Fierce
Chapter 2
Lost In A Haze
Rayl sat in the soft dimness of the corner. Clack, clack. She pulled on the loom with ferocity. A deep sense of urgency propelled her. Faster and faster she wove, never looking up, never looking around. If she stopped something terrible would happen. What the terror was, she didn't know. She couldn't remember but doom lurked, like a dark gargoyle crouched at her shoulder. She mustn't stop.
The clatter of the frantic loom filled the space inside the luxurious chamber, one of many in the vast, sprawling tent of the king of the Lateri. A young woman stepped into the room. She had her back to Rayl and only the blood red fall of her gold embroidered dress made a sound.
"It is safe to talk here, Kynan" the woman hissed, "no one will overhear."
Her kohl-rimmed eyes were wide with fright and her hand shook as she held the tent flap and waved someone forward. A youth stepped through. Kynan was more boy than man, being some seventeen summers but broad of shoulder with a keen eye. He looked around the opulent room with a mixture of awe and disapproval and wondered at the slim figure bent over the loom, never ceasing her activity.
"And her, Kiri Hatun?"
A sly look, followed by a fleeting compassion slipped across the youthful face of the queen of the tribe. Just as quickly, hardness and fear replaced the sympathy.
"She is of my husband's family but she is damaged," she said, "he insists on giving her a roof because she was kidnapped in a raid. He bought her back to cover the shame and preserve our illustrious name."
Something in the youth's face made her pause. She altered her tone and continued.
"He and Rayl were warriors together. She was a fierce fighter and a tender mother but now she is broken. The death of her husband and child," the woman tapped her own temple, "she is mad. All she does is work but talks to no one. She is useless but at least she earns her keep."
The pettishness crept through again.
Not useless to you, Kiri Hatun, the boy thought sourly. Having grown up with her, he knew Kiri well. He glanced around the immaculate room again and knew that it was the hand of the broken Rayl that brought such cleanliness and beauty to this spoilt young wife.
"You're still soft, Kiri," he whispered, "Galti Khan will be grieved."
"My brother sold me into this life," she flared, "speak not of things you don't understand."
He dipped his chin and thrust his right arm across his chest in a salute of respect.
Mollified, she continued, "Now tell me quickly, what has my brother sent you to tell me."
The youth quivered and clutched the handle of the knife thrust into his wide leather belt.
"Invaders are coming, Hatun. You must warn your husband and these tranquil people over whom you rule. Leave, now. Even she," he jerked his head in the direction of the whirring loom, "must flee immediately, for your enemies tarry for no one. They are coming."
"My husband says we are safe. We have powerful friends."
"No," he interrupted and he rubbed his eyes with a hand that shook, "the things I have seen on my way here, cousin. The burnt out villages. The stench of death. I tell you, Kiri, the danger is real and it almost here."
"I told him last time. I begged on my knees and pleaded with him to listen but Yavar won't believe it. His treaty with the Altenai will stand, he insists. They will shield us from any invaders."
"I tell you, the Neuri are on your doorstep, Kiri Hatun. You must come with me, I cannot return to our people without you. Galti Khan insists."
Kiri Hatun frowned, the line in her smooth brow deepening under the delicate gold stars that dangled on slender golden chains from the rim of her scarlet headdress with its golden embroidery.
"What can I do?" she shrugged helplessly, "Yavar won't act and I am unable to go against his word."
The boy stepped forward, leaning over the young woman in his urgency. "Come with me now. I will lead you."
She stepped back. "You?" she said, drawn up with scorn, "You're just a boy," her gaze swept around her room with its rich fabrics and her personal possessions, "and besides, I can't leave this."
"Then you will die. You and your broken slave there."
Their words were no more than a distorted haze of noise to Rayl. She pressed harder on the pedal and sent the arm of her loom clacking across with vigour.
"She isn't my slave," Kiri began but a sudden, loud clamouring stole any further words from her lips.
Men's voices lifted in alarm and full of warning penetrated into the chamber deep within the magnificent tents of the khan of the Lateri tribe.
"W...what is that?" she quavered. When she looked at Kynan, his face was white.
"We may be too late," he said through frozen lips.
"Come," he seized her arm and pulled her toward the door flap.
"Wait," she wrenched her arm away and darted over to the woman at the loom. "Rayl! Rayl!" she said urgently, "Invaders are here. We must go."
Rayl felt the tug on her arm and heard the echo of Kiri's voice. Her hands faltered and the loom grew still. She blinked twice and turned her head slowly to look at Kiri Hatun.
"Invaders?" her voice was thick as if unused for a long, long time.
"Yes. Invaders are here at the nomad village. We must go."
Kiri tugged on Rayl's arm with greater urgency and Ray half rose but then she sat back down with a thump. She blinked again and clarity seeped into her eyes.
"Invaders are here in our village, Kiri Hatun?" Rayl repeated and her voice was stronger now. Clearer.
Kiri nodded, "Yes. You must come."
Rayl was a dead weight under her hand. Shouts sounded outside and fear ran through Kiri like quicksilver. Giving up, Kiri released her grip on Rayl's arm and surged toward the door flap and the waiting young man.
"No," Rayl called sternly. The doom was here. She'd felt it coming and now it was here. "No, Kiri. You must listen."
Kiri Hatun stopped and stared at the woman in shock. The young man saw her eyes widen in true amazement.
"Rayl?" she whispered.
Rayl put a hand to her forehead, the aching pain was lessening. She felt a pounding in her chest and the blood leapt in her veins. Great breaths of air filled her lungs. The sound of raised voices reached through the dense layers of felt and into the still room. With a sharp, sudden movement Rayl thrust away from the loom and sprang to her feet.
She looked at Kynan and then glanced around the room. There was nothing vacant or broken about that gaze now.
Rayl darted forward to snatch up a sharp, curved knife and thrust it into her belt. A couple more items followed, tucked away in soft, deerskin pouch at her waist.
"Come on," the young man urged from the door flap but Rayl shook her head and flung up her hand.
"That way is death."
The sound of fighting was closer. The clang of metal on metal and men's voices shouting. The piercing shriek of a woman rose above through the clamour, and struck the three of them. Rayl stiffened at the sound. She turned her head on one side, listening. Something in her face hardened and her eyes narrowed until just the blackest glitter could be seen.
"This way," she barked and ran to the back of the tent.
Without waiting for the other two to follow, she drew out the sharp knife and stabbed the back of the tent. With grunting force she pulled downward. Sharp as the knife was, it was an effort for her to saw through the thick felt wall of the tent. Her wide sleeve fell back and the boy saw corded muscles ripple in her arm. As soon as the gap was big enough, she wriggled through it. Left with no choice, the youth hustled Kiri Hatun to the back of the tent and pushed her through. The indolent young queen was slow and awkward. Rayl pulled at her from the outside.
"Get down," Rayl said hoarsely.
It was the gloaming just before dark. The rear of the massive tent faced away from the direction of the gates through which the invaders had sprung their attack. Rayl moved along the tent, with its many side chambers and peered around the end.
Shadowy figures engaged in a mighty struggle could be seen in the glow of small fires stationed near each individual tent. Many had been cooking the evening meal. Women and child ran to and fro. Strange warriors with capes of wolfskin swept about stabbing and slashing with sword and knife.
Rayl drew back. "This way," she whispered.
Doubled over, she led them in a crouching run, ducking and weaving among the tents to the rear of the village. Any sentry on duty there had run to defend the gates. No one saw them pass. Although there were gates at the front of the encampment, the walls did not stretch around the whole village. Herds of sheep, goats and horses must be brought in and out each day and it was not practical to surround the whole place with high walls. The Lateri Tribe had been at peace for too long and had grown to comfortable, trusting in their treaties with the neighbouring tribes.
"Kiri Hatun. Rayl," a warning cry came from the boy.
Rayl whirled around. A Neuri warrior came toward them at a dead run. Dressed like a Scythian warrior, he was silent on his feet and made no noise. The grinning teeth of a wolf's snout adorned his head. Rayl snatched the sword from Kiri's belt and gave her a great shove that sent her stumbling backwards.
"To me," she growled to the youth, "we will take him together."
Although young, Kynan had trained for war since infancy. What he witnessed next stayed with him for the rest of his life. He fanned out to one side, Rayl to the other. She flexed the sword in a wide, slow arc, feeling its weight, reacquainting herself with the feel of it. The enemy warrior slowed. He was a seasoned fighter, grimly determined and certain that he would vanquish. His own weapon was already drawn - a short curved sword, its gleam already dulled with crimson. He crouched, arms wide, ready to leap in either direction. Without breaking his stride, he came for them and his face held no mercy.
With terrifying suddenness he leaped on Rayl, bring the blade whistling down toward her head but Rayl wasn't there anymore. With fluid grace, she slipped aside from his swing and while his sword travelled on its downward path, she sprang forward. The warrior roared and flung his arm up. He staggered back and lifted his spare arm to dash away the blood that dripped from a slash high on his cheekbone. He recovered his balance and came forward once more. His movements were tightly controlled and the confidence that clothed him had fallen away.
The youth charged forward and swung mightily but the warrior was ready and flung Kynan's blade back easily. A terror bit him from the other side, Rayl savagely swung her sword and when he parried she brought up the knife in her left hand and shoved its sharpness under his arm. The warrior howled, spinning back toward her and gurgled as the boy's blade bit deep into his throat.
Rayl paced around on cat's feet, sword ready.
"Another comes," Kynan panted.
He was right. Around the back of the darkened tents, another lone warrior had broken away from the swirling battle to explore the tents. He saw them now and his mistake was the same silence of his departed friend. He made no noise to alert the other attackers that a different fight took place behind the royal tents. His eyes were fastened on the slim, shaking figure of Kiri Hatun. She'd pulled herself up off the ground, feeling bruised by her tumble and stood like a beacon in her exquisite gown of deep red, belted at her narrow waist and flowing down about her ankles. She was a prize and the warrior intended to have her. He came upon the two defenders in a rush of bulk and muscle. The lust of blood and war snuffed out any caution he might have otherwise had at seeing the shape of his vanquished brother-in-arms. Again, Rayl used her speed rather than might to score first blood. This time her blade sliced into the enemy warrior's calf as she went spinning past him to thrust the wicked blade at his leg.
This warrior was quicker than the first. He held the two of them off in a series of slashing skirmishes. They moved about in a triangle of fast-moving blades. Kynan drew back, gasping for breath and Rayl stepped forward. The enemy warrior grinned. He ran his hand over his mouth and beard and licked his lips in anticipation.
"Come to me," he growled mockingly, "what woman can defeat a man?"
Rayl said nothing. Her face was stern, her eyes unmoved by any emotion. She paced forward like a panther on light feet. With lighting speed he thrust and she parried. Her sword leapt forward and the warrior yelped. His desperate swing only just saved his jugular from mortal wounding but didn't prevent the edge of the blade from slicing the skin on his neck. He sprang back and Rayl moved forward in a flowing pattern of swift strikes. She was so quick, so calm and her sword leaped about like it had a life of its own. The sweat on the warrior's back flowed faster. He lunged wildly and Rayl slid away from his blade and let him stumble past her. Before he could recover she whacked him with the back of her sword. He staggered back and felt to the ground.
"This woman," she answered coldly.
The screams and cries of the people cut through the silence of this fight. The warrior scrambled to his feet but it was obvious that he was injured in his leg. He stumbled as the foot touched the ground and Rayl was upon him, driving forward. On one knee, the warrior defended himself with all his might.
"Rayl Hatun, go. Take Kiri," the youth spoke behind her, "before another comes. Leave this one to me and go! I will catch you if I can."
Without a word, she stepped back and gave him a cool, appraising glance. She nodded once and he felt the briefest squeeze on his shoulder.
"Head east," he heard her whisper.
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© 2019 Emma C Buenen