Zara the Wolf Page 3

  She nodded, and still clutching her two chlidren, she shuffled toward the back. I freed the horse closest to the flames, and he ran toward the back. I threw a rope around the second horse’s neck before releasing him. While struggling to keep him under control, I made my way to the back. The woman looked up at me from where she stood at the bottom of the steps.

  "No noise, and don't attempt to come out until morning. It will be safe by then." I closed the door and covered it with hay and dirt. The back of the barn had a large double door with two bars securing them. I lifted the bars and pushed open the doors. The cows and free horse ran. I mounted the captured horse and kicked him into a gallop, leaning low over his neck. In the distance, I faintly heard someone shout.

  "It's Zara. She's running. Kill her."

  When I looked back over my shoulder, two warriors were running in my direction. They would eventually outrun the horse. It could only gallop a short distance, but I would be fresh and could hopefully stay ahead of them. On the open prairie, it proved easy to keep track of my pursuers. Late in the day as shadows began to lengthen, one of the warriors stopped and turned back. The other warrior continued at an increased pace. As she slowly closed the distance, I recognized Ehwee. By now, my horse was lathered in white sweat and couldn't last much longer, so I pulled up and dismounted. As I waited, I notched an arrow and moved behind the horse. I hated to use the horse as a shield, but even running, Ehwee was a better shot than me. And maybe she wouldn't ...

  When next I looked, she was running fast with her bow notched with an arrow. At forty paces, she loosed the arrow that hit my horse in the side. He bucked and plunged, throwing me backward several steps. The impact made me loose my arrow, which went harmlessly to her right. I nocked another arrow. When I looked up, she was twenty-five paces from me and loosed another arrow. I spun in the direction of the horse and felt the arrow hit the padding covering my shoulder. I thought the leather had stopped it, but there was no time to look. I fought to quiet my mind. Sprinting hard, she was now only fifteen steps away, eyes wide, mouth open gasping for breath, and face flushed fire red. She had dropped the bow and was drawing her sword as I released my nocked arrow. At her current speed, she couldn't possibly dodge, and it hit her in the chest and appeared to penetrate several fingers width. But she kept coming, sword high over her head.

  "Die," she screamed as the sword began its downward arc toward my head. I threw myself to the right, tucked my head, and rolled to a standing position with my sword ready. It wasn't necessary. Her momentum carried her well past me. She stumbled and fell onto one knee. Her head turned in my direction. "Worthless slave with no honor."

  I laughed. "Perhaps you taught me the honor of the Ojaza, who kill defenseless farmers, rape their women, and steal their children. Yes, I have adopted the honor of the Ojaza warriors."

  "You daughter of the shit-eating dung bug," she gasped as she staggered to her feet and steadied herself. She took two steps in my direction, her arms trembling as she struggled to raise her sword to a fighting position. I backhanded my sword across her throat. I didn't wish her a slow death, just death. Hating it, I cut my horse's throat—its demise had been my fault—and began a slow run back toward the compound.

  * * *

  It was nearly dawn. The sky had begun to turn grey through the clouds, and a light rain fell. The barn stood a charred ruin with its roof caved in and only a skeleton remaining of its walls. The only sounds were the cries of the carrion birds as they feasted on the remains. I dreaded entering the barn, afraid what I would find. I found the trap door easily, but it took me a long time to clear away the burnt planks covering it. When I opened it, the woman stood with her arms around her children; her face a ghostly pale white.

  "They've gone. It's safe to come out," I said and backed away. I was dressed like a warrior, and she must have been half crazy trapped down there for almost a day, not knowing if she would be found by the warriors. And if she had tried the trap door, she would have realized she and her children would eventually die there. It took her a long time to creep up the stairs and survey the area before she allowed the children to exit the cellar.

  "What ... who are you?" she asked, still hanging onto the children.

  "It's a very long story, but not here. Call me Zara. Let's see if anyone survived and get you and your children something to eat and drink," I said as I turned to leave.

  "I'm Ethel," she shouted as I made my way out of the barn toward the gate. While she got the children settled in one of the buildings, I walked the fields, looking at the bodies. I didn't expect to find anyone alive and didn't. By the time I reached the gate, she was kneeling next to a man, crying. I walked by and examined each of the other six men scattered around the compound. They had died quickly. As I entered the larger of the buildings, she joined me. It was a large open room, which appeared to be the community dining hall, kitchen, and food storage area. The bloody bodies of five women lay naked, two on the long table and three on the floor.

  It was a long emotionally draining day for me, but a living nightmare for Ethel. I dug graves and carried the bodies Ethel had dressed and buried them. Ethel said a prayer over each. I stood silent. My father and mother had a God; the Ojaza had gods; and Ethel had a God. I wasn't sure where her God was when the Ojaza were killing and raping her people.

  It was late in the night when Ethel and I sat drinking coffee. She had prepared a hot meal, fed the children and us, and put them to bed. Afterward, I spent an hour giving her a brief account of my experience with the Ojaza.

  "What are you going to do now, Zara?" she asked.

  "Don't really know. Need to learn how to be civilized again." I smiled at the thought. I had only been a hand plus four summers when the Ojaza took me. I knew a lot about the Ojaza world but very little about this world.

  "You can stay here if you wish ..."

  "What are you going to do?" I asked, thinking if I were her I’d flee back to the city as fast as I could.

  "Stay!" she shouted, then lowered her voice. "Sorry. Will they come back?"

  "Not for many summers. They live high in the mountains and are a full turn of the moon travel from here."

  "You could teach us how to defend ourselves." She grabbed my arm, looking desperate.

  "No, I can't. They train their youth to be warriors. They are better trained than your soldiers. And your farmers and artisans are not soldiers. You can't be both. If you are going to live close to these mountains, your only safety is in numbers and having a small militia."

  "Please stay. I can't stay alone. I'll help you become civilized, to be a woman again. There are lots of clothes here. You can have whatever you want ..." She rambled on, her hand tightening on my arm, nearly hysterical toward the end.

  "I'll stay for awhile. I'll need some new clothes, but not women's. I've never been one—a girl child, slave, and warrior, but not a woman. I'm not sure what I am, but the wife and mother image doesn't feel right."

  "Thank you. I'll help any way I can."

  "I'm surprised no one came to investigate the fire. They must have seen it from the village." That had been part of the reason I had set the barn on fire, to attract attention, even if it was unlikely to bring help in time.

  "We are almost two days’ ride from Baron Dedrich's castle and the town of Oberen. There are other small communities like this one, but they are unlikely to investigate without a reason to visit. Fires are not unusual." Ethel shrugged. "The Baron's troops will be here in a few days. We pay a tax to him since we are on his land. In exchange he provides ... security. Three of the men killed were his soldiers. They are rotated every ten…two-hands of days." Tears dripped down her face. "We thought that would be enough to keep us safe."

  "The tribe split into two groups. Another community was also destroyed yesterday," I said, watching her face pale.

  "Oh my God!" She sobbed into her hands. "Do you know which?"

  "No. The chief made the decision. We just went were he sent us, most likely ano
ther community about this size. One with cattle."

  "I hope you're right. The two closest to us are smaller and have only a cow or two."

  "They came a long way and would want someplace worth their time. They had three hands of warriors and could take on four hands of men without too much trouble. They would be willing to risk a few deaths. They're bloodthirsty, not cowards."

  "Will you stay in this house? I know you don't think they will return but ..."

  "All right. They won't return. They got what they wanted and can't be sure if help will be coming. And they think I'm dead or out of their reach. They will be traveling fast and hit a few small communities on the way into the mountains."

  "Why?"

  "They are hunters. The mountains cannot support their numbers comfortably, so they need to raid periodically. And it keeps them mobile. If we took an army into the mountains, they could move within hours. It would take years and thousands of soldiers to destroy them."

  "What will happen to Timma, Lissa, and Gorda ... the other children?"

  "They will be village slaves like I was, along with other children from my parents’ village." I didn’t add, ‘if they survive the trek back.’

  "Will they be made warriors?"

  I laughed. "No, the Ojaza will never make that mistake again."

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Learning to be civilized

  The next two days were spent trying to repair the damage the Ojaza had caused. We managed to find a few chickens that had eluded the warriors and one of the cows that escaped the fire. Ethel worked from early morning to late in the evening, trying not to think about yesterday or tomorrow—just today and her children. I selected some of the men’s clothing, and Ethel managed to tailor it into something I felt comfortable wearing. Something I imagined a woman hunter might wear: long sleeved shirt, short wool coat, warm tight-fitting pants, and leather boots. She made me a wolf cap out of my old wolf coat, and I kept my wolf-fur lower-leg coverings. I kind of liked the look, which was neither male nor female.

  Baron Dedrich's soldiers arrived on the fourth day. I opened the gate as they rode up, some forty strong. They carried standard weapons: long swords, daggers of various lengths, some crossbows, a few long bows, and lances. Inside the compound, a tall broad-shouldered man dismounted a brown stallion with a grey mane. His eyes narrowed and face muscles tightened as he scanned the area.

  "Where is everyone, Ethel?" he asked in a harsh tone.

  "Dead, Lieutenant Wiktor. Warriors from the mountains attacked us three days ago. Only my two children and I escaped ... thanks to Zara." She nodded in my direction.

  "How many?" he asked, looking at me.

  "Originally, a hand-of-hands and one. They split into two groups. Three-hands of warriors attacked here and three someplace else. They lost a hand of warriors here and probably a couple of warriors elsewhere. So they have less than five-hands of warriors."

  He scowled. "Why were you with them?"

  "I was a captured slave, and it amused them to try and make me a warrior." The truth was far too complicated and would take too long to explain. Besides, I didn't owe him an explanation.

  "Do you know where they are going?" he asked, glaring at me.

  I nodded.

  "Good. They are on foot. We can catch them before they reach the mountains."

  I laughed. "Sorry. They move farther each day than you and your troops can, so you will never catch them. And you don't want to. Those warriors are better trained than your soldiers."

  "How do you know?" His face turned angry.

  "I was captured when I was young, and have spent more than two-hands of summers with them. From their youth, they train to be warriors. They are not farmers or even hunters. They are warriors. They murdered my family. I want to see them killed as much as you do, but don't confuse wanting with doing."

  He and his chief sergeant spent several hours asking me questions about the tribe and what happened. In the end, he decided to leave three men, who I think were told to keep an eye on me. Ethel gave Lieutenant Viktor a notice to post in town, offering a place at the compound for any families interested and stating she would be in Oberon five-hands of days from now.

  That evening at dinner, the three soldiers had lots of questions about the warriors. It was apparent from the questions they were nervous. I did my best to assure them they had nothing to worry about—at least from the mountain warriors.

  * * *

  Ethel and I left three days before the date she was due in Oberon, using a wagon the soldiers helped her repair and two of their horses. I had finally convinced them the warriors were by now home high in the mountains and wouldn't be leaving before summer. The trip took two full days. When we arrived, Ethel rented two rooms at a local tavern and inn, The Outpost, which was at the edge of town. Lieutenant Viktor found us as Ethel was getting ready to interview the two-hands of families waiting.

  "Zara, the baron would like to talk to you, if you would accompany me," he said. Not a request but an order since he had five soldiers with him and an extra horse. I nodded and mounted. As I had never been to a large village, I found the ride interesting. We rode through market places where people were selling and buying a variety of foods, buildings where you could buy clothes and other items, wood and stone houses, and people beyond count.

  Trying to imagine it made my head fuzzy. "How many people?"

  "A couple of thousand in the town and another five hundred at the castle."

  "Thousand? Hundred?" I asked. The lieutenant laughed and began explaining the standard system of counting. I had a headache by the time we reached the massive walls surrounding the baron's castle. Turning and twisting, I almost fell off my horse several times while trying to see the wonders of the castle: houses stacked upon houses many times, glass windows, streets paved with stones, women and men dressed in strange clothes ... I jerked around when I realized we had stopped. The massive building had a hand of steps leading to two doors each the width of a man and as tall as two. A man stood in front of the doors wearing a black coat and pants and a blue cloth from his left shoulder to his right waist. I followed the lieutenant, who followed the man down a long hallway lined with elaborate rugs, paintings, and statues and led into a room where a small overweight man dressed in maroon pants, a white silk shirt, and leather boots stood next to a large wooden desk. Behind him were four narrow windows that lit what would otherwise have been a dark room with its walnut-paneled walls. Various weapons and paintings of fighting scenes adorned the walls. There was only one chair, and I wasn't invited to sit.

  "Baron Dietrich, this is the woman Zara, who lived with the mountain tribe that attacked the Manola community.

  "Well, Zara. That must have been an interesting experience," he said, smoothing his well-trimmed mustache.

  "If you like seeing your parents killed, watching your friends die because they don’t have the strength to make the climb to their camp, eating leftover roots and plants, working from sun up to late at night, regular beatings, and knowing you will live and die a worthless slave," I said. "I wouldn't recommend it."

  He stood, looking shocked and then angry. "You’re insolent, but then you are little but a savage." He smiled.

  I retreated into my quiet mind that was immune to insult and didn't respond to his pettiness. What could I say to the fool?

  After several minutes of silence, he sighed. "What can you tell us about the mountain tribes?"

  "I've told the Lieutenant everything I know. As I've said, I was a slave. Like you, they considered me worthless."

  "They trained you to be a warrior."

  "No. They amused themselves by making me a whipping dog for their youth. I just happened to survive daily beatings with wooden swords and the endless abuse. When they tired of that, they decided it would be fun if they could make me kill some lowlanders. And if not, they planned to amuse themselves torturing me to death. I survived because I hated them more than they hated me."

  That more or le
ss ended the questioning. He made a few more attempts, but I pretended I hadn't learned to speak the Ojaza language fluently, just enough words and phases to understand what they wanted and therefore didn't understand their culture or plans. I played off the you are nothing but a savage by which he had accused me. They returned me to The Outpost late in the afternoon.

  "There you are, Zara," Ethel said as she came running toward me. "I was getting ready to go looking for you. What did Baron Dietrich want?"

  "To be entertained."

  "Entertained? How?"

  "He wanted to see the girl who had lived among the savages and hear interesting stories. He considers me little but a savage, not a girl who was kidnapped by savages who murdered her parents."

  Ethel stood there in shock for several seconds and then grabbed me in a tight hug. "Come, let's go eat, and I'll tell you about the families I've talked to today. If you don't mind, I'd like you to join the eleven families I've selected. They will want to talk to you about the tribes and the potential danger. Consider it the start of your learning to be civilized again. Although after your talk with Baron Dietrich, you may not be interested." She hooked her arm in mine and pulled me toward the tavern.

  * * *

  Ethel was right. The families spent a good deal of the time asking about the tribes, mostly whether I thought they would be back.

  "I can't tell you what the tribes will do. There are three tribes in the mountains, and I lived with only one. But I know it's a full moon’s trip to the community, and therefore the trip can only be made in the summer months. I was with them for two-hands of summers and that was the only time they made a raid that far into the lowlands. I doubt the Ojaza would attack the same area again for fear you would be ready."

  "What about the other two tribes?" one of the men asked.

  "They will be aware of the Ojaza's raid, so I doubt they would either. I think the chances are small, but if you choose to live away from the town, you must be prepared."