollkin but he did not meet her eyes.

  "Welcome, kinsmen," said Tayeb, "to the Inner Council of the Sheyasa."

  "And why should Gift-bringer be welcome, of all the warriors of our tribe?" demanded Enecko.

  "Because of his name, " said Tayeb placidly, "as you shall hear. Sit down, kinsmen."

  When Kerish and Forollkin had taken their places, Tayeb began, "Tribesmen, we are now in the territory of the Geshaka. The Torgu of the Goddess has seen for us where they are camped and how they are guarded. Now the tribe must decide whether to cast the Spear of the Hunter, or keep the Peace of the Goddess."

  Enecko sprang to his feet. "The Torgu of the Hunter is weary after the sacrifice and I stand in his place. I claim his right to speak first."

  "It is your right," conceded Tayeb. "Speak, Enecko."

  "Tribesmen, our Chieftain talks of the Peace of the Goddess. We have kept that peace and the Hunter scorns our cowardice and turns his back on the Sheyasa. Who can deny that our glory is diminished? In the dawn of time the Sheyasa were the firstborn Children of the Wind. Blood offerings to the Hunter were never stinted, and he gave us victory and our herds prospered. Our warriors lived for their brave deeds and went to the Hunter's spear with joy. Now we have turned to the new ways and our glories wither like windflowers in autumn.

  Now our warriors shrink from battle, our women and children are captured, our herds decline, and there are fewer slaves in our tents. The traders no longer come from the West and the grip of winter is harsher. All this since we followed the way of the Goddess! Tribesmen, I beg you, let us live and die once more as true warriors. Let us destroy our ancient enemies and honour the Hunter, so that he will raise the Sheyasa above all the Children of the Wind!"

  "Enecko, the troubles you speak of have come to all the tribes," protested Gwerath. "Dead glories live only in the memory. Try to wake them from the grave and you will raise some horrible thing...."

  "Peace, daughter. I will answer the tribesman who stands for the Torgu of the Hunter."

  Tayeb's calm jarred on Kerish after the passion of Enecko's speech.

  "Elders, warriors, it is not the Goddess who weakens the Sheyasa. She has sent us two gifts that will drive our enemies before our spears. She has sent us a new Torgu who has told us all we need to know of the Geshaka to plan an attack, and she has sent us Gift-bringer and his new weapon."

  Tayeb paused and looked round the circle of tribesmen. "I honour the Goddess, but I do not counsel peace. I say we should fight, and the Geshaka will be helpless before weapons that kill from far off. We shall attack their herds and bring back wealth to share between the tribe, and dedicate to the Hunter and the Goddess at the Great Gathering."

  After a few seconds' silence came an excited babble of agreement. Enecko's voice cut through. "Well spoken, Chieftain, we shall shed blood together!"

  Tayeb smiled and Forollkin finally realized what he had done in placing a new weapon in the hands of the Sheyasa.

  "Tayeb, I taught you the bow to use in hunting; against animals, not men!"

  "And do your father's people never kill men with their bows?"

  "Yes, but it is not just to attack without..."

  "Just? Without strength there is no justice," said Tayeb, "and war makes a place for peace."

  "That is not the way of the Goddess!" cried Gwerath.

  "Silence daughter!"

  "I speak as the Torga of the Goddess," said Gwerath, with angry dignity. "She taught us that it was shameful to crimson our spears for plunder!"

  "We fight to teach the Geshaka to respect us," answered Tayeb, "and for the tribe to come. Who will follow his Chieftain into battle?"

  One by one, all the elders and warriors assented and Tayeb outlined his plans for the attack. There was a brief discussion and Enecko made several intelligent suggestions w
hich Tayeb at once accepted. The Council dispersed and the Galkians were left alone with Tayeb and his daughter.

  After a brief, hostile silence, the Chieftain spoke to Forollkin. "You will continue to teach my men how to shoot and you will ride with me on the raid, in the place of honour."

  Forollkin got up to face him. "I will do neither. You will get no further help from me now that I know your purpose."

  "You will help, and until you understand that I act for your own good and the good of the tribe, I will force you, if I must. You also, Gwerath."

  "Father, I had to –"

  "You can keep us prisoner," interrupted Forollkin, "but you can't force me to fight."

  "I hold the power of life and death over my tribesmen and my kinsmen. Obey me, or I will make my sister-son suffer for your disobedience," said Tayeb coldly. "Do you understand me? Even a Torgu may be punished for endangering the tribe. Now go back to your tents."

  Outside, Gwerath said, "Cousins, I am sorry for my father's words. I did not know you were so anxious to leave us."

  "Who would willingly stay among such savages!" exclaimed Forollkin.

  Gwerath stepped back. "Are your people, who live in cities of stone and have no circles, so much better? Your people who buy slaves and kill people from far off with winged wood."

  "We do not crawl along a narrow path, bound by foolish customs..."

  "Our customs were taught to us by the Hunter and the Goddess."

  "The goddess. If you knew..."

  "Forollkin!" Kerish gripped his brother's arm. "Speak of the Mountain Goddess with reverence or be silent. Come away, we've much to discuss."

  *****

  Two days later, just after dawn, Tayeb rode through the camp with the best of his warriors, watched by a crowd of silent women and old men. Twenty of the warriors had been hastily trained to fight with the new weapons: crude bows, and arrows barbed with bone.

  The Torgu of the Hunter sang a war chant and touched each warrior with the spear in his right hand. The Torga of the Goddess walked among the mounted warriors, offering star-shaped badges of horn. Wordless, she pinned one to her father's scarlet cloak and then turned to Forollkin who was checking his saddle girth close by.

  "Cousin," she began timidly, "will you wear the token of the Goddess, to keep you safe in battle?"

  "Thank you, no," said Forollkin, without looking up.

  "Kinsman, I know you do not fear death," pleaded Gwerath, "but I could endure the waiting more easily if you would wear this."

  He looked at her then.

  "A badge will not turn a spear, but if it soothes you . . . Gwerath, I've spoken to you more harshly than I should. Will you forgive me before I ride out?"

  Gwerath nodded mutely and pinned the badge to his cloak.

  Beyond her stood Kerish and Gidjabolgo. Forollkin could think of nothing to say to his brother. He hugged him briefly and mounted the sole horse among the Irollga. Tayeb gave the order to move off and they cantered northwards. Kerish saw them out of sight and then walked back with Gwerath to her tent. Watched by Gidjabolgo, Kerish gave his cousin another writing lesson. She could already form a dozen letters neatly and recognize far more.

  After an hour, the hand guiding Gwerath's suddenly clenched on her wrist.

  "They have begun," he said.

  Gwerath took him to the Tent of the Goddess.

  "We will keep vigil together"

  They knelt before the image of Sendaaka.

  Kerish didn't want to come any closer to the battle he sensed in the distance. He distracted himself by thinking of the keys he had won and by trying to picture the three sorcerers. He recalled the twisted smile of Elmandis, the pathetic eagerness of Ellandellore, the frozen tears of Sendaaka. Tears... The keys were such a heavy burden. `If Forollkin dies in this battle, surely I can't be expected to go on by myself?' He answered himself. `My father and Izeldon would expect me to go on trying to the last, but,' Kerish allowed himself to voice the questions that had been growing huge in the shadows at the back of his mind, `what if I should never have started this quest? What if it's wrong if I fail but even more wrong if I succeed?'

  Kerish suddenly bent double, gasping, as if he had been stabbed in the stomach by a sudden spike of emotion. What had just happened to Forollkin to make him feel so dreadful? Gwerath gripped his hand.

  "What is it, cousin?"

  "Couldn't you feel that?"

  She shook her head and went on holding his hand until the blackness left Kerish and he knew that the raiding party was returning.

  "You look as if you have fought the battle for them. Do you know if they are safe?"

  "Forollkin is safe," said Kerish.

  *****

  Two hours later they stood at the western edge of the encampment to greet the thunder of hooves. Kerish pushed his way to the front of the crowd that had gathered by the pens. He saw at once that the raid had been a success.

  Some hundred Irollga, their horns striped with the colours of the Geshaka, were being herded into a pen. Nearby huddled a group of women and children roped together like animals. All but five of the Sheyasa's Irollga had been led away to graze. The remaining beasts stood placidly, untroubled by the weight of their dead masters slung across their backs. A girl drew back the matted hair from one lolling head and screamed. A warrior ran past her to embrace another woman, eager to show her the ornaments he had stripped from the dead.

  Kerish moved among the Sheyasa like a sleep-walker. When at last he found Forollkin, he didn't rush to greet him, as he had imagined he would. His half-brother stood beside Tayeb. The Chieftain's hand rested carelessly on his shoulder. Forollkin's cloak was torn and stained but he seemed unharmed.

  Tayeb was speaking to one of the elders, laughing every few seconds; Forollkin was silent. Then Gwerath ran towards them and kissed her father, all quarrels for a moment forgotten. Tayeb returned her embrace.

  "Well, here's one who is glad of our victory!"

  Instantly her joy was shadowed.

  "I'm glad at your safe return, father."

  "Yes, our losses are very small and for that you must thank your kinsman.

  She turned to Forollkin. "Thank you from all our tribe."

  Forollkin said quietly: "I'm sure the losses on the enemy side were all you hoped for, Tayeb."

  "So they were," agreed the Chieftain, "your arrows put the fear of the Hunter into the Geshaka. They killed a few but they terrified many. It was easy to spear them as they fled. And see, a whole herd of young bulls, fresh blood for our Irollga. Later, Gwerath, I'll show you what I've brought for you."

  He would wash the blood off the necklace first.

  "Thank you, father."

  Tayeb smiled on his daughter and then noticed Kerish.

  "What, sister-son, have you no words to welcome us?"

  "I am not sure what you want me to say."

  He spoke only to Forollkin who answered with repellent brightness. "Why, all the usual things. Praise our bravery, give thanks for our safety. Try, brother, it should come easily to such a golden tongue as yours."

  "I'm sorry," said Kerish.

  "Sorry? No, that's all wrong. Am I not a hero of the Sheyasa, Tayeb?"

  "You are indeed, and tonight, when we divide the spoils, you shall have the richest share."

  "There, you see?" said Forollkin. "Now I must change my cloak."

  "I'll go with you."

  "Kerish, I don't want to talk, not now, can't you understand?"

  The Prince let his half-brother walk away to the tents of the warriors.

  For the rest of the day Kerish helped Gwerath and Eamey tend the wounded. In the evening, as an acknowledged Torgu, he was grudgingly allowed to join the victory feast. The sentries round the camp were trebled but those who had fought in the raid sat at their ease on the grass, close to the Tent of the Hunter. Tender Irollga calves were roasting whole over the firepit and women hurried round the circle of warriors with bulging skins of fermented milk.

  Ke
rish sat between Gwerath, robed as Torga and wearing a new bronze necklace, and Forollkin, who talked incessantly to Tayeb on his right. Kerish caught snatches of their conversation while ostensibly listening to Gwerath's account of the customs of the feast.