Sharon Green - The Crystals of Mida

“Perhaps you are correct,” I murmured, stroking his hair again, understanding that he knew not why he had not given me a child. A war leader must chew the leaves of the dabla bush, so that she is ever prepared to lead her warriors to battle. A war leader with life in her may not perform such a function, therefore the dabla bush insured against such a happening. It was said that the bush could be countered, yet I had never known it to be done. Perhaps the Keeper would have had such knowledge, but I, as war leader, did not.

“See to the daru, Fideran,” I said, “and should the Keeper arrive before my return, see to her comfort as well.”

He released me slowly and reluctantly then, moving back to seat himself upon the leather of my tent floor, his head hung in misery. He nodded in silence, obedient to my word once more, and I left him and withdrew from my tent.

The fey was bright, warm with Mida’s light, drowsy beneath the leaves of the trees. The black and green home tents of the Hosta were a brave sight to a daughter of Mida. On the hunt and in battle, warriors fetched naught save their weapons and sleeping leather, for it is foolish to tell your quarry or enemy where you take your rest. Only upon our own lands might the home tents be used, and then only with sentries alert all about us. A warrior joys in the sight of her home tent, yet must she sleep lightly when she is within it. Much of the joy would be removed, should she awaken to find the point of her enemy’s sword at her throat.

I thought to see many of my warriors about, yet the camp seemed oddly deserted. For a moment I felt puzzled, then heard the laughter from the tent set in the middle of the camp, the tent which lacked our Hosta clan colors. I knew then where my warriors were, and smiled at their interest. The captive was an attractive one, more attractive than any save, possibly, Fideran, yet Fideran had been with us a considerable time, and the captive was new to all. I walked toward the tent in the center of the camp, hoping that my warriors remembered my words. Despite his robust appearance, a male is often a frail thing, and may easily be overused to the point of worthlessness. The Harra, another clan of the Midanna, held their captives as slaves, often resorting to raids upon small villages to replenish their supply. I had seen the slaves of the Harra, cringing in their fear of being touched and used, and I regretted then that the Herra were sisters to the Hosta, rather than blood enemies.

I stepped just within the entrance of the tent, standing quietly and watching my warriors as they, spread out and crouching down in place, watched the captive. He had been placed upon his back and staked to the ground, the leather about his throat preventing extreme movement of his head. A warrior had just finished with him, yet even as she stood, in possession of his priceless seed, his readiness for another was evident. The lust was still upon him, as it would be for many a hin yet, but a spark in his eyes showed his fury at being used so, his rage at his inability to control his body’s demands. Even as another warrior took her place upon him, even as his hands grasped futilely for her, I knew the captive would not be one to remain with us when his service was done.

Kilin crouched to the left of the captive, laughing with the others as he first attempted to deny the warrior who had him, then acceded to his need and attempted to use her. Neither attempt was successful, yet Kilin urged him on to greater effort with amusement, enjoying the spectacle of the brash city male being taught his place. I made my way to her, and she rose and grinned.

“Soon it shall be my turn, Jalav,” she said. “My spear cast was poor, yet was enough to gain me a time before he is too far drained. I shall enjoy using him.”

“That is his purpose, Kilin,” I said, amused at her delight. “I would speak with you briefly before you partake of your enjoyment.”

“I hear, Jalav,” she acknowledged, and began to follow me from the tent. Before leaving, I chanced to glance at the captive and found, to my surprise, that he gazed not upon the warrior who had him, but upon me. His long, red-gold hair had become disarranged, and it hung about his strained, sweat-soaked face, yet still did he gaze upon me with heat. I smiled and left the tent, knowing that when next I saw him, his heat would be considerably diminished.

Kilin and I walked several paces before I spoke to her. Mida’s light danced brightly upon the silver ring of a blooded warrior which gleamed from her right ear, showing her as one who had met the enemy in battle and had survived. I, too, wore such a ring, as did all blooded warriors, yet was mine matched by another in my left ear, proclaiming to all that here stood a war leader. In such a manner did war leaders find one another in battle, searching for the second ring and a suitable match within which to test one’s blade. Too, there might be no more than one second ring for each clan, so the ring passed from one bested war leader to new war leader, it being taken from the body, no matter whether she had fallen in battle or during a challenge. A long moment did Kilin and I walk in silence, before I was able to find the words.

“Kilin,” I said, “I would ask a deed of you. All know that I ride with the new light to seek the Crystal of Mida and those who came to steal and slay. The warriors of the Hosta ride with me, yet there are those who must stay with the Keeper. You are one of those whose time with the Keeper has long since been appointed.”

“Do you wish me to ride with you, Jalav?” she asked, excitement rising in her voice, happiness appearing on her face. “I have already attempted to give my place to one who rides, yet none would agree. At the word of the war leader, however.... ”

“No, Kilin,” I said, shaking my head and placing my hand upon her shoulder. “All must bear burdens in these times, and yours is to remain behind. I would have your sword with mine in the north, yet this may not be.”

“I hear, Jalav,” she sighed, resigned once again to her fate. “I would ask what deed I may perform for you.”

“I have given much thought to Fideran,” I said, gazing upon a tree which stood before us. “He has served us all well, and I would not see him hurt. I believe he would attempt to follow me north, and this I shall not allow. I would have you and the others remaining behind hold him once again as captive, using him gently with naught of the drug, till there is no hope of his following successfully. You may then allow him to remain with you, or you may release him to go his way. I have seen in the past that you used him gently; please care for him for me.”

“I shall be pleased to do so, Jalav,” said she, a tender smile upon her face. Her hair was brown, as were her eyes, a soft brown that showed gentle feeling for much about her. She was a valiant warrior, fearless in the face of the enemy, yet was gentle too, when gentleness was required.

“I have not told him, Kilin,” I said, “nor shall I do so. Come to my tent when darkness has fallen, after the meal, and fetch him away with leather.”

“I had thought raiding was not permitted to the Hosta of the Midanna,” she laughed, greatly amused at the thought. “I now see I am to begin my raiding in the tent of the war leader. Is this the manner in which all Midanna begin?”

“It is the manner in which they cease,” said I, laughing too. “Should one come without my permission, she would have little need of that for which she raids. You may return now to the use tent, for I would not see you passed over. With the return of the balance of our warriors at darkness shall come a greater demand for the captive.”

“Perhaps they will have seen to their needs in Tslat,” suggested Kilin. “The trading is often tended to in less time than return is expected.”