Dragonfly (26 page)

The two girls arrived at the checkpoint and joined

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the queue moving slowly forward. There were plenty of other refugees from Kandar, all hoping for a better life in the big cities of Holt.

The border guard peered out from his box at Yelena and Tashi when they reached the front of their line. He brightened up and smoothed his moustache.

"Well, ladies, what brings you here?" he asked, unrolling their documents.

"Off to Tigral, sir," Yelena said, bathing him in the full glow of her widest smile. "We hear there's work to be had for a pair of willing girls in the big houses."

"I'm sure you'll have no difficulty finding a place," he said, stamping their papers with a flourish. "But you'd best find some company for the road." He leant forward and said conspiratorially, "All sorts of bad types on the move--

soldiers, slavers, and now there's a rumor there's a witch of some sort on the loose."

"Save us, sir!" Tashi gasped, touching her forehead in the sign she had so often seen in her vicinity. "I hope we don't run into her!"

"So do I, my dears, so do I. Travel well!"

Keeping a straight face, the two girls prodded their horses forward. Yelena allowed herself to laugh only when they had ridden through the border village. She then aped Tashi's expression of horror. "Oh, save us, sir, save us!" she said in a high voice. "You should have joined the players, Tashi; you're a natural."

The girls found a secluded corner not far off the road and passed the time practicing the combat techniques Yelena had been teaching Tashi over the past week.

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The men seemed to be taking a long time to catch up. The girls were just beginning to get anxious when they heard the sounds of heavy horses. They ran to the edge of the road and waved down their friends. Professor Norling was in a high dudgeon, his protests already vocal before he reached them.

"They strip-searched me!" he burst out. "Me! Old enough to be their grandfather and they made me stand naked in the road, my things all unpacked in the mud!"

"They were only doing their job," said Ramil wearily. He had evidently had much of this complaint to endure since leaving the border. "They're looking for enemies-- you must admit they had a point."

"Point! To make the four of us--and those other men--stand in our birthday suits for all to see!"

"Shame we rode on so quickly," Yelena murmured to Tashi.

"I trust they did not subject you to the same indignity?" Ramil asked the girls delicately.

"No, the guard was most helpful. Told us to beware of bad sorts on the road and waved us on our way," Tashi replied.

"I'm pleased for your sake, my dears," said Professor Norling, "though I still think it very unfair."

"Very stupid, you mean," Melletin muttered to Ramil. "I mean, who would you prefer to search?"

Ramil did not have to think very long about his answer.

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Riding through eastern Holt, Tashi was surprised to find it a beautiful country. Having met Fergox, she had expected it to reflect his character: harsh, warlike, and uncompromising, but instead it was a gentle landscape of meadows just awakening to the early southern spring; flocks of sheep and goats out to pasture, well tended vines and olive trees. The villages looked prosperous: houses with terracotta roofs and white-washed walls nestled together around the village temple. But there were jarring notes: at many crossroads they came across the bodies of Fergox's enemies, hanging in chains from scaffolds; the temples in the villages were decked in red war banners and the steps sprinkled with blood from recent sacrifices. Despite this, Tashi could not rid herself of the impression that Fergox's influence did not run deep, that if he was no longer in power, the people of this land would not find it difficult to return to a more peaceful existence.

She expressed this view to Professor Norling, who was riding with them until the road divided, one branch to Tigral, another continuing to the desert regions.

"Yes, my dear, eastern Holt has a rich culture of its own--not at all warlike.

Fergox has his power base in the harsher mountainous west. His own people come from there. They are a seafaring nation, making up for what the land lacks with raids on more fortunate countries. But I'm sure you are very familiar with them because they form his pirate fleet. I would advise you to steer clear, if you can, on your journey home."

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They passed a line of workers preparing the soil for sowing.

"But look there, child," Norling said, pointing with his cane. "That reminds us that the beauty of this land is founded on rottenness. The fields are tilled by slave-labor, the mines worked by these same poor captives; even the poorest houses of the freeborn have their little slave to cook, clean, and mind the children."

Tashi looked back at the workers and noticed that they each wore an iron collar.

"How can the people bear it?" she asked.

"The slaves, of course, have no choice. Most are taken from lands subject to Fergox, inferiors in the eyes of the Holtish people. As for the inhabitants, those that have a conscience about such things claim slaves are well looked after, part of the extended family. They predict the collapse of the Holtish economy if the slaves were liberated. Most owners don't worry too much about excuses--they just count the benefit to themselves."

"Well, I think it an abomination," she said angrily.

"And so do I." He fixed her with an acute look, reminding her that beneath his genial exterior was a razor-sharp mind. "And maybe you can do something to change it if you help defeat the warlord."

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They bade farewell to Professor Norling where the road divided, seeing him safely attached to a party of pilgrims heading for the Great Temple of the Warmonger in Tigral. Three days later, as they travelled down the road to the south, Flake cast a shoe. Now far beyond Melletin's knowledge of the land, the five travellers debated whether to turn back to the last village or ride on in hopes of finding another forge.

"I'd hate to retrace any step of this weary road," Melletin said. "I could ride ahead with Flake and find a smith if Tashi would not mind riding pillion with one of you."

"She is welcome to ride with me," Ramil said quickly. "We've shared a saddle before."

Yelena grinned at Tashi as the Princess mounted in front of Ramil.

"Hey, Melletin!" Yelena said, a twinkle in her eye. "How about having some company on your errand? We don't know what lies ahead and you could do with some backup if there's trouble."

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"Good thinking," replied Melletin, oblivious to the girl's hidden agenda. "Big man, would you come?"

"No, I . . . " Gordoc began, then caught Yelena's eye. "I mean, yes, I'll watch your back for you."

Melletin, Gordoc, and Yelena rode off quickly with Flake trotting riderless in tow.

"Did she do that on purpose?" Ramil asked Tashi as he saw Yelena give them a final jaunty wave.

"I think so," Tashi admitted. She leant back against him, conscious that they hadn't sat this close since they had begun to understand each other's feelings. They rode on in happy silence, taking delight in the opportunity to be together. It gave Ramil the chance to build up his courage for what he had wanted to say for some time.

"Tashi, you know I love you, don't you?" he said sofly in her ear.

She smiled: trust the son of a Horse Follower to woo in the saddle.

"I thought we were already betrothed."

"You broke it off, remember." He kissed the top of her head.

"Oh yes, I suppose I did. I'm sorry about that."

"I didn't deserve you. I don't deserve you now."

"Well, as long as you know that." She turned and gave him a mischievous smile.

He traced the line of her lips with his forefinger.

She felt in her pocket and pulled out two tiny paper models. "I've kept them safe. You'd better have this one back." She gave him the dragonfly. "I improved it a little

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when your attempt unfolded, but I haven't touched the horse: I like it just as it is."

"I promise to take care of it."

"And I'll take care of yours." She settled back against him, the paper horse held carefully in her hand.

Ramil smiled down at the copper head beneath his chin, knowing that he never wanted to be apart from her again.

That night the travellers decided to camp under the stars. They were approaching the warmer climes of the desert and no longer needed a roof over their heads at night. Added to this, Melletin reported that the village inn was hosting a party of slavers from the south, their captives shackled in the barn, and no one wanted to come to their attention. They rode through the village with their heads down.

Finding a likely camping spot in a bend in the river, Yelena an d Tashi went off to bathe, leaving the men to make the fire. The horses strayed on the bank, picketed in reach of the water.

"So, Ram," said Gordoc, skewering some goat's meat on a stick to roast, "do I have to thump you?"

Ram shook his head. "Only very gently. A light pummelling. Or you could congratulate me: our marriage alliance is back on."

Melletin clapped him on the shoulder. "Lucky man."

Gordoc assumed a stern, fatherly expression. "And, young Prince, what are your prospects? Can you keep

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my girl in the manner to which she has become accustomed?"

Ramil laughed. "I hope I can do much better than that. So far, all she has known with me is prison cells and tents. As for my prospects, touch and go at best, but I don't think she minds."

"Yes, and it's not every girl who comes with a navy attached," added Melletin.

"Or so we hope," said Ramil, placing the skewer he had prepared for Tashi over the flames.

They fell silent, listening to the delighted shrieks and laughter of the girls splashing in the water downstream. Melletin had a thoughtful expression at all this talk of marriage.

Suddenly, Gordoc nudged Ramil. "Look sharp, Ram, we've got company."

The three friends reached for their weapons and turned to face the road. A cart drew up, driven by a dark-skinned man wearing the loose robes of the south. Eight others of all nations jumped out of the back; the only thing they had in common was that they were heavily armed.

"Here they are!" called the man. "I told you I saw them ride this way."

The newcomers swarmed down the bank, making straight for the fire. Ramil stepped forward.

"Peace, friends," he said. "How may we help you?"

The cart driver returned the gesture. "If you would like to put down that shiny blade of yours and come with us, that would be a start."

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"The start of what?" Ramil held the sword in guard position, shifting his weight, ready for an attack.

There was another round of laughter from the river. The stranger nodded to three of his men. "That's the girls. Go get them."

"No!" shouted Melletin and Ramil together, springing forward to block the path, but the other men were upon them, forcing them back with spears and swords.

"Tashi, Yelena, run!" boomed Gordoc. He lashed out with his fists at the men dancing around him using whips and chains to hamper him.

Frightened, the horses pulled on their pickets, scattering from the flailing swords.

Ramil cursed. The slaver had planned this well. He let his men engage the three travellers in battle but only so as to keep them from going to the assistance of the girls. He must have gauged their strengths earlier and knew he would lose fighters if they went to disarm the giant and his two companions.

Bursting with fury, Ramil fought, desperate to reach Tashi. Every time he tried to break through, a man would attack from behind, forcing him to turn and defend himself. Once he had the advantage over that assailant, another would step in, starting the fight all over again. These were no novice soldiers like those at Nerul's camp; these were hardened overseers, disciplined and used to controlling those who were stronger than them. He gritted his teeth and fought on. He had to reach her, he had to.

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On the riverbank, Tashi had just finished dressing when she heard Gordoc's shout. Nearer to the camp, Yelena was bent double, tying her shoes.

Immediately, the warrior-girl sprang up, casting round for something to use as a weapon, but three men burst out of the trees and knocked her flat before she had a chance.

"Run!" Yelena screamed, fighting like a wild cat with the man who grappled for her arms.

Terrified, Tashi fled. The river was swifter here, channelled between two high banks. Water foamed around rocks. She had nowhere to go but along the river's edge, crashing through bushes, stumbling over stones, her breath tearing at her lungs in harsh gasps. Feet pounded behind her. Men cursed as the brambles snatched at their hands and legs, but Tashi was unaware of the scratches. The ground rose under her feet; she ran up the incline and emerged into the open, finding herself right on the very edge of a curving river bluff. The brown water flowed rapidly some ten feet below. Her two pursuers divided to approach her from either side, like dogs rounding up a stubborn sheep. The biggest one, who had a shock of matted black hair and a gap-toothed grin, held out his hand and beckoned her.

"That's right, sweetheart. Nowhere to run now. Come along and you'll not get hurt. We don't mark the pretty ones, do we, Garth?"

"No, Mol, we don't. Treat them fine, we do." The

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smaller man, no more than a boy really, slipped a rope from his belt and made a loop.

Tashi took a step closer to the edge. They stopped moving.

"That'll do you no good, girl. The river'll mash you up and spit you out drowned dead," Mol said. "But with us, we'll find you a nice kind master who'll look after you. You'll live very comfortably--better than most."

Tashi called silently on the Goddess.
I can't get taken now
--
I'll never reach
my people in time to save Gerfal,
she pleaded.

Then don't get taken,
came the answer.

There was no choice. She knew what she had to do, but she wasn't sure if her faith was strong enough to believe she could.