Sharon Green - The Crystals of Mida

The darkness was nearly upon us when Rilas and I returned to my tent. The candles had been lit by Fideran, and he had prepared meat for the Keeper and myself. The Keeper smiled at his efforts, amused that a male saw so carefully to my needs. Other captives had, from time to time, chosen to remain with Midanna who would have released them, yet Rilas told me that Fideran seemed the most zealous. He did not wish to return to his city, and for this he could not be faulted.

The Keeper and I drew our daggers in order to take the meat from the fire, and Fideran cried out and grasped my left arm.

“Jalav, you have been hurt!” he said, holding my arm gently with much pain in his eyes. “I shall fetch cloth immediately to wash and bind it!”

“No, Fideran,” I said, taking my arm from his grasp. “It must be left till the new light comes, and then it may be washed. It is our way.”

“I—see,” he said heavily, knowing it as a matter for warriors alone. The ways of the Midanna disturbed Fideran, for he could not accept them, nor could he change them. He withdrew from the fire and sat by my sleeping leather, his head down. I was pleased that soon Fideran would have another to tend, and my doings would no longer disturb him.

The Keeper and I were about to seat ourselves for our meal, when another joined our presence. The captive, having been removed from the use tent, would be returned to the ground post for a time so that he might regather his strength for further effort. He was no longer enraged. Instead, he leaned heavily upon the supporting arms of my warriors, his arms once again bound behind his back, his step painful and slow. His red-gold hair was completely unbound, hanging limply with the sweat that had soaked his entire body, the color bright against a face that had gone pale with the passing hind. No sound did he make as he was lowered to his side upon the leather beside the post, yet was the pain in him easily sensed. The thong upon his neck was attached to the post, and my warriors then withdrew.

“A fine specimen,” Rilas observed as she tasted the meat upon her blade. “It is fortunate that he was uninvolved in the matter of the theft, else he could not have been used so. A pity the Hosta may not use him longer.”

“If ever I regain my freedom,” said the captive in a low, exhausted voice, “the Hosta shall be no more. I will see justice done for what has been done to me.”

“Perhaps I may give him to the Harra,” I mused. “Their warriors number greater than ours, and I am told their needs, too, are greater.”

“Jalav, do not torment him,” Rilas scolded, yet she also found the need to mask a smile as the captive paled further still. “The Hosta have ever released their captives when the service was done,” said she. “Are you to change your ways on the eve of riding to battle?”

“There is little reason to cling to but one manner of behavior,” I said, tasting the meat Fideran had prepared. As always, it was too well done, but I said nothing. “The Harra require many captives to replace those who are used too far and are thereby rendered useless,” I added. “Think you, Rilas, he would not joy in giving service to warriors till he is no longer able?”

“You, girl!” the captive snarled, struggling to lift his head so that he might glare at me further. “You shall pay the most! You shall one fey feel my leather upon your back, and know the meaning of being well used! This do I swear by all I hold sacred!”

I placed the meat upon the leather of my tent floor, rose to my feet, then stood above the captive. He gazed up at the full height of me, and surely saw my anger.

“I am Jalav, war leader of the Hosta of the Midanna,” I said coldly. “Should it be the will of Mida, sthuvad, my life shall end in the coming battle, yet am I still war leader of the Hosta. You have given me insult for the final time.”

I then called my warriors and ordered the captive beaten. As they removed him from my home tent, he fought them as best he could, yet he was much spent from his hind of service. He made no outcry as he was removed, nor did I expect one. Had he been fortunate enough to be of the Midanna, he would truly have made a warrior.

Rilas spoke no word, as was only proper, for the Keeper may not interfere in matters of a war leader; however, Fideran was much disturbed by the course of events. He rose to his feet at my call to my warriors, and stood as though he would keep the captive from his due, making no sound as the sthuvad was removed. His soft eyes gazed upon me in upset, then lowered in misery. Again he folded to the floor by my sleeping leather, and I returned to Rilas and my meat.

Rilas and I fed in silence, savoring the bounty of Mida as do all Midanna. I thought deeply upon the matter of the Crystal, yet spoke no word of it, as it is not proper to discuss battle as one partakes of the bounty of Mida. All things must be kept in their proper place, and one does not taint one’s provender with the blood of one’s enemies. The captive was returned silently to his place by the post, his mouth and eyes grim, his back well striped by the leather of punishment. Rilas and I continued to feed, taking no notice of his arrival. Fideran did silently turn his face to the back of the tent.

With the meat consumed, Rilas and I filled our pipes from my sack as Fideran brought to us pots of daru. The daru was properly brewed, and I smiled somewhat as I realized that soon I would find the need to brew daru myself. Fideran, who had returned to the fire and knelt before it with his back to us, saw naught of my smile, nor did he see the silent entrance of Kilin and two other warriors. I nodded to Kilin, and she and the others stole up behind Fideran, seizing him quickly, throwing him to the leather of my floor, and binding him fast with thongs. Fideran cried out, in surprise as well as distress, yet the deed was done, and he could not resist the leather. “Jalav, what is to be done with me?” he cried, as Kilin and the others urged him to his feet and from the tent. “I do not wish to be taken from you!”

“Mida’s blessings, Fideran,” I said, gazing upon his frightened, retreating form. “Perhaps, one fey, we shall meet again in the sight of Mida.”

His pleading grew fainter as distance increased, and I put him from my mind and addressed Rilas.

“All clans of our sisterhood must prepare themselves for battle, Rilas,” I said. “Should the numbers of the Hosta prove too few when the thieves are discovered, all must ride. I shall appoint couriers to carry the word.”

“And I shall visit the clans to instruct them.” Rilas nodded, taking the pipe I held out to her. “You ride directly to Ranistard?”

“Aye,” I said, lighting her pipe and my own with a flame fetched from the fire. “It lies to the north, and shall not be difficult to find. I shall decide then what is to be done there.”

“You and your warriors have never seen nor visited the cities to the north,” Rilas mused. “Once, in my youth, I was honored to aid in the death of one such city. The walls were scaled in stealth, Jalav, so that the gates might be opened from within. Weighted lengths of knotted leather were cast to the pointed metal set atop the walls, warriors climbed the knotted leather, then they removed the weight, held the leather about the point, and descended the doubled leather to the ground. The leather was then removed from the metal, leaving no trace, one end simply being pulled, the other released. The wretches of the city were lax in their watchfulness, and so paid the final price of laxity. The walls of remaining cities have ever since been guarded carefully, war leader. This must be considered by you in your thinking.”

“Indeed, it is a thing to consider,” I said, my sight within rather than without. “The walls of Ranistard, stout or not, must fall before my warriors at some time. Yet, should the fall be too long in coming, those holding what is ours may well seek to destroy it. I must not allow such a thing to occur.”