There was more walking. It was better in some ways, since I did not have my pack and stuff on me. It was all on his horse. All of it. I know that he had some hard words with the other man to keep my stuff together.
There was something about winning all chattel. My brain kept thinking of Dancers of Gor and hoping that it was not the real way of this place. I just didn’t know, but with the light whistle that he had going and the slow pace he had the horse, I know he wasn’t trying to rush to this encampment he had talked about.
It is hard to walk with your hands tied behind you. I’m just putting that out there because I tripped several times and the shirt was not as much protection against the grass and gravel I was briefly dragged along in as the leathers were. Even the leather halter was better than I thought it would be. It was a good length rope. I learned to not be too far back and keep slack in the rope the second time I tripped and he dragged me for a little distance.
The sun was getting to the golden time, the sky and clouds blazing orange and gold, when he stopped. We rounded a boulder and I saw a place that had been used many times before. It had a fire pit in the center, the remnants of a fire and cooking spit looking like it could have only been a few days old. The boulders gave some protection to the wind that was starting up and reflected the warmth when he made the fire.
I sat as soon as I could. I was tired. My pirate shirt was ripped along the arms, streaks of grass and dirt on the fabric as well as along some red scrapes on my arms. I know I had dirt on my face, and I know I had tear streaks through that dirt. I looked horrible. I don’t know why I cared how I looked. As far as I knew, I was going to be the tasty treat for some warlord, or dragon. There could have been dragons. There used to be dinosaurs, why not dragons?
He looked around, not just at the boulders and the firepit, but at the surrounding land. It was mostly open golden prairie land. I heard some sort of low bird call, but couldn’t see or hear any other animals from between the rocks. The sun was vanishing and he looked at me.
“We will camp here tonight.” He dismounted, a slight limp on one side as he put a weight on the end of his horse’s lead and turned back to me. “Do not make any trouble or I will let the night winds have you.”
I nodded. What else could I do?
I heard insects. I had heard little chirping things the first night, but had not appreciated how cheerful they sounded then. I sat and rested, more tears going down my cheeks as my captor brought out some sort of burnable disks and a flint. It took him a little while, but we had a low fire for heat and light before he stripped things off of the horse. He put my stuff by me, not that I could have done anything with it, including my sword. He made a place for him to sleep with his stuff and looked at my sleeping bag hanging off of my backpack.
He looked at me while he put some sort of a leather hood thing over the fire, blocking the wind a little and bouncing more of the heat back at us. I had not really moved, but I had stopped crying. Tears down the face crying, not hysterical sobbing and wailing crying. He made some food and he let me have my hands to eat. And to go relieve myself.
I stood and he started to stand, a look in his eye that made me know he would take me down if he needed to. I crossed my legs, bringing out a small smirk. He pointed to outside the rocks and I nodded. He looked like he wanted to tie my hands or something, but let me just go. I did take advantage of having my hands by getting out some of the last tissues I had out of my pack before going into the dark. He looked at the little plastic pack when I stepped away, touching the paper. He nodded and put it back where I had pulled it from.
It is eerie having a guy just a few steps away from where you are going to the bathroom. I am not good at holding it, but I had. I think I heard a chuckle when I started because there was a sigh that came out that I could not stop. I cleaned, pulled my pants and chaps up and found I still had a knife in my boot. I was glad I had not lost it, but I really did not know if I could break whatever trust we had and try to kill him.
I paused just outside the light of the fire and considered that. He could have killed me. I am not sure if I could really kill him. He was bigger than I was, but besides that, he was a person.
I had a few sips of a sour, milky thing he offered me. It tasted like someone had poured beer into sour milk. He laughed when I made a face. He took the leather bottle back and took a big swig of it before corking it again.
He held up the rope. I knew what he meant, but I shivered. I pointed at my sleeping bag and he nodded. I undid it, unzipped and then paused. I looked at my boots. I really wanted them off, but I didn’t know what he would do if I took them off. I got into the bag and then put my hands out, wrists together.
He nodded. He also tied my hands back together.
The fish gruel he had made was food. I know that. My stomach when I laid down was rethinking that notion. I shifted several times, seeing that his head popped up each time, looking at me. I think I finally fell asleep after wiggling around for a half an hour.
I woke and heard hoofbeats. And they were getting closer. I opened my eyes and saw that my captor was asleep, the low light making me able to just see him in the dark. He was not waking up, so I closed my eyes again. Until his horse started to fuss.
Now, I am used to finicky horses. They will shy away at any chance. His horse had been calm and had not shown anything like the temperament the thoroughbreds in the stable had.
The horse made scraping sounds with his hooves and a low snort. He pulled on the weight and I could hear the panic in his breathing. I could also hear the other horses were getting very close.
The horse made a challenge whinny just as men came around and over the rocks. I saw the low flash of knives in their hands as they went after my captor. I tried to sit up in the sleeping bag and yelled, “Wake up!”
His eyes few open and all I could see for a moment were arms and legs as they tried to take him down. One of them had a good shot in the chest or something and came flying backwards out of the gang. He saw me and went for me.
He ripped the bag open, feathers and fluff going everywhere. He grabbed me by the front of my shirt and called over his shoulder, “This one will be salable.”
I took offense to that. I was already captured. No one else was going to get the chance. He had pulled me mostly out of the ripped bag, freeing my legs. I growled out, “Like hell!” and kicked him in his nads. He went down, but he was not out like Tom had been.
One of the other bandit raider guys looked over and swore, starting for me. My captor saw that I was fighting them and called out, “Get out! They’re too many!”
I was fighting to get to him. I rolled under a swing from one of them and was almost next to him. “How?” I ducked and held up my hands.
He turned towards me and I saw the blade come towards me before it went through the rope, and my arm. The pain made me jerk back. I think that broke the rope the rest of the way and saved me from a swing from one of the men we were fighting.
I fought. It was not an invisible opponent that could not hurt me. I was bleeding, not just from the cut that freed me. I felt bruises from blocking and hitting the men. I kicked one of them over the fire, hearing a crunch when he landed. I didn’t have time to see if he was still moving when I was pushed back by my captor from the arc of a blade that would have hit my neck.
I recovered and reacted. And pushed the man’s nose into the back of his skull as the sword from my fighting mate gutted him.
The others ran away.
I slid down the boulder behind me. I was staring at the body of the man we had been fighting. Then I felt the fish stuff coming back up. I turned and only hit the dirt, but it was awful. Fish and bile and acid. I felt his hand on my shoulder, and another hand holding my braid out of the way as my stomach emptied its self.
I covered my mouth when I turned back and saw something in his eyes I had not seen before. Respect.
We sat there for a few minutes, both of us just...sitting there. His hand was still on my shoulder, but as support, not anything else. He turned to me and looked at me for a moment before saying, “You fight well. You will be a good addition to the clan.”
I shook my head and stared at the body. “Not like that.”
He took my hand and looked at the cuts, mostly at the one he had given me. He pulled something out of a pouch that had been kicked almost out of reach and pressed it to the cut. It was bleeding, it had slowed to an ooze. It stung for a second, but it felt better.
I could not bring my eyes off the body. It had been a man. A person. Now... nothing.
He put his hand on my shoulder again and I looked away from the body to his eyes. He motioned with his head to the body and said, “First kill?”
I nodded and looked back at the body. And then turned away to start throwing up again.
He pulled the body out of the area. He cleaned his own wounds. He took care of mine. He took what was left of my sleeping bag and put it with his bedding. He made me drink more of the sour milk stuff and then pulled me to him.
I almost started fighting again. Until I saw that he was not taking his clothing off. He was not taking my clothing off. He was going to hold me as we slept.
And after a good amount of tears that soaked both his arm and mine, I did.
****
I rode on the back of his horse for some of the next day. It felt great to be in the saddle. It also felt good to have his... Trust.
I could have run off in the morning when he was finding a place to pee. I didn’t. I could have done something stupid and attacked him when he was making the fire come back to life and cooking something. I didn’t. I was a Good Girl(tm) and helped to clean up the campsite, including the body.
I think what pushed it over for him was when I started to strip the body. I had read in so many books that you strip the body of your fallen enemy for anything that can be used. It was hard to look at the broken face, but if I just looked at he buckle or strap I was working on, it was not as bad.
He helped, looking at the dagger in the man’s boot closely. He took the pouches that had been on the belt and put it on his own. I took the belt and put it on, and took his leather vest. There was some gore on it from the belly cut, but it was in better condition than my shirt. We took the boots, though they did not fit either of us.
I watched the flies and other crawlies in the blood around him for a few minutes. The smell was something I cannot describe, a sweet/sour smell with decay over it. I stood and found that my fighting mate was watching me, smiling. He motioned to the horse and we left.
We did not really talk. We could have, I guess. He whistled a little, songs that I did not recognize, but sounded like he knew by heart. I walked beside the horse, not behind, and without the rope to bind me. After we stopped to rest around noon, I caught a sideways smile from him.
I stupidly looked at the lead when he put it in my hand. I could not tell what he was doing for a few heartbeats. Then it hit me and I think I squealed. I know he laughed as I tried to get my foot up into the stirrup. It was farther up than I was used to, the leathers not helping.
He helped me up and he walked next to the horse until we were close to the encampment. He stopped and I got off the horse. He looked...concerned.
He took my stuff off the horse and I was able to strap things on and haul the backpack on. I walked into the nomadic encampment as myself, my fighting mate walking beside me holding the reins as we went.
We passed several cairns made of grey stone streaked with green. Little flags were stuck in the tops, some ragged, some brand new. I watched him pause as he found one of his pouches. He took out a stone, kissed it and threw it on one of the piles of stones. He seemed to be doing some sort of ritual, and I watched as he seemed to relax a little before starting to walk into camp.
There were a bunch of large tents, five, I think, and several smaller tents in the camp. I saw horses and more goats, the horses unbridled and wandering around while the goats were tied to lines held down on one end with a large rock. I saw more men that looked like the man next to me, some in armor, some in the long coat he was in. No women. My spidey senses started tingling, but I had to follow this through.
It seemed rough. I could see where they were like Mongols or Huns. Or, my mind brought up so helpfully, Tu-Chucks. I really did not want to think of Gor right then, but there it was.
A gust of wind went through the camp and the triangle-shaped banners on the tops of the oval tents flapped for a moment. They were the brightest thing about the camp. Everything seemed to be a dark color, browns and grays and dark blues.
Several older men came out of one of the larger tents. They saw us and came towards us. I saw the look on one of them change and he ducked into one of the other tents for a moment. Another man, a little younger, and a lot better dressed, came out, pulling a dark overcoat on over the flash of gold and green I had seen.
The man beside me made some sort of motion with his hands and went to his knee. I followed suit, using the bow I would use at my Judo class and then going to both knees. It was hard, since I still had my stuff hanging on me, but I did it, and without falling into the dirt.
I watched the feet of the man come close. I kept my head down, thinking it showed respect. I was also tired, but I was just glad to be not moving right then.
I could see he changed positions slightly as he looked at us. He was their leader and he was looking me over.
“What have you brought us?”
“This is a woman I found on our lands, by the Firk River. I thought to bring her to you as all outlanders are suspicious.” He stood and I looked up to see the arms crossed over the chest of their leader, a really condescending look on his face.
“An outlander woman?” He came towards me and poked my shoulder. I wanted to get up and poke him back, but I stayed where I was. I just looked him in the eye as he said, “Clothes I have never seen on a woman. And she wields iron? Hold her.”
His voice was cold. He waived his hand and several of the men grabbed me. The leader pulled my sword from the scabbard on my back. I saw my fight mate step forward as if he would try to stop his leader, but he did not say or do anything more than that.
I tried to say something, tried to protest. There was nothing I could do, but I wanted to at least try to let them know that I was not going without a fight.
Until one of the men decided I was too uppity and hit me across the jaw. What is it with men and going for the jaw? It hurt and I saw stars. I went limp and I think I passed out for a few seconds.
When I came back to, I stayed where I had landed. I lay there and heard them talking about me. The elders were talking. The leader was talking. My...captor was talking.
“She fought with me against the raiders.” His voice was strong.
The leaders voice was sarcastic as he said, “Lucky for you she was there?” There was some laughter around me. He paused and I heard him tap along the length of my blade. “This is a fine piece. How could she get something like that?”
My captor quieted slightly when he said, “I don’t know.”
“I was not talking to you.” There was another pause. I wanted to open my eyes, but kept them closed. “Take her to Mararithe’s tent. Have the women look her over.”
I heard a slight shuffle and as I was dragged away, I heard the leader say, “I did want to talk to her.”
****
I don’t know really what happened next. I had been hit, I had been knocked out, briefly, but when they moved me, read dragged my limp body across the dirt, I think I passed out again.
When I woke up again, I was in one of the tents. There were rugs and furs under me, making an o.k. bed. It was better than ground and my sleeping bag. I was down to my jeans and leather halter. They even took my boots. It felt like they had been trying to take the necklace off. The back of my neck hurt when I moved and when I rubbed, it felt like I was already bruising.
My wrists really showed where the rope had been. I was clean, well, cleaner, on my exposed skin and a new bandage was over where he had cut me. I could see the little and not so little bruises and cuts as I tried to sit up.
There were two... women? I guess? Well, they looked like they were wearing head to toe dress things, like what I would see in pictures of Saudi. I think they are called Burkas. Their head wraps were the most colorful of the outfits, beads and trim hanging over their eyes and making little jingly noises whenever they moved. Well, anyway. One of them came over and started to reach for the torque again. My hand went to the oval pendant part and she changed, reaching for my shoulder instead.
“Leader wants to talk to you. You are awake?” She had a little bit of a sing-song to her voice. It was the first time I had heard anything like an obvious accent when talking to anyone after the necklace had gone on. Her eyes were covered, but I could see some sort of make-up around her brown eyes.
I moved more and my hand went to my head. It was pounding. “I feel like I ran into a tree.”
I could hear a small chuckle and I think I saw the eyes looking at me crinkle with a smile as she said, “Gresson has a fist like a log. To bad nothing else.”
Both of the women laughed. I took a moment to understand and then blushed. They laughed again. The other woman stood up and brought over a few things and I found that they were washing my face and brushing my hair. It felt good. I know that I had grasses in my hair and I saw the dirt on the thong as they untied it. They were not gentle, but to get through some of the knots, they couldn’t be.
I looked around and confirmed that my stuff was not there. “Where’s my stuff?”
“The Leader has it. You were carrying some strange things in your bundlesack.” That was the other covered woman. She had a different accent. Kind-of gravely.
“And they said you had a sword.” That was the first woman.
I felt the tears and couldn’t help them coming out. “My mother gave that to me.” I sniffed and wiped my nose on the back of my hand as I said, “I should have gone to Brazil or something.”
I saw them look at each other, even with the beads and stuff over their eyes. They did not say anything but kept cleaning me and putting up my hair. I was getting chilly, even though there was a stove thing near the center of the tent. Jeans and leather... They don’t really mention that halters don’t really cover much in the books, other than when describing things. They can let a lot of heat out. Even though the shirt was ruined, I really wanted my pirate shirt to wear.
They had really gone through my backpack. The women had my jewelry and put it on me, including my Vampire Hello Kitty necklace. The clasp was difficult for them, so I did it, their eyes watching carefully. I had evidently put a few bandannas into the pack at some point and they brought those to me. I tied one around my head, folded so it was just a strip in front. I didn’t know what to do with the other one, so I folded it and went to tie it around my wrist.
The reaction I saw was amazing. The women went to touch my wrist, my right hand, where I put the bandanna, but pulled back, looking at each other. I saw that neither of them had anything on their wrists. Not even bracelets.
I thought back and remembered my captor, all of the men, had things on their wrists. Bracers, armor bits. Yes, I know I was pushing it by putting it on at that point, but It was me. And I didn’t want to know what putting it around my ankle would mean.
There were a few other things that they had from my pack that I was allowed to have. The strange thing was that my last tissue in the plastic pack was one of them. I stuffed that into one of my jeans pockets and stood. I was not naked, but I felt really under dressed.
One of them had a small mirror. She let me look at myself and then hid the mirror again. It seemed to be an illicit thing to have. The other woman had glanced at the round door several times while the little glass and silver thing was being used.
I looked... o.k.. It was nothing special, but I felt like I was really missing something. My hair was up in pinned curls under the bandanna. I had the torque and several necklaces. I had my rings. I closed my eyes and thought of all of the movies and stories I had gone through, over and over. The warriors had symbols. They had medallions and mon and things that showed who they belonged to. Or of who they were looking for.
I smiled to myself as I thought of the necklaces I had on. None of them really would work. Though I thought hard about using Hello Kitty. That made me smile wider.
“May I use some of your make-up?” I pointed to my eye and one of them nodded.
There was a little pot of powder and a little brush that was produced. She was about to put some around my eye and I shook my head.
There was a little negotiation, but I had the mirror in my hand again. I drew on the back of my hand first, hating that I had to think so hard about the Judo symbol my dojo used. I had to count carefully and the eight lobes were sort-of on my hand. It looked like a lopsided daisy. I looked at it and thought I knew how I could fix it. I used the mirror and drew the symbol again, but on my forehead. And then I put a horseshoe in the middle of it, the ends pointing up. I almost smeared it when I saw some of the light powder start to flow down my face, but I stopped myself.
The women had such big eyes. One of them, the one with the red head dress with the gold beads, washed the symbol off my hand for me. The other lightly brushed some of the loose powder off my face for me.
I was going by instinct, and what I had seen in movies. I think that acceptance thing was taking over again. That, and hunger.
When I went outside, flanked by the women, the men who were waiting for me just stared. The best reaction was from the man who had escorted me. I saw the respect again as he looked at the symbol on my forehead. I think I also saw him, and many of the other men, counting the pieces of jewelry I was displaying. His eyes were the only ones that did not linger on the bandanna on my wrist.
The women stepped back into the tent when the men stepped forward. I was surrounded. I felt like I was going to have to fight again.
One of the men started to reach for my arm. I stepped back slightly and went into a stance. He stopped and looked at the bandanna on my wrist. He nodded and bowed slightly to me. I stood straight and bowed slightly, giving reverence as I would to a higher rank in my class.
I was escorted to the center of the camp, the largest of the tents. Most of the men went in before me, sitting around a large silver fire pit that was in the center of the tent. My escort was next to their leader, my stuff spread out in front of where he was sitting. He had won me. That meant he had won my stuff. I closed my eyes slightly before I went through the round door. Right before my foot landed on the bottom of the doorjamb, my brain engaged and I remembered something my history teacher had said about Mongols. Never step on the door frame. It was an insult. And could break the wood. I stepped a little further and was in the men-only place.
There was a small nod from my escort. I had saved myself from something, and I was not allowed time to think what. The men behind me made me go in further, but I was not sure where I was to sit.
I looked around as the rest of the men settled themselves. There was baby-gate lattice work making up the walls. Things were hanging from the walls, and from several skinny tripods that held small fire torch things. The roof looked like it was made of scraped hides and possibly canvas sewn together. There were glints of gold and silver here and there, but I mostly saw paint on wood and leather around me.
The leader was sitting on a large round seat that really reminded me of a drum. My escort was sitting on a smaller furry thing that could have sprouted legs and crawled away in a horror film. Behind the leader was a large hide on the wall, something like a buffalo. There was an intricate, curved sword hanging on the hide.
My sword was in the lap of the leader.
I know I was shivering. I know that I was cold, but it was also the adrenaline running through me. I have done that before, when I was trying to test out for my next belt. Never really worked well. The men just looked at me standing there. The only real sound was the fires that were lighting the place, and the wind that was starting up outside.
My escort/captor motioned to me and I went around the fire pit to in front of him. One of the men stood behind me and went to push me down. There was a sharp look from my escort and the man just motioned to the floor.
I looked at the leader and then at my escort. I saw a nod from my escort and knelt. I bowed, my hand in fist to the Leader holding my sword, and then to my escort. That caused a slight rumble through the men in the roundish tent.
I sat back on my heels and rested my hands on my thighs. I had done this so often that it was a natural and comfortable position for me. I would have to change to crossed legs at some point, but I hoped that it would not be too far in the future.
The leader leaned forward slightly. I had my eyes down slightly, but I could tell he was looking at me. “Where do you come from?”
I nodded in his direction and said, “You would not believe me-”
He cut me off and raised his voice. “You are an outlander. You came from Jujune or Canbarre. But neither let their women travel alone, and with weapons.” He leaned back and held my sword out slightly, the belt I used to strap it to my back dangling.
“I come from America.” I knew they would not know where that was. Or, if they did, then I might be able to get home. I clenched my jaw at the thought.
There were small discussions around me. “I have never heard of it.” “From across the sea?” “Is she a run-away?”
Their leader turned to my escort and said, “I had heard there was another country that had started trading with us. Is that it?” He dropped my sword to his side and leaned forward again. “Is that where you are from? You are a merchant? A trader?” The way he said that made me think they did not think highly of such people.
I shook my head and started to say, “No, I am a student-”
He made a rude noise and I stopped, again. “Student? They have odd things over the sea for you women. Who is your family?”
I looked at my knees. It was too complicated to tell people who knew me. The people who had been in my life, who I would never see again. How was I going to say to this man... I found I was saying, “No one who would miss me.” I shocked myself by saying that. It was not true. But a wave of doubt had gone through me, thinking of the fighting Mom and dad had started over me, making me feel more like a pawn than a person.
Their leader stood and walked around the fire pit. He seemed to be thinking, looking at his men and a smile started up that I caught in the corner of my eye.
He stopped his walk and looked at my escort. I looked up and saw a mean look, what many people would call an evil grin, on the leader’s face. His arms went across his chest and he kept looking at my escort as he said, “Good. I have decided to send you to the capitol city where the Prince is to be wed.” He smiled wider as my escort seemed to want to stand but stopped himself. The leader looked down at me and said, “You will go in place of my own daughter for the Prince’s marriage.”
“But I am only sevent-”
He slapped me. I didn’t go down that time, but I tasted blood. I swallowed it, and the bile that was trying to come up. I set my jaw and looked back up at him. He did not expect that. I could see that in his eyes. I looked at my escort and then at my hands. They were gripping my thighs and I could feel it through my jeans.
“You are mine to do with as I see fit. I cannot ransom you to a family over the sea, so you will save my daughter from being tied to the insipid city born boy who is the son of a King who has never been to war.”
That was when my escort stood. He had his hands balled into fists at his side, restraining himself as he tried to sound calm. “She is mine. We fought together. I claim-”
I saw the same nose on them, the same eyes in that instant. This was his son. I had been captured by the leader’s son. And now I was being torn away from him.
“All that is yours is mine. You are alive at my whim. She is mine to dispense with.”
There were low comments and rumbles from the men around me. The two stood and just stared at each other. My...suitor? He made huffing noises and backed down. He sat down abruptly and looked away into the fire pit. “Yes, father.”
I saw the evil grin on he leaders face again as he kept looking down at his son. “I will have you escort her into the capitol city. I do not want you staying there longer than necessary.” He looked down at me and said, “And you. You will get out of my sight. I shall never think of you again.”
I wanted to stand, to do something, but I just looked up at him and then at my stuff displayed for all the men to see. “What about my things?”
He snarled. He looked me up and down and said, “Impudent. You have all you need, perhaps too much.” He stepped to his stool and looked down at me.
I pointed at the sword he had dropped. “That sword was given to me by my Mother. It was a birthday- a coming of age gift.”
He looked at it and nudged it with his toe. “Is that so? It is yours.” I let out my breath and heard the laughter in his voice as he continued with, “No longer. You can have your bundlesack. If that is your dowery, your family has strange tastes.”
I stood. I didn’t know how fast I could stand until then. I pointed at my backpack. “I see that what little clothing I had is not here. I will need that replaced.”
I saw a shake to my suitor’s head as his father said, “Anything else?”
I started to say, “Your head,” but stopped myself. I tried to smile and went with, “If I don’t have a shirt or coat you may have to send your daughter, if I catch cold.” I did not back down.
He looked at me. He looked at the design I had on my forehead. He looked at my wrist with the bandanna on it. He looked at my breasts. Then he looked at my eyes again. “I see your point. You will get something before you go tomorrow morning. But the sword is mine.”
He sat, picking up my sword and drawing it from it’s sheath. He pointed it at me and said, “You are less to me than my horse. Get out of my sight.”
I was dragged out of there by men who stood at some sort of signal. The leader laughed. His son stood and then sat again. There was nothing either of us could do.
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