Tuesday, November 25, 2008

A Ride In the Night

There were some at the fires that would think his brother cruel for his decision about the young Kassar boy, but he understood it. The reasoning behind it was two-fold. One, the boy was Kassar and being Kassar he needed to be with his own people. Ba'atar's feelings on this were firmly rooted. It was just like his demanding that when they got to the northern grounds, for Jai to go and bring the young boy that was in Ina's care back to the plains, back to his people. He was not sure that Ina understood this, but the boy belonged with his people, not in some tainted city.

Secondly. The Kassar woman would probably more than likely die. Feelings of hatred of the Kassar ran deep and were not going to change for one woman. And if she did manage to live, it would mostly likely be in a collar. The boy did not need to see that either. What had happened tonight, would more than likely stay in the boys' memory, and the day would come when he was man, and would come to take his revenge on the people that separated him from his mother. If so, that is how the Sky wanted it.


He did not just ride off into the night with the little brat. He made preparations, took provisions, and an Or of his men with him. He also took one of the kaiila that he had ended up from the other woman that showed up and sat the boy in it with his hands still bound. It was then that they took off into the frigid night. The boy did well, once he stopped crying. He had tried to talk to him quietly, telling him that this was the night that he started to become a man. Somehow this seemed to sink into the child. Eventually he slept, slumped in the saddle.


Macik and V'Dao had rode ahead into the night, scouting the last known locations where they knew the Blood People to be. It was migration time, and they were on the move, just like the Tuchuk, but they rarely strayed from known routes. The night was quiet, actually too quiet. No wind, no animal noises, only the steady crunch of clawed feet as they transverse the snow.


The duo returned far too soon. He dismounted to talk to them in a quiet tone. They had found a small encampment that bore the standard of the Kassar not far away. Leaving the boy with the rest of his men, he rode with the two to have a look at this camp. They came close enough to approach the herds, and he was surprised that the outriders were stretched so thinly. In fact, they were able to dismount and sneak into the bosk to check the brands, which were indeed Kassar. Leaving the two men with the kaiila he had moved through the darkness to get a better look at the wagons.


It was cold, it was night, and he saw very few moving about, but one thing struck him as strange. What he mostly saw were women and older men. Men too aged to be riding patrol. Where were the men? He hid right there in their own herd, crouched and hidden within the bodies of the bosk until the camp began to stir. At one point, he had held his breath as an out rider rode by on his patrol, but did not find him. He finally wound his way back out and up to the men with the kaiila, and sent V'Dao to go get the boy, as he and Macik continued to watch.

When the alarm was raised, they would have to ride like the winds and hope that the Kassar did not over take them. But he was pledged to leave the boy. He had given his word. He woke the boy and pointed to the herd and the wagons, and spoke quietly into his ear, telling him those were his people, and they would be the ones to help him someday exact his revenge on the Tuchuk. Nothing like planting a seed in a boy's mind. The reason he did it, was to make the boy angry enough that when he slapped the kaiila on the flank, he would ride straight to the herd, and maybe cause enough chaos to give them a chance to escape.

And he did just that, he gave the kaiila a hard slap on the rump and it took off across the field to where the dark shadows of the bosk herd melted into the dawn. He watched as the kaiila with his small rider approached, and met no resistance, but for a few out riders who looked in their direction.

Seeing the boy was safe, he and his men turned around and rode as if their lives depended upon it. And there was this niggling fear that ate at him. Did the Kassar have no drummers? Even if he had not been able to read the beats of their drummers, there should have been drum. But there were none. Except for the sound of his men, there was nothing. After a great distance, he motioned his men on, and turned to back track to see if they were being pursued.

Nothing. Not a rider in sight. It sent a chill to his very core. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

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