Robert Adams - The Savage Mountains

No, Ahrmehnee warriors feared neither man nor beast … but they, one and all, feared the Maidens unashamedly… and no one of them could say why.

Vahk and his race knew very little about the Maidens, save that, like the Ahrmehnee themselves, they worshiped the Lady Moon, wore strange and antique-looking armor, were stark warriors and paid for such items as their delegations came to Ahrmehnee villages to buy in silver and gold coins of unusual uniformity which bore likenesses of men and women and beasts as well as legends which not even the wisest Ahrmehnee elders could decipher.

Their valley was very large, virtually inaccessible and well guarded, having but a single known entry. It was before the yawning, black mouth of this cavern that Vahk’s tribesmen now were encamped. The mountains surrounding the Valley of the Maidens presented an almost uniform facade of weathered rock and deep, dusty runnels. Such terrain was difficult for goats or men, impossible for ponies, but even so, the crests of the high ridges connecting the mountains showed the viewer an unbroken stretch of rough-dressed stone walls, crenellated and set with towers, squatting amid the dark evergreens.

The old tales said that Maidens had been inhabiting the valley when the ancestors of the Thirteen Tribes first came to the hills and mountains. They, like the Ahrmehnee, were God-spawned. And these two sacred races had lived with peace between them for moons beyond reckoning.

But for all their similarities of worship, their shared glorious ancestry, their relatively friendly relations and the fact that the Ahrmehnee were renowned far and wide for their lustiness and those Maidens who ventured forth from their hold were right often young, comely and toothsome—albeit a mite on the muscular side with breasts invariably concealed beneath armor—there never had been intermarriage or even casual fraternization. In the course of the years, hot-headed or drunken Ahrmehnee had, on occasion, sought to seduce or force one of the Maidens; the would-be seducers had met with cold rebuff, the rapists with quick and bloody death. It was supposed that men did dwell in that mysterious Valley, for the Maidens were not Undying—they aged like all living creatures and, after a while, came no more to buy goods in the villages, their places being taken by other, younger Maidens. But no one could say for sure, since no one had ever seen a man of the Maidens’ race, nor managed ever to even glimpse of what lay beyond dark entry cavern and wall-crowned summits. The nahkhahrah had always strictly forbidden Ahrmehnee to trespass up the bare, rocky slopes, and those few who had seen fit to disobey had never been seen again.

The scattering of villages near to the Valley sometimes witnessed weird and disturbing phenomena-sustained and awful rumblings from within the hold, accompanied by roiling layers of thick smoke by day and unearthly radiances by night; and, for many days after, the cataract which fell from those heights and the mountain river it fed would be oddly hued and fetid to both nose and taste. And the phenomena and mysteries had given rise to a plethora of terrible tales. Some were believed, some half-believed, most used only to frighten naughty children. But told and retold over the centuries, they had given rise to the fears and dreads which had made these last three moons so unpleasant for Vahk and his fighters. Like most Ahrmehnee, they normally avoided coming within a mile of the mouth of the cavern, for all that the approach was gently graded and wide enough for two horsemen abreast.

Nor, reflected Vahk, would they now be within forty miles of this place, had it not been for the comings of the People-of-Powers. The first snows were buried under their successors and the surplus cattle were being slaughtered for salting, when the two men and the woman rode into the village of the nahkhahrah, in company with old Dehrehbeh Hahgohn Kohehnyuhn, who was come with his party for the Council of the Kehv Moon.

In the Council House, lit by fat-lamps made from skulls, the pock-faced, white-haired Hahgohn, whose tribe occupied the southernmost of the lands held by Ahrmehnee, arose and told the nahkhahrah and the other eleven dehrehbehee of how the three strangers had been brought to him by a village headman, of how they all three spoke to him in fluent—if somewhat archaic—Hahyahs, and told of having been sent by Moon to aid Moon’s faithful people in regaining their ancient lands.

“And my father, my brothers,” the eldest of the dehbehrehee had concluded, “I am convinced that they speak truly, for they surely are wondrous in their ways, commanding strange devices of thunder and lightning which can slay at two and three bowshots’ distance and sharing ownership of a pair of chests—each no bigger than a common travel chest—which,” he lowered his voice, “contain living men!”

Of course, no one had believed old Hahgohn’s preposterous tales … not at first. But the nahkhahrah had been sufficiently titillated to first speak with the leader of the strangers, then with all three, and by the time he brought them to the Council House, he was as fervent as had been Kohehnyuhn, earlier.

Vahk paused in his musings to tuck his sodden cloak more tightly at the neck, shivering at the icy touch of the fabric on his bare throat. He shivered again, then, under his breath, promised a white buck-goat next moonbirth, if only Lady Moon would grant that the Woman-of-Powers rejoin them today … or even tomorrow.

Sahrah Sahrohyuhn (otherwise known as Erica Arenstein, D. Sc.) stepped onto the back of the kneeling man, and from that human mountingblock bestrode her fine riding mule—every bit as surefooted as the stunted mountain ponies of the Ahrmehnee, yet as big and powerful as the Maidens’ warhorses.

Once in the saddle, Sahrah/Erica was more than anxious to be upon her way back to the cold, primitive village of the nahkhahrah. For all that her mission had been crowned with greater success than expected, for all that the Maidens and their rulers had made her more than welcome, she had not been comfortable since she first entered this valley. She knew, could recognize, what its inhabitants could not.

Though cruel winter clamped the surrounding mountains and valleys in its icy teeth, flowers bloomed and grain rippled on the valley floor. Snow or sleet turned liquid as soon as it touched the ground, so that the worst winter weather became only soft mists in the Valley of the Maidens. Only the Watchers, posted on the circuit of walls high above, ever tasted of the sufferings of those who dwelt in the surrounding lands, for Maidens never quitted their comfortable hold in winter. They accepted the bounties of their goddess, appeasing Her with bloody sacrifices on those frequent occasions when She vented Her anger in fire, choking smoke and shuddering, quaking earth.

But the training and experience of Dr. Erica Arenstein could identify this paradisical-seeming valley for what it truly was, though it would have been foolish—suicidal, even—to attempt to impart this knowledge to the Maidens. It gave Sahrah/Erica the willies to awaken in the morning and see a column of smoke spiraling up from the Sacred Crescent, and the ominous rumbling which often accompanied it made her want to scream and run as far and as fast as this body could. So she was overjoyed to be leaving.

However, her months of well-concealed terror had been worthwhile. Large as it was, the valley was already crowded, and for two generations the Maidens had been forced to buy grain and other foodstuffs in order to feed the burgeoning population. Not much persuasion had been necessary to convince the rulers that the Will of the Goddess lay behind this opportunity to fight in concert with the neighboring tribes and win more land—good land, rich nonmountainous land.