Western Shore ac-3

by Juliet E. McKenna

  'Leave it.' Velindre gave Naldeth a discreet shove in the small of his back. 'Save your strength.'

  Naldeth sighed and let the tree crash back to the ground. The savages hurried onwards with visible relief. Once they had left the barren expanse of the mighty barrel trees, they found themselves toiling up an apparently endless shallow slope dotted with thistly plants and the

  strange scaly fingers of thorny green spikes. The sun was beating down strongly now and Kheda was sweating.

  Where are we going to find water in this desert, so far from the river?

  As he slowed to mop his brow, savages hurried past him. The foremost began shouting and Kheda saw movement ahead. A gap opened up in the indistinct green as men and women appeared, using sticks and spears to drag aside a woven barrier of thorns and spines.

  Kheda took a moment to look around. Behind the tangle of vegetation, the land rose bare and brown, the earth washed away to leave scars of broken rock. Looking inland, he saw that this whole expanse of higher land fell away sharply into deep gullies choked with twisted nut trees and tangled thistly plants. On the seaward side, as best he could judge, the spiny forest sprawled all the way to the cliffs.

  So these people at least have the wits to claim land with natural defences on two sides and reasonably open scrub on the other two.

  'What do I do now?' Naldeth hovered at Kheda's elbow.

  'You look calm and in control.' He pushed the younger man forward. 'And we'll be following you, looking equally confident. Just remember how hounds can rip the throat out of a foe who cowers too low.'

  Risala was stony-faced. Velindre still looked drained, though her eyes were brightening with anticipation and a hint of discreet menace. Kheda looked to the old woman, who was still dogging his footsteps, in case her expression might give him some clue as to what to expect. Unfortunately her expression was as impenetrable as Risala's.

  Naldeth walked slowly through the rough opening in the spiky barricade. Yellow-green sprawls of the fleshy spiny plants grew along the inside. The wild men separated to

  pick their way through this low maze. Those who had appeared to greet them waited, spears ready.

  As Risala and Velindre fell into step behind him, Kheda used his hacking blade to knock away the more threatening of the fat spiny leaves. A murmur of awe made him look up. Those who had not seen his steel before were gaping at it. Kheda paused and swung at one of the taller paddle-shaped leaves. It fell to the ground with a soggy thud, cleanly sliced in two. He looked around, his face impassive as he held the gaze of any who caught his eye.

  Do you understand this? That if you attack me, you '11 be cut down?

  As the wild men and women within the barrier stood still, suitably cowed, a small child naked but for a string of crude beads knotted around his hips ran forward. Squatting down, he thrust a stick deep into the pulpy interior of the severed leaf and lifted it up, wary of the spines. Licking at the juice trickling down to paint dark shining lines on his dusty forearms, he hurried away with his prize.

  Naldeth chuckled. 'I don't think he's in awe of you, my lord of Chazen.'

  'I don't suppose that matters.' Kheda was satisfied that all the adults' attention was still fixed on his blade as they walked on, leaving the thorny barrier and the sprawling plants behind.

  'Do you suppose this is what they call home?' Velindre wondered wryly.

  There was something approximating a village in the midst of the area encircled by the tangled barricade. Low huts spread in an irregular fashion around a trampled expanse of bare earth with a fire pit dug in the centre. The walls of the crude dwellings seemed to have been made from lattices of the nut trees' gnarled branches. As best Kheda could tell, a layer of the razor-edged grass had then

  been threaded in among the twigs before a haphazard coating of muddy clods was slapped on top. Some had roofs made in the same fashion; others were merely enclosures with an awning of animal hide stretched over one corner.

  'Do you suppose that's where the mage lived?' Naldeth looked askance at the largest building in the makeshift village. Where the other huts were irregular in height and shape, this was a precise circle. The wall was made from stakes cut from the twisted trees and planted with care to minimise the inevitable gaps between each one. The roof was considerably more substantial, thickly thatched with grasses and resting on sturdy timbers that must have been hewn from taller, straighter trees akin to the ones in the dry valley back on the other side of the river.

  'They didn't run away.' Risala pointed at the two women lurking in the substantial hut's open doorway. 'What do you suppose they are going to do?'

  Kheda could see no clue in their expressions beneath their coronets of plumes, gold and scarlet and orange. Closer to, he saw that their hair was caked solid with some shining red substance, vivid among the ebony heads of the rest of the savages.

  'What am I supposed to do with them?' Naldeth asked uncertainly.

  'For a start, make quite sure they know your magic outstrips theirs,' Kheda said firmly.

  Can we keep them in check until both our wizards are fully restored? Or will I just have to kill them out of hand to be sure we're all safe?

  As distaste at the prospect of carrying out such dubious executions knotted the warlord's stomach, the men and women of the ramshackle village clustered around those who had returned laden with the unexpected bounty of fresh fish and meat. They were loud with their exclamations of astonishment and pleasure.

  No one seems overly concerned about the loss of their skull-faced mage.

  Keeping half an eye on the waiting women, Kheda watched as children, as brown and naked as the first, ran to cut more of the thick yellowy-green leaves from the fleshy plants. They had crude knives of black stone hanging on thongs knotted around their necks. Women in sagging wraps of thin hide knelt to strip the fish from the sticks they had been carried on, gutting them efficiently with more slivers of stone. As the children brought the spiny leaves, the women slit them open and packed them with fish and whatever worms or eels or crustaceans had been dug from the river bed. Older boys hurried to bring twisted branches from stockpiles between the huts while two grey-haired warriors set about rousing the slumbering fire to a new blaze. The slabs of fowl flesh and the long scaly legs were simply propped over the flames still skewered on the spears while the women laid the stuffed spiny leaves in the embers around the edge.

  'Do I just stand here?' Naldeth hissed.

  'They're coming over.' Risala hadn't taken her eyes off the feather-crowned women, who were indeed reluctantly leaving the shelter of their hut.

  'Go and meet them.' Kheda coughed as a shifting breeze hit him with the stench of something revolting singeing in the fire. 'Show them you're in charge.'

  'I'll be right behind you,' promised Velindre quietly.

  'Can you work any magic without falling over?' Naldeth coughed and strode past the communal fire. All anxious smiles, the savages bowed low as he passed them. The feather-crowned women halted to wait a few paces from their door.

  Kheda realised that it was beeswax mixed with red ochre caking their hair to hold their gaudy feathers in

  place. As dark-skinned as the rest of the islanders, the women both wore wraps of thin hide tied just above their breasts and reaching to the tops of their thighs. Unlike the other women, their garb was decorated with swirling patterns of beads sewn to the leather, made from polished fragments of red shell and pale-yellow bone.

  A wariness in their eyes suggested they had lived hard and dangerous lives and expected nothing else. Kheda watched them closely for any more immediate clue as to what they might do but their faces were unreadable. Unable to distinguish between them, he noted that one woman boasted a necklace of strange three-lobed teeth while the other had wristlets of dark scales threaded on plaited grass. Both were young enough that their limbs were still firm and smooth and they had an air of good health.

  So you 've long been used to better feeding than the majority of these i
mpoverished wretches. I can't see how you could be carrying any weapons under those scanty wraps. Why would you need to, if you can kill with your magic?

  'Can you tell if they're about to use some spell?' He slid a sideways glance at Velindre and was reassured to see the magewoman regarding the two wild women with open suspicion.

  'It all depends how they've been taught to use their affinity,' mused Velindre.

  Kheda drew himself up to his full height. The feather-crowned women spared him brief glances which he met with the most intimidating stare he had cultivated through all his long years as a warlord. He angled his hacking blade and his sword with slow deliberation, the polished steel still visible amid streaks of the great birds' blood and catching the sun. Every other savage stared awestruck at this mystery, though the women remained impassive. Kheda stood poised, blades just at rest as if he were waiting

  to meet a challenge on the Chazen warriors' practice ground.

  Like Telouet testing slaves brought for my consideration. I'm even walking two paces behind and one pace to their new master's open side.

  The feather-crowned women slowly turned all their attention to Naldeth. The one with the necklace of teeth was just a little quicker than the one with the scaled wristbands in sinking to her knees, head bowed submissively. As she followed her companion's lead, the one with the scaled wristlets glanced upwards through her eyelashes while keeping her face turned dutifully to the ground.

  'Get them up. No, don't offer your hand.' Kheda rebuked Naldeth swiftly as the mage reached out. 'Make it an order.'

  After a breath of hesitation, Naldeth snapped his fingers, red fire blinking between his finger and thumb. Both women froze, looking up at him. Their expressions were still masks of indifference but Kheda saw a spark of anger come and go in the eyes of the one with the necklace. The one with the wristlets betrayed nothing.

  Naldeth coughed and bade them rise with a sweeping gesture. They rose with fluid grace and turned to walk back into the high-roofed circular hut. Neither looked back to see if they were being followed. Naldeth hesitated again.

  'On you go, Master Mage,' Kheda prompted. He stepped up behind the wizard and with Risala and Velindre following close behind, Naldeth had no choice but to go forward.

  There was more light inside the gloomy hut than the warlord had expected and the gaps between the stakes making up the walls freely admitted the passing breezes, avoiding any stuffiness. The shade was welcome after the heat of the sun outside.

  'How do they cut rafters like that without steel?' Risala looked up, wondering.

  'Magic?' Kheda hazarded.

  'Not as far as I can tell.' Velindre was looking around the hut with growing interest.

  The four thick pillars that held up the roof's framework marked out a wide square. Crude panels of woven stick and grass set between pairs of pillars defined three sleeping areas where hides-were piled on heaps of dried grass. A few meagre possessions were tucked into the corners between the rough screens: little gourds, leafy twigs presumably selected for some virtue or other, and unidentifiable lumps wrapped in scraps of animal skin. In the space between these crude concessions to privacy, the earthen floor of the hut was scored with interlaced patterns. Some were mere scrapes of colour, faded and scuffed. Others were intense with fresh charcoal lines cutting through older symbols.

  'Kheda,' Naldeth said in strangled tones, 'what—'

  The warlord looked up from the patterns on the floor to see that the woman with the wristbands had untied her wrap. Tossing the thin hide aside, she stood naked before the young mage, still wearing that same impassive expression. When he made no move towards her, she went over to one of the sleeping spaces. Sitting on the hides, she found a small gourd in a corner and, pulling out a plug of leaves, poured a little oil into one hand. Still expressionless, she looked up at Naldeth, rubbing oil over her bared breasts and belly until her skin gleamed.

  'I'd say she's accepted she's yours to. . . command.' Velindre didn't sound overly amused.

  'I'm not about to—' Naldeth bit off his heated words as movement outside the hut caught his eye.

  'That's probably wise.' Kheda saw there were plenty of curious savages pressing as close as they dared to see

  what was going on within the inadequately opaque walls of the hut. 'Not until we know what she - and they -might make of that.'

  'Not now and not at all!' Naldeth took a step forward, stretching out his hand to the naked woman. She misunderstood him and lay back on the hides, drawing up her feet. 'No, get up, get dressed,' he said hurriedly. She didn't obey, simply spreading her thighs wider. Scowling, Naldeth caught up her hide wrap from the ground and threw it at her. 'No!'

  Even in the dimness of the hut, Kheda could see the young mage's furious blush rising beneath his tan. A murmur spread through the crowd outside, with undertones Kheda couldn't quite identify beneath the wide-ranging surprise. The woman scrambled to her feet clutching her beaded wrap. She hurried out of the hut, retying the hide with jerky movements that spoke of shame and anger, her pace quickening.

  The second woman with the strange toothed necklace gave a slight shrug, her face as expressionless as ever, and reached for the knot securing her own rudimentary garment.

  'No!' Naldeth swept his hands across in a cutting gesture. 'I won't have this. Kheda, make them understand!'

  'How?' Kheda tried to keep his voice calm and reasonable.

  'I don't know!' Naldeth wheeled around and strode angrily out of the hut. The crowd outside hastily withdrew as the mage emerged into the sunlight.

  As he did so, some scuffle broke out over by the central hearth. Kheda shaded his eyes with his off hand and realised that the first feather-crowned woman whom Naldeth had rejected was on her hands and knees. A wild warrior struck her hard a second time, smashing a thick stone-studded club down onto her spine. She fell flat with

  a cry of pain and fear. No one else moved. The man with the club swung the heavy weapon at her head, using both hands and putting all his strength behind the blow. The club connected with the woman's skull with a sound like a melon dropped onto a marble floor. She lay with her face in the dirt, her arms and legs jerking. After a few moments, she was still.

  'I thought you said only mages killed mages!' Horrified, Naldeth flung the reproof back at the other three as he hurried towards the dead woman.

  The wild man waited, a gap-toothed smile broad on his dark face, the club in his hand smeared with blood.

  'That's what I thought.' Kheda saw tufts of the woman's red wax-coated hair caught on the vicious stone shards studding the club.

  'Can you do anything for her?' the mage asked desperately.

  'I doubt it.' As they drew closer to the corpse, Kheda saw blood sluggishly oozing from her nose and ears. Her eyes were open but unseeing and her skull was grotesquely misshapen. As they stood over her, he could see pale-grey matter exposed among the crushed ruins of her crown of feathers. 'No. She's dead.'

  'Why did he do that?' Naldeth raged, turning on the wild man with the club.

  The savage's smile faltered and he took an uncertain pace backwards as Kheda raised his sword. 'Do you want me to kill him? Think carefully about that. A death can't be undone.'

  'Kill him for doing what?' Risala interjected. 'Murdering her? Or quite properly executing her? We know nothing of their customs, Kheda. Kill him and we could all end up dead.'

  'Not while I have breath in my body,' Velindre promised dourly. 'But we can't kill him without knowing why

  he did this,' she agreed reluctantly. 'He might have been taking some wholly justified revenge on this woman, now that she hasn't got that skull-faced mage to shield her abuses.'

  'I'm less concerned with his fate than I am about ours.' Kheda looked around at the throng of savages, now silent and motionless. 'Naldeth, do you want him dead, to show you're the wizard in charge here?'

  As the young mage struggled for an answer, a scream back by the dead mage's hut made everyone jump. Kheda tu
rned to see the second feather-crowned woman backing away from two men who were stealthily menacing her with spears.

  'I won't have this,' Naldeth said wrathfully. A ring of crimson fire sprang up around the woman, protecting her from her attackers. One of them tried to stab at her through the brilliant flames. His spear flared and burned instantly to a charred stick that crumbled in his startled hands.

  Kheda saw plenty of awe in the other savages' expressions and not a little fear. All the same, confusion was winning out on rather too many faces, and here and there the warlord saw unguarded annoyance. Kheda searched out the old woman and saw her narrow her eyes at him with impatience, before switching her exasperated gaze meaningfully to Naldeth.

  He's not behaving as a newly triumphant wizard should. Because we don't know what a newly triumphant wizard should do. Regardless, that could put us all in danger.

  'I won't kill her,' Naldeth insisted. 'I'm not her enemy.'

  'You may not be her enemy,' Risala countered, 'but you're wagering all our lives on the hope she doesn't want to kill you to regain her status among her people.'

  'Get rid of her, Naldeth,' Kheda said, calm and unhurried. 'However you want to do it, just get rid of her. She's trouble we don't need at present.'

  Naldeth stared down at the ground for a moment. Looking up, he raised a hand and drew the circle of fire containing the feather-crowned woman towards him. She resisted until the unnatural red flames licked at her. At first the fire didn't seem to burn her and she stayed stubbornly still. Naldeth let a slow breath of exasperation hiss between his teeth and the flames burned gold for a moment. With a cry of pain, the woman yielded and the scarlet prison forced her across the encampment.