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Don’t laugh, but here’s Herkila, I was once told, that if Herkila was made into a movie, Posh spice should get the role as Herkila! I disagree, I would suggest Liv Tyler instead! Explanations will be given if needed, Warmaster@tiscali.co.uk
In those days after the fall of Ivsraln,
but before those grave wars which destroyed the civilisations of five millennia
which reduced the Mavine to mere
stragglers in the wild, the Slavery peoples were still a blight upon the
freedom of man and woman alike as they remained even eight thousand years
later. But as now, there were also people who abandoned their countries and
their homes to try and bring freedom to those who had none. One of this number
was Herkila Isronin, the daughter of an Othlite father and a Bairgarandic
mother. She was then in her twenty fifth year, and had in her first youth
studied long in Mavinzhear, seeking to become a teacher in the city of
Herkila was worried.
She worried not of death, she had faced that far too many times by now to be afraid of it any longer. Neither was she afraid of losing limbs or being blinded, no she was afraid of what to many was the one way to survive if you lost.
She was afraid of being captured.
In her heart she had played with that fear a thousand times, and every time it sickened her to her stomach, far worse to her than the sight of one of her companions falling beside her it was. Death in battle was the end, but capture was only the beginning.
In some small way she wished she was away to the west beyond the mountains, for in fighting the great beasts and her evil kindred, she could fear death alone, for those creatures never took prisoners, lest they one day overthrow them. But here, here she feared that she would be captured, then she would be treated as if she was less than human. She knew her fate if it came to capture, for she had seen those who had. The men, they would get off easy, hard labour for their entire life, which would be mercifully short. But she, she would be stripped of more than just dignity, she would be stripped of being a Mavine. She would spend months being tortured, not for anything she would know, but merely to break her will, and then she would be married, against her will if she had any left, and treated as a slave to some man’s pathetic desires until she died, or more likely, found a way to kill herself. Such was what these “slavery” people, not truly evil like some, but in their own way far worse than even the real evils.
She shuddered at the thought, and nearly lost grip of her axe. Quickly she corrected her grip and held it tight, holding it close as she passed through the thick trees, knowing that it was then her entire life and that nothing else mattered. They all tread carefully, a snapped twig could spell disaster for them all.
There were seven soldiers in their small group, and she was the youngest, being in her twenty fifth year, though that was not to say she was any way inferior. She had killed many of the slavery warriors as they stumbled through the forests, but never had she attacked a village, as they were about to do, in an attempt to finally free some of the enslaved.
Their commander, a tall and bulky man in his middle years, who was known only a Zilma was very good at his task. He had killed many of the slavery people, and he led those that followed him very well, bringing them victory many times over their foes. Herkila had followed him for over a year, and in all that time they had only lost three soldiers. In that time, they had killed well over three hundred of their foes, and freed hundreds more pack slaves, though none of the truly disgraced yet. She often wondered how on earth he ever made it into the army of Mavinzhear, he was notorious for having no discipline. But then, when you were fighting over two thousand miles from your home, few managed to keep that for very long.
Herkila’s thoughts took her away from the present however, and then she stepped on a twig on the moss strewn forest floor. The snap echoed across the forest, and for a few moments all froze. Silence answered.
All took a deep breath. Zilma was not happy “Herkila!” he said as loud as he would risk, “Stop daydreaming and pay attention. Go and scout out behind, it’s what you’re good at.”
Herkila shrugged off the few sniggers and the slightly more angry curses and dropped to the rear. But she did not see it as a dismissal. She was by far the best archer of them all, even in the dark she could hit a charging rider largely by ear at a hundred paces. She dropped to the rear, and the rear man peeled off with her, and they both strode of into the darkness.
That man was Ladagar, Herkila’s closest friend, indeed her only friend, the others were just her companions. Ladagar was a short man, at under six foot he was nearly a full hand shorter than Herkila, and indeed a dwarf for the Othlite race, but was a dead hand with a sword, the only member of the group to use that weapon he was also good with the sling, a weapon he had tried to teach Herkila, but without success. He had once said, when she asked, that he was there to revenge his sister, who had been captured long ago, and who he had not yet found, but he rarely spoke of it lest he was pressed. He had met Herkila long ago in the college of Kalatmawen, and as both were well educated – he too had studied to be a tutor, they both fell in together as friends even before they had joined the army, and more often than not, as both were the fasted runners, they were sent off, as then, to scout out for the enemy, for even though only Herkila had been called upon to scout, they always went in pairs, and Ladagar did not complain
Their target that night was a village of the slavery peoples within the confines of the forest. It was rare for the slavery people to ever enter the forest, as it was defended vigorously by the Ezleg from Var’mina away to the south west, who fought in much the same way as Zilma’s party. But of late the foe were getting rather more aggressive, and the Ezleg had not the strength to keep them at bay. Aside from killing more of the enslavers and perhaps freeing some slaves, their small band would also aid the Ezleg, who ever gave them shelter when pressed. The village, as far as they new, had only a handful of inhabitants, though it was believed to have large stockade fence. Zilma also feared that since this was further west than perhaps any other village, there would be scouts out, and a band of seven soldiers would be no match against ten riders if surprised, and thus they were taking extra care in their march.
Herkila and Ladagar ran carefully through the trees. Despite the darkness and the danger, their movements were fast and sure as they flitted through the foliage, and soon they had covered over a mile of ground away to the north of the others, and finding nothing they were soon on the way back to report, creating very little noise in all their scouting. But on their way back, they saw the village in the distance. It was a small place in truth, little more than a dozen houses in all. But even at their distance they could see the high stockades that barred their way. Herkila could see no towers, and thus hoped that no guards could see them even if they were out looking. They continued onwards, ducking branches with marked agility, and soon came in sight of their party, who were sheltered under some trees, also staring at the distant stockade. Herkila and Ladagar silently fell in next to Zilma. “Anything to report?” he quietly murmured.
“Not much,” said Herkila between breaths, “Their were no guards out there, and there are no towers on the stockade either,”
Zilma mused for a few moments, “Then it is by the front then?” he asked to none in particular, “We take out the guard and go in by the front gate, and take out all with weapon inside.” He stood to a crouch. “Herkila, you and Ladagar go left and take out the guard, we will wait for your signal.”
Herkila nodded, and stood, and within seconds she and Ladagar had vanished once more into the darkness.
The Mavine mind is a strange thing. When you wish it to be still, it will keep one up for nights on end with no sleep at all. But when you need it to be wide awake, it drifts into a lethal slumber.
This is what Herkila had found many times before, especially with gate guards, who wish nothing more than to sleep. Well, all those who Herkila had come across had gone to sleep, forever.
This guard was no different. Herkila, from her hide in some bushes only a two dozen yards form the gate, saw his laxness. He was neither fully awake, nor had axe in hand – it lay against the gate behind him. Herkila saw that this one was going to be easy. She lifted her knife from its pouch, and held it, rather strangely, as she always did, between her two forefingers. Then, as the guard began to doze, she took off through the bushes towards him. Her steps were so silent, so perfect, that the guard never rose from his slumber, not even when Herkila crept behind him did he wake. It was not until the knife had so delicately slit his throat that he even tried to struggle, and by then it was far too late.
As the dying guard fell to the ground, making barely audible gurglings before he finally died, Herkila seconded the rest of her companions to her. Ladagar reached her first, carrying her pack, which she quickly placed on her back once more. Moments later Zilma and the others reached her. “Good work” he said, it was the first time he had ever congratulated her on anything.
All readied themselves for the coming fighting. All drew their weapons, several drew their axes, two held their spears ready. Herkila however, kept her bow in hand, and her axe remained ready on her back. “And at all costs don’t raise the alarm until most of them are dead,” he said it with great force, “Else, it is we who will fall, and remember, save those who you can, and if all is lost, flee south, the Ezleg will help you.”
No other words were said, none others were needed, they crept through the gates into the village beyond.
The village seemed almost deserted, in truth Herkila, who watched from the back, and arrow already in her bow, wondered if there was anyone there. But soon the signs of life became apparent. The still smouldering fires, and the horse which slept in the distance. It was clear that quite a lot of people actually lived there, though not a single other guard could be seen across the whole expanse of the village. The leaders of the group quickly entered into a house on the right hand side of the gate. After a few moments of silence, they emerged, with blood on their hands and axes.
Herkila and Ladagar turned into the house on the left it was probably the largest house in the village, but was still a slum compared to the towers of Mavinzhear. The door had no lock, nor even a handle, and Herkila pushed it quietly. It was revealed to be a quite grand dwelling for these people, with two floors, a thing Herkila had never seen in a home of these Mavine. They crept slowly through the lower floor, which seemed crowded with cooking instruments and a table. But in the back there seemed a bed, and Herkila, her bow still in hand, walked over there. In the darkness it was hard to see, but when Herkila stood over the bed, it was clear that a young woman lay sleeping, albeit restlessly. Herkila, placing her hand on her shoulder, gave her a little shake. The woman stirred slowly, and at first sight of Herkila seemed ready to scream, but Herkila signalled her to quietness, and the woman said very quietly, in her own tongue, “Who are you?”
Herkila, a student of many tongues, silently replied, “We have come here to take you from your slavery.”
The young woman, upon realising what Herkila meant, seemed almost ready to cry out in joy. She did not, but still seemed so elated, that Herkila saw that she had not had joy in her life for a very long time.
Herkila then asked, “Are there any others here?”
The young woman replied, “My father,” she almost cursed the words, “He is upstairs,”
Herkila replied, “Thank you, and please be silent, but get changed.” Then, almost as an after thought, asked, “what is your name?”
“Tiđnel,” she replied, and then said with gritted teeth, “My father is Diđinaţ” She said no more, though Herkila had for a few moments expected her to say , “Don’t kill him” but then she remembered how women were treated by their fathers and indeed by all men alike here, and realised she would more likely want him dead than alive, though Herkila savoured no wish of doing her that favour, the Othlites were not barbarians, they were here to stop all that.
In the meantime, Ladagar had crept slowly up the stairs, axe in hand, to face Tiđnel’s father. Each step was taken in utter silence as not to whisper a single creak from the floor boards. Step by step he went on, until he reached the top, and then looked around at the room. It was much better furnished than the lover floor, as well as he could tell in the dark, with a large bed and a fine carpet, something which Ladagar knew to be more than a rarity of these people, it was a luxury. Ladagar steeped slowly forward towards the bed. There was a loud grunt and a restless shaking as the figure began to wake. Ladagar, almost in a panic, rushed forward and as the figure opened their eyes to stare at Ladagar, the handle of the warrior’s axe came crashing down upon their face, knocking him out in a flash.
Herkila had already left the house, leaving Tiđnel to change. She searched around the outside of the house, and soon found two horses in the stable, and while the others scouted through the village, she stood attaching the horses to a cart, ready to get those who needed to flee out of there. A few moments later Tiđnel, wearing a long, and utterly farcical dress, issued from the house. Herkila made a mental note to find her some practical clothing as soon as they were away from there.
Ladagar was out next, dragging Tiđnel’s father, who had a bloody gash upon his forehead. He silently placed him upon the cart, the Ezleg would spend much time interrogating one as rich as he, and then was about to head off down into the village to help the others, when there came a shout, followed by several more. They had awoken their foe
“Damn!” cried Herkila, “Tiđnel!” she ordered, “On the cart now, we may need to be away in a hurry.”
Tiđnel did as ordered, while Herkila and Ladagar rushed down the road a distance to see what was happening.
They found a dying man, one of these people, crying out for help. He had been hit by a arrow to the chest already, but that had failed to silence him. Ladagar wasted no time in applying his axe to finish the job, but the damage was already done.
A few moments later, several dozen soldiers poured out of a building at the far end of the village. None were fully dressed, but they carried their weapons, and upon seeing the Othlite soldiers scattered around their village, opened a great cry, and charged out into the village to destroy them.
Herkila was the first to act, readying her bow, in a mere ten seconds three of the soldiers had fallen, and this prevented any others from trying to run up the road towards her, she let out most of her arrows in those moments, and across the village over a dozen of the slavery people soon lay dead or dying, but it was far from enough. Herkila saw one of her party, a young man, get beaten to death by five other soldiers. Another, a young woman of Herkila’s age, fought off many of the foe, killing no less than six before the remainder hamstrung her. Desperate to avoid the worse than death experience of capture, as she fell to the ground, she took her knife and slit her own throat. In only a minute at the most Zilma was the only one who Herkila could see still fighting. With his massive axe he smashed several of the foe to the ground as he retreated step by step back towards Herkila. Ladagar, who had been readying the cart, now rushed down to help him. Herkila, seeking to save the few arrows that she still had, drew her axe and beckoning Tiđnel to stay still on the cart, rushed down to help them both.
Ladagar quickly dispensed of the first of the attackers with a blow that nigh severed his opponents head in a single swing. Zilma hacked down another, and Herkila, dogging blows, proceeded to cut off the arm of another. The remain three assailants, faced by soldiers who were far superior fighters, tried to flee, only to be run down and slaughtered. “Now!” cried Zilma, “Back to the cart, we must get out of here.” Herkila knew it was the only thing they could still do, but as she ran, she cast a glance over the village. Some distance away, a gang of attackers were hacking down another of their party, though Herkila never knew who it was. But for a few crucial moments, no one was chasing them, which allowed them to get back to the cart and make their escape.
Clambering on the cart Herkila fell in beside Tiđnel in the back and tipped out her remaining arrows on to the hay. “Now” cried Zilma, “Go” He jumped on the side of the cart just as a single arrow came flying though the air, narrowly missing Herkila, and struck him square in the chest. He nearly fell, only Ladagar’s reflexes pulled him onto the cart. Then Ladagar set the horses off at a fast pace. He merely said “Cover, now!”
Herkila was way ahead of him, and had an arrow ready as they sped out into the forest track. A single figure reached the gate brandishing a bow. In a flash it had fallen to Herkila’s first arrow, and a moment later she had another ready. Three figures on horse back then sped out of the gate. the first fell in flash also, but as Herkila readied another bow, the remaining two darted from the path into the trees, She struggled to see the rider in the darkness, and as the village faded from view, so did the light of all its by now lit torches. Two arrows missed their mark as they sped through the forest, and Tiđnel seemed ready to burst into tears as she struggled on the floor with Zilma’s wound. Then Herkila found her mark with her third shot. But as the second rider fell, the third, coming from the other side, jumped onto the cart. Herkila lost her grip on her bow and it fell on her arrows, scattering them all across the floor of the cart. Herkila at the last moment succeeded to grab her assailants axe, stopping it mere inches from her throat. She struggled for a few moments, and then flung his axe against the back of the cart. Herkila then nearly kicked him from the cart, but drawing his knife, slashed Herkila’s shoulder, and as she reeled, he lunged forward to finish her. But Tiđnel, seeking to save the only person who had ever shown her any good in her life, plucked one of the arrows from the floor of the cart, and as the soldier attacked, she stabbed him in the chest with the arrow head. Screaming in pain, Herkila kicked him from the cart, slamming him onto the ground, where he would have died in but a short while. Herkila said “Thank you,” to Tiđnel, but though she was still bleeding, turned her attentions to Zilma. Tiđnel had removed the arrow, but the blood was flowing freely. Herkila did all she could to stop the bleeding from the knife wound, but all in vain. He was still conscious through all of this, and finally he said to her in the end, “It is no good, I will not survive.”
“No sir, you will,” said Herkila in vain, knowing the truth for certain.
“Ha” Zilma laughed, then moving into a splutter. “You always were a foul liar Herkila.”
“Yes sir,” she could say no more.
“Get south to Var’mina, three days and you will be at the mountains,” he said, his voice weakening with every word, “Across the passes and you will be safe…You are in command now Herkila…what…what there is left to…command.” Then he was silent.
Nigh half an hour later, the cart ground to a halt, the horses, untrained for such haste, were utterly spent, and could go no further. But worse was to come. Tiđnel’s father was stirring from his Ladagar induced sleep. Herkila, though tired herself, never even contemplated letting the creature rest while they did all the work. As Diđinaţ began to stir, Herkila gagged him and tied his hands behind his back. He was still in a daze and could not stop her, but only a few minutes later, as Herkila and Ladagar were setting up a pyre for Zilma’s body, he came to his senses, and tried, in vain, to struggle from his bonds. But before Herkila could reach him, Tiđnel was there, and for a moment she stood staring at her father, and then she hit him in the face. After the first punch she hit him again, and again. She was screaming at him all the time, screams of pure hate. It was as if an entire lifetime of hate and anguish had at last been let out with avengeance. She had hit him over a dozen times before Herkila could stop her, leaving her fathers face sorely bruised, though had Herkila done it he would not have had much of a face left. She then broke down sobbing, Herkila tried to comfort her, but there was no time. They would soon be found by their pursuers, and had to move on at once. She quickly returned to Ladagar, and quickly speaking their farewells to their leader and those who were lost, they set the torch upon his pyre, and watched the flames for a few moments as Herkila murmured a final farewell, and then they departed. Ladagar took the lead, and also took hold of the rope on which Diđinaţ was tied, and when he tried to resist, Ladagar put his axe to his neck and said “One second of delay, and you will be dead where you stand.” And with that he pressed on, the prisoner delaying not a second for the rest of the night. Herkila followed up behind, with Tiđnel following at her side. They were at least forty miles from the mountains of the Mina Lear, a three day journey with the two newcomers even with a hard pace, but one which they had no choice but to make.
All night they pressed on through the forest, marching on without any rest. And finally when day approached, they took shelter in a place where the two soldiers and their now deceased companions had been before. it was a small cave hidden deep in the forest and behind a cliff, and it was almost impossible to find unless you were looking for it. They came there and found a handful of supplies, most of which were merely discarded remnants from when they were there a few days previously. but there was a little food, some spare clothes, and more importantly, shelter. As a precaution, Ladagar blindfolded Diđinaţ when they came nigh to that place, so that if he ever did escape, he could not lead any others there. When they were inside, Ladagar was the first to sleep, the two soldiers had been awake and marching for the whole of the night and the best part of the previous day and were exhausted. Herkila, despite being equally tired, had something to do. She had to sort out something for Tiđnel to ware. The young woman, being dressed in a long skirt, a over revealing and uncomfortable low cut shirt, and a farcical pair of shoes which looked more likely to damage than to protect her feet, was in no state for being let out of the house, let alone having to travel four days to safety. But then, that is how the slavery peoples wanted it.
She started by searching through the old clothes left in the cave and her own spare gear, and quickly dispensed with the skirt, a article of clothing so useless for anything, that it had long ago become only accosted with this people’s repression. Herkila quickly equipped Tiđnel with a spare set of trousers, even though she had frightful difficulties in getting them fit to the much shorter woman. She sorted everything out in a little over a hour, having given the woman a spare shirt and a pair of the smallest boots she could find. But all that while, Diđinaţ, his blindfold having been removed when they entered, looked on at his daughter in abject horror, as if he was seeing her being destroyed, when she was truly living for the first time in her life.
After they had finished, Herkila, despite her fatigue, went out and had a quick look around. What she saw was not good. In but a hour, two patrols went past, scouring the area for them, though they would not easily find their hiding place, it was worrying. Herkila returned into the cave and pondered on what to next do. But that was no good, such thoughts were making her fall asleep. Thus, to keep herself awake, she had an intimate talk with Tiđnel, who soon told her everything that she had to tell, a rarity indeed, but Tiđnel had already befriended the Othlite soldier, and willingly confided in her.
Tiđnel was in many ways, a very beautiful woman, though much shorter than Herkila as was all their people. it just seemed a great shame to Herkila that all that beauty had long ago been wasted so.
Tiđnel spoke first of her youth. Hardly ever in her entire childhood was she allowed to leave her house, and never in her entire life was she allowed to leave the village on her own, while they boys went out and played freely every day. While they did so Tiđnel was kept in house tidying it every day, even in her youth, and thus from the first she was a slave in her own home.
Tiđnel then told how she had been forced to marry when she only thirteen years of age, an act which destroyed what little remained of her childhood. She was married to a noble who was three times her age, and she of course had no part in all this, her father arranged the marriage, and in it she was treated as a slave, no, worse than a slave, for a slave has value and was treated well. Her life, or rather her existence, revolved around pleasing her husband sexually. She never had any choice in this. The first time she tried to make a choice, and was beaten to within an inch of her life for her trouble, and even then her husband had taken by force what he wanted. She was never allowed to leave his sight when outside the home, and when within home she wore clothes so degrading, that it made her not a person, but an object of his to do with as he would, a doll to play with. Those words make Herkila furious beyond belief.
She was forced to have her first child when she was still only thirteen years of age, and she nearly died giving birth so young. Since then she had had three more children, two boys and two girls all told. The girls were beaten when they so much as cried for food when she was not around, the boys were never touched, and were treated by their father with a thousand times more respect than he had for her.
Herkila, being an Othlite, a race that, with most others, believed above all in sexual equality, wondered how on earth the poor creature could have stood it all through the years. As it turned out, she could not. Several times she had tried to take her own life. Every time she had been discovered by her husband, who proceeded to beat her almost to death in response. She utterly despised him, she utterly despised her children. but she despised her father most of all for letting it all come to pass.
Herkila looked at the prisoner. His greying hair and tired eyes made him seem almost innocent of these crimes, but Herkila, knowing what these people were capable of, did not doubt what Tiđnel told her, only that this was even worse than she had so often heard, but now that she had discovered it all first hand, she was sickened even more than when she had discovered the ugly truth of the slavery peoples.
Diđinaţ had treated his own wife, and his daughter, in much the same way. Tiđnel told that his wife had died the year before, for no proven reason save that many women often died young because of the way they were treated. But Tiđnel swore that her mother had killed herself. She had in years before made no secret that she hated both him and her daughter, for the single reason that both had been forced upon her wrongly, without any choice in the matter herself, and for that alone anyone had the right to feel hate. And the only right she had retained was that of life or death, and she chose the latter for a final escape to freedom. Tiđnel also revealed that she was only back with her father for the time being because her husband, a very important man, had to go east for a few days. It had been the merest that she had been in the village at all. But through all the torment she spoke of, one thing she repeated more than any other, she thanked Herkila for rescuing her.
Herkila listened for a long time to Tiđnel’s long sufferings, but before long even her talking was failing to keep her awake. She eventually shook Ladagar awake, he made several irritated grunts before he finally moved. When he finally sat up and rubbed his eyes a little, he was going to ask Herkila on how long he had been asleep. But Herkila was already curled up in the corner in silent slumber.
It was not until darkness was nearly upon Dar Vinotz before Ladagar finally woke Herkila. She struggled to get up, still being utterly exhausted, but did so with some effort. Tiđnel was asleep in the corner, as was her father. But of more immediate worry to Ladagar was what they were to do next.
“Six patrols passed by here since you woke me,” he said, “I think they know we are too outmatched to fight them.”
“There were several more earlier,” said Herkila through a yawn, “But the question is what we do from here.”
“We cannot stay here more than a day and have food enough to get us through the mountains,” said Ladagar, “and I cannot believe we shall have time to get any more on the way, the forest is less than hospitable ahead.”
“Then we leave tonight,” said Herkila sighing, “It’s going to be hard on them, Tiđnel especially. These fiends have left her as weak as a child.”
“At least you sorted her some clothes that will keep her alive,” said Ladagar, a rare smile on his face, “but you were always the resourceful one.”
She smiled for a few seconds, then turned to the others. She gave Tiđnel a gentle nudge to wakefulness, while she gave her father a bitter boot in the side and the words “Up!” she removed his gag, and gave him a cup of water and a piece of bread, and before he could protest, she replaced the gag, and prepared to march through the forest once again.
They left the cave soon after darkness fell upon the forest. They knew that they would not be searched out during the night, for at night the western peoples did what they had done, and raided those lands. They found many tracks of those who had been searching for them, but no one was within a great distance, and thus they began.
It was a hard night for them all. The two soldiers were still tired having only managed half a day’s sleep each, and Diđinaţ struggled, being both old and unable to easily walk due to his tied hands. But Tiđnel indeed suffered the worst. For a woman who had rarely left a house in her whole life, she had not the strength for such a march, though she tried her best. They had covered nigh nine miles before she finally gave in and fell to her knees. Herkila responded by holding the small woman in her arms, though this left her in a little better state. They pressed on until morning, when they found a hide away under a overhang beside a small river, and all sat down and slept, neither of the soldiers staying awake to watch the prisoner, he was, after all, far more tired than they. It was not until the late afternoon until Herkila awoke, with the others still asleep, and she quickly checked around them, but found no sign of pursuers, and returned to the others. She stayed awake for the rest of the day, preparing for their further march by night, while the others gained more much needed rest. Tiđnel was the first to wake, with all her muscles seized up to the extent that it pained her much merely to stand. Herkila sat her down and worked the aches out as best as she could, and they talked more of Tiđnel’s dark past. But by the time that they had only just really began talking, Ladagar had awoken, and Diđinaţ was complaining through his gag for food, and this time Ladagar did that duty. Then, as night fell, they pressed on once more, making, despite their fatigue, much further progress to safety. But late that night, when they had believed that they had escaped the pursuers, they saw, as they stood on a small hill, fires burning perhaps a dozen miles back in the darkness, so many fires that it was clear that their pursuers had picked up their trail. Herkila then pressed them all harder, and this time Tiđnel managed to survive through the night, though barely, until they finally reached, nigh to dawn, the foot hills of the mountains, where they had both shelter and a hiding place. This time Ladagar took the watch, giving the others time to sleep, which Herkila did that night in great abundance. But none the less, all were awake some time before nightfall, and they crossed the last distance to the slopes in day light before camping once more at the base of the mountains, where they could gain a further few hours rest, and ready themselves to reach the high passes. But to do so they would have to give Diđinaţ more freedom than they had wished…
Herkila was worried once again.
She still worried not of death nor maiming, nor much by then even of capture.
No.
She worried now about what he would say.
It was not insult she feared, though she had no doubt that she would receive it, but she feared that in some small way he would try and justify what his race had so long done to their very own.
But there was no choice in the matter. They had to cross the mountains, and not even a prisoner could have their hands bound when crossing these mountains, for they would almost certainly slip, and one slip could well mean death, and leaving a gag on him was no good either, one would suffocate in the thinner air, and so she would not do that lest he compromise their safety. She was merely to fasten a locked chain with a leather strap around his waist so that he could not escape. Thus she went to it. She unbound him slowly, undoing each knot with precision, and then, as she moved to remove to fasten the chain, without any warning he slammed his fist in her face, and tried to scramble away. But Herkila, gaining to her feet, took her bow from her back, and aimed an arrow with almost legendary patience. A few seconds later she fired, and a perfect shot screamed through the air and slammed into his shoulder. With a scream, he slammed to the ground.
Herkila, wiping the blood from her nose, had taken almost enough from the creature by now. She walked up to him seething with rage, seemingly ready to finish him off. instead she grabbed the arrow and shouted in his ear, “There you fool, see what happens? We are not all as weak as you seem to believe!”
She then put her foot on her back, and in a single movement, tore the arrow clean from his shoulder. He let out a single scream, and fainted outright from the pain. Herkila had to drag him back to the others, but did so without asking for help from the others, who had sat and watched the entire episode. She tied his waist with the chain, and sat down and wiped the blood from her nose once more.
“You should have killed him and saved us all the trouble,” said Tiđnel, clearly indifferent that it was her father that she was talking about.
“No,” said Ladagar shaking his head, “she did not, because unlike him, we are not savages.” And they spoke no further on that matter.
It was a little over a hour later when Diđinaţ awoke, and he was certainly surprised to find his shoulder bandaged. He looked up at his captors for a few moments, before asking the question that he had not managed to say at all in the previous few days, “Why have you taken us?”
Herkila, who believed it was painfully obvious, spluttered a laugh of defiance to his words, and it was thus Ladagar, who was rarely in a joking mood, who answered, “It is you alone who is the prisoner here, your daughter is free. That is why we came to your village that night, because we will risk our lives to save those that you people treat as slaves.”
Diđinaţ sniggered his own laugh to this, but stopped after a few seconds and clutched his shoulder in pain. A few moments passed before he said, “Slavery? Why do you think that we are so many fool? Why do you think that we have defeated every race that has tried to defeat us over the years?”
Herkila snapped, “Of course we know you fool, you force your daughters to marry and have children at an age when ours will still be in their childhood, at school and playing with others their age,”
Diđinaţ smirked, “Decadence comes from such thoughts.”
Herkila replied, with a bitter tongue, “Civilisation comes from such thoughts!.”
“No, decadence alone” Diđinaţ casually replied, “Women are weaker than men, and just like weaker peoples are conquered by the stronger, then the weaker sex should be controlled by the stronger.”
Herkila struck back, “Belief that pure strength is success unto itself is a foolish notion. The wolf is stronger than any Mavine, but yet our race overcomes the wolf by skill and knowledge. It is the same with us, you may believe yourselves stronger of hand, and in some cases perhaps you are, but remember how easily I shot you before, that was skill and knowledge, not strength.”
“Pure luck,” said Diđinaţ, “nothing more.”
“Luck!” Shouted Herkila, “I am a soldier in the army of Mavinzhear, to us there is no such thing as luck.”
Diđinaţ, running out of arguments, merely struck back, “Women cannot be their own masters, let alone be soldiers.”
“Ha!” shouted Ladagar, finally breaking his silence, “I have never heard anything so utterly preposterous in my entire life. Both sexes go through the same training, all have to march twenty miles a day at need, and while we often are better with an axe, few can match them with a bow, as I believe you have found out?”
Diđinaţ, scratching his wound, merely grunted in reply and acknowledgement.
“Three years I trained,” said Herkila, “Three years with the best in all of Mavinzhear. A year I have been out here, and in that time I have killed, to my knowledge, fifty seven of your kind, and received only the lightest of wounds in that time. Do you honestly believe that someone who you believe cannot be a soldier could do that?”
Diđinaţ did not answer that question, but instead began a new one.
“But as I said before,” he said, “We outnumber you many times over, despite all your attacks upon us, so that no matter what you do, we will in time crush you all, and only by putting women in their right place as the makers of children will you survive.”
Herkila spat in disgust, “You damn fool. Children are the wish of both parents, and both their responsibilities also. Just because we do not have children young does not mean that we do not have them. My mother was in her thirty fifth year when I was born, and most of our people do not have children until many years after that, and even if they do have children younger, neither parent will become a slave to them. if a woman crafted swords before she would still do so after, others could care for them in times of need, for we are communal, unlike you, we look after each other.”
“You lie!” shouted Diđinaţ, “no woman could bare a child at that age, for few live to fifty, and I at fifty five, am an old man.”
“Most would rather kill themselves before them!” shouted Tiđnel, breaking her silence.
“It is your repression of each other!” shouted Herkila angrily, “My great grandmother is a hundred and six years old and I expect her to live a good ten years more. But you live so short lives because you dominate women and each other, which shortens their lives, and thus you dominate them more, a fall into madness no less! It is enough to make me sick! We are not even getting old until our eightieth year, because we believe in equality between peoples, in this you have only yourselves to blame.”
Diđinaţ sat in disbelief. He had heard what very few of his people had ever known, that if they believed and acted differently, they may well live to twice the age they do now. But, being what he was, he would, or could not give up his beliefs. Never could he allow a woman to be his equal.
“but,” he said sheepishly to Ladagar, “how can you ever make a woman your equal?”
“We do not make women equal you fool,” said Ladagar, “They are born equal. They are sent to school, daughters and sons alike, and are taught the same. They read books together, and learn to use weapons of defence together. We make no distinctions between sex in such matters. We even dress alike, warring only practical clothes, not those ugly and useless dresses like you forced upon young Tiđnel here.”
Diđinaţ was taken aback, “you let them learn?”
“We let them do as they wish,” said Ladagar, “and learn? Yes they do. Have you not noticed that I and Herkila both speak your tongue? Well Herkila spent many years learning to be a teacher, and she would almost certainly be teaching now if she had not heard about what you people were like, is that not right Herkila?”
“Right as usual my friend.” Said Herkila.
“But,” said Diđinaţ, “despite all that you say, women ever show their weakness, for at the merest pain they break down in tears, you call that strength to fight?”
“No” said Herkila, “I call it the strength to show your true feelings instead of hiding them. to us that is a sign of great strength, to both sexes.”
But now Diđinaţ was getting bitter. “I still say you are fools,” he said, “Women are mischief makers when left alone in freedom. We have many hidden in the back streets of our towns who do nothing but sell themselves. What happens when you have creatures like that in your armies? Do all the men go off and spend their pay on people like you?”
That remark was pointed at Herkila, and knowing full well what he was implying, she lost control, and walked up to him and gave him a single punch in the face ripping open his previous wounds and leaving him bleeding badly. Herkila would have hit him again had Ladagar not come and stopped her by grabbing her outstretched arm. After a few moments, she sat back down, though still furiously angry. But instead of killing the debate, it seemed only to intensify it.
“We have never done that!” she shouted, “Unlike your people, we can have honest lives in which we don’t have to be an object of lust. My mother was in the army, my sister works on a farm, and my aunt works in a smithy. We are all honest people, and I expect those women only do those things because through your repression, it is the only way they will ever support themselves, and that is your fault alone…” her voice eventually trailed off.
“What about what happens in the army?” asked Tiđnel on the question.
“There are no such people like that at all in our lands my friend,” Herkila replied, “but we are neither savages on the subject either. Yes, we do have battlefield romances, companionship is something we all desire in our lives at once time or the other. But since we can control child bearing, such unions do not stop us from fighting who needs to be fought, and so it has been since we first went to battle thousands of years ago.”
Then Tiđnel asked the fateful question, “What would it take to join your army.”
Herkila smiled, “You looking to join in the future? Why?”
“Revenge,” said Tiđnel, “One day I will come back here and kill that pig who was made my husband.”
“No!” cried Diđinaţ, “You cannot you foolish girl!”
Tiđnel however was unmoved, “No father,” she said, “You are the one who is foolish if you think you can control me any longer. I will go with them, and no matter how long it takes, I shall learn the skills I need to return here and gain revenge on those who have made my and many other women’s lives as bleak as Arillirus’ cavern, and if I had my way, you would be the first right here and now you horrible misogynist!”
Her anger flared once more and she lashed out at her father, kicking him several times before Herkila could stop her. Diđinaţ was doubled over in pain, and Tiđnel was almost in tears, but Herkila calmed her then said, “It’s a hard life my friend, but a good one if you can stay alive.”
“How hard?” asked Tiđnel.
Herkila sighed, “Hard enough if you are thousands of miles from your home, family, and all that you know and love, but I suppose that all does not matter to you any longer?” Tiđnel nodded sullenly.
“Then,” Herkila continued, “There is the long months of training, all the hardships of long marches, little food, and the burden of carrying you life in the weapon you hold in your hands.” Herkila sighed, “But the good things are knowing that you have done some good in your life, and you are the living proof of mine I hope.”
But before Tiđnel could reply, Ladagar, who nobody saw move, shouted out from the slope behind them, “Pursuing party! about a mile back but on horse and closing fast!”
Herkila muttered a few words in curse, and then shouted, “To the hills, Now!” Ladagar quickly gathered up their gear, and Tiđnel began walking to the slopes. But Diđinaţ was not moving.
“Help!” He bellowed repeatedly again and again, desperate for the pursuers to hear him. Herkila did not wait around, she lunged on him, retied his gag, and dragged him by the chain onto the mountain slopes, which was no easy task as he was kicking and pulling like a little child. Only when Herkila threatened him with the point of her knife did he relent, and they set off after Ladagar and Tiđnel, who were already ascending the mountain slopes.
It was a dreadful march, for several hours they struggled up the grassy slopes which took them to the mountains themselves. The safety of the Ezleg lands were only a few hours away, but it might as well have been days. Rain fell, reducing the grassy tracks to slime and delaying them further. Before the rain fell, Ladagar saw their pursuers scaling the mountains, barely half and hour behind, though they would struggle to gain any up the slopes, and they would have to leave their horses behind. All this time Herkila struggled to drag Diđinaţ through the mud. But Diđinaţ had not given up on escaping just yet, far from it…
Soon they were in the mountains true, and though they did not have to climb, for they were after all heading through a high pass, it was increasingly difficult. Their path was far from safe, for much of its length there was a sheer cliff on the right and a several hundred foot drop on the left, with a path that was often only three yeards wide. Herkila and Ladagar shared their care of the prisoner, and thanks to the occasional blow, he was following reluctantly. Soon they reached the true border of the Ezleg lands, the pass of Ethem Baraz, the narrowest place in the entire route, with the ground notoriously icy in places. It was here that Diđinaţ struck, seeing as it was his final chance. He had not fought when Ladagar had taken charge of him, and when Herkila took his chain back and tied it around her waist once more, he seemed to exhausted in trying to walk that he seemed no threat. Thus when he struck in those high mountains, Herkila, herself deathly tired, was utterly unprepared.
Grabbing his chain, having broken his bonds at his wrists, he tugged it so hard that Herkila had her feet torn from the ground, and she collapsed onto the stones. Before Ladagar could react, Diđinaţ grabbed a stone from the ground and cast it at the Othlite. His aim was true and it hit Ladagar square on the forehead, knocking him out instantly and causing him to collapse in a heap mere inches from the side of the pass. Tiđnel stood beside her fallen friend, utterly petrified. Herkila struggled to her feet grabbing at her knife, but Diđinaţ kicked her down, and the knife fell from her hand, and he picked it up, and held it at her.
“See devil woman,” he said, “You are weak, as is your friend over there. You shall die the death that any beast like you deserves, and my daughter shall never forget the day that she decided to cross me for the rest of her life.”
“No slavekeeper,” spluttered Herkila, “You shall never return her to that, I shall see to that now.”
Unknown to him, as he talked, she had tied a rope to one of the needle like rocks that protruded from the floor of the pass. Then, without warning, she took hold of it and she rushed past Diđinaţ and flung herself from the side of the pass.
“Nooooooo!” cried Diđinaţ as Herkila’s weight dragged him over the side by the chain around his waist.
Crashing over the edge, he came nigh to tearing Herkila from the rope, and came nigh also to tearing her in half, she winced with the pain as she held on to the rope, but looking down, she could see that Diđinaţ had dropped the knife.
In agony Herkila slowly began to pull herself up the rope, but with Diđinaţ struggling after her below, together with her own wounds, she found that even being the best rope climber in one’s class was nearly not enough, and she struggled for every inch that she climbed. But at last she neared the top, and then Diđinaţ reached her. He struggled with her, but unable to kill her with his bare hands, he was lucky and managed to pull her arm from the rope, and she slid down it a great distance, tearing all the skin off her left hand, and leaving her in agony. Thus, with a clear route ahead, he pulled himself to the top, and was about to pull himself up over the ledge, when he was confronted by his daughter.
“Out of the way you foolish girl, you are already to suffer for this, do you want a flogging?”
“No father,” she said almost calmly, “I said before that you had given me your last order.”
She raised her hand, which held Ladagar’s knife, and then, with the skill of a butcher, she reached forward and almost tenderly slit her father’s throat. He hung there for a few moments, in disbelief, and he tired to speak what sounded like, “Woman” and then he fell back, not to rise again.
This second fall nigh tore Herkila from the rope once more, and with her left hand utterly useless and bleeding profusely, she screamed out loud as he fell, but again she hung on. She slowly struggled to climb, but with only one hand it was even worse, and had it not been for Tiđnel slowly pulling the rope up from the other end, she may never have made it. It took them nigh five minutes for her to get only ten feet, but they made it in the end, and Herkila pulled her the last distance over the ledge. There, without saying a word, Tiđnel cut the leather strap around Herkila’s waist, and with that, her father was lost forever in the mountains, and the body was never found. Tiđnel did not shed a single tear for him, and was more worried about rousing Ladagar. He came round after a few minutes, but pursuers were close behind them now, and Herkila had to make do with wrapping a cloth around her hand and they departed as quickly as they could, the rain falling once more upon the mountains.
An hour later, they finally came to the Ezleg realm, and their first place of refuge was the small watch tower guarding the pass. Tiđnel was utterly amazed by the great giant Ezleg, but was too exhausted to talk about them. She fell asleep in a chair in the common room inside the place.
As the Ezleg dealt with Herkila’s hand and Ladagar’s head, they told them of the pursuit. In response, three dozen Ezleg went back into the pass at once. They returned several hours later, the enemy having been totally destroyed. Not that Herkila nor Ladagar knew of it that night, they had slept as soon as their wounds were tended.
The next day they woke to find clear skies, and from the
mountains they could see for over a thousand miles. Herkila showed Tiđnel the
city of
Herkila was worried once again.
But this time it was not through fear, but for success.
Her band of warriors, four dozen all told, had been hunting them for many months, and now they had him, in a undefended hamlet in the middle of nowhere.
“Right, you all secure the hamlet,” she said in orders to those who she commanded, “usual orders, prisoners if possible,” she smiled at her companion. “Are you ready for this my friend?”
Her friend was much more of a person than she had been six years before, a life, a love, she had it all now she was free. But Tiđnel had unfinished business with her old life, and she was there now to clear it all up. “Yes captain,” she said, “I am ready.”
“Right then.” Said Herkila. “Go!”
The soldiers rushed into the village, but Herkila and Tiđnel stopped at the first building, and Herkila kicked open the door.
Inside a man and two early adolescent boys were sat around a table. They stood up and the man hastily looked for a weapon, but there were none to be found.
“what do you want…” he stammered.
The two boys, taking table knifes, struck at the two women. Herkila in a single stroke split the skull of one, and Tiđnel ran the other through.
The man whimpered a sliver or loss, but not much.
“I have come her to deal with long unfinished business.” Said Tiđnel, and she moved into the light.
The man looked on for a few seconds, then realised who he faced, “Tiđnel?”
“Not what you expected? the slave you sent off back to her father for a few days to come back as a warrior six years later. Oh I had prepared to come back for you only a few days after I was freed, it just took a while.”
“You…You killed our sons…” the man whimpered.
“Your sons, I never wanted them,” said Tiđnel bitterly, “what of your daughters, married off already? You sicken me even now as you did when you made my life hell for six years, now I have had six years of freedom, and have come to pay you back”
“You…you don’t understand.”
“I don’t want to.”
With a single movement, she strode up to him, and slit his throat, and then she took the knife and stabbed him in the chest, he slumped to the floor, and Tiđnel wiped her blade on his cloak.
“Are you finished here my friend?” asked Herkila
“Yes,” said Tiđnel, let us leave this place, I have had enough of debating with the dead.”
And with that, they left the village to continue the war that took over eight thousand more years to win, but one that never stopped being fought.