The Horsemasters (51 page)

Awareness slowly dawned in the kain’s eyes. “Siguna? Siguna is live?”

Ronan nodded. “My men took her from the forest. She is safe.”

A flash of something Ronan could have sworn was joy flickered across Fenris’s face. Then his mouth set. “She your woman?”

“Na!” For some reason he couldn’t define, it was very important to Ronan that Fenris know Siguna was safe and untouched.

“She is no man’s woman,” he said. “She is safe.” Then, as Fenris still looked at him uncomprehendingly, Ronan put his hands behind his back. “No man has touched her,” he said. “It is not our way.”

“No man touch,” Fenris repeated, and his mouth softened fractionally. “Is good Siguna is live.” He moved his head to look at the men around him, and his face tightened with pain. “You kill us,” he said simply.

“You killed my people,” Ronan returned, his voice harsh. “You killed many many men.”

Fenris said, “Sa.”

“Why?”

Fenris sighed, and his gray eyes lifted to meet Ronan’s. “I do not know,” he said. He looked genuinely puzzled, but whether it was by Ronan’s question or by his own lack of an answer, Ronan did not know.

Looking back into the kain’s eyes, Ronan recognized finally that there was a strange bond between this man and himself. He had always felt it in his heart; now for the first time, he admitted it in his mind.

I cannot kill him, Ronan thought. I don’t know why, but I cannot kill him.

His black brows were drawn together, as if he could feel Fenris’s pain in his own head. He said, “We will not kill you.”

The kain looked skeptical, but then, as he continued to regard Ronan, his face slowly changed. “Is true?” he asked with wonder.

“Is true.”

Fenris was silent, evidently trying to make sense of this amazing news. He gazed out at the body-strewn plain, the remnant of his defeat. “Dead men,” he said, gesturing. “Burn.”

Ronan was horrified. The tribes of the Kindred always buried their dead with reverence. “Fire?” he said, wanting to make sure he had understood correctly.

“Sa. Too many dead. Dangerous. Burn.” The kain, Ronan realized with a mixture of amazement and unwilling respect, was giving orders. Once more Fenris ran his tongue around his cracked lips.

“I will send a man with water,” Ronan said abruptly, turned on his heel, and departed.

* * * *

Fenris was right, Ronan thought as he traversed the plain. There were too many dead Horsemasters to bury. Nor could he leave them lying here much longer, or the plain would be crawling with predators. He would do as the kain suggested and burn them.

He lifted his head as he made the decision, and it was then that he saw the boy and horse in the distance, coming slowly down the river. He raised his hand to shade his eyes from the morning glare. One boy leading one horse. Sunlight glinted off smooth dark hair. Mait.

Ronan felt his heart plummet. Where was Thorn? His legs moved forward, and then he broke into a run.

As the distance between him and Mait closed, Ronan saw for the first time that Mait was not walking because his horse was lame. He was walking because the horse was bearing another burden. Unconsciously, Ronan’s steps slowed. He did not want to see what he was afraid he would find upon Frost’s back.

Mait noticed the oncoming chief for the first time and halted. As Ronan came up to him, he saw that the boy’s face was streaked with tears. He looked to the horse and saw the slender body lying across its back, legs and arms dangling on opposite sides. Saw the tangled mop of brown hair.

He felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach.

“What happened?” he asked Mait hoarsely. “Did he fall?”

“Na,” Mait said, “We got caught up in the stampede, but the both of us stayed on. It happened after we had managed to separate our horses from the others and were coming back.” Mait raised a fist to scrub at his eyes, a childish gesture that was unbearably poignant. “We were coming through the forest above the river. Thorn was going first.” He swallowed audibly. “One of the fleeing Horsemasters must have seen us and lain in wait. He leaped out at Thorn, pushed him off Acorn, and mounted him. Thorn tried to grab for Acorn’s halter, and the man…the man…” Mait began to sob.

Ronan reached an arm around Mait and pressed the boy’s face into his shoulder. “He ran Thorn through with his spear,” Mait sobbed. “He ran him through and galloped away. I jumped off Frost and ran to him, but…but…oh, Ronan, he was dead!”

Ronan continued to hold Mait as he stared with dry and burning eyes at the limp and slender body slung over the horse. One of the reasons he had chosen Thorn to drive the horses was to keep him out of the fighting. And instead, he had sent the boy to his death.

I am so clever, he thought with corrosive bitterness. And in my cleverness I have killed Thorn.

Mait seemed to be getting himself under control, and Ronan dropped his arm. “If only he had let the man have Acorn,” Mait said miserably. “If only he had not grabbed for the halter!”

Ronan nodded. Then he picked up Frost’s reins. “Come,” he said to Mait. “We will have to find Rilik.”

Chapter Thirty-six

The bulk of the Federation women waited at the Great Cave for news of the fight, but the small group who had been at the Red Deer camp when the men marched off remained there. They had been augmented by only nine young women from the Tribe of the Red Deer, whose job it was to make certain that Vili did not get free to return to his father.

Vili was incredulous when he discovered that he was to be left in the guardianship of women, unbound, But it was so. The men actually mounted their horses and rode out of camp, leaving him the freedom of his arms and his legs. They were mad, Vili thought, but he was certainly not fool enough to express that view out loud.

He became even more confounded by the men’s actions when he saw the women who were to guard him. They were young girls of Siguna’s age! The men had brought the girls to the cave, showed them Vili, and then left. That black-haired chief would have his men’s hearts when he discovered what they had done, Vili thought.

The first shift on guard duty was composed of three of the girls, all of whom were carrying spears and javelins set into spearthrowers. It was afternoon. He would wait until the dark, Vili decided. He would have to chance the wolf and the dogs, but these girls would be no problem at all.

He stood in the recess of the cave door and watched them. They were pretty girls, he thought, girls who would be much better employed at work in a man’s tent than left unsupervised to play with a man’s weapons. What fools these tribesmen must be!

One of the girls, a long-legged, black-haired beauty, noticed him watching them. She made some comment to the other girls, who laughed.

Their laughter did not at all upset Vili. He was too busy running his eyes up and down the black-haired girl’s body. He felt his phallus begin to rise. He would relish a chance to show that one what kind of weapon a real man could wield, he thought. He walked slowly to the cave entrance and leaned his shoulder against the rocky archway, his eyes boldly raking the girl’s body.

The three girls had turned to face him when he moved into the archway. He realized suddenly that all three of them were holding their spears.

“Back,” the black-haired girl said firmly, gesturing with her free hand to illustrate her command.

He grinned. “I like here,” he said in their language.

“Back,” the girl said again, and when still he did not move, she began to come forward. He crossed his arms casually, his right shoulder still leaned against the archway, his eyes on the spear. If she came close enough, he would grab it…

“Aieeh!” He clapped his hand to his upper left arm and stared at the girl. The spear had moved so quickly he had not had time to react.

“Back,” she said once again. He could feel the warm blood welling beneath his fingers. Slowly, his eyes on the girl’s perfectly calm face, Vili backed into the cave.

Scowling furiously, he pulled his shirt over his head and stared at his arm. It was not a serious wound, he saw. But it hurt! He set his jaw and glared at the cave opening. She’ll pay for this, he vowed. He had nothing else to use to stop the bleeding, so he balled up his shirt and used that.

A short time later, Siguna entered the cave carrying more water and some deerskin cloths. “How is your arm, Vili?” she asked.

He was bare to the waist, as his bloody shirt was now unwearable. “It hurts,” he answered furiously. “And I am cold.”

“I’ll find you another shirt once I have taken care of the wound,” Siguna promised. She put her small pot of water down on a rock. “Come over here, into the light from the door.”

Vili did not want the black-haired girl to see how effectively she had hurt him, but he knew the wound needed attention or it might go sour. He stalked over to where his sister stood and let her look at his arm.

“It’s not that bad,” Siguna said. “I’ll wash it out and pack it with the herbs Nel gave me and it should heal very well.”

“What kind of women are those girls?” Vili demanded. “She attacked me! I was standing there perfectly quietly, and she attacked me.”

“Lara said she told you to get back into the cave and you wouldn’t go,” Siguna said. Her head was bent as she worked on the wound, and he gritted his teeth so he wouldn’t give that girl…Lara…the satisfaction of seeing him wince. “I told you about the girls of the Red Deer, Vili. They can handle their weapons. They hunt like men. Do not underestimate them, or you will get hurt again.” She had finished washing the wound, and now she began to press herbs into it.

Vili was silent until she had finished; then he said haughtily, “She caught me off guard.”

Siguna wrapped a piece of deerskin around his upper arm and began to fasten it with two thongs.

“Siguna,” Vili said, and now his voice was low and urgent. “What is happening?”

Siguna finished knotting the last thong. “I can’t tell you, Vili,” she said.

“These mountainmen did not run away. They were preparing for a fight; I could see that very well.”

Siguna looked up, sighed, then nodded her head. Vili scowled at her. “He will not catch my father in another trap like that gorge. Bragi and I scouted all the land along the river.”

“I know.”

“Siguna.” He dropped his voice even further. “You must help me to get away.”

Her gray eyes were unhappy. “I can’t.”

“Why not? There is nothing I can tell my father that Bragi has not already told him,” Vili said reasonably.

“There is always the chance that Bragi has not made it back to Father.”

Vili snorted. “He was riding Firewind. Of course he will make it back.”

“He could have an accident,” Siguna argued.

“Don’t talk like a fool,” he said impatiently.

The sound of girls’ laughter came from without the cave’s opening, and both Vili and Siguna fell silent, listening.

“I can’t, Vili,” Siguna said regretfully. “You know too much. You know that the tribes have left this campsite. You know they are in the mood to fight. I cannot set you free to bring that news to my father.”

There was a white line around his mouth. “That black-haired chief must be a stallion indeed, to have brought you to such a state of submission,” he said brutally.

Instinctively, Siguna swung her arm, and her hand smashed against Vili’s cheek. A loud resounding crack echoed through the cave. “You know nothing about him!” she said through her teeth. Her breath was coming fast, and her hands were balled into fists at her sides.

He reacted instinctively, his arm shooting out to grab her shoulder, his fist coming up to retaliate.

There was the rush of feet in the doorway and a warning shout. Vili’s head jerked around toward the cave opening.

“Do not touch her.” The girl spoke the words slowly and clearly enough for Vili to understand. Her spear was pointing at him steadily.

For a moment, Vili hesitated. He could use Siguna to cover himself, he thought. He might even get away. But even before the thought had finished, his fingers were relaxing on her shoulder. What would his father say if he learned Vili had bought his freedom at the price of his sister’s life? He stepped back and let Siguna go.

She backed away from him a few steps, but then she stopped and raised her head. He kept his face impassive. She said, surprisingly, “I am sorry, Vili.”

The girl with the spear kept watch until Siguna was safely out of the cave. It was the black-haired girl again. Vili stood still, waiting for her to leave as well. Instead she stood there, her eyes going over his naked torso as boldly as his had gone over her body earlier.

Vili’s arm was throbbing. He was more worried than he wanted to admit about his father and his tribe. He had just been wounded by one girl and struck by another. He had had enough.

“You want sex?” he said, using the word for mating he had learned from the Kindred women he had bedded. He gestured crudely, “Come. I give it you.”

To his astonishment, the girl did not stalk away. Instead she smiled and made some reply, using words he did not understand. He scowled and shook his head. Her smile deepened. She was amazingly pretty. She said slowly, “Are you good?”

His jaw dropped.

“You look good,” she said, her eyes going unashamedly over his chest and his shoulders before they dropped to his waist and below.

What kind of women were these?

She laughed delightedly at the look on his face, flicked her tongue enticingly around her lips, and departed. Slowly.

A few minutes later, another girl came to the cave door and tossed in a shirt. Vili put it on and lay down, determined to sleep.

* * * *

One day went by, and then another and another. It was almost suppertime on the fourth day when Kasar and Dai came riding into the Red Deer camp with news of the fight.

“We won” were Kasar’s first words as he jumped off his horse only to have Beki immediately cast herself into his arms.

Eken was back at the Great Cave, so Dai had less distraction and was able to impart to Nel and the other women who had come running a more detailed story of what had happened on the plain by the River of Gold two nights before.