by Sharon Joss
Why he would return for her, based only on the slightest of introductions, and bring down the wall of the dormitory to help her escape the temple made no sense. No Khirjahni would do such a thing.
The sacred temple trained priestesses to serve the Spirit of the Mother. It mattered not that under K’Takiweah’s leadership, the temple philosophy had become twisted. Much had changed since she fled the temple seven years ago. K’Takiweah had the orphans and acolytes locked into their cells at night. Dedication to the Mother of All was no longer a choice for the girls raised within the temple; they all served K’Takiweah now.
To her horror, one of the younger acolytes explained that any who did not fervently and wholeheartedly worship K’Takiweah as the living Mother of All were culled from the herd in a ritual purification sacrifice.
K’Takiweah had obviously gone completely mad; but no one in the temple dared to question her. Only the moon’s position in the sky had spared her from the purification rites. Only one night remained until K’Takiweah would have cut her still-beating heart from her chest on the now desecrated altar of the Mother. She never thought she would leave the temple alive. Never in her wildest dreams would she have imagined a rescue by the off-worlder.
He had no idea what he’d done.
She halted several times to listen for the sounds of pursuit, but heard only the sounds of the night forest. She wanted to stop and talk to the Terran, but they would have to wait until she was certain of their safety.
Renly, she reminded herself. His name is Renly. He came back for me. No one has ever come back for me. Not my father. Not my mother.
She did not remember her mother, and the priestesses only knew her father was a dirt-eater; one of many disillusioned Terran miners who had gone into the Forbidden zone to look for gold and never returned, but not before he’d impregnated her mother.
The Temple of the Mother did not turn away orphans or babies born out of wedlock, but there had always been a bias against mixed race offspring, especially the children of dirt-eaters. The other children treated her badly, and the priestesses ignored her, but she never knew any other way.
She leaned low against Neatfoot’s neck, avoiding the low-hanging branches. Behind her, Silverbeard struggled to keep up, handicapped by the ridiculously heavy bag Renly insisted on keeping with him.
The traggahs became her family. She understood them, and they her. They accepted her unconditionally as a member of the herd; in turn, she trusted them with her life. Until the age of five, she spent all her time at the stables, even sleeping in the stall with the old grey patriarch of the temple herd, Momo.
At five, she was initiated as an acolyte, the priestesses moved into her small cell in the temple dormitory. She spent her days in school, but all her free time, she spent among the traggahs, cleaning the stable, feeding them, tending to their needs, or, as she grew older, riding them into the forest or into the rocklands.
Behind her, Renly grunted and fell from Silverbeard’s back. She reined in Neatfoot and circled back to them. He lay unconscious, his pulse strong and steady. Exhaustion, probably. Earthlings were such fragile creatures. She never expected him to survive the tree lizard bite. He was certainly the most surprising Terran she had ever encountered. She’d been only ten when she’d been bitten, and still remembered feeling weak for a long time afterward.
She got her shoulder under him and half-led, half-dragged him off the trail to a copse where the trees grew closer together. He his bare arms and face felt cold as death. After the traggahs bedded down to sleep, she helped him to a spot sheltered between their warmth, just as she’d done so many times herself when she’d followed the herd out on the plains. Their bodies blocked the wind, and radiated enough heat to keep out the worst of the wind and cold. When she’d travelled with the herd as a runaway, she slept snuggled up beneath the long strands of their shaggy coats, but the coats of racing traggahs were clipped short. She worried he might freeze to death. Even asleep, he kept a tight grip on his pack, so she curled herself around him and allowed the warmth of their shared body heat soothe her to sleep.
* * *
The next morning, his color and vigor returned. As the traggahs made their breakfast on the forest vegetation, he asked her why she’d been imprisoned, and why the Temple Mother had lied to him.
“You must understand. Traggahs are the sacred ancestors of the Khirjahni people, but my father was a dirt-eater. My mother abandoned me at the temple as a baby.
“They locked you up because your father was Terran?” He sounded incredulous
She shook her head. “This is difficult to explain to off-worlders, and even more difficult to explain to you. In days before the off-worlders came, Khirjahni tribesmen were able to mind-speak with their traggahs, but this ability has been lost by all but a few blessed by the Mother of All.”
“I was born with this ability. I recognized the same ability in you at the stable that day. I now believe my empathy for the traggahs might be something I inherited from my Terran father. Are here other Terrans blessed with the gift of mind-speak?”
He shrugged. “It’s not common, if that’s what you mean. Most people don’t believe in it. My brother and I; well, we share a connection like you said. I don’t remember ever attempting to communicate with an animal before. I didn’t know it would work on Terran animals. Some Terrans claim they can communicate with animals. Nobody gets locked up for it, though.”
“Had I not been raised in the temple, my gift would not have been such an issue. But the priestesses all decided I had the favor of the Mother of All. It marked me as the Queen Mother’s successor. Only the chosen of the Mother of All are blessed with the gift of her visions.
“I was brought before K’Takiweah and forced to admit the traggahs spoke to me every day. I protested that I did not receive visions from the Mother of All, but K’Takiweah would not listen. She felt threatened by my affinity for the traggahs. This was something she did not have. For the daughter of a dirt-eater would have this ability, where she, the Queen Mother did not, was an insult to her personally, and a grievous affront to the sanctity of the temple.
“She claimed the Mother of All spoke to her, and demanded I undergo the rites to become a priestess. I did not want to do this, but I had no choice but to obey. My days were spent in forced meditation, education, and prayer; at night they locked me into my cell. They forbid me to leave the temple.
“I decided to run away when I heard the other girls whispering about how K’Takiweah was not ready to step aside. She told her inner circle that I was an abomination; a false oracle. No child of a dirt-eating off-worlder would live to become the Queen Mother.
“In the temple, the Daughters of the Herd are taught herb lore and healing, but only the Queen Mother knows how to use the poisons of our world for pain control and healing. She alone knows how to cure the deadly tree dragon bite. As the time for my initiation into the temple neared, I heard rumors that I would be poisoned before I ever took my vows. I feared for my life.
“Two nights before the initiation, I pretended to be sick during Morning Prayer, and instead of going back to my cell, I escaped on the back of the old traggah, Darkwind. After many hard days travel, we rejoined Darkwind’s herd out on the steppes. For the rest of the summer and fall, I lived the life of a solitary nomad; following the herd by day, sleeping in the warm shelter of Darkwind’s thick plush coat at night. In my temple training, I learned which herbs and roots to eat, and the herd accepted and protected me from the wild animals of the steppes as they would one of their clan.”
The memories of Darkwind and her simple life with the herd pulled at her. “Off-worlders do not understand the Khirjahni concept of family. For us, it means not only the family of our birth, but also our natal herd clan and their home range. Darkwind’s herd was my also my birth mother’s herd clan. They accepted me as family. The lands of the clan territory became my home. I feared K’Takiweah, and vowed never to return.”
“Until I got
bit by that lizard.”
“I see your eyes are now marked like mine. I did not think a Terran could survive a tree lizard bite.” She smiled ruefully. “To be honest, I did not want to take you to the temple at all. Even after so much time had passed, I was afraid. But when we arrived, I saw Golden Boy in the corral. While they were attending to you, I tried to sneak out with him. K’Takiweah recognized me, and made me her prisoner.”
She took his injured hand. Although still swollen, his hand had returned to normal size, the marks left by the lizard’s sharp fangs had blackened and the skin started to slough off. “Why did you come back for me?”
“I had a lot of time to think before I got to Okoro’s house. I couldn’t understand why you and Paul would return to the coast without sending someone back for me. I told Okoro about it, and he said he hadn’t seen you. He also told me that some Arkady men had come by asking questions. At first, I thought you had sent someone back for me after all. I figured one of the men had to be with the barn manager Wayne Strickman. He’d been my escort while I was looking for Garrett.”
K’Sati felt faint. If Wayne found her…
“But Okoro said they were only looking for you and Golden Boy. They didn’t mention me at all. It didn’t make sense, if you’d already left the temple, like she told me. That’s how I figured out she’d lied to me.” His eyes bored into hers. “I don’t like being lied to.”
“She has lost her senses.” Her lips trembled. “She would have killed me, and no one would ever know. Thank you.”
“No problem.” He looked away, as if uncomfortable with her gratitude. “So where do we go from here? I’m still looking for Garrett, and you’re still looking for Golden Boy. Seems to me we’re both looking for Paul. Do you have any ideas?” He hefted his pack over his shoulder.
The realization hit her hard. She could not return without the traggah, and had nowhere else to go. The stable had been her home for nearly four years. “The final race is in a few days. If I can return him before then, they will slip him into one of the other preliminary qualification races. I must convince Paul to trade Golden Boy for Silverbeard. Or Neatfoot. I am certain he does not realize what he has done.”
“And I just want to talk to him; so we’re together in this, right?”
She nodded.
“How are we going to find him in all…this?”
The after-effects of the tree lizard toxin had left deep purple bruises beneath his eyes, and his face still bore deep lines from the seams of the pack he’d slept on. He did not look strong enough to accompany her, but she could not bear to tell him so.
“All the traggahs in the stable are bonded as a herd,” she explained. “As you now bonded with Silverbeard, you can sense his bond with Neatfoot, and her link with me. I can sense all the presence of all of the Arkady racing traggahs, and to a much lesser degree, their natal clans. The closer they are, the stronger their presence feels to me. Golden Boy feels very, very close. He is less than a mile or two ahead of us.”
Renly’s gaze sharpened. “You think he’s still with Paul?”
She nodded. “I cannot understand why they are so near.” She gathered up Neatfoot’s reins, and using the traggah’s flexed foreleg as a step, climbed onto her back.
“I’m going with you.”
“Transport ships will begin departing from Aurum in the next few days. The last of them will leave in less than a week. If you miss your ship, you will be trapped here for another four Earth years.”
He stared down the road ahead of them. “I came here to find my brother. Paul is the only person who can take me to him, and I’m pretty sure that’s where he’s headed. That’s why he didn’t want to talk to me. Where does this trail go?”
“Ahead of us are the Rocklands, where a mob of rockpies can strip flesh from your bones in minutes. Once they clear the Rocklands, they will be out on the steppes, where we will not be able to catch him on Golden Boy. The best we will be able to do is follow him to wherever he is going. We have no food or water or shelter with us, and without the protection of a herd, we will be targeted by predators.” She stared down him. “Leave now, and the coast is a two day ride.”
“How do you expect to get Golden Boy back by yourself?”
She had no answer. She hoped to approach the pair while Paul was asleep, and counted on the presence of Neatfoot to tempt Golden boy into coming with her, but she knew her odds for success depended on luck. The time for luck had passed. In a few hours, they would be through the rocklands, and the opportunity to catch up with them would be gone.
“That’s what I thought.” He scrambled clumsily up onto Silverbeard. “Look. You can sense Golden Boy and he’s with Paul. I’m looking for Paul, and you’ll need my help to get Golden Boy back. We’re in this together, right? Come on, we’re wasting time.”
* * *
By mid-morning, the forest had thinned and K’Sati spotted the Rocklands just ahead of them; a stretch of boulders and broken rocks broken only by a rough game trail. Steep, treacherous footing and the scavenging rockpie lizards living amongst the rocks and crevices created a natural barrier between the forest and the high plains of the steppes.
She could sense Renly’s anxiety escalate with every step; even the traggahs seemed nervous. Several times she asked if he would rather return to the coast, but he merely shook his head. She eyed the heavy pack he carried across his shoulder, and reined in Neatfoot to match Silverbeard’s pace.
“Those metal buckles on that pack will attract the lizards. You should leave it here.”
He paled when she mentioned lizards, but shook his head. “No way. This is my life. I’d as soon leave my legs behind.” He shifted the pack around to a position on his hip.
“If the rockpies mob you, you will leave more than your legs behind. The extra weight affects Silverbeard. Maybe you could hide your pack someplace off the road and pick it up when we return.”
He gave her a tight-lipped glare. “I’m not leaving it, and I’m not going back.”
She urged Neatfoot into a trot. “As you say. Keep close and whatever you do, do not fall.” She kicked Neatfoot into a lope, and they galloped up the rising trail into the Rocklands.
CHAPTER 19
Stiff winds buffeted Wayne and his men as they struggled to control the battery-powered sleds out on the prairie. Corey rode up in front vehicle with Lyle, while he and Nevers each piloted their own. The sleds weren’t designed to operate in these conditions, but they had nothing better. No wheeled vehicle could get through the rocklands, and no other transport had enough payload to carry a full-grown traggah; even an unconscious one.
The black mood that followed him from the coast seemed to get blacker with every passing moment. His orders to bring back Golden Boy and whoever took him carried a dire threat he took seriously. Wayne gritted his teeth against the stinking gale. The reek of sulfur was always stronger out on the plains; the prevailing winds blew from the interior, where the volcanoes in the Forbidden Zone belched their flatulent gasses.
Every time one of them inched their sled up a bit in elevation for a better view of the empty landscape, a gust of near hurricane-force winds swept up beneath the transport platform and threatened to tip the pilot and all their gear. They lost one sled that way, when Corey got careless, and the wind slammed the heavy sled against a stony outcrop; one of many which dotted the landscape. Luckily for Corey, he walked away without a scratch. Idiot luck.
For the first time since he’d been sent to prison all those years ago, Wayne worried about his future. Not scared, but rattled. The meeting in the boardroom caught him flat-footed with neither a friend to back him up, nor a plan to save himself. Richard Blaylock somehow discovered he’d been betting on the races; something Arkady prohibited out of concern for conflict of interest, even though everybody did it. And they forced him to stand there and take it while red-faced Ed Duprees and the rest of the board laid into him.
They piled the conference table high with the gold and
credits they’d confiscated from his so-called private apartment in the executive housing. The assholes stole his money, and then claimed it for themselves!
Lyle waved him over, shouting something, but the wind whipped the words out of his mouth. He steered the sled over to the tracker stood.
“We’re not going to find anything in this wind, Boss.” Unlike the rest of them, Lyle had the sense to wrap one of those woolen scarves around his head and over his mouth. “Fifty to one they’re laying up behind one of these outcroppings, and there are millions of square miles of ‘em. We don’t have a chance in hell of finding ‘em until the winds let up and we can get these sleds more than four inches above the ground. Not even the wild traggah herds move around much in this weather.”
Lyle was one of the few Arkady men who familiar with the Khirjahni terrain beyond the coast. He guided the teams into the steppes to capture the yearling traggahs for the gold races.
Nevers had been part of his crew back in prison, and then in the mines. Wayne knew he and Nevers could easily handle K’Sati and whoever she had with her. Nevers suggested bringing Corey along to help with Golden Boy. Corey was a big, dumb, strapping kid who did what he was told.
“And what are these doing in your possession?” Blaylock tossed a few packets of the dream dust he’d taken from that damn junkie, Jason. Of all the bad luck. He didn’t remember pocketing them. “You’re under house arrest until we can arrange transport for you back to the mines.”
Wayne clenched his fists, ready to take a swing and anybody who dared to lay a hand on him, but Ed Duprees stepped in just in time. “Hold on, Richard. This is not your call.”
Blaylock looked as if he might have a fit, but kept his mouth shut.
Wayne went on the attack. “Those don’t belong to me. I confiscated ‘em from a guy hanging around the stables. Claimed to be a friend of the blacksmith’s, but I told him he was on company property. I made him turn out his pockets. Musta forgot about ‘em. If you’ll give me a chance to speak, I can explain all of this. I got a plan to get the traggah back, but we’re losing time here, Mister Duprees. Every minute counts.”