Robert Adams - The Savage Mountains

Nonetheless, with each departing tribe, his self-esteem eroded a bit more as he realized that his ability to stop the invading army became more questionable.

In sheer frustration, he beat his big fists against his muscular thighs. The cursed brahbehrnuh might well be right about her warriors and those of the Taishyuhns soon being the only fighters left here. But he vowed to himself, ere that happened, he would do something. If he could not stop the lowlanders here, he would at least dispose of the cursed Maidens. Maybe those tribes still with him could even fight or bluff their way into Maiden Valley and hold it against the Undying Devil.

None of the abashed dehrehbehee felt constrained to speak in the presence of the raging leader of their stahn, and in the silence of the familiar Council House, the nahkhahrah was able to muse on his problems undisturbed for some time. Then, as he had known it would, came an insistent pounding on the bolted door. From the sound, he imagined a sword pommel was being used on the polished hardwood.

Raising his chin from his chest, he calmly ordered, “Let the bitch in ere she splits the door. Or”—he smiled, the first smile any had seen light his seamed face in many a day—“has a tantrum and pisses her breeks.”

In the blessed release from their long tension, the dehrehbehee all roared then laughter while one of their number pulled back the bolt and the brahbehrnuh swaggered into the dim, smoky room, trailed by her two guards, as ever.

Halting at the edge of their circle, she hissed at the council members, “You dare to laugh at the brahbehrnuh of Our Lady’s Maidens?”

The smile instantly departed the nahkhahrah’s countenance and his voice crackled coldly, like river ice. “We are the men who lead the Thirteen Tribes of the Ahrmehnee Stahn. We sit in council in our own council house and here we weep or shout or whisper or laugh whenever and as we please, asking leave of no man and, certainly, of no woman.”

The brahbehrnuh stamped her foot petulantly. “I am your ally; it is the will of Her that I am your ally, and you have no right to deny me access to your councils. How do you expect me to hear what you dirty men are hatching when the door is barred against my entry?”

The nahkhahrah nodded slowly, the lamps making the shadows of his big-nosed, craggy face resemble the physiognomy of a bird of prey. “Yes, you are an ally, and only because it is Her will. But though it has been used as such in times past, this is not a true warhouse, it is the house of council for the business of the Thirteen Tribes of the Ahrmehnee. As you have obviously learned, its walls and door are thick and it has no windows for the very purpose of preventing spying and eavesdropping by curious busybodies and—”

But the armored woman burst out in interruption. “Busybody? Why you antique, tuskless boarhog, how dare you!”

His hours of meditation and other mental exercises had purged the nahkhahrah of anger, nor could her discourtesies and insults inflame him anew. “—and any others who would pry into matters which concern them not. I and my dehrehbehee and warriors are not of your valley or customs, so you have no right to know what is in our minds or of what matters we converse in privacy.

“Now, begone, child. Remain in your camp until I summon you, for I must journey with Our Lady this night.” On his last words, he arose and pointed a long finger at the still open door.

A hot retort was on the brahbehrnuh’s lips, but it never emerged. For all at once, the nahkhahrah’s eyes locked with her own and the tall old man became even taller, larger, huger than any man had a right to be. It seemed this his white-haired head was truly brushing the sooty skull-bedecked rafters high above, that the width of his shoulders strained against the side walls of the council house. And the brahbehrnuh whirled and almost ran from the place now resounding with the contrabasso booming of the giant’s voice.

With the rising of moon, the staccato voices of the doombehgs sounded from within the council house with, now and again, the lost-soul wailing of the reed-flutes rising above. Solid ranks of Ahrmehnee warriors—grim-faced and purposeful, firmly grasping their spears, darts and bared raider knives-barred any approach to the building. Those Maidens sent by the brahbehrnuh to inquire were told only that the nahkhahrah was in communion with the Holy Goddess and that, should their leader’s presence be required, she would be summoned. No amount of insulting harassment or imperious demands could elicit the women any further information, and those few who sought to force a way through the ranks were either faced with a hedge of sharp and ready steel or hurled back to sprawl before the determined men.

All the brahbehrnuh’s emissaries returned with bruised pride, some with bruised flesh as well, and at least one with a bloody nose. Hot words were ‘screeched in the tent of the brahbehrnuh, the other Maiden leaders all being for arming and hacking a gory path through the insolent pigs who denied them their way. No one of them had ever before been denied anything by a mere man, nor had any man ever laid hand to them without being made to suffer for the outrage. But the brahbehrnuh, too, denied them.

Inside the council house, the noise was deafening. The air was thick and close with the heat of many braziers and with the pungent smoke of the herbs and gums regularly heaped upon the coals. Except for the braziers, all furniture had been removed, and the nahkhahrah and the dehrehbehee squatted in a circle in the center of the main room, while the drummers and other musicians crouched along the walls.

Though all had, of course, heard of it, only the older men had ever before been present when their chief of chiefs communed with the Lady. Despite their total nudity, those in the circle all were sweating heavily and quaffing deeply of the brimming bowls of barley beer. They had all fasted until an hour before moonrise, when each had consumed as much of the foul-tasting Holy Herb as he could force down.

None of them now were aware of the dozen warriors who silently glided to and fro, keeping the braziers fed and heaped, seeing that the beer bowls remained full and trimming the lampwicks.

As Moon rose higher and higher in the clear, cold sky, the drums roared on and on, the flutes keened and shrilled and the smoke roiled and billowed about the rapt circle.

At a signal from the nahkhahrah, someone outside placed before him a large silver bowl, its rim all chased with mystical and holy signs. Placing it beneath him, he urinated into it, then passed it to Dehrehbeh Neeshahn Soormehlyuhn on his left, who solemnly added the contents of his own bladder to the bowl, then handed the container to the dehrehbeh at his own left hand.

When all the circle had voided their water into the bowl, the nahkhahrah placed it before him on the floor, dipped out a half of a smaller bowlful and added an equal quantity of beer, then raised the smaller bowl to his lips and drained it off. Thrice more he did this, ere, a half-hour later, he slid from his place in the circle, and extended his body full-length upon the floor.

He closed his heavy lids.

“Once again, my faithful and ever-obedient son travels my way with me. Welcome and thrice welcome, Kohg Taishyuhn. What would you of Her who loves you?”

As he recalled from before, the unbearably sweet voice was all about the nahkhahrah, all about him and within him. And he opened his eyes to once more behold the unearthly beauty and splendor of the Lady. All of silver, She was. A soft and misty silver She glowed before and about him.

Then She no longer was all-encompassing, but—again, as before—a creature no taller than himself. A lissome, silver-haired, woman-shaped goddess, She was become.