One of the swiftest of the Umoja traversed the gully in a strong leap and raced up the steep hillside after Diamanda and the mule. He caught a trailing strap coming from the bindings on Zahur’s body. He pulled to make the mule stop its progress. The mule brayed and kicked its rear legs into the Umoja warrior and sent him broken and bloody sprawling back down into the ravine. It continued following Diamanda who was halfway up the hillside.
Then both the mule and the Princess of Irem were lost from Aisha’s sight as they rushed down the ravine.
“This isn’t a good place to be,” shouted Ole. “We could get trapped in here.”
But no one listened, and they rode hard and fast down the narrow channel. Only a hundred yards behind, long-legged Umoja warriors raced after them.
The sides of the ravine went up sharply as the channel dug down and soon they were in a spot where they could not ride their horses up if they wanted to. It would be a challenge just to crawl out.
The ravine snaked back and forth then opened abruptly in a sweeping grass valley and they were trapped between the Umoja coming swiftly behind them and a crescent-shaped war camp at the bottom.
The Umoja warriors in the war camp already had bows and arrows knocked and spears ready to throw. “Umoja! Umoja! Umoja!” they shouted in unison.
Trapped, the adventurers drew their weapons and looked to one another on the preferred course of action.
“There must be over two hundred men,” said Catlo. “We should keep running.”
“Where? That many archers and spearmen are bound to strike us all a dozen times over,” lamented Aisha.
Ole shrugged at Aisha yet he had a determined look on his face. “If this is my day to die, it is a good one and I will go to Valhol with my axe in hand.”
Their war chief shouted, “Lay down your arms! And I will spare you.”
“Even I, Tafari?” challenged Musa, letting his horse trot a few hoofbeats forward.
Tafari squinted at Musa. A broad grin split his face. “You, Musa? No, you know all outlaws to the tribe must be put to death, but do not fight your kinsmen and I will spare your companions until the tribal chief decides what to do with them.”
“So, we can die fighting, or see what they will do with us?” muttered Ole.
Catlo looked all around at his options. It was plain he was gambling on racing his horse through their ranks, but the look of determination on the myriad Umoja warriors made him decide her didn’t need a dozen arrows and spears in his back. “We give up. They have us,” he said sourly.
Aisha didn’t like it either, but they were surrounded. “We should have run up that hill,” she said. “I suppose we’ll hear soon enough if Diamanda made it or they got her.”
Ole grunted.
Catlo wheeled in the saddle. “She’s gone? Where?”
“She went up the hill. Like we should have done,” said Ole.
Catlo spat and slid off his horse. “Well, they’ve got us then don’t they? Let’s find a way to bargain however we can.” He took off his sword belt and threw it on the ground in front of him and raised his hands in supplication. “Hi there. We’re lost. Can you tell us how to find Perkusi?”
The warrior chief Tafari, smiled and approached, holding his great spear like a staff. “I know Musa, and I know who you are, too.” He pointed an accusing finger at Catlo. “The maggot that has sought to worm your way into my people’s hearts for treasure that is sacred. I said I would not kill you, but I will enjoy this.”
Catlo looked ruefully back at the others but stood his ground.
Tafari slammed the butt end of his spear into Catlo’s stomach and brought the bandit chieftain to his knees with an awful gasp. Then he struck him again across the temple, knocking him unconscious. “The rest of you, get down from those horses. You are prisoners of the Umoja nation and will be dealt with accordingly.”
Behind them in the ravine came the chanting of Umoja, but also some terrible caterwauling.
“They caught Diamanda,” said Aisha, somewhat amused. “I suspect they’ll soon wish they had let her escape.”
“Unhand me you black dogs!” cried Diamanda, as she was pushed forward by the throng of Umoja warriors. They seemed to delight in her cries of protest. They brought her forward to stand with the others.
“They caught you on the slope?” asked Ole.
Diamanda snarled, “My stupid horse slipped and rolled over the top of me. But that stupid mule carrying the corpse escaped!”
Musa was pleased at that. “The sacred king continues his journey to the mountain,” he said under his breath.
The Umoja warriors bound them hand and foot then tossed them unceremoniously into an empty hut. They lay there for some time until an older man, looking like a chief, stuck his head in and sucked at his teeth while watching them. He vanished and in short order, Aisha was pulled out and taken away.
They carried Aisha across the camp to a larger hut made of zebra skins. It had long elephant tusks leaning crossways against each other marking the shadowy doorway. The warriors carrying her dropped her down opposite a pile of nearly dead coals. Only the barest hint of orange remained in the deepest crevice of the coals.
The warriors left, scowling over their shoulders at her.
Aisha was still bound with strong hemp cords and pondered seeing if she could stand the faltering heat of the coals to burn away the bindings and escape. But before she could act on her thoughts the old chief entered.
“Who are you,” he asked.
“I am Aisha,” she said simply.
The chief smirked and shook his head. “I think I should know of a warrior woman like you who comes into my lands. You have strange eyes. You are touched somehow, but by what?”
“It’s nothing.”
“I don’t think so, but you have aroused my curiosity. I will have the Rain Queen speak with you and she will know what is to be done. There may be a special place for you within the nation.”
“I have other plans. I’m not joining your tribe,” she said angrily.
He slapped her across the face and she tried to bite his hand, he narrowly pulled it back in time. “You are a fighter. I like that. You could bear great warriors for the nation. You have the spirit we need.”
“Like hell!”
He smirked at her again. “I don’t think you have much of a choice, woman. You will do as you are told.”
He left the hut and Aisha struggled to send her bound limbs into the coals to escape, but they were too cold to do anything but warm her sore limbs. She lay there a long time, unable to sit up or move in any direction.
She slept for a time for there was nothing else to do but regain some rest. Dreams came, but flickered by swiftly like darting carrion birds, never doing more than visiting to steal a bite then retreat before real predators could do them harm.
Dragons seemed to be in the periphery but always hiding in shadows. Finally, a witch who was half spider came and built a fire. She was solid black against the orange glow, but the horrific outline of her many legs was unmistakable. The witch hummed while she dressed an iron cauldron with magical herbs and strange potions that gave off a noxious aroma as steam belched forth.
The witch finally bent down and held Aisha’s face terribly close and stared into her eyes and smiled, revealing cracked and broken teeth that almost glowed in the dark. Serpents hung from her hair and her clothing seemed to be made of spun cobwebs. She forced a vile drink into Aisha’s mouth. Aisha tried to spit it out but some surely was forced down her throat.
She gagged and fell into a deeper sleep, too stoned for dreams. Insects and centipedes swarmed over her body on the hard ground. She tried to scream but her mouth was choked shut with rampaging vermin and the horrible trapped way to die brought a greater fear than any of the worst experiences she had ever had in her pirating days. She suffocated on the invaders and spiraled down into a dark vortex of doom, unable to cry for help, lost in the eternities of the damned.
Aisha awoke
to a bright morning sun in her face. She was still in the hut and was sure now that it was the same hut the chief’s men had taken her to, but now it was full of a bizarre number of magical fetishes, and their hideous owner.
The witch from her dream was real.
21. The Rain Queen
She was just an old woman, with no spider legs or snakes for hair, but she had the same terrible face. The old woman’s wrinkled face was compounded by a multitude of purposeful scars and ritual tattoos. Her cracked teeth were still hideous in the dim light within the shadowy hut. She stalked around Aisha, then said, “I have spoken to the spirits of the ancestors. I know who you are dragon woman. You have their eyes. You have a great heart and will gratefully be taking my place in the nation. You will give us much strength and good magic to defeat our enemies.”
Aisha, finding that her mouth was not choked shut with vermin, countered, “What if I’m not interested?”
The old woman snorted. “What you want or what I want is unimportant, the good of the tribe is all. The spirits have spoken. You have a great destiny for this nation. I have seen it clearer than I might see the men and huts outside. I have seen it sure as the sun blazes above.”
“I’ve heard those kinds of sentiments before.”
“Then you know that they are true,” said the old woman.
“Hardly,” she sniffed. “There is no destiny, only opportunity.”
The old woman crowed, “Liar! Destiny is all. And now for you the family is the tribe and the tribe is humanity. We do what we must to survive. You will be the new Rain Queen and bless our lands. Forget these others you arrived with. I will let them live if you will be teachable.”
“You won’t kill the outlaw son Musa?”
“Him? He must die. But I can see the big pale man is special to you. He can live and leave us in peace, if you will be teachable and cause me no problems in training you.”
“And the other?”
“Ah, he is trouble. I see dark spirits swarm about his head like bees over a kicked nest. But I will spare him too if you like.”
“I don’t like, but if you will let Ole go free, then him too I suppose.”
The old woman scrunched up her nose and sniffed. “You are curious. I can agree to that. We sacrifice Musa tomorrow morning at daybreak to atone for his crimes. You will be presented to the tribe as my apprentice. It is a good day for us to die.”
“What?”
“Not you, Musa and I. He for his crimes and me for the sake of the rain and the good of the nation. Swiftly, I will show you your duties in the field for the sake of the rain. In time when drought comes again, you will do as I do. Spilt blood of magic will bring the rain. I sense you worry. Do not fret child, you have many years before you. I know men in the tribe will each want their way with you, that you may bear many fine sons before it is your turn for the sacrifice.”
Aisha was aghast but contained her rage and disgust asking, “And this is what you have done with your life?”
“It is. I have borne many sons for the tribe, some were not kept but became needed fodder in the wars of sacrifice. Young blood is potent, but the magical blood of a Rain Queen is mighty indeed and thusly, for our sakes, we have long lives until its is time. I am happy to go. You will be too, in time.”
Aisha decided the woman was insane and there was no way she was going to spend one moment here longer than she was forced to. “Tell me more of my duties to come.”
The old woman craned her neck, asking, “You have resolved to accept your fate? Good, it is best to subdue. I will let Tafari know that he may bed you soon to begin your use.”
“Please, I need a drink of water,” said Aisha.
The Rain Queen nodded and grabbed a nearby skin to give Aisha a drink. Aisha drank deeply as the old woman held it because her ankles and hands were still bound.
As the old woman pulled the skin away, Aisha caught her by the flamboyant headdress and yanked her face into her knees. She clamped a hand over the old woman’s mouth and pinched her nose. The Rain Queen was strong, but nothing compared to Aisha, who held her steady until the old woman ceased her movements.
Fishing over the old woman’s body, Aisha found a small knife and slashed at her own bindings until she broke free.
Aisha stripped the old woman of her headdress and robe. She then bound her with stout cords and stuffed a scarf in her mouth. Putting the robe and headdress on was a bit of a trick, as the woman was shorter than she was and it didn’t fit quite right, but Aisha decided this was her best chance. She stooped and waddled out of the hut into the bright sunlight, hoping her impersonation might work.
“Mother,” called a man, “where is the apprentice?”
“She is resting,” said Aisha, doing her damndest to mimic the old woman’s voice and cadence. “I gave her herbs to sleep. Soon she will be ready for you, Tafari.”
“But I am Chitunda!” He beat his chest.
Aisha rubbed at her eyes. “I am sorry mighty Chitunda. My eyes. Why do you not think I am to be sacrificed tomorrow?”
This seemed to please Chitunda. “I will miss you, Mother.” He walked away.
She hobbled across the clearing toward where the men were being kept. She went inside the hut of skins and saw the four of them bound there.
Diamanda slept while Musa stared at the ground, deep in his own thoughts. Ole and Catlo looked to her, and Ole grinned broadly piercing her disguise. “Have you got one for me?” he asked with a smirk.
“There was only one, and I don’t think it fits every well,” said Aisha.
“I don’t know, maybe you should keep it. It shows off your legs nicely,” he said.
“But not your breasts,” added Catlo.
Both Aisha and Ole glared at him.
“What did I say?”
Musa looked up, aware now of the deception. “This is too dangerous. They will kill all of us now for this transgression.”
“We are getting out of her Musa. Are you coming, or do you want to accept the fate they plan for you?” asked Aisha, as she cut their bindings.
“Where are our weapons?” asked Ole.
“I don’t know,” responded Aisha. “They were not with the Rain Queen in her lodge.”
“They would be taken to the chief’s hut and then given as rewards to his prized warriors. They may already be distributed among the clan,” said Musa.
“That’s not good, we’ll have to make do with whatever we can find then,” said Ole.
“It will never work,” lamented Musa. “If we could have fought we should have yesterday. There are too many. We shall die staked to an anthill now for sure.”
“Why are you so down? You were already considered an outlaw by your tribe. What makes this any worse than what you already were?” Aisha asked as she finished cutting Catlo’s bindings.
“The chief is my uncle. He will be especially harsh in our punishment and I cannot kill a family member.”
The three of them looked to Musa. “Then don’t kill anyone. Just help us escape,” suggested Ole. “But if we can, you should come with us, rather than stay here and die.”
Musa set his teeth and stood with new resolve. “I will try.”
Diamanda finally awoke. “What is this?”
“We are escaping,” answered Catlo.
“Impossible.” Diamanda yawned and rolled over on the skins that were their bedding.
“We can leave you here if that is your wish,” said Ole.
“No!” protested Catlo. “She must come with us. She is just tired, that is all.”
“You fools couldn’t escape a—”
“Can I kill her?” Aisha brandished the small knife she had taken from the Rain Queen.
Catlo pushed the blade away from Diamanda who wasn’t even bothering to open her eyes to look upon the scene.
“What’s your plan, captain?” asked Ole of Aisha, much to Catlo’s chagrin.
“I’ll get the horses and get as close to you as I can, we’ll have t
o rush out and ride like hell. If I can’t get the weapons, we’ll have to just escape with whatever we can take on the way, but this is going to be our best opportunity. I can’t stall as the Rain Queen very long. We’ll have to move as soon as I give the word that the way is as open as its going to get.”
“Guards?”
“There are always guards on duty, but early in the day like this there should be less,” offered Musa.
“That’s what I was thinking,” said Aisha. “I’ll go try to find the weapons and horses. Wish me luck.”
Ole grabbed her, pulled her close, and gave her a heartfelt kiss. “Just in case,” he said.
Aisha smiled warmly, then went back through the hut’s flaps.
The Umoja moved about the war camp, but most of them were still in their own huts and relaxing this early in the day. Some few sat about cooking pots and others threw spears at a target, arguing over each other’s prowess.
The horses were kept far from the prisoners on the other side of the camp. Aisha decided she would try and get them last, she would hunt for the weapons first. She marched toward the biggest lodge, guessing that it would be the tribal chiefs.
The flaps were partly open, and Aisha pretended to be the Rain Queen and, knowing her business, threw them back. In the darkness inside the tent, she noted the tribal chieftain to be the older man who had spoken to her the night before. He was still asleep with two young women on either side of him. Their dark skin had a different caste than the Umoja, and Aisha wondered if they were captured slaves. One of them opened her eyes and looked at Aisha, but pretending to be the Rain Queen, Aisha just put her finger to her lip, urging silence.
The young woman nodded and snuggled closer to the old chief, yet fearfully watched as Aisha crept into the hut.
The weapons were piled atop one another at the far end of the hut. Aisha gingerly picked them up and carried them out the door, turning to look at the woman who was awake. She continued her finger urge for silence at the young woman, then left the hut.
Rather than arouse suspicion by taking the weapons to the prisoner’s hut, she carried them to the Rain Queen’s lodge. The Rain Queen herself was awake but still bound and glaring angrily at Aisha as well as trying to shout her worst through the gag in her mouth.
Sowing Dragon Teeth Page 21