Shadow of the Horsemen (Kalie's Journey) (27 page)

She didn’t have long to wait.

The sun had barely begun its westward journey when Kariik, Malquor and Nelek strode forth, blinking in the bright glare after the dimness of the tent.

Kariik began speaking. Kalie couldn’t help noticing how much he had grown, outwardly at least, into the image of a king. “Tomorrow, we will begin a glorious journey of conquest,” he told the gathered tribes. “We will, for the first time in memory, leave the grasslands of our ancestors. We will take our gods and our greatness into a land that possesses neither, and make that land our own. But before we do, we will purify ourselves, as in the tales of old.”

Kalie bowed her veiled head to hide her grin. There was an opening if ever she heard one.

“Our ancestors knew that the shedding of blood pleased the gods. Tonight we shall give them gifts such as they have never received.” Kariik pointed to where the priest stood amidst a gathering of the finest animals Kalie had seen in this land. Sleek goats, fat sheep hidden beneath folds of glossy wool, and most impressive of all, fifty of the best horses. “These are worthy messengers to carry our pleas to the gods.

“But there will be another shedding of blood tonight, not sacrifice, but no less holy.” At a signal from one of the warriors behind Kariik, all of the prisoners taken that morning were led out. And, Kalie saw at once, new ones had been added. Men she did not recognize, but who bore the distinctive tattoos and spiked hair of the Spears of Malquor.

Now that was interesting.

Riyik walked in front, with Brenia and Alessa beside him, while the men followed behind. Even more interesting.

“Before we leave,” Kariik continued, “it is the will of the gods that we rid ourselves of the weakness and corruption that nearly destroyed this alliance from within. All of our tribes were riddled with traitors. Tonight they shall be purged from our midst, leaving only the strong, the pure and the noble among us to take up the challenge of the new land.”

Kariik went on to explain in gory detail how the traitors were to die. The crowd quivered with anticipation. Kalie wondered if eight years ago, the sight of bloody rites like these had unhinged her mind. Today, she barely noticed them, as she listened for what useful information could be found between the king’s words.

Kariik spoke of traitors in all three tribes. It seemed the current Malquor had his own version of Haraak, eager to “cleanse” his tribe of possible rivals. Nelek had accused Alessa of seducing his eldest son into betraying his father, and had asked for help in cleaning his household of her filth. Translated into some semblance of reality, that implied a rebellion and attempted patricide. Was the prince dead, and Nelek in need of help weeding out his followers? Or were the twenty warriors with him all the followers he had left, while his son now ruled the Wolf Tribe?

“We shall have entertainment such as the gods envy!” Kariik shouted. Well, he’d mentioned ancient tales and now, entertainment. It was now or never.

Kalie pushed through the tightly packed crowd and strode into the open space before the kings, stopping just before the guards for all three moved to block her path. She pulled off her veil, and let her brown hair tumble to her waist. “My kings!” she cried, her head held high and proud. “On this night of nights, I offer entertainment of my own, to please both gods and men.”

She allowed herself a moment’s pause to gauge the shocked reactions, then realized she’d better push forward, before they took her offer as an invitation to gang rape. “I am accounted a fine storyteller by the tribe of Aahk. I would offer for tonight, a special story, so ancient it speaks to us from the dawn of time.” Kalie faltered, wondering where that had come from. She had intended to say she had created the story herself to honor the noble kings.

There were boos from the crowd, and plenty of vulgar comments about better uses for the wives of traitors. Some seemed genuinely offended that Kalie had spoken at all. But she had supporters in the crowd, even among the chiefs who sat with the kings. When Kariik pointed to her and asked a question, Chief Kahlar leaned forward and began describing with great enthusiasm Kalie’s “Battle of Spring Crossing”.

Haraak nearly shoved the chief out of the way, as he hurried to his puppet. “This woman is my slave, Kariik, as you promised me earlier. Allow me to remove her before she causes any further disruption.”

Kalie locked her suddenly weak knees and held herself erect. Looking coolly past Haraak, she met Kariik’s gaze and held it. “As you can see, my king, men will fight to possess me. See how your own loyal advisor seeks to claim me, even while my husband still lives! Listen to my tale, and you may decide to keep me for yourself!”

The crowd roared with delight at Kalie’s audacity. A slow grin spread across Kariik’s face, and Malquor leaned toward him. He seemed to be making an offer for her. “This is a day for the unexpected,” said the king of the Tribe of Aahk. “We had best enjoy what of it we can. I have not yet made any decisions on the dividing of the traitors property, so for the moment, the woman belongs to no one. You may tell your story, girl.” He beckoned her forward.

Kalie slid smoothly through the crowd, as stools were brought for the kings and their chiefs, and felt awnings arranged above them. Kariik called for food and drink, then suddenly called for a stool for Kalie. This was unusual, but when Kalie looked around she discovered that most of the combined tribes were settling down to listen to her as well. The entire cleared area before the royal tent was filled, as well as the spaces between all of the nearby tents. Men were sending their wives for food. In the shadows of the tents, slaves were slipping closer, eager to hear.

This was fast becoming the largest audience Kalie had ever addressed.

She found herself seated on a comfortable stool, lower than the kings, but high enough to be seen by most of the crowd, and more importantly, see them. Someone gave her a skin of kumis. Kalie tasted it gingerly. It was not laced with any drug she could detect, but she didn’t know who had sent it, and decided to drink from her water skin instead.

When all was arranged, Kariik nodded for her to begin. Kalie took a deep breath, and called on the Goddess for help. But as she opened her mouth to speak, the story that she had worked on these past days died on her lips. In its place came a new story, fully formed. And in that instant Kalie knew that the Goddess had truly answered her.

“Long ago, when the tribes of this land were new, there lived two warriors, both grandsons of Saak.

“Tolik was the greatest king of the greatest tribe to dwell in the land. His fist could split a man’s skull. He could ride horses that would trample any other man. His herds stretched to the horizon. The greatest warriors in the world were proud to call themselves his men.

“His cousin Rahaak was a weak and cowardly man. Rahaak had prospered well enough as a minor chief in his cousin’s tribe, but jealousy and envy twisted him, until he could no longer live in Tolik’s shadow. Rahaak’s arm was weak but his tongue was clever, and before he left, he persuaded many warriors to follow him. Last of all, he sought to persuade the beautiful Valeska, Tolik’s wife, to come with him as well.”

Kalie took a sip of water, and surveyed her audience. They seemed interested, men and women both. She tried not to look at Haraak, but her eye was drawn to him like a loadstone to the north. He stared at her with an angry, yet puzzled frown. He clearly did not know what she was doing, but it worried him, as did anything outside his control.

“Loyal Valeska would have none of Rahaak’s crude advances, and that angered him. He swore to her she would regret her decision, and fled with those whose loyalty could be bought.

“The years went by, and Tolik continued to prosper. Rahaak scratched out a meager living by preying on weaker bands, and stealing whatever he could. In this manner, his tribe grew in size and strength, and he earned the name ‘Hyena’.”

There was laughter at this. Kalie had found her stride, and continued with more confidence.

“Tolik had been blessed in all ways but one: he had no children.” An angry ripple passed through the audience and Kalie hurried her tale. “When at last Valeska gave birth to a fine, healthy son, Tolik roared with joy. He named the boy Alesaak, and declared that if he had no other, he was still the richest of men, for surely no man had a son as fine as he. Tolik slaughtered one hundred goats and one hundred sheep, and threw such a feast as to be remembered for years to come. He invited all the tribes in the land. All, that is, except his cousin, the Hyena.

“When Rahaak learned of this slight, he went wild. Even worse than the insult of being excluded from the feast were the tales of the splendid boy in whose honor it had occurred. Rahaak had many children, yet none, it seemed, so fine as the only son of his hated cousin. For five years, he plotted his revenge, growing strong and bitter, sitting in his ill-made tent like a spider, spinning his web.

“At last he was ready. Rahaak took his motley band and traveled to Tolik’s wide domain, and proposed an alliance, sealed with two marriages: Rahaak’s oldest daughter would marry Tolik’s greatest chief, and Tolik’s sister would marry Rahaak’s greatest chief. Tolik was not well disposed to an alliance with such a pack, but he greeted his kinsman warmly, and threw a welcoming feast that only served to enflame Rahaak’s envy.”

Haraak must have finally realized the name of the story’s villain was his own, inverted, for his face flushed an ugly red, and he rose from his place with doubled firsts. The man behind him clouted Haraak on the head, cursed at having his view blocked and focused once again on the story, without even looking to see whom he had struck. Kalie swallowed a grin and continued.

“Rahaak’s evil plan was carried out with perfect smoothness. That night, when the drinking and boasting before the king’s tent reached its height, each of Rahaak’s men slid a knife from his sleeve and slew the man nearest him. Before Tolik’s men could react, half of them were dead. Those that were left fought bravely, and made many a Hyena pay with his life, but they were deep into their drink and unprepared for such a vile act under a pledge of friendship.

“When the sun rose the next morning, the largest herds, the finest pastures, and richest treasures in the world belonged to Rahaak the Hyena. But there was one prize above all he would claim first. He ordered Tolik’s body carried before him, and then swaggered into the sumptuous tent of his defeated enemy, planning to take Valeska upon the corpse of her husband. Then he would throw her to his men as reward for their loyalty.

“But Valeska had thwarted Rahaak once again, for she had taken her own life at the instant of her husband’s death. And beside her body stood her five-year-old son, holding one of his father’s spears, and looking ready to take on all of Rahaak’s warriors before surrendering any of his father’s treasure, or allowing his mother’s body to be defiled.

“Rahaak flew into a rage greater than any before, and declared that if he could not have the woman he wanted, then his men would suffer along with him. He ordered the slaughter of every woman in the camp. By the end of the day, the steppes ran red with blood, and no human legacy of Tolik remained save one: the conqueror spared young Alesaak. Rahaak’s final revenge against Tolik would be exacted against his son.”

Kalie had planned to follow with brutal descriptions of the child’s sexual abuse at Rahaak’s hands, but one look at her audience caused her to change her mind. The story had clearly marked Alesaak as its hero, and to the beastmen, a hero could never be a victim.

Hastily changing course, Kalie continued, a bit too loudly at first. “Rahaak had planned to keep the boy as a kind of pet, then offer him to the gods at a celebration of the one year anniversary of his kingship. But Alesaak proved so worthy, and such an asset to the tribe, that Rahaak soon forgot such plans. He even began to forget whose son the boy was.

“Now, Tolik’s people were not all dead. Many had been away at the time of Rahaak’s cowardly attack, hunting or raiding, or in one case, attending a wedding. Those whose families were intact joined other tribes, while those who had lost everything in Rahaak’s massacre, wandered the land as near-shadows, dreaming of revenge, yet lacking the direction to carry it out.

“Meanwhile, Alesaak grew toward manhood in Rahaak’s tent, outshining every boy in the tribe, whether it be in riding, fighting or endurance. When a small, but well armed band came to attack the tribe, it was Alesaak who heard them in the dead of night when the sentries did not, and Alesaak who met the first on the battlefield, though he was still a boy, and without even his own horse.

“After the battle, when all the warriors sang his praises, Rahaak offered Alesaak a fine horse from his own herds, but Tolik’s son refused. Instead he went out the next day and captured a wild stallion, as black as the night. Everyone said the creature could not be broken. By the next morning, horse and boy rode as one creature.

“Soon Rahaak began comparing Alesaak to his own sons and they did not fare well in the comparison. They were now grown to manhood, and not blind to where their father’s favor fell. One day, they decided to rid themselves of this nuisance.

“They invited Alesaak to go hunting with them in the nearby mountains, thinking to kill him, drop his body off a cliff and claim it for an accident. They smirked to one another at how easy it would be, as the reckless boy rode to the very edge of the cliff. But then he turned and taunted them for cowards that they feared to ride as close as he. Rahaak’s eldest son spurred his horse in a black fury to slay the arrogant half-blood who dared speak so. With the ease of a god, Alesaak rode the prince—horse and all—off the cliff and to his death.”