Tenacious, Exile of the Legion Pt. 03

Captured in the lands of warrior women

This is a science fiction novel. It has followed Quinten Tyshan from his early years as a war orphan, his service in the Roman Legion, and his life in exile on the primitive planet of Ballor. There have been bloodthirsty battles and dramatic moments as this dedicated soldier seeks to uphold the Edicts of Minerva. It is not a heavily erotic story, though there are erotic elements and romance in the later chapters. This is part 3 of 6.

Recap: As his three adopted daughters reach their late teens, capable and determined warriors, Tenacious decides it's time to scout the eastern mountains for a possible savage migration. But those lands are ruled by fierce warrior women with no love for men.

* * * * * *

Tenay Among the Forest Women

Chapter Seven

A Necessary Quest

With Jenni and Deena now at Twin Forks, I had three young daughters to care for. I accepted fewer assignments from the Federation, and for eight years we raised horses, herded sheep, grew crops, and expanded our settlement into a thriving town. Minerva's shrine was made of marble.

Angus, my militia sergeant major, became our foreman. His buxom wife Pearl ran the household. More hands were added as our prosperity grew. Old Tophis, a retired riverboat captain, was constantly innovating during the day with windmills and water pumps while leading drunken songs in the evenings. It was a good life. The homeless warrior I had once been became a doting father.

Peaceful or not, my daughters' training was not neglected. One day the savages might return, and in the meantime, there were still plenty of young lads lacking manners. Champion had always been talented with a sword, but as she grew into young womanhood, her skills became even greater. Whether it was a sword, knife, bow, or javelin, there seemed no weapon she couldn't master. Jenni and Deena were not far behind, inspired by their big sister's example.

I enjoyed my transformation from warrior to teacher, remembering the instructors of my recruit days. Weekly training sessions were held on a grass plain below the dam, and frequent applicants came from the valley seeking knowledge of arms. It became a small military academy of sorts which I dedicated to Disciplina, building her a shrine.

It was not all about weapons. A soldier must know medicines, which plants provide sustenance, judgement of the weather, how to quickly assemble a shelter, and constantly remain on guard, for danger is everywhere. In all these skills I proudly counted myself an expert.

"Father, we must scout the eastern mountains," Champion urged on a late-winter day. She was tall now, with wavy blonde hair usually tied back in a ponytail, intelligent blue eyes, and at twenty years old, had a figure that men will fight and die for. Her galactic standard accent was well-educated.

"I may need to scout them. You will stay here," I replied. At thirty-eight, I was a little slower and heavier than in my youth but probably stronger. There was no task on the ranch, from felling trees to building cabins, that I didn't fully participate in.

We sat before a warm fire in our lodge. Two stories tall, solidly built of great logs, it was finely furnished with crafted furniture, tapestries, and thick carpets. We even had artworks from the river villages. Paintings of my daughters hung on the walls, books filled the shelves, and small statues of the gods decorated the fireplace mantel. I had become quite the patrician.

"We will go with you," Deena insisted. Now eighteen, both sisters had long brunette hair, pretty brown eyes, and clear complexions. Their gracefully curved figures made me nervous when they were around boys. Sometimes without a chaperone.

"We?" I asked.

"It is said the mountain forests are dominated by fierce warrior women who have no love for men," Deena replied.

"I thought you were going to study medicine at Middle Town?" I questioned. "Jaspolea is expecting you. You have always dreamed of being a doctor, not a warrior."

"My sword is better than any, except Champion," Deena defended.

"You are all wonderful swordswomen. That's not my point," I responded. "And you, Jenni, didn't you want to spend the summer at Stone Point? Nora and Jomar are hoping you'll stay with them."

"The Blue Mountains are more important," Jenni replied.

"What about that boy you like?" I asked with a teasing grin.

"Airon is not a boy. He's a man. The best veterinarian in the valley," Jenni answered.

"Is that why you want to study animals? To spend more time at his clinic?" I prodded.

"The clinic will still be there when we get back," Jenni said.

"It's our duty to go, father," Deena said. "In the lands of the forest women, we may travel where you may not."

"The tales of forest women may be legends," I said. "And if there are such tribes, there must be men or they would be long extinct."

"I've heard the stories are true," Jenni said.

"From who?" I asked.

"Selena, the wife of Delones, the trader," Jenni answered.

"When did you see that old crow?" I asked.

"Father!" Champion rebuked.

"I'm sorry, daughters," I apologized. "When did you encounter that curious frontierswoman?"

"She visited Mr. Sindhu's store with her sons seeking light bulbs and power tools," Jenni explained. "Their trading post is the last one before the Blue Mountain trails. Selena has many stories. She even says she was a forest woman by birth, before falling in love and being forced to leave."

Despite grave doubts about such a venture, a scout was proving necessary. It was rumored the savages emerged from their mysterious mountain hollows in small groups every few years, but once in a generation, they would burst forth in a horde, like the locusts of my homeworld. Hundreds. Perhaps thousands. If so, we needed to know when they would come, by what route, and which parts of the river lands would be in danger. It would be a long scout, possibly taking a year.

"You may accompany me as far as Fort Delones," I agreed. "Then we will see what the locals have to say. Ask Pearl to come with us."

"Pearl!" all three shouted.

"I will not have my daughters wandering around such a wilderness without a guardian. You are good with swords. I'm not sure how good you are with wolves."

"Pearl is old. She can't protect us from boys," Deena complained.

"Even if we needed protection, which we don't," Jenni added with a pout.

"I can protect myself," Champion said, pawing her favorite knife.

"That you can, my precious. But can your sisters?" I asked.

Champion paused to give it thought.

"Pearl should come," Champion decided, drawing frowns.

"We'll have Old Tophis prepare the pack horses and leave when the snow breaks," I concluded. "Have your gear ready. Don't rely on the hands to do it for you. On the trail, everything you carry is your responsibility."

We left on the first day of spring. Our mounts were in prime condition, trailed by ten pack horses bearing camp equipment and trade goods. Pearl and I rode at the front. She was not quite so old as my daughters pretended, having just turned fifty. Though her hair was gray, her brown eyes were vivid. And she knew the habits of various settlements, having traveled in her youth. She was not a warrior, but had a canny sense about people, and men in particular.

"Your daughters are full of spirit, Tenay," Pearl observed as we heard them singing on the trail. It was an ancient marching song from my Legion days.

"Which you will curb for me, my old friend," I responded.

"I will counsel. They are smart, and strong, and need little guidance from me. You should be very proud."

"A day doesn't go by that I don't thank Minerva for my good fortune."

"Do you expect much trouble from the savages this season? They have been quiet these many years."

"Little is known of their migrations. We may hope they go east instead of west and leave the settlements alone. This scout should provide clues."

"You have done this before?"

"In a different time, scouting was my profession. I was very good at it."

"Though you've retired, the villages still look to you for protection," Pearl said.

"And they will always find it," I replied.

It took six days to reach Fort Delones. We did not hurry, nor allow grass to grow under our horses' hooves. I was riding Vitellius, nicknamed Vitty, after my old commander. He was a tall, clever mount who rarely tired and had sharp hearing. If battle took place, I would send him to the rear, for he was too valuable to risk. And too good a friend.

Delones wasn't exactly a fort. There was a fortified wooden tower, no doubt stocked with food and weapons for a siege, but no walls surrounded the village. I guessed fifty or so lived nearby, mostly raising cattle. Leather-making and blacksmithing seemed popular pastimes. They had good trade in fur, coal, and winter nuts. We were bringing steel pots, rolls of cloth, spare parts for solar panels, and books from the new press at Riverdawn, which had become a growing center of the arts.

Boltar Delones was a robust fellow nearing his later years, gray-haired and growing round. His attractive wife was a decade younger, tall and agile, with a discerning gaze. They had three sons just out of their teens and two lovely daughters almost old enough to be trouble. Champion, Jenni, and Deena were welcome distractions.

For the next few days we traded, enjoyed a feast, and discussed the growing unity of the river villages under the guidance of the Federation.

"Are you still a member of the High Council?" Delones asked.

"Yes, but I only attend three or four meetings a year," I explained. "The counselors often bicker, which is natural. When they reach a stalemate, I take a steamship downriver to Middle Town for consultations. After which there are fewer problems."

Conversation turned to the savages, the Blue Mountains, and possible threats from the east.

"We seek to know if there will be a migration next year, and what route it will take," I said.

"Those lands are forbidden to strangers," Boltar warned.

"We mean no disrespect, but if savages pour down the passes into the valley, we need to be ready," I insisted. "They hunt children, ponies, calves, and young animals unable to defend themselves. They attack farmers, and shepherds."

"We know of that, but the Blue Mountains are ruled by fierce tribes of women, descendants of slaves who would brook no more abuse," Boltar replied. "Selena was one of them."

"How have you come to be here?" Champion asked, filled with curiosity. All of my daughters perked up, listening as they drank their watered ale.

"I may not speak greatly of it," Selena said in her exotic accent. "As a young man, Boltar came to trade at Teton Falls. Only a few such trading posts were permitted. The men there had rough ways, so contact between the tribes was limited. Boltar came to my aid when ... there was a difficult situation, and we fell in love. It meant leaving my former life, and my people, but it was worth it."

She took Boltar's hand. After thirty years, their bond was still strong.

"We must ask these tribes to make an exception," I said.

"There are no exceptions. Speak no more of it," Selena advised.

I would need to speak of it, but privately.

As the evening grew late, with many except the youngsters having turned in, I walked with Selena to an outcrop overlooking their creek. She sat on a boulder, lighting her pipe. We heard songs from the bonfire below. The young people were having a party. Selena's sons knew to keep their hands to themselves.

"Tribes in the Blue Mountains are named after animals," Selena began. "The passes to the northeast, along the plains, are where most incursions have happened in the past. To the east, and a bit south, is Splinter Passage, guarded by a deep forest. The last incursion there was severe. I was a young woman then, lucky to have survived. Many did not."

"You suspect this pass will see savages again?"

"None can say, but it should be investigated. I will tell you how to find Splinter Passage, but you must pledge me first."

She took out a flask of homebrewed whiskey made of hardy wheats and rye. We shared.

"What do you require?" I asked.

"The laws of the forest must be respected. Nothing you see may ever be spoken of with lowlanders. Not the locations, or people, or the customs."

"I can keep secrets."

"There is more. I can never betray my tribe, though I've not seen them for many years. If you encounter any of my forest sisters, you must not harm them. For any reason. Even if it means your own death."

"I'm seeking to protect them, not cause harm," I sought to assure.

"I must have your word."

"You have my word. By the sacred bonds of Minerva, I swear not to harm any of your sisters for any reason."

"And by the gods I love, I accept your pledge, for I know of your dedication to honor. As for your daughters, this is not a land for them. The Wolf Tribe has great distrust for all strangers. I will suggest another path for them. Lands less cruel."

"Thank you," I said.

As Selena promised, Champion learned of a trail to the northeast, through deep canyons, to an upper plain inhabited by bison. As a woman, she expected less difficulty with any tribes she may encounter. Jenni and Deena would go with her. Between the three, they formed a formidable traveling party. Pearl decided to return home, having a family to consider. Champion assumed I would be going with Pearl. I said nothing to make her doubt it.

"We'll be back in the fall, father," Champion said, giving me a hug.

"With plenty of tales to tell," Deena added.

"Don't marry without my permission," I ordered.

"We won't. It would not be a wedding without you," Jenni promised.

"We cannot marry without you, father. If you aren't there, who will drag the groom to the altar?" Deena asked with a grin.

"Send word to Delones if there are changes. Old Angus will establish messengers," I advised.

"All will be well," Champion said.

They rode out an hour after dawn. I waited until lunch before riding Vitty southeast, my saddle bearing few supplies other than a sleeping roll and a tarp for rain. Boltar told me of a trading post along the South Reach that was the final outpost before the frontier.

It occurred to me that I was twenty-three years old when Château d'If crashed on Ballor. Now I was in my late thirties. Fifteen years on a world the Empire knew nothing of. Most of my legion brothers and sisters from those early days had not lived nearly so long. I had no doubt they had ascended the marble steps, paused on the portico to be recognized, and entered the Great Hall, there to drink, and feast, and celebrate for all ages to come. For myself, I doubted such a blessing. I had accepted orders not sanctified by the gods, and allowed an innocent young woman to die at my feet.

But maybe, I thought, should I stay true, I would be allowed to ascend the steps, peer inside the Great Hall, and be granted one last gaze at my brothers-gone-before. Yes, I decided, if such could come about, my efforts would be worthwhile.

It took four days to find the outpost Boltar spoke off. Teton Falls was hardly better than a collection of shacks and a barn. There was no waterfall, just a shallow creek dribbling down a mossy green rock. I saw a saloon.

"Ale, if you have it," I said, taking a seat at a pine table.

The tavern was bigger than it looked from the outside, lit by oil lamps dangling from the high beam ceiling. In the back was a kitchen. Rooms for travelers could be seen along the second-floor balcony. In my youth, rooms in establishments such as this were accompanied by women for rent, though I didn't see any. Two large fireplaces compensated for the coarse wooden walls, where light peeked through in places. Not good for the cold winters.

"A pitcher of ale, if you have the coin," the bartender said, a thick man with big arms and no hair. Dolphin tattoos on his fleshy cheeks indicated he'd once sailed ships. His accent was Tarxian, similar to the settlers in Attica.

"A cup will do, good sir. I have distances left to ride," I answered.

"We only serve by the pitcher, stranger. And that's what you'll pay for."

I put two coppers on the table.

"Four," he said.

I put down two more, not wishing to argue, and made sure my dagger was within reach. Half a dozen patrons, all in rough leather, sat on stools at the bar.

"Food?" he asked.

"What do you have?"

"Roast chicken or stew. Or stew or roast chicken. Or both."

"Roast chicken," I decided.

The food wasn't bad. For an extra copper, I got black beans in gravy as well. The only waitress was a young girl, probably not yet seventeen, with stringy brown hair and tattered clothes. Her apron looked like she doubled as the butcher.

"Belle, come here," the tavern keeper shouted. "You're slow, girl. Too slow. What have I said about that?"

"Sorry, master. I'll try harder," Belle replied.

"See that you do," the bully reproved with a frown.

Master? I thought. What is she required to do?

Belle rushed to my table, seeking to refresh my cup.

"I've had enough, girl," I said.

"Please accept more, master. Please," she begged.

"I've had enough," I repeated.

The tavern keeper came up, looking angry.

"My name is Kapner. What's the problem here?"

"No problem, sir. I've had my fill. I'll be leaving soon."

"You've not tasted this sweet wine yet," Kapner said, taking hold of the girl's cheeks. I saw her shudder.

"Of what do you speak?" I asked.

"I see you have coin, and this girl is untouched. For a fair price, you can break her in," he replied.

"Does she wish to be broken in?" I asked, though I doubted his story. Offering virgins was an old trick to raise the price.

"What she wants doesn't matter. I own her."

"Women may not be owned," I objected.

"I do own her. Don't I, you little bitch?"

Kapner pulled Belle close and smacked her face. She fell to her knees, struggling to hold back tears. I stood up, returning her to her feet.

"Speak of what goes on here. Do not lie," I demanded, gripping her arm.

"My master owns me. He bought me when my father could not pay his bar tab," she explained.

"Is this true?" I asked.

"What business is it of yours?" Kapner said.

"I am a Federation magistrate."

"Your laws are not recognized here," another brute said, coming to Kapner's side. He was easily as big, if not bigger, with a shaggy black beard and hard eyes. Two more rogues turned from their places at the bar, watching.

"Indifference to the law changes nothing," I said. "This girl will be freed and sent to a place of safety."

"What do you think, Malinger? Shall the little tart be given away?" Kapner said.

"Not until I've had another taste. And even then, the answer is no," Malinger replied.

"You tread dangerous ground, my unworthy friends," I warned.

"Who are you?" Malinger inquired.

"Tenay."

"Never heard of you," Kapner said.

"Your ignorance is irrelevant. Come, girl, we're leaving."

I reached out my hand. She hesitated, her soft brown eyes filled with hope and fear. I never expected her captors to let her go so easily. When Kapner sought to grab her arm, I put my dagger through his hand. He howled and pulled away. Malinger came forward.

"Don't be stupid," I said, drawing my sword. "I wouldn't have started this fight if I didn't know how to finish it."

"We are no tarns to be insulted by a trail tramp," Malinger said.

I looked around the room.

"All those willing to die today, stand with Kapner and Malinger," I instructed. "Those who wish to live, leave now."

Six men hurriedly departed. Only two came to Kapner's side.

"The odds just got worse for you," I said. "This girl is due payment for her labors, and the wrongs you've done her. Pay and I'll let you live."

"Your insolence is not amusing, stranger," Kapner replied, wrapping a towel around his wounded hand while taking a sword off the wall. All four armed themselves. I gave Belle a shove toward the door and moved to the center of the room, sword in my left hand, the dagger in my right. Why they didn't perceive the danger is still lost on me, for even on this godforsaken frontier, these barflies should have recognized a warrior.

I pretended to go for Kapner first, he being the leader, but Malinger was just as big. As Kapner came forward, I twisted sideways, stepped past him, and put my dagger deep into Malinger's gut. The wind exploded from his lungs. I knocked the sword from his hand, punched him in the face, and turned back toward Kapner, crossing blades. The man grunted as I struck again, and again. He was strong but without talent.

One of his friends bravely came forward, slashing downward. I ducked aside, blocked his next blow, and shoved him back against the bar. He struggled to find his balance, and in that moment, I reversed on Kapner, running him through.

"Who else wants to die?" I asked, holding the sword ready.

The last two dropped their weapons.

"Fetch the owner of this tavern, that compensation may be made," I ordered. "And I need someone to take this girl to Fort Delones."

"Ryder's son visits the fort, but we may not help you rob the tavern," one said.

"Obey or I'll set fire to your village," I replied.

Rather than have their village burned to the ground, the townsfolk rushed to comply. None were shedding tears for Kapner. Malinger's wife seemed mildly upset.

"Thank you, Tenay. Thank you so much," Belle said. "I will serve you always."

"You will serve no one but yourself, and someday, your children," I corrected. "I've gathered a purse for you. The amount is fair. My friends Boltar and Selena will care for you until a suitable home is found."

"I will come with you," Belle insisted.

"You will not. Gather your belongings and be prepared to leave in the morning. Ryder's son, you will see to this?"

"Yes, Tenay," the young man promised. I sensed nothing nefarious in his manner.

"On my return west, if I do not receive a good report from Delones, my Rangers will hang every one of you for Kapner's crimes. Is this understood?"

"We understand," a village father said.

"You may not like the law, but the edicts of the gods are clear. If ever again a woman is held slave, or taken against her will, there will be consequences. Harsh consequences."

"You will be obeyed," their mayor said.

"The law will be obeyed," I replied.

* * * * * *

It was late in the day before I finally departed. With a bag of oats for Vitty, we found a nice camping spot near a lake. As was my habit, I laid dried leaves and branches along the perimeter, acting as an early warning system. There was no recent evidence of savage activity, which was both good and bad. Good that I might not be immediately attacked. Bad that there were no savage trails to follow.

The next three days were pleasant enough. I spent an afternoon fishing, drying that which couldn't be eaten right away, and bathed in a waterfall. Signs appeared that I was approaching the forbidden lands. With a good idea of the trails Selena had mentioned, I would travel at night and seek to avoid detection. I couldn't take Vitty, so I set him loose in a green pasture. With luck, I'd find him on the way back. If not, he had a good home.

Recalling Selena's admonition, I hid my sword and dagger in a tree near the waterfall, taking only a dull skinning stone to clean game, and made my way into a vast forest. It reminded me of my early days on Ballor when I thought the savages the only species requiring battle.

A pleasant creek had trees for cover and bushes rich in berries. I decided to spend the day munching jerky, sipping the cool water, and start again after dark. It didn't work out that way. There was a subtle movement. Crunching leaves. And then a surprise.

"Tenay, I finally found you!" Belle shouted.

She looked awful. The new outfit I'd bought her was torn. Her dirty blonde hair a mess. It looked like she hadn't eaten in days.

"By the gods, what are you doing here?" I asked.

"I've been following you. It was hard. If I hadn't seen Vitty this morning, I would have curled up and died someplace."

"We need to get you home."

"No! I want to be with you! I will serve you loyally!"

"You will not."

I wasn't sure when to head back, or by what path, and soon it didn't matter. There was noise in the forest, first from one side, and then many sides. With all the noise Belle was making, my location wasn't a secret. They closed fast, with nocked arrows.

"Move and you die," a heavily accented voice warned.

There were six women ranging from teenagers to their early twenties. Tall and graceful. They wore green outfits, mostly made of wool, with high brown leather boots. Their hats varied from feathered caps to wide-brimmed straw.

"We mean no harm," I said, raising my hands.

"We will determine the harm," their leader said.

Two of the younger women, about Deena's age, tied my hands behind my back while another searched me. I had no weapons.

"Stop! This is--" Belle started.

"Be quiet, Belle. My name is unimportant. Let them do their duty," I interrupted.

"We have done well, haven't we, Thrive?" a sturdy youngster said.

"Indeed you have, True," Thrive replied. About twenty-five, Thrive was the oldest of the group, with long auburn hair, blue eyes, and a red headband. The others were dark-haired, brown-eyed, with black headbands. They displayed a boisterous confidence.

"Lydia saw them first," True said, not wanting to take all the credit.

"Will Ventra be pleased?" Lydia asked.

"The War Leader will have many questions before these invaders die," Thrive replied.

"Die?" Belle said.

"The girl did nothing wrong," I protested. "She followed me from that disgusting pesthole you call a trading post and needs to be sent home."

"Teton Falls? We've done no trading there in many years," Thrive responded.

"I made arrangements for her to be sent to Fort Delones," I explained. "There are good people there. She will be cared for."

"They are spies," Lydia said. "I claim his fishing pole."

"What do you claim of the girl?" Thrive asked.

Lydia went to Belle, standing a head taller, looking at the ragged clothes.

"I claim nothing of her. She is worthless," Lydia sneered.

"You bitch," Belle said, kicking her in the shins. Lydia fell to the ground holding her leg. Her comrades laughed.

True continued going through my supplies, finding jerky, beans, and dried fish. I carried no documents or jewels, and only a few coins, not expecting a need for money in such a foreign land.

"He has nothing of value," True announced.

"No weapons?" Thrive inquired.

"None," True confirmed.

"Strange," Thrive said, giving me a careful study. I relaxed my shoulders, kept my head slightly bent, and tried to appear non-threatening. I couldn't hide my physique, but not all strong men are aggressive.

"We will take them to Ventra," Thrive decided.

I asked no questions, and frowned at Belle when she looked ready to speak again.

"You've heard stories of these women," I whispered. "If they think you're a spy, they will roast you over a fire."

Belle had no reason to doubt it.

Through the day we walked along shady trails, the women often spreading out to hunt. They were cautious but not fearful. Had I been willing to hurt them and abandon Belle, escape would not have been difficult, but I had given my oath.

Toward the end of the day, we climbed a ridge overlooking a green valley. There was a river running northwest lined by willow trees and tall reeds. Nearby, a blossoming town rose from a vast meadow. Cattle and sheep roamed the pastures. I counted scores of cabins, shops, barns, corrals, and several hundred villagers. Some were men, more were women, and many were children. It was not our destination. We continued on, stopping at a campsite for the night near a rowdy creek.

"Tie them to the trees," Thrive ordered.

"The girl needs food," I urged.

"She'll get what she gets," True answered, staring down with contempt.

I was tempted to say more, but there was no point. It would just make our captors more suspicious. I noticed they had many similarities. Thin bone structure with firm muscles. Slim figures. They moved gracefully, well-practiced with weapons. They spoke galactic standard with an edged accent.

Belle was fed a porridge after a time, and True knelt to give me some. I ate slowly, said thank you, and didn't make a fuss. She seemed curious, expecting me to protest. I rested my head back and went to sleep.

The next morning, I woke to find a large woman standing over me. Probably about my height, if not a touch taller. Her eyes were of the deepest brown, her long black hair tied back. She wore green, like her sisters, with a gold medallion on a chain around her neck.

"Who are you? Why have you trespassed our lands?" Ventra asked.

Admittedly, I was startled. She reminded me of women from the 4th Legion, a proud group of warriors admired by all. Her hands were calloused from hard labor, a broadsword hanging on her hip. Her complexion was clear despite lines of care. I guessed her to be in her mid-thirties, just a little younger than me.

"He is Ten--" Belle began.

"Ten. My name is Ten," I interjected. "I thought to explore these mountains."

"This world has many mountains," Ventra said.

"The Blue Mountains are unique," I replied.

"If you are a spy, you will die," Ventra threatened.

"I wish no trouble, mistress," I implored.

Belle was looking at me strangely. Whatever game I was playing, she didn't like it. She had seen me take on four rough men, kill two of them, and demand obedience from an entire village. Why was I cowering to these prehistoric women?

"We passed a town. May the girl be taken there until our fates are decided?" I requested.

"What is she to you?" Ventra asked.

"A nuisance."

Ventra laughed, giving Belle an extra look.

"A tavern keeper kept her as a slave," I explained. "I arranged for her to be sent away, but she followed me into the forest. I know little more of her, other than she talks too much."

"What qualifies you to explore our lands without permission?" Ventra asked.

"I study plants. Herbs. Medicinals. I had intended to make my studies and go home without contact with the natives, but I was naïve."

Ventra stood up, walked the area around the campsite, and plucked at the bushes before returning. Her women watched, interested but not interfering.

"What is this?" she demanded, holding out a green plant.

"Capsaw. It can be mashed to make disinfectant," I replied.

"And this?" she said, displaying a yellow April flower.

"Blondeberry. It has few uses, other than to decorate."

"What of this one?" she asked, holding up a brown root.

"Singweed."

"And?"

I lowered my head, embarrassed. "Singweed can be mixed in a broth to soothe a woman's cramps during her moon-time."

That inspired giggles. Ventra tossed her exhibits aside. Had I passed her test?

"Floy needs to speak with this one. The medicine woman will have better questions," Ventra decided.

"And the girl?" Lydia asked.

"Send her to Willowtown for now. Tell Stam that if she tries to flee, to put an arrow in her back," Ventra said. "Do you understand me, little one?"

"Yes, mistress," Belle answered.

"I am not your mistress. I am Ventra, War Leader of the Wolf Tribe, and you are an inconvenience I don't need."

"Yes, War Leader," Belle agreed.

"What of the male?" Thrive asked.

"He will go with us," Ventra replied.

I was glad to be rid of Belle, though still obligated to find her a proper home. Sensing less danger from me, my hands were tied before me, which made walking easier. I only spoke when asked questions, paused from time to time to examine odd plants, and caused no trouble. Ventra likely suspected I wasn't what I seemed. Perhaps she hoped I'd betray the lenience she'd given me, providing her young warriors with a lesson.

* * * * * *

Chapter Eight

Prisoner of the Wolves

It proved another long day of hiking. Near sunset, we crested a hill above a broad forested meadow with several lakes. A twisting river meandered down the middle, fish jumping at flies in the fading light. On a hillside to the south was a sprawling fort made of ancient logs. Adjoining the fort was a fortified plateau, likely a training field. Being no stranger to such strongholds, I guessed the garrison at a hundred warriors. Largely self-sufficient, given the distance from the town. Cattle loitered in a meadow.

"This is Taramont," True said. "Our tribe has lived here for generations. It's very strong."

"It's a fine fort," I complimented. I didn't mention that a qualified cohort could reduce it in two hours.

My hands were left tied before me as Lydia put a rope around my neck, leading me into the fort as their prisoner. A blockhouse over the gate was occupied by a warrior looking down on us. The interior opened into a parade ground. To my right, burrows and warehouses were dug into the hillside protected by heavy doors. One series of buildings looked like administration, with porches and benches. Smoke rose from chimneys. An especially fancy façade was probably their queen's house. Despite crafted stone columns, it was no palace.

To my left were four log barracks, two stories each, with gardens in-between. Drying laundry hung on lines. Several dogs were playing. I saw no children. In the middle of the parade ground stood a six-foot-by-six-foot iron cage. Two young men, probably in their early twenties, sat forlornly until seeing the new prisoner brought in, causing them to jump up. They wore rags.

"Who are they?" I dared ask.

"Criminals," Livy replied.

An older woman hurried in our direction finely dressed in bleached leather. Ventra stopped.

"Greetings, Counselor. Thrive's scouts found something," Ventra said.

"I can see. What have you caught?" Cathie said. I put her at fifty years old, shorter than many, with long silver hair and perceptive gray eyes.

"We need to ask Floy," Ventra answered.

"What am I supposed to know?" another woman said, arriving to stand at the Counselor's side. She stood a bit taller, her wool outfit feathered and sewn with colorful beads. It took no guessing to know she was a medicine woman.

"We will talk of it," Ventra said. Cathie stepped back to give me a look.

"Throw him in the cage," she decided.

"Counselor, I would beg differently," Ventra said. "He came unarmed and offered no resistance. I would have him chained outside the cage, for now."

Cathie studied on me, her gaze displaying years of leadership. "So be it, but if he causes trouble, there will be no mercy," she agreed.

I said nothing. As the senior leaders went into one of the hillside dwellings, True and Lydia led me to the cage. The two young men stared but didn't speak, which was fine by me. Lydia raised my pants leg, attached an iron chain to my ankle, and padlocked it to a bar of the cell. To my grateful surprise, True set my bedroll and backpack down next to me. If it rained, I'd have my tarp and a warm blanket.

"You heard what the Counselor said. Cause no trouble," True admonished, warning me with her deep brown eyes. Then they went toward the barracks at the far end of the compound.

"Who are you?" one of the prisoners said, tall enough that he couldn't stand up straight in the cage without bumping his head. He had tousled brown hair, a brown beard, and broad shoulders. Probably a hunter or a rancher. His blond friend was equally robust, though with a hairier chest and legs.

"Why are you here?" I asked.

"We were minding our own affairs when these bitches jumped us," the other said. "We've been captives these last three weeks. Are you sent to rescue us?"

"Who would wish to rescue you?" I inquired.

"Our fathers own great ranches in the Grasslands. Our brothers and cousins will want revenge for our treatment."

"And you are?" I inquired, unimpressed.

"I am Booter, son of Dugger," the blond man said. "This is Jared, son of Masson."

"You are far from home," I suggested.

"We only sought adventure, as is our right," Booter said. "What of my father?"

"I know nothing of your father's intentions. I came to study the mountains and fell afoul of a patrol."

"You look familiar," Jared observed.

"I am not known in these parts," I denied.

The sun set, the fort soon lit by torches. I watched without being obtrusive. Each barracks had its own kitchen, the meats roasted outdoors under canopies. Gardens provided vegetables. Older warriors, those in their late twenties to early forties, lived in the two barracks nearest the gate. Younger warriors, a few only seventeen, lived in the barracks closer to the stables. They seemed responsible for the horses, of which I only saw twenty-five. This was not a cavalry outfit. Animal pens below the plateau held chickens, pigs, and goats.

A young woman I hadn't seen before, Kayla, came to feed the prisoners. The men were given water, onion stew, and bread rolls. I thought the food smelled good. Booter and Jared sneered but didn't turn it down.

"Thank you, mistress. This is excellent," I said, dipping bread in the stew. She looked surprised. Though most of the forest women had dark hair, like True and Lydia, Kayla's hair was lighter. Not quite blonde. Closer to rust.

"You are welcome, male," she cautiously acknowledged.

"My name is Ten. I come from the valley of the Great Mother River," I said. "I am a visitor to these lands. Not a hunter. Or a poacher."

"You are not so old as they are saying," Kayla mentioned.

"I'm a few years shy of forty. In the land of my birth, I am very old," I replied.

Kayla went back to the farthest of the four barracks with the other young warriors, speaking with True and Lydia.

"Expect to get lucky with that young bitch, old man?" Booter said. "You will be in your grave first."

I had something to say about that, but held my tongue.

The spring weather was pleasant, though the night could grow chilly. From time to time, women walked by to give me a look, saying nothing. I rigged my tarp to the cage and laid out my bedroll before taking off my boots. Then I lay back to gaze at the stars and went to sleep.

An hour after dawn, Cathie had the shackle unlocked. I yawned, rolled my blanket up, and crawled out from under the tarp, putting my boots on. I waited to be asked questions.

"Come with me," Cathie said in a firm but calm voice. I followed her to a shack at the end of the compound near the plateau. I smelled bacon, eggs, and freshly baked wheat bread.

"Sit, eat, and then tell me why you're really here," Cathie said, sitting across from me.

"What would you like to hear, Counselor?" I asked.

"The truth."

"No one ever wants the truth."

"We find intruders here on rare occasions," she explained. "They come hunting for women, or steal our game. Some think there is gold in our mountains. From what Ventra says, you are none of these."

"Ventra is insightful."

"Then why are you here?"

"I have come to study the mountains."

"You appear reluctant to answer my question."

"I am not a young man. I've lived longer than any would have expected. I may only say that I seek no harm, and if I discover something you must know, I will tell you. But if I say more, at this time, it would not be good for your people."

"We execute spies. If enemies know too much of our weaknesses, we would be vulnerable."

"I am not a spy, nor will I repeat anything I learn of your tribe. But if it's my fate to die here, I will not question the gods. They've been good to me."

I continued eating, being hungry. Cathie reached down, retrieving a bottle of brown ale. A heady brew. And two cups. She filled both, pushing one toward me.

"We will speak to the young snip found with you. She will say all," Cathie warned.

"She will tell you my name is not really Ten. More than that, she does not know. I have no acquaintance with her, other than freeing her from slavery."

"What is your real name?"

"Quinten Servius Tyshan."

"That has no meaning for me."

"Or anyone else on this planet."

"Long ago, when the spaceships fell, the early settlements dominated the women who survived," Cathie recalled. "The ship of our great-great-grandmothers was a slave ship. There was much cruelty. After overthrowing their masters, they fled to these mountains for freedom. We have fought to preserve that freedom. We will continue to fight for it."

"It is your right," I said.

"You agree?"

"More than I can say."

"But you won't say more?"

"It is not the time."

Cathie raised her cup, and waited for me to raise mine. We drank.

"We cannot release you. The threat is too great. But I will ask the queen that you not be treated harshly unless it becomes necessary."

"I will cause no trouble. Though I will ask to be useful in whatever manner your queen sees fit. I can make medicines. Cure leather. Groom horses. I know letters and numbers, should any need to learn them. If allowed to contribute, I will not disappoint."

"We will see. Floy wishes to discuss plants with you. She will be along soon."

"May I ask your role?"

"I am chief counselor to the queen, as I was to her mother."

"A wise counselor is important," I remarked.

"Like my sisters, I began as a warrior. My skills were good, though not so good as many. Queen Massandra thought me better suited to diplomacy. Now it is my responsibility to maintain our traditions for future generations."

"There are no men here. How are future generations brought about?"

"We are not hermits. Willowtown, the town you passed, has men and women. Farmers and shepherds. When the boys reach the age of decision, they may leave our lands never to return, or remain, obedient to our laws. Girls of sufficient strength and character are invited to become warriors."

Cathie paused, waiting for me to say something. I didn't have much to offer.

"Have you no thoughts on this?" she asked.

"I was born in the Empire of Rome. The traditions are not so different."

After a moment of contemplation, she reached across the table, pulled up my sleeve, and looked at the diving eagle tattoo of the 5th Imperial Legion on my arm. I could not tell if she recognized the meaning.

"We will talk more of this," Cathie promised.

Cathie finished her drink and departed. I knew many were watching, including half a dozen armed guards. But all kept a distance, as if waiting for me to make a surprise move.

Floy came next, while I was still enjoying Cathie's ale. The courtyard had grown active, for there was much to do. Animals needed tending. The fort required maintenance. Squads of women went up a long ramp to the plateau for training, their sergeants yelling orders as swords clashed and spears were thrown.

"I am Floy. Cathie has asked me to speak with you," she introduced, sitting across from me. Her feathered gown had been set aside for a simple brown wool outfit with a fur collar. The curly hair was gray, the brown eyes insightful.

"Are you the camp witch doctor?" I inquired.

"My women are not cured with magic charms, if that is your suggestion," she answered with a cultured accent. "In my younger days, I studied at the Sanctuary of the Asclepiades in Riverdawn."

"Are you a student of all five daughters?" I asked.

"You are familiar with the Asclepiades?" Cathie said.

"Panacea, Hygieia, Aceso, Aegle, and Iaso are the goddesses of health and healing," I replied. "I have visited their temple at Isola Tiberina. Their father was Asclepius. Their grandfather was Apollo."

Floy leaned back, giving me a sharper inspection.

"You are well traveled," she said.

"So are you," I replied. "What led you to medicine?"

"Lack of sword skill. What led you to botany?"

"Necessity."

"Has your meal been sufficient?" she inquired.

"Yes, and much appreciated. Better than those scoundrels in the cage deserve."

"What do you know of them?" she asked.

"They are young, arrogant, and stupid."

"Different from you?"

"I was young and arrogant once, but never stupid."

"Ventra says you know something of medicines and herbs."

"Yes, from long experience."

Floy produced a basket filled with different species of plants, roots, and flowers. We spent three hours discussing them. I didn't know everything she did, but I knew a few things she didn't. I could tell her health wasn't good, though she was barely in her fifties. Her hands quivered, and her speech occasionally slurred. In the lower valleys, I thought Jaspolea's clinic might have treatments, but Middle Town was far away.

"I cannot tell why you've come here, but you've not lied about your knowledge," Floy concluded. "I will inform the queen that Ventra has spoken truly on this."

"Where is this queen of yours? I've not seen her."

"Allandra will not be seen by outsiders."

"A secret queen?"

"You've spoken with the prisoners. If an effort is made to attack the fort, they must not be allowed to identify our queen."

"What is their crime?" I asked.

"They sought to seize two of our townswomen for foul purposes. Had a patrol not arrived when they did, they might have been successful."

"Indeed that is a grave crime. Why do they still live?"

"The leaders are debating their fate. We do not take lives lightly, even such as those."

"What about me?"

"We are studying you."

* * * * * *

I spent the next week toiling in the gardens, feeding the stock, grooming the horses, and cleaning the stalls. Many of the younger warriors had the same duties. We got along well, for there was much curiosity. Though they had many questions, I didn't say much of life in the river valley. If I revealed myself as a soldier, it would only increase suspicion.

On a pleasant evening, two of the most senior warriors invited me to their private room on the ground floor of the first barracks. It was quite comfortable, with a bearskin rug and tapestries. A small statue of Artemis sat on the hearth. Kestra served wine while Whinny performed the inquisition.

"Thrive is my patrol leader. In a way, you are my responsibility," Whinny said.

"From what I hear, I was fortunate not to be slain on the spot," I replied.

"This fable you tell of coming to study the mountain may get you killed," Whinny warned.

"Fables have their place," I said.

Kestra took the chair next to me. Both were in their early forties, the most experienced warriors in the tribe. Trim physiques. Long brown hair brushed out, slightly gray at the temples. Cool brown eyes and steady temperaments. I knew by their demeanor they were more than comrades-in-arms. Their quarters only held one bed.

"May I tell a story?" I asked, enjoying the wine.

"We like stories," Kestra said.

"I make no demands, but request it be confidential. For now," I asked.

"We will consider it," Whinny agreed.

"There was a planet. Virtuous IV, in the Middle String. A scientist announced that a comet was going to strike the planet, causing great damage. The people rallied. They built shelters, stored food, arranged migrations, and did everything they could to prepare. But a comet did not strike.

"The scientist said it was a miscalculation, and that the comet would strike the following year instead. The people no longer believed him. The next year, when the comet struck, the shelters were empty. No food was stored. Millions died."

"Have you come to warn us of a comet?" Whinny asked.

"I have come to study the mountains. I will say nothing of comets unless I'm sure."

"Hunting parties will be going out to the plains. Floy is getting old. Her bones creak," Whinny said. "If Ventra finds your behavior suitable, perhaps you would be allowed to accompany them. Advise the young warriors on what plants are safe to eat. Heal injuries. And if a comet appears, you may see it."

"I would deeply appreciate such consideration," I said.

"Though the wilderness is dangerous, you will not be allowed weapons," Kestra mentioned. "For a male to carry weapons on Wolf lands means death."

"I am very good at running away, when I need to," I responded.

"Why do we think you don't do much running away?" Whinny said.

"How good are senior warriors at running away?" I asked.

"We are brave, but we are not fools," Kestra said. "Though there has been little warfare these last ten or twelve years. The younger women grow restless."

"Do you grow restless?" I pressed.

"Some of us have strong bonds to keep us satisfied," Kestra answered, glancing at Whinny. "For others, duty is enough. A few have men in the village who they favor. Or friends who are not warriors. What bonds do you have?"

"There are those who depend on me," I answered. "Or did, until they grew old enough to depend on themselves. I've earned a few friends."

"A few?" Whinny asked.

"When I first came to Ballor, the gods were not properly respected," I replied. "Not everyone was pleased with my zeal to uphold Minerva's justice."

"Isn't Minerva a goddess of war, like Mars?" Kestra said.

"Strategic war, for the greater good," I insisted. "She is also the goddess of justice, law, wisdom, and the arts. All that we can wish for in a good life comes from her blessings."

"Our goddess needs no name. She protects us and gives us freedom," Whinny said.

"Perhaps we speak of the same deity?" I suggested.

"I am not a philosopher. Neither is Kestra," Whinny replied. "But I would not deny it without proof. It is never wise to insult the gods."

"Thank you, Whinny and Kestra. You cannot know what it's like for me to be here with two such warriors. I've missed this."

"You have much experience with warriors?" Kestra inquired.

"I have known many fine warriors. Women as well as men."

"Have you served as a warrior?" Whinny said.

"Ballor is a dangerous world. Everyone must have some skills."

"Ventra has taken an interest in you," Kestra said. "She would trust you if she can. Her cousin, Ota, is a bitter rival, allied with Rotanna. If Ota learned a warrior from the river valley has come to our lands, she would not accept an explanation. Your death would be assured."

"You could flee," Kestra suggested.

"No, Kestra, I may not flee," I replied. "I need to know if a comet is coming."

* * * * * *

Following a long day of gardening and horse grooming, I returned to my prison near the cage. The tension was palpable, not just from the prisoners who resented the freedom I enjoyed, but from Ota and her senior warriors, who were feuding with Ventra and her senior warriors. Why I should be caught in the middle was a mystery, nor did I have a clue what their elusive queen thought.

"Ten, the night is turning cold," True said, walking with me. Like the other younger warriors, she was bright and athletic. Inquisitive. Though I had the impression they lacked experience with real fighting. With savage migrations being farther to the north, their land had been peaceful for too long.

"Spring is not always warm," I agreed.

"I have brought an extra blanket, and coals for a fire," True offered.

"That's very thoughtful, but I wouldn't want you to get in trouble."

"Ventra says there is no harm in a small kindness."

"What does Ota say?"

"Ota wishes to become war leader. She will not jeopardize her hopes by angering the junior warriors."

"What does that have to do with me?" I wondered.

"When we were little girls living in the village, we knew our fathers and brothers. When we reached womanhood, we came to Taramont. For most of us, you are the first stranger we've spent much time with. You are not what we've been told of lowlanders."

"If those caged idiots are an example, I should hope not," I said. "But I advise you to heed the wisdom of your elders. I've known many men who speak smoothly but are not worthy of your trust."

I laid out my blankets, fired the coals in a tray near my bed, and removed my boots before preparing to attach the ankle chain. I took the key from True, turning the lock.

"You don't need to do that," True said.

"It needs to be done until Cathie says otherwise, but thank you."

True left as a cold wind began to stir. Booter and Jared huddled together for warmth under a moth-eaten blanket.

"Think you'll seduce them all, old man?" Booter sneered.

"I try not to give more advice than necessary," I replied. "But if you ever want out of that cage, I suggest you mend your ways. And if you think a pretense will win your freedom, think again. If the women don't see through you, I will."

"You would betray us? For these arrogant females?" Jared said.

"If you had achieved your scheme, I would have seen you hanged," I replied.

* * * * * *

"Come, Ten. We go hunting," Ventra said on an early morning as she stood outside my tarp. Horses had been brought up, twelve for the women, seven for supplies, and one for me.

"Yes, War Leader," I said, taking True's key from my pocket and unlocking the chain from my ankle. She was surprised to see I could free myself, but made no comment.

"You have no questions?" she asked.

"No, War Leader."

"If you try to escape, we will track you down."

"If you thought I would try to escape, you wouldn't be taking me with you."

Ventra wasn't sure if to frown or laugh. We both understood the situation.

"Will you tell me what you really want?" she asked.

"Someday," I promised.

"How have you lived so long to become an old man?" she said, trying not to laugh.

"It's a mystery only the gods may answer."

Now Ventra did laugh. For a grim warrior chief, I found her competent, thoughtful, and fair. It did not surprise me that the junior warriors admired her.

We saddled up and rode north. Beyond the lakes, the woods gradually gave way to a vast grassy plain. Tall blue mountains rose in the distance. Smaller hills, creeks, and gullies crisscrossed the landscape.

"Have you hunted bison before?" True asked, riding at my side.

"Not for several years. In the valleys, deer and elk are more common," I replied.

"We will be away from the fort for several days," Lydia said, riding on the other side. "We'll have a bonfire. Sing songs. There is wine."

"It will be fun," True added.

I looked ahead. Ventra was riding with Kestra, her closest ally, followed by Whinny and Thrive. Rotanna was with them, possibly as Ota's spy. She seemed about thirty years old, shorter than the other women but thicker, with shaggy red hair and an aggressive disposition. Eager youngsters made up the balance of our party.

"You cannot hunt without a weapon," Lydia said.

"My job is to heal your injuries after you fall off your horses," I replied with a happy grin.

"Fall off? I will not fall off! I'm a good rider," Lydia insisted.

"Will you hunt with a spear or use arrows?" I asked.

"Arrows? Is such possible?" True inquired.

"If I was allowed a bow, I would show you. It takes practice."

"It sounds exciting," True said.

We camped under a canopy of oak trees the hunters had used before and were up before dawn, tracking a herd on the broad prairie. Spring grasses and flowers were everywhere. I hung back, as did Whinny and Kestra. Ventra led her young hunters forward, found the bison they sought, and spread out along the flanks, hefting their spears. When the dominant bull got wind of them, the entire herd suddenly took off on a run, thundering toward the treelined foothills where they might find protection. It was inspiring to watch, and the women were quite daring, riding in close to strike deadly blows.

"What do you think, Ten?" Whinny asked.

"It makes me wish I was young again," I replied.

* * * * * *

The hunting party brought down as many beasts as they could, eight in all. Now it was necessary to backtrack along the line of the stampede, butcher the meat, and pack it for transport. Hides needed to be cured. Bones and horns cleaned. Ventra ordered us to make camp on a gentle hill crowned by birch trees.

By Floy's decree, I was the physician, tending scratches, bruises, and one broken arm. As it kept me busy, I didn't need to harvest the bison, which was a chore I didn't miss. Kayla was given the task of preparing the meal, tying her long auburn hair back to keep it out of the stew.

"Where are Lydia and True?" Thrive asked, coming into camp late.

"What do you mean? They were with you," Rotanna replied.

"They followed a wounded bull into the brush. Likely to give a merciful death. I remained on the chase," Thrive explained.

"Show this brush to us," Ventra said. "Ten, bring your healing kit."

Five of us went along the trace, finding a spot where the bull and two horses had broken away. There was no sign of them.

"I don't like this. They would not be gone so long," Rotanna said.

"Whinny, return to camp. Organize a search," Ventra decided. "We will pursue the trail."

Whinny wasn't happy about being sent away, but obeyed. I guessed Ventra thought her too old to be rambling through such rugged country.

"War Leader, may I come, too? They may need medical attention," I requested.

"Do not seek to escape," Rotanna warned.

"I promise not to escape," I answered.

The undergrowth to the east of the plain was thick except where the bull had crashed through. A few traces of blood were soon lost.

Below was a ravine, the tracks turning north. We hurried along for half a kilometer, then halted before a clearing. A dead bull lay in the grass, being torn apart by six savages. Farther down the draw stood the two horses belonging to Lydia and True, nervously keeping their distance. There was no sign of the women.

I jumped from my horse, picked up a branch, and moved around the periphery of the savages, seeing them devouring what they could while tearing off chunks to carry back to their burrow. After making a full circle, I returned to Ventra. The savages were more interested in protecting their kill than coming after me.

"They are all female," I reported. "The males must be in pursuit of Lydia and True, who are on foot. Their spears are still on their saddles, but they have their swords."

"How large is the pack?" Ventra asked.

"At least seven," I replied.

"How do you know this?" Rotanna asked.

"The lowlands were often plagued by savage attacks. I have observed their behavior."

"We've not seen such creatures in many years," Ventra said. "I doubt True and Lydia have any idea how to fight them."

"Fighting them isn't easy," Rotanna lamented.

"We must warn the hunting party," Ventra decided. "Ten, return to camp and give alarm."

"War Leader, the camp will not believe a warning from me. You are best suited to rally the hunting party. I will capture True's horse and go south. Rotanna should take Lydia's horse and go north."

"Ten speaks truly, Ventra," Rotanna agreed. "You are War Leader. You must alert our women to this danger."

"The danger is here," Ventra insisted.

"The danger may be everywhere," Rotanna replied.

"Move quickly," Ventra reluctantly agreed. "Ten, in what manner do you expect to help?"

"If the savages are distracted, our horses will out-distance them," I said.

"Have you the courage for such a task?" Rotanna pressed.

"The savages are fierce, but I've run away from them before," I assured her. They were unhappy with the situation but had few options.

"Hurry," Ventra urged, riding off.

Rotanna and I made a wide berth around the feeding savages, taking hold of the abandoned horses. Rotanna had never warmed up to me, and didn't now. But as a veteran senior warrior, she didn't want to make the task more difficult.

"Do not return to this ground," Rotanna said. "If you find True and Lydia, go back to the plain and start a fire. We will see the smoke."

"Yes, Rotanna, I understand."

She turned north. I already knew she would find nothing there.

The evidence was clear. The women had pursued the bull to this clearing, dismounted to cut its throat, and were set upon by the savages. The bleeding bull gave them a few moments to retreat, but their horses had already run off. Though the lost women had started south, they quickly veered toward a rocky cliff, seeking high ground, and had then gone farther east as the male savages caught their scent.

I said nothing of this to Rotanna. If it became necessary to challenge the savages, I didn't want her learning that the quiet Ten knew how to fight.

There were no tracks going over the rocky ridge, but I followed the most logical trail. One led to a deep creek behind a sparse tree line. The women would know they couldn't fight the savages on open ground. I pushed my mount along, holding the reins of True's horse. There was commotion just beyond a flower-filled pasture.

Approaching savages while on horseback is never a good idea. Savages desire their flesh, and unless trained for war, the horses panic. I set them loose in the pasture and crept forward, staying in the high grasses. All I had was a heavy branch to use as a club. Had Ventra thought to let me have a sword or knife? If so, she decided not to, and I wouldn't have asked for one.

It was a shallow creek, and though the savages avoided water, it would not stop them from seeking their prey. True and Lydia stood side-by-side, in the creek, backed up against a steep embankment under massive tree roots. Half a dozen savages formed a line hemming them in, while two others were crawling up the sides, intending to jump them from behind. The young women looked desperate. They were swiping their swords back and forth in wide arcs, hoping to keep their screaming enemies at bay.

I only had seconds to act, and could not be subtle.

"Argarah! Argarah!" I yelled, imitating their savage war cry. Then I leapt into the ankle-deep water, clubbing one senseless. They turned, claws out and fangs ready. I bashed the skull of another and pushed through to the embankment.

"True, hold my left," I demanded. "Lydia, give me your knife. Stand my right. Thrust and hold! Thrust and hold!"

I don't know who was more startled, the women or the savages. I took Lydia's dagger, used the branch as a shield, and wounded the nearest enemy with a jab to the throat.

"Squeeze in! Squeeze in! Make them come to me," I ordered.

They obeyed, forming a tight group under the overhanging tree roots. Unable to get around us, the savages surged forward only to find themselves on my blade. More pressed us. Claws were slashing my arms. One opened a gash above my eye. A chunk of my hair was torn out. Lydia was struck, and then True.

"True, don't extend your sword, use it to block and counterstrike. Block and counterstrike. Lydia, don't swing. Close up. Stay under my flank and come from below. Drive up and in. Up and in."

"There are too many," Lydia lamented.

"No, sisters, they are too few," I responded.

"They are everywhere," True protested.

"They are where I want them. Fight on! Fight on! Give everything you have!" I demanded.

It was a bloody fight, but one by one, the savages went down, some wounded and more dead. True was hurt but holding her position. Lydia looked exhausted. Finally, the savages broke off, their leader taking the survivors downstream. But the battle wasn't over. If there were more savages in the area, they would regroup. Perhaps go after the horses, or find the hunting party. They needed to be intercepted.

"Ten, what are you doing?" True breathlessly asked.

"Seeing where they are going," I answered.

"We must go with you," Lydia insisted.

"No. Hold your ground," I said, stepping over bodies in pursuit.

I wasn't the young man of my youth, but the savages were tired, too. I caught up with the slowest of them, crushed his skull, and kept going. The creek gave way to a small waterfall, causing my two remaining foes to turn. I threw the club, striking the smaller savage's face. If the injury wasn't fatal, it might drown. Only the leader remained.

He was a large creature, strong and not prone to fear. He had claws. I had Lydia's knife. We closed in frantic battle, snarling with determination. He sought to rip out my throat. I gripped his jaw, pulling him forward, and drove the knife into his chest. He tried to rake my neck, but caught my forearm instead. We both fell near the bottom of the waterfall. The beast stopped moving. I was out of breath. And then I saw more.

On the crest of a nearby hill, twelve more savages appeared. A few were males. Others may have been the females who had shredded the bull bison, for they held bloody slabs of meat. I couldn't tell if they intended to attack.

I dragged my dead opponent to the embankment, ripped his chest open with the dagger, and tore out his heart, holding it above my head.

"Argarah! Argarah!" I shouted. And then I tore my enemy's heart with my teeth, the juices dripping down my chin. The savages retreated.

"By the gods," True said. I turned to see both women coming my direction. They had seen everything.

"How do you fair?" I asked.

"Us? Ten, how could ... you ... I don't understand," True said.

I walked toward them and returned Lydia's knife.

"I'm sorry to have taken your weapon without permission, mistress," I apologized. "I stand ready to accept the consequences."

"Consequences?" Lydia said.

"For a male to use a weapon in the land of the Wolf Tribe means severe punishment," I clarified. "I know the law. I make no excuses. But first, let's tend to your wounds."

We found the horses where my medical bag still hung from the saddle and went upstream, escaping the blood flowing down the creek. A pond pooled to the side where I started a fire. The women stripped and I began scrubbing their injuries. Some of the scratches were deep, but using capsaw and brown root, the scarring would fade. Though both were young, healthy, and attractive, I felt no lust, thinking of them as daughters. Red leaf and twine were used as bandages.

When it was time to treat my own wounds, they helped. My clothes were drenched in savage blood, forcing me to scrub out the stains. I kept my back from them, for I still bore the shameful whip marks inflicted on me by a sadist thirty years before. What happened in the dungeon at Arklow hadn't been my fault, but that was little consolation.

"Praise the goddess you live," Ventra said, arriving with a rescue party.

"Did you bring food?" True asked.

"Food?" Kayla said.

"We have fought a great battle," Lydia responded. "We deserve a victory feast."

"You look defeated," Rotanna said.

"We live, and eight savages lay dead," Lydia replied, holding up her sword. "Whoya! Whoya!"

"And we rescued Ten," True added.

"You rescued him?" Ventra asked, staring at me under a bent brow.

"Can you not see?" True said. "He was so grateful, he treated our wounds. Is that not so, Ten?"

The young warriors and the rescue party waited for my answer. I saw no reason to correct her.

* * * * * *

Chapter Nine

Death on the Plains

Following the skirmish at the creek, the search party returned to their camp on the prairie. There was still much to do packing the meat, curing hides, and bundling bones. No part of the animals would be wasted. Travois were made to drag the bounty back to Taramont, for the land had no roads for wagons.

I could not help as much as I wished. I was cut up, worn down, and my hands grew swollen. Ventra allowed me to sit near the fire where I was found staring into the flames.

"The girls nobly rescued you?" Ventra whispered, sitting next to me with a flask of rye whiskey.

"They are very brave young women," I replied. Ventra offered me a drink. I didn't turn her down.

"Do you know how to skin bison?" she asked.

"It's an old process."

Ventra examined my hands.

"You won't be scraping hides with those fingers," she said.

"Not using stones," I agreed.

"You should be helping. Here, take my knife."

"Your knife?"

"Only for working the hides. Give it back before we turn in."

I took another gulp and went to help Lydia. Rotanna stopped me as I walked through the camp.

"You have a weapon. This means your death," she said, reaching for her sword.

"It's my knife. Ten is helping with the harvest," Ventra intervened.

"It is forbidden," Rotanna objected.

"I am war leader. I decide how the prisoner best serves the tribe," Ventra insisted.

"To be war leader is not to lead the hunt. Or leave to violate our laws," Rotanna said.

"We lost valuable time today searching for the girls. Girls you left behind on the chase," Ventra countered.

"Do not blame me. Whinny is their captain," Rotanna angrily retorted.

"This meat must get back to Taramont before it goes bad," Ventra insisted. "It's my decision that Ten will help."

"This will be spoken of. You will not be war leader much longer," Rotanna swore.

"Until that day comes, you will obey," Ventra responded with a frown.

Work had come to a halt during the confrontation. I didn't know what to do, and felt awkward being in the middle of it. Tribal politics was not my gift. As Rotanna walked away, the women resumed carving the carcasses. I knelt between Lydia and True, helping to remove a hide. It would be thick and warm during cold winters.

"You cause trouble without saying anything," True said with an impish smile.

"Let's avoid trouble," I advised.

Thrive and Kayla came to join us, pulling at bones and intestines. We made a good team. I didn't realize at the time what these girls would come to mean to me.

I wanted to go back to the battlefield. Study the routes the savages had taken. See if I could learn something of their clan, for this last group had brown hair with black highlights, unlike savages farther down the valleys, who could be grayer. What did that mean? Perhaps Ventra had similar thoughts. She and Whinny disappeared for most of the day while the hunting party returned to Taramont.

The fort celebrated the successful hunt, the meat being carried into cold storage while a feast was prepared. Though my clothes had been mended, to the extent that was possible, my appearance remained ragged. I didn't care. Though it was midday, I crawled under my tarp, attached the chain to my ankle using True's key, and went to sleep, ignoring Booter's prodding.

* * * * * *

"You realize the absurdity of this, don't you?" Whinny said, squatting outside my tarp.

It was nighttime. Probably early evening. Meat was roasting in the firepits. It took me a moment to gather my surroundings.

"What is that, mistress?" I asked, rubbing my sleepy eyes.

"You put that chain on when you go to bed, and take it off when you have chores," Whinny said. I couldn't see her, but suspected she was grinning.

"I am a prisoner."

"A prisoner who locks and unlocks his own cell?"

"I am a good prisoner."

"You saved True and Lydia, didn't you?"

"I may not speak of it."

"Thrive and I will tell no one, though Ventra suspects," Whinny warned. "You are growing thin. Let's find food for you."

I followed Whinny into the compound, seeing True and Lydia surrounded by a flock of admirers. True had mounted the claw of a dead savage on a stick, waving it around while imitating their growls. Both were reveling in their newfound status.

Whinny led me to a circle of senior warriors seated around a cooking fire. I was put on the bench next to Kestra. Ventra sat across from me with six of her closest supporters. I noticed that, at another fire not far away, Ota, Rotanna, and half a dozen of her band were watching. Interestingly, many were related. Ventra and Ota were first cousins.

"Eat," Whinny ordered, handing me a plate of roast bison and red beans.

"How are your wounds?" Ventra asked, having seen Floy changing the dressings.

"I've had worse," I replied.

"How much worse?" Whinny pushed.

"Much worse," I confessed.

"The girls have been bragging of their glorious victory all afternoon," Kestra said.

I put a piece of bison in my mouth, trying to control the dripping sauces as they waited for me to say something.

"Well?" Kestra said.

"They are very brave," I replied.

"Two inexperienced junior warriors took on a pack of savages and killed them all?" Ventra asked.

"War Leader, if you wish me to say more, I will say whatever you search for," I responded. "Is that what you want?"

"You have said enough," Ventra decided.

Each time I tried to put my plate aside, Whinny forced me to eat more. Kestra encouraged me to drink more. Perhaps they felt my spirits needed a boost. It had been disturbing to see those two young women, who I was very fond of, in such danger. I wondered what sort of training they were being given.

"Another outrage?" Ota said, stomping over to Ventra's fire. She looked much like her cousin, though with lighter hair, the shoulders not quite so broad. She tended to lean forward when she talked, her accent clear and well-spoken.

"It's just a meal," Ventra said.

"Rotanna says you gave this male a weapon. Does she lie?" Ota demanded.

"He was helping skin the hides using my knife. There were no weapons," Ventra answered.

"There are stories about how your girls escaped those savages," Ota pressed.

"They are our girls," Ventra responded, standing up from the fire. "We are still one tribe, regardless of how you seek to divide us."

"I? I seek to divide us? You turn your back on our traditions. Those rapists in the cage still live. This male walks freely through our fort. You are the divider," Ota spat.

"They did not commit rape," Ventra corrected. "If they had, they would be dead. Their kin in the Grasslands present a threat that Cathie and Stam recognize. They must be dealt with judiciously."

"And this male? Sitting at our fire? Drinking our ale?" Ota challenged.

"I find him interesting. And this is my fire. And my ale. If you have more complaints, take them up with Cathie," Ventra concluded.

"I will take them up with the queen," Ota said. "Don't think I haven't told her everything. She listens to me."

"May the Goddess save us from such a fate," Ventra said. Ota marched away, waving her arms.

"She's in a bad mood," Kestra said, refilling Ventra's cup.

"Ota doesn't like change," Ventra replied. "But change is coming. Being stubborn will not hold it back. Isn't that true, Ten?"

They looked to me. I was caught off-guard.

"What do I have to do with this?" I asked.

"We hear you are looking for a comet," Ventra said.

"I haven't found it yet," I replied.

"You will tell me when you do?" she asked.

"Yes, War Leader," I agreed.

"Speaking of searching, we need another hunt," Ventra said. "And we should learn more of this savage encroachment. Usually, they are found much farther north. We will form three parties, eight warriors each. Kestra will command one, Whinny the second, and I shall allow Rotanna to command the third."

"Ota will wish to command one," Whinny warned.

"We require protection until the threat of these Grassland ranchers is resolved," Ventra answered. "I need to consult with Willowtown. Ota will be responsible for the fort."

"Will these hunting parties be in supporting distance of each other?" I asked.

"All will be mounted," Kestra said.

"Large pods are dangerous," I pressed. "They skulk in the high grasses and attack without warning. Fighting them takes special skills."

"The numbers we saw are not so large. All will be cautioned not to engage without orders," Ventra explained.

"Except Lydia and True, who think they can kill them all," Whinny said with a laugh.

"One lucky encounter does not make them veterans," Kestra pointed out. "They will be told to mind their places."

"What do you think, Ten?" Whinny asked.

"I think I should go with you," I replied.

"I was thinking that, too," Ventra said.

"Will Ota approve?" I asked.

"It is not her decision," Ventra answered, leaving the fire. I turned to Whinny with my unspoken question.

"Ota's mother and Ventra's mother were sisters," Whinny recalled. "When Ota's mother fell fighting at the side of Queen Massandra, Ventra's mother was with child and had not gone on the expedition. As the senior warrior, Aurora became war leader, but her health was never good after losing the baby. When Aurora died five years ago, Ota thought she should become war leader. There was much bitterness when the tribe chose Ventra."

"That sounds difficult," I surmised.

"Has your family not had quarrels?" Kestra asked.

"They probably did," I answered. "But they are long in the past now."

* * * * * *

We left at dawn three days later. Ota was furious to see me wearing mended leathers and riding a fine mare. I had spent time preparing, working with Floy to gather medical supplies, powders for making broth, and holloweed to purify water. On the premise of needing a tent, I was bringing three poles. One was long enough to use as a staff should such a weapon be needed. I also brought twine, not just to tie down a tent, but to bind a rock to a branch. It could be made into a heavy club.

When we reached the grassy prairie where the hunt had taken place, we camped at the same grove of trees. As Ota's second, Rotanna was the senior commander. Each group formed their own camp, sharing chores and cooking food. I was blessed to be with True, Kayla, and Lydia. They were eager, excited to be on an important mission. I slept separately, comfortable on pine needles under a great tree.

In the morning, Rotanna divided her command. She would take the scout south where savages had been seen a week before. Whinny would go east toward Splinter Pass. Kestra had the northern assignment into the foothills marked by sparse woods, taking Thrive with her. At the end of the day, we would regroup at the Well. It wasn't really a well, just a large pond surrounded by sunflowers and walnut trees. I would ride with Whinny's detachment.

The May grass was high, but not high enough to hide a horde of enemies. I did not see evidence of savages, but we did find a bison track, discovering a small herd in a peaceful valley. Without touching a weapon, I showed the young hunters how to approach the herd on horseback, then bring a beast down with an arrow behind the ear. They killed a bull and let the others escape, for we lacked time to pack more.

"That was fun," True said as we dragged the carcass on a travois. It slowed us down, but we weren't in a hurry. Having the easiest route, we would reach our destination long before the others.

"Is this how your people hunt bison?" Kayla asked.

"Yes. The stories go back thousands of years," I answered. "It is said my ancestors once lived on plains much like this one, before immigrating to another world."

"Then the stories are true? People live on other planets?" Lydia inquired.

"Don't you know of them?" I asked in surprise.

"We know our grandmothers and their grandmothers fled male tyranny in the ancient days," True said. "They made the forest their home."

"I may only say that I was born on a world very far away. For the rest, I think you should consult with your elders. It's not my place to speak out of turn."

"If Cathie grants permission, will you tell us of these other worlds?" Kayla asked.

"What do you think, Whinny?" I questioned.

"There is a time and place for everything," she responded.

By early afternoon, we came upon a blue pond surrounded by boulders and trees. The ground was moist, rich in edible roots, berries, and nuts. A river at the bottom of the hill promised good fishing. The women began skinning the bison and preparing a fire. Some of the meat would be dried for jerky.

"Someone is coming," Kayla shouted, standing guard on a high rock.

We all went to look. It was a lone rider on a desperate horse. She came on quickly. As the rider got closer, we saw she was covered in blood.

"Ferr! What happened?" True shouted.

Ferr brought her white stallion to a halt, falling from the saddle. I caught her. The horse's flanks were rent with crimson streaks. Claw marks.

"The savages. They were everywhere," Ferr said, struggling for breath.

I carried her to the pond, tearing open her blouse. She was cut up, but the wounds weren't fatal. I washed the injuries while Whinny questioned.

"We found a trail," Ferr reported. "Rotanna put us on alert. We weren't reckless, but they came over a hill. Not just ten or twenty. There were a hundred. Screaming. Biting. The horses ran in every direction."

She paused while I gave her water, sopping her wounds with capsaw. Bandages were needed. And a needle and thread to sew the injuries. I motioned to Lydia.

"Rotanna gathered who she could and found a high peak. The savages had trouble reaching us, but only my horse remained. I've been sent for help," Ferr pleaded.

"Against a hundred savages?" Kayla said.

I saw Whinny wondering the same thing. What was she expected to do with seven junior warriors? I required no such hesitation. Within minutes, I had my horse saddled with the tent pole at my side.

"Whinny, send for Kestra," I instructed. "Leave the traveling gear behind and come on quick, but stay to the high ground. Don't engage unless you have the odds."

And with that I rode out at a full gallop. Having seen the direction from which Ferr came, and the tracks of her horse, it wasn't a difficult trail to follow.

Even moving quickly, it took close to an hour. I couldn't exhaust my mount, occasionally slowing and finding water. A soldier balances urgency with necessity.

A string of rocky peaks appeared on my left. A red flag on a pole marked Rotanna's position, which was a mistake. Nothing attracts savages more than a colorful banner waving in a breeze.

There weren't a hundred savages, closer to forty, but more than enough. Rotanna and three of her warriors looked like they'd reached the end of their strength, torn, bloody, and exhausted. Only a few avenues allowed the savages access, so in that respect, it was a strong position. Rotanna held the widest path, her sisters at her flanks slashing with their swords.

There was no time for explanations. If my horse had time to think about it, my plan wouldn't work, so I brought her to a full run, charged up the path, and nearly trampled Rotanna as I grabbed the flagpole.

"Arahgah! Arahgah!" I shouted, waving the banner. Then I turned the horse around and charged back down the hill, heading toward a creek. As I hoped, the majority of the savages followed, attracted by the vivid color. They were fast, but my horse was faster. I splashed across the creek, up a steep embankment, and briefly disappeared into the trees. Then I appeared again, yelling and shaking the flag, drawing them downstream. Half an hour later, with the savages thoroughly distracted, I took a circuitous route back to the hill.

"He comes," True said with relief.

Whinny's party, now combined with Kestra's, had arrived to lend aid. They were fortifying the hill until the wounded, which was Rotanna's entire group, could be tended and moved. I dismounted, giving my horse a grateful hug.

"Casualties?" I asked.

"Three of my girls are missing," Rotanna said, her arms wrapped from wrist to shoulder. A bandage covered her forehead, and there was a slash down her cheek. None of her youngsters looked any better.

"What direction did they go?" I said.

"Ten, you look drained. Rest a few minutes," Whinny urged.

"I need a fresh horse. True, I've ridden your horse before. He's a strong mount."

Taking the staff, which I was yet to use, I climbed into the saddle.

"Which way?" I asked again. We had a good view from the hill, the land sloping to a river several kilometers away. Rotanna pointed toward a series of low ridges.

"Retreat to the Well," I said. "Savages aren't fond of sunflowers or damp ground. Don't travel in the dark. At sunrise, return to Taramont."

"What about you?" Lydia asked.

"I'll return if I can," I replied, urging my horse away.

I didn't know how many savages may have pursued the young warriors' panicked horses. With luck, they had outrun their enemies and were waiting for a safe time to return. But I knew that was unlikely. An experienced fighter might find a way to elude the savages. Lacking experience, the odds were poor.

I found the original spot of the ambush. Ambush is likely an exaggeration, for the savages were more inclined to mob action than grand strategy, like a pride of lions. But they knew how to bring down game.

There were cries up ahead. Not human cries. I paused to find a thick branch, tied a hardy rock to the end, and gave it a good swing. It made a nice weapon. Something I would not want Rotanna see me carrying.

As the noise grew louder, I dismounted. My horse could smell the enemy, but they were not close enough to cause panic. I went forward alone, club in one hand, the staff in the other. I found a dead horse, torn to pieces. And another. A blood trail indicated a third. I moved forward through knee-deep grass, looking down into a dry gulch. My heart sank.

Eight savages were devouring two young women, their clothing nothing but shredded fibers. The third lay a dozen feet away, a sword in her hand, but not moving. A savage was just getting to her.

I jumped down, clubbed the nearest enemy, turned to bash in the brains of another, and then used the staff to attack the rest. They had the odds, I had the element of surprise. A staff can be an effective weapon. I struck left, right, and left again, clubbing, jabbing and bashing. They jumped forward, claws slashing, fangs bared. But the beasts looked tired. Chasing the horses had been strenuous. I killed another as the rest fled.

I was tired, too. And a little dizzy, discovering a gouge in my neck. When had that happened? Had I gotten careless? I tied a wrap around the wound and went to the warrior not yet torn to pieces. It was Thera, one of Ota's girls. As I feared, she was dead. And still warm. I could almost feel her final breath.

A warrior needs to be hard. Impervious to death, their own and others. Weakness is unacceptable. But I felt a terrible sensation come over me. These could have been my daughters. Champion. Jenni. Deena. I sat on the ground, holding Thera in my lap, and began crying. It wasn't a good idea, for the enemy could return. Somehow, it didn't matter. The girls were dead. Their souls beyond the reach of savages.

I don't know how long I sat there, losing all track of time. Then I heard a voice, far away at first. Then closer. It was Whinny.

"Ten. Ten, come back. You must come back," she was whispering. I looked up. Whinny, True, and Lydia were kneeling next to me.

"Thank the Goddess," Lydia said. She had a wet cloth in her hand. My forehead was damp.

"We didn't think you'd ever return," True said.

I was confused. Where was I?

"Ten, we must leave this place," Whinny said.

Eight horses stood nearby, held by Kayla. Three bodies had been wrapped in tent cloth. It started coming back to me.

"How did you find me?" I asked.

"We followed the blood," Lydia replied.

There was a lot of blood in the gulch. Some of it was mine. They helped me to my feet. The sun was low in the sky.

"We can reach the Well if we hurry," Whinny urged.

"We should hurry," I agreed. They needed to lift me on my horse.

The sun had just disappeared when we reached the campsite. There were moans and lamentations as the three lost warriors were taken off the horses. It's good they were covered, for two of the bodies were hardly recognizable. I was helped to my tent where Thrive hovered over me, washing wounds and applying red leaves. There was hardly a patch on my battered body that didn't need tending. Normally, I would have felt embarrassed, but there was no energy for that now. Though Thrive was no doctor, she knew enough.

All I could eat that night was broth. My senses slowly returned. From time to time, women came to inquire about me. I thanked them, but had little to say. Rotanna wanted a report, but I couldn't speak of it.

I felt better the next morning. Regardless of my regrets, wounds needed to be treated, the dead cared for, and the party readied to move. Still badly hurt, Rotanna allowed Whinny to take command. She decided Kestra would lead the retreat. Whinny wasn't ready to go.

"Our mission is not complete," Whinny insisted. "We need to know more of these incursions. Thrive will be my second-in-command. True, Lydia, and Kayla will come with us. And Ten. We will track the savage trail before returning."

"You are a fool," Rotanna said. "If my warriors were overrun, what chance do you have?"

"We will be careful. Not take unnecessary chances. But it must be done," Whinny replied.

Kestra led the survivors west a few hours after sunrise, staying to the middle of the prairie. They were a ragged bunch. The fallen would return to Taramont, there to be cremated on the plateau with all honors. I stood among Whinny's youngsters as we watched them go.

"We are all sad, Ten. You seem especially so," Whinny said.

"We'll stay here today. Rest the horses and organize our supplies," I replied.

"Are you now in command?" Whinny asked.

"I'll not stand by while more of your women are slaughtered."

"They were outnumbered," Lydia said.

"They were inadequately trained," I complained. "This style of fighting you have, where each warrior stands apart waving their swords, is a death sentence against the savages."

"What would you have us do?" Kayla asked.

"Survive," I replied.

We had the bones, tendons, and hide from the male bison. I spent a fair portion of the day making shields. They weren't everything they'd need to be, but a good start. I had the women cut spears, shorter than those used for throwing. We used the tents to make coverings for the horses, protecting their necks and flanks, and wove sunflowers into the lining, insuring a strong scent.

There was no feasting or drinking that night. All turned in early, getting up before dawn. After a light meal, we rode back to the scene of battle two days before, finding the gulch where Rotanna's three warriors made their last stand.

"They were retreating through here, followed by a group of savages," I surmised. "When they reached the crest, another group appeared in front of them. The horses came to a halt and were attacked. Thera, Mos, and Rona ran for these rocks. There were only four savages. The rest went after the horses."

Blood stains and torn clothing showed where each woman had fallen. I walked the ground, Whinny and her warriors following every step.

"While one savage distracted Mos, and another struggled against Thera, two of them surrounded Rona and took her down. Now the odds were two to one. Three went after Thera, the fourth driving Mos back against these rocks. When Thera fell, all four swarmed over Mos. The battle only lasted a few minutes."

I walked back over the field again, pointing at boot prints, turned stones, and broken grass stems.

"They fought as individuals, striking blindly. The savages pushed, turned, and twisted, seeking openings, and their superior numbers made those openings. This is not the way to fight determined foes. You must fight as a team. Shoulder to shoulder. As soldiers."

The body of a dead savage still lay in a crevice. I took True's knife to cut off its arm, tied it to a branch, and gave the claw a wave.

"Line up," I ordered, placing True on the left, Lydia on the right, and Kayla in the center. Each was given a shield and told to draw their swords. Then I set Whinny and Thrive in reserve with spears.

"The savages are coming for you in large numbers," I said, growling and waving the claw. "Stand your ground. Shields up. Hold the swords low. Thrust up and in. Up and in."

I attacked, pounding on their shields, swiping at their faces, and making ferocious noises. They broke and fell back.

"No! No! No! Stand your ground! Stand your ground!" I shouted, attacking again.

The exercise went on all afternoon as I swarmed around them, demanding they hold together as a unit, showing Thrive how to protect their flanks with her spear while Whinny directed the defense. Turn, press, turn, press. Block and thrust. Block and thrust. Over and over again. I grew hoarse, barely able to talk. The women grew exhausted, but I would not relent. At one crucial point, I reached over the top, whacking Kayla on top of the head. She jumped back, opening a hole in the shield wall. She looked ready to give up.

"No! There is no surrender," I said, looking fiercely into her eyes. "Retreat only if you hear the command."

"But--" Kayla started.

"There is no but! You are a soldier with sisters to stand your guard. Believe in them, and they will believe in you. It is the savages who must fear, for it is you who will be victorious. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Ten. I understand," Kayla said.

"Good. Let's do this again."

It was dark when we finally returned to the Well, finding our camp waiting for us. We bathed in the pond, soothed bruises, drank wine, and ate a late meal. The women felt worn down. Inadequate to the task. They were wrong. Despite my relentless harassment, they persevered.

"When I was a young recruit, I had a sergeant," I recounted as we sat around the fire. "He treated me brutally. Many times, I was convinced he wanted to kill me. I would return to barracks purple and bleeding. But at the end of training, he put me at the top of our class. I was made a corporal. A year later, in a desperate battle, I used the skills he taught me to turn the tide against fearsome adversaries, and we won the day. If I seem harsh with you, it is out of duty, not anger."

"You have trained women warriors before, haven't you?" Thrive guessed.

"Many, including my daughters," I confirmed.

"Daughters?" True said.

"I have three daughters about your age," I answered.

"You have a wife?" Kayla asked.

"No, I've never been married. My daughters were adopted at a young age. We live on a ranch above the Great Mother River in a comfortable home raising horses."

"But now you are here?" Lydia inquired.

"I'm concerned about this new savage intrusion. I wanted to see if they will become a problem in the future," I explained.

"They are a problem now," True said.

"Yes. You need to be prepared," I replied.

The next morning, I went looking for trouble. A savage trail led from the scene of the massacre. It wasn't a large pod, likely no more than fifteen. We outfitted the horses, prepared our equipment, and followed the tracks. By the Wolf Tribe's laws, I was forbidden to carry weapons, but kept my staff close, still calling it a tent pole.

The savages had gathered over a fallen deer and her fawn, feasting in their bloodthirsty manner. We left the horses on the high ground to approach on foot.

"There are too many," Whinny worried.

"They aren't enough," I disagreed. "Kayla, you have the center. True, left flank. Lydia, right flank. Whinny, watch Lydia's flank. Thrive, stand behind True. Keep your formation tight. Swords low, shields up."

"We're going to attack them?" Lydia asked.

"We are going to kill them," I replied.

The women were nervous, as anyone would be. I stayed close, issuing instructions and giving encouragement. When the savages saw us coming, half of them broke off from their meal looking for fresh game.

"Hold the flank! Press! Tighten the line! Tighten the line!" I yelled over the screeching enemy. "Don't be afraid. It's the enemy who must fear!"

Eight of them crashed into our line, pounding on the shields, only to find blades shoved into their guts. Several fell, only to be crawled over by their own, and then those were stabbed, too.

"Steady! No distractions!" I urged. "Block and thrust! Block and thrust!"

Finding a sturdy wall before them, the savages tried to go around. Whinny ran one through with her spear, pulled back, and jabbed another. When it toppled to the side, taking her spear with it, she picked up a new one. The senior warrior was no amateur, standing ready for each new foe. Thrive fought her flank attack just as hard.

I stayed busy with the staff, cracking heads, poking eyes, and occasionally stomping a savage as it crawled on the ground beneath me. More savages came, and more after that, four or five at a time. Whinny closed up on Lydia, protecting her shield side. After a battle lasting fifteen minutes, the surviving savages finally broke off, running for a thick line of brush. We let them go.

"How is everyone?" I asked.

All were out of breath, covered in blood. But it wasn't their blood. Ten savages lay dead at our feet.

"We won," Lydia said in astonishment. "We won! Whoya! Whoya!"

"Congratulations, Whinny, you have a victory," I praised.

"We have a victory," Whinny said.

"It may be better if my name isn't mentioned," I suggested.

"That's not fair," Kayla said. "This is your victory, too. You led us."

"Ota and her sisters will not take kindly to my bearing arms," I said. "I broke your laws today. That I found it necessary is of no consequence. Should I stand accused, I will be guilty."

"We will not lie, nor shall we speak too much," Whinny decided. "But all must learn this new way of fighting."

"I wanted to speak with Ventra," I admitted. "But I was afraid she would take offense. She still might. No leader likes a stranger coming into their world with new ideas."

"I will speak with Ventra," Whinny offered. "For now, we have bruises to treat. And funerals at Taramont to attend."

* * * * * *

With the threat of the savages now clear, the Wolf tribe will need to make important decisions. But how long can Tenay risk the Wolf queen's wrath?