Chapter 19—Village of the Forgotten

“Okay, fine. Not all men are rotten assholes.”

“Why do I still hear a ‘but’?”

“Maybe because I said ‘ass’?”

“No, seriously, why do you still want to take her away? Guys have their purposes too, you know. What if she wants a family?”

“Then she can have one. As many children as she wants… stop giving me that look, I know already, even if my heart doesn’t. I know men and women are meant to be together, but I’d like there to be a place where women can go to remind men that they’re not entitled to company, and that if they’re, well, rotten assholes, they can lose they’re women. Right now, if a woman is abused or neglected or used, they have no choice but to put up with it because this society won’t give them a way to stand on their own or provide for themselves. I don’t care if it’s just how things are, it’s not right. Women deserve to be happy too.”

“…Genie.”

“What?”

“You didn’t make a single lewd joke, I’m proud of you.”

“Jerk off, Hero.”

***

After a night curled together in a bunch around the campfire, Kyanna barely had time to stuff some dry bread and even dryer venison into her mouth before her Soan companions ushered her onto a horse, which looked suspiciously like a horse from the brigade she’d just left.

“If the men who took your boy were heading in this direction, they’d have had to stop by Nishkakh before heading to whatever their destination was,” said Abal from beside her, their horse’s hooves clip-clopping loudly through the canyon.

“Nish-kah-huh?”

“It means, ‘forgotten’,’” said Hasna.

“But why would they have to stop by there? Especially if it’s a place called ‘forgotten’?” asked Kyanna. Up ahead the canyon mouth opened to a pinkish-gray morning sky.

“Here in the desert, you’ll find that no village lives farther than a day’s travel from the next. It’s so travelers aren’t separated from wells for more than a day. Also, if anything should happen to the water or food, it is a good idea to not be too far from the nearest help,” Hasna explained. “Except for Nishkakh. It marks the end of ‘civil’ territory and the beginning of ours. They would’ve had to stop there to get water for themselves and their horses.”

Badra nodded, her light orange ponytail bouncing. “Yeah. Though, frankly, not many even come this far. There’s a reason that village is called ‘forgotten’.”

“Why’s that?”

Izz, with a glorious, dark swirling tattoo around her left eye, snorted. She had not said a word all that morning along with Fa, and the sound threw Kyanna off guard.

“Because those there are forgotten, or want to be,” she said.

Badra laughed a tinkling, shrill sound. “Oh Izz, you’re always so dramatic! It’s a village comprised of women and their children. It’s sort of a refugee camp.”

“That explains why you allow them on your border,” said Kyanna, with a faint smile. “No men, huh?”

“No. We protect them from men,” said Abal.

Fa nodded solemnly. “Men have hurt them.”

Izz rolled her eyes, her gaze sharp and hateful beneath her tattoo. “Hurt is such a weak term, Fa.”

“Abused, used, raped, beaten, neglected, cheated on, pick a word, any word,” said Abal.

Kyanna fell quiet at this, frowning behind her loose cowl.

She listened to the chatter of the Soan as they left the canyon onto open sand and stone. As the sun rose the heat grew heavy and pressed in around her once more like hot metal. Her horse snorted spittle and its legs grew more sluggish in the deep sands, even as the spry, short steeds of the Soan kept going strong. The Soan women, while jumping between Karpathian and their own language, talked about remarkably expected things: jewelry they had stolen and taken a liking too, what they planned to do with their golds (either roll around in them like a sick dog or buy something obviously luxuriant), and horses, among other things. What Kyanna found peculiar was that they rarely spoke of men. Whenever men were brought up, either in an exciting theft story or in passing, they only hissed together and moved on almost as soon as the man in question was mentioned. It made Kyanna wonder more than once how they could’ve known Einar and yet not have killed him.

The village appeared around a low plateau sometime in the afternoon, long after Kyanna had lost her mind to the heat. Cottages of tan stone and dried palm leaves clustered beneath a patch of tall trees. Though still somewhat sun bleached, the trees were broad leafed and gave ample shade. Beneath their outspread branches played a dozen or so children, who splashed in a crystal blue pond or plucked tiny flowers from scrubby bushes. Each wore the thick, black hair and dark skin of the desert folk except for three, whose blond hair stood out like gold against their dark companions. Kyanna eyed these among the crowd, a suspicion weighing at her heart.

“Why do some of them have blond hair?” she asked.

Izz shot her a look, but it was Abal that answered.

“What do you think?” growled Izz. “They’re rape kids, idiot. Karpathian rape.”

Kyanna retreated back in her saddle. Badra and Abal gave Izz a hard look which she didn’t meet.

“Don’t mind her,” muttered Hasna. “She just doesn’t have any tact.”

“What happens to the boys when they grow older?” asked Kyanna.

“They get sent out to begin their lives,” said Abal simply. “They take their mothers with them if they don’t have any daughters to take care of them.”

A scattering of Soan guards, signified by their red hair and spears in hand, nodded their heads at their fellows as they passed. As they did so, the children noticed their new visitors and let out squeals before running for it, calling for their mothers who soon appeared in the doorways. Broad smiles graced the dark, naked faces, uncovered by veils or sun-blocking cowls. They wore linen dresses of bright colors in varying shades, layers, and patterns. And they too, like the Soan, held an exotic beauty with their large, dark eyes and smooth chocolate skin.

An older woman cried out a greeting in the strange, desert tongue as she came to meet them in the village center. Her hair ran down her back in a river of deep silver. Kyanna felt the woman’s scrutinizing gaze upon her. The old woman asked something of the Soan, who responded in turn, dismounting their horses. As Kyanna dismounted, a few women recoiled. Wincing, she pulled off the cowl and smiled gently at them, revealing her womanly face, relieved when they visibly relaxed. Seems removing her bindings weren’t enough to show her figure through the baggy soldier’s uniform.

There was a brief dialogue between the women of the village and her Soan companions which brought out a call from the silvery-haired elder. At her shout, two stout boys just hitting their teen years trotted into view to take the reins of their horses two at a time. A few mothers shooed the children away from the pool to make room for the beasts and back into the house for, what Kyanna guessed by the smell on the air, supper.

Beside her, Izz frowned, a phenomenal sight with her broad mouth and face. Kyanna pushed back the image of a frog.

“What’s wrong?” Kyanna asked.

Izz glanced sideways at her. For a moment Kyanna was afraid she’d snap at her again.

“Sounds like the men might have come into our territory to shake off your boy’s companions, because they’ve gone in an almost opposite direction to where we were expecting.” Her frown deepened to a scowl.

“Why? What happened?”

Izz hesitated, and Kyanna’s foreboding increased.

“You see…”

At that moment, Abal wrapped up the conversations with the Nishkakh women and turned to them, her expression grim, arms tightly folded across her chest. The women left behind her watched on like an array of colorful, tropical birds.

“Well, we now have a pretty good idea where your boy has been swept off to.”

Kyanna didn’t like the tone in her voice. Nor did she like the grim expressions on the other Soan faces—even the cheerful Badra and Hasna. Kyanna clenched her hands together, waiting.

“When the women spotted the men on the horizon they retreated into their homes, as is procedure to do so. Because of this, the men thought the village deserted and they were able to eavesdrop on their plans as they refreshed themselves at the pool and, based on the direction...” Abel, sighing and dropping her arms, shook her head and raised her elegant, maroon eyebrows to Kyanna in pity. “I’m sorry, Kyanna. They’ve taken him to Hrathbern.”

Her blood ran cold as ice. Her heart stopped beating.

“If you’ve heard anything of the place after the sorcerer’s collapse, you’ll know there’s a good chance it’s already too late for him,” said Abal, more gently. “The magic in that place is old and has grown hungry in the year it has been empty. I…I suggest you forget about going any farther—“

“No!” A painful trembling overtook her, shaking her from the inside out.

Abal raised her hands to her in pleading. “You don’t know what that place is like. You’re not a part of this desert, you haven’t had to live with its shadow—“

“I don’t care! Point me in the direction; I’ll go alone if I have to.”

Her heart beat a wild tap against her breasts. Hrathbern bleached her mind. The dark, cold face of Einar as he told her of it rose to her mind’s eye. He couldn’t be back there—back to where his horrors had taken place. If she didn’t go now, all that she came for would be in vain.

All the Soan closed in on her, pity in their golden eyes. The sun had begun to set on the horizon, making their hair shine like fire and their bronze skin gleam like metal. They were beautiful, momentarily derailing Kyanna’s train of thought Badra lifted her hand and once more touched the golden strands of Kyanna’s hair, a wan smile twitching the corners of her lips.

“I once had golden hair like yours, you know.”

Taken aback, Kyanna stared at her, confused by the sudden change in subject. Badra, however, continued, and none of the others bothered to stop her.

“Not all of us are born with red hair,” she said. “It’s part of the magic of the Mother that when we accept her, we take on her mark. It’s how we distinguish ourselves as separate from the rest. I remember watching my pretty, golden hair turn one strand at a time, and it’s only now that I see yours that I realize how much I miss it. It’s probably why my hair is still lighter than others.” Her slender fingers dropped from Kyanna’s ragged hair to gently pull away her cowl.

“If you choose so,” she said as she tugged the rest away to once more reveal Kyanna’s feminine features, “your hair and skin will also turn dark like ours, and your eyes yellow. You can become like us.” Her smile grew till it was full-born, kind and with a hint of softness that reminded Kyanna of Einar’s own smile. “So, if you are set on going, even if it’s to save a stupid boy, we’ll go with you. Mark or not, you’re still our sister.”

Izz grunted. “Speak for yourself, I know Hasna won’t go near that place.”

“Don’t be mean!” cried Hasna. “I’m not strong like the rest of you.”

“You fight fine, it’s your will that’s lacking.”

“It’s Hrathbern! I’d like to see you go without peeing yourself silly.”

“Fine, I will!”

Abal ran a hand down her face. “I’m too tired for this. I’m heading in.” She turned and headed for the largest of the clay shacks.

“When do you want to leave?” asked Badra.

“We won’t get anywhere without rest and food,” said Fa in her gentle voice.

“That’s a given.”

Kyanna just stared, feeling a bit as though she were walking on water and unsure how she still held up. Perhaps it was just her heat exhausted brain, but she couldn’t make sense of what was happening before her.

Badra put a hand on her arm. “Kyanna?”

“Sister or not, you just met me,” she said. “I don’t think you should risk your lives for me.”

“Think of it as moral obligation, then,” said Izz, her smirk not unkind. “If we let a delicate white softie like yourself go alone, we’d be as good as kill’n you. Warrior’s honor and all that.”

“We can at least show you the way,” said Hasna.

“I thought you said you were going in?”

“No! I’m going to see if you pee or not.”

“Not going to see much with several stone walls in-between us.”

“But it’s for a man,” said Kyanna, eyes to her feet.

“But it’s what you want,” said Badra with a gentle squeeze of her hand. “And just because most of them are worthless doesn’t mean we can’t like them.”

Izz folded her arms with a widening grin. “There’s this guy back in Kasmut that Badra can’t get enough of, says he has—“

Badra cut her off with an angry hiss, making the other girls laugh.

“Just saying,” Izz shrugged. “Thems got their uses.”

“Babies,” said Fa with a little smile.

“Babies,” echoed the other girls with equal giddiness.

Cheeks hot, Kyanna echoed their smile, feeling her insides warm.

That night, upon carefully embroidered pillows and polished stone floors, they feasted amongst a gathering of the villagers. Women’s voices weaved together with bursts of child-like laughter and squawks. Little feet pitter-pattered through any available space, leaping over legs and laps in the play until a mother or aunt swat them back to docility, or at least away from flying their toes above other people’s food. The fare was rich with seasonings Kyanna had never before experienced, both spicy and sweet, rich with potatoes, vegetables, and goat broth. Despite the language barrier, the women of the village still drew near to her to give her friendly touches and welcoming smiles, doing their best to communicate through body language or through a Soan as a translator. None feared her golden hair or pale skin, thinking it enough that she was a woman to call her friend.

The emotions this brought to Kyanna was unlike any she had experienced. She found herself thinking of the great room as one filled with loving relatives eager to be with and know her, and at one point it brought tears to her eyes. The women clucked in alarm, but not for long as soft thumbs wiped her cheeks, then softly skimmed down her hair. With her permission she ended up with two of the women and Badra at her hair, gently brushing out knots to be replaced by intricate braids held at the ends with bright glass beads.

“It’s so much like mine,” Badra kept saying. “Oh, I love this, please let me do this more. I so love this color.”

Kyanna didn’t know when she fell asleep, only that it was somewhere soft and surrounded by friendly bodies. The presence of so many kind words and hands left no room for her anxieties to overtake her.

Yet, in her dreams, the sun shone bright upon the fire-headed Soan approaching her with a familiar mischievous smile and glinting eyes.

“Such a delight,” said her curving lips. “All of you together, so happy and safe. Oh, such a delight.”

And she left Kyanna with the all-too real sensation of a kiss on her forehead.

They left before the sun had risen, careful to not disturb the sleeping women and children. Horses refreshed, especially Kyanna’s sad desert-hating stallion, they pounded back out into the desert. Sand crashed about them like waves of a sea from the beating of hooves. Kyanna could feel the wear on her body, the aching of her legs and back from riding so much, and the tenderness of sun burnt skin across her nose. But her heart flew ahead of her, dragging her along with it to Einar. So quickly did she fly, flanked by red-head Soan, fear had yet to catch up with her. Hope trilled within her chest, tight and fragile, yet invigorated. Unseen hands held her up, decorated with the smiles of new friends that felt they had been so for a lifetime and a good night’s rest.

But still, she knew she shouldn’t fool herself. Even as she thought of his soft smiles; of his fingertips against her hair and the low voice telling her stories as she drifted off to sleep, her chest tightened. Those smiles may not be there when she reached him. She may have to turn back to Karpathia alone, and she found that option agonizing to hold, befuddling her with its intensity.

Surely, surely, she didn’t already love him, not after such a short time.

She wanted the Soan to talk to her, to ease her distress, but the heavy thudding of hooves and swoosh of sand made that impossible. The desert air, though dreadfully hot the day before, grew cool and her skin soon grew numb with goose bumps. Her eyes dropped wearily. And yet they rode on. They had to. They must.

Hrathbern.

Abal had spoken of magic; an old, dark, and hungry magic. What kind of place had Hrathbern become? Knowing now of the horrors rumored to be within it—of torture, sickness, death, work, starvation, and some unspeakable evil—she could only guess something of that terrible wickedness had remained. But why would the men of the desert take Einar there? Did they plan to kill him within its walls after he had been reminded of all its horrors? If so…if so…they were probably already too late.

But she couldn’t think that. Not this far. Not in this dark night and empty desert. Not with her own uncertainty held at bay within her heart, fighting to break forth and overwhelm her. Jeremy. Hope. Her father. She had fled them. She had fled them to this desert to reach him, for what he gave her. But what was it he had given to her? What was it that Einar awakened in her that Jeremy never could?

Their horses grew tired eventually and cantered to a slow gallop, but Kyanna gave it barely any notice. Her hands were aching against the thin leather of the reins and her tired, sunbeaten eyes burned. Snippets of Einar’s stories kept playing through her head, lulling her into a weary daze: A girl with beautiful wings of freedom…a golden apple filled with all his love…so Tall Stone adorned the cloak…and they were together, forever…

A rich, throbbing sound broke the quiet, snapping Kyanna from her revere. From in front of her one of the Soan, she guessed Abal, sung out a long note that trembled into a fervent, unearthly song. Hasna joined in at a lower pitch, harmonizing with Abal’s song.

“Listen closely, Julls.” Said Badra from besides her. “This is our heritage.”

“What are they singing?” she asked quietly. Izz joined in next with a trilling higher note jumping in between the others. The eerie sound sent shivers up Kyanna’s spine and at the same time enthralled her. A familiar wild desire rose within her: a desire to run barefoot across the sand, to race the wind, climb trees, and flee wild into the unknown. A desire that she had long ago decided couldn’t fit in her world.

“A prayer. To the Mother.” She put a finger to her voluptuous lips. “Now listen carefully so that you too may know how to pray.”

The Soans’ prayer rose up to the sky. Soon Hasna as well as Badra joined in, creating a melodic chorus. It was strange. It seemed almost off key. And yet it was beautiful and more passionate than any music Kyanna could remember hearing. At the sound, their horses were pushed once more into an all-out sprint, snorting and puffing in the wind with their new energy, bringing an end to their song.

They raced on. Kyanna’s cowl unraveled in the rush of their speed, flying behind her like a ragged banner along with her golden braid.

Before the sun had reached late morning, a rocky cliff had loomed before them, casting its cool shadow upon them. In the darkness the horses stumbled to a stop, rearing and screaming in fright, breaking the ambiance the song had set with a clash. Kyanna’s worn hands gave way, throwing her off once more. Her crazed steed stamped away from the darkness, flailing its mane, eyes rolling.

None of the horses could be coaxed to go any further.

“Guess we’ll have to walk from here on out,” said Abal, solemn. “Bless the Mother for getting us here so quickly.”

Kyanna got to her feet, rubbing her aching backside.

The dark face of the tall cliff seemed to be staring back down at her. Even over the screams of the panicked horses, the night seemed abnormally quiet. She couldn’t restrain a shudder.

“Yep.” Izz squinted at it. “Say hello to the backside of Hrathbern.”

Not even a bird called out in the silence.

Eventually their horses quieted, but only once they had gained a good distance away from the shadow of the cliff, which was faint in the moonless night. Kyanna checked her thin blade at her side, which she had worn for mostly ornamental purposes, while the others checked their own scimitars. As one, Kyanna and the Soan met eyes, nodded, and began making their way to the other side.