PULL ME UNDER - Pleasure To Kill - Twenty-Four
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Pleasure To Kill
Twenty-Four
Each scale on Ddun’s battle-clothes shone in the firelight, sparkling with his movements blindingly beautiful as Lauren watched.
“I don’t want there to be a single living Stenya on our side of the river Gand, I don’t want to worry about them getting belligerent with the first thaws. But, we have to take the majority of the force south, now, while the ice can still be travelled upon. The remainder go west after the Stenya.”
Beautiful and terrifying.
“We will set up relays as we go to speed the messages sent between the camps.”
While she didn’t exactly agree with the notion of genocide, she conceded—being ignorant of how things were done—there might not be much choice concerning the whole Stenya issue. Get the farmers away from the edges of Dvarri territory, and that will buy their army time in the south.
The horror they had felt when they found the gun… Arrowheads were still killing in numbers. The futility was exhausting. And she knew, with immense guilt, she was being incredibly selfish to keep what little energy she had left to worry for herself, the baby, Tanner, Ddun…
The elders all began to chime in. “Though the illness rates have improved, there are still some men unable to go,” said one.
“We need some to remain in Kaddusk as reserves, and there are still many clans, especially to the east that have not joined under our banner, others yet still fly Felik’s clan banner,” said another.
She smirked to listen to Ddun’s forced-patient tone: “I’m aware of that. When we have victories to sing, they’ll join. If they don’t, I’ll kill them myself. The Peiransi are split in their allegiances and I would like to invite as many as we can to our cause. Felik’s allies cannot promise the gold that we can, either. Encourage marriage between the tribes and promise the Peiransi they will not be evicted from Kaddusk and they’ll have access to the ports on lake Kadd in exchange for loyalty.”
“Some Peiransi claim the mountain paths in their territory will grant them power where the lake will not, so that promise will hold no sway.” Most of the gold in Dvarri coffers came from shaking neighbouring nations’ diplomats and merchants in exchange for passage through Dvarri lands.
“Those Peiransi are fools.”
Lauren sat and spun while she listened, flicking the spindle and thinning the wool into threads as the men consulted around the fire. Everything aside from finding Tanner and heading south before her stomach was the size of a Volkswagen—the sooner they were through, the better. Winters were long, just like back home. Fall was barely a season and spring would likely be just as short, and summer… She wished so badly to return to the heat and thinking the entire world was just their camp and the grassland around it. To think, she missed milking cows and goats while watching Tanner learn how to fire a bow.
Tanner had already been gone for two weeks. Lauren was done with her inconsolable hysterics—she knew he was alive, somehow she knew, and instead commissioned her own battle-clothes, earning raised eyebrows from the armourer until they looked to Ddun’s dead-serious face for approval.
In the soldier’s tent where Tanner had slept, they had collected his things for safe-keeping. Amongst the furs and strings of coins there was a book and ink, wrapped in silk. Suspecting it was intended as a gift, Lauren treasured it more than Tanner might ever know—another motivator for finding him, so she could say her thanks. The silk she used to make a hair covering like she had seen some of the eastlands women wear, which she now kept on her head and hung gold rings from the corners that rang as she moved, a calming jingle that felt feminine. Every man in the camp knew she was out of bounds, that she was Ddun’s wife in everything but name, carrying herself proud—and Irynna encouraged it. Irynna herself got a kick from seeing men bow their heads to Lauren as she walked by, especially the ones that eyed her first. Lauren figured, if no one was going to talk with her, if they were all going to be frightened, let them be awed as well, let them quake in their felt shoes as if they were looking at Ddun himself. How else should Ddun’s first wife behave?
“The land around the capitol has been stripped clean and the time is right to move camp, before we all get hungry. We can start the preparations at your word.”
“I give it. Let us prepare for the march.”
Once they were alone in the tent, she put the spindle down. A kiss on the healing burn on Ddun’s cheek. He gave a little hum in thanks, eyes at the splint over his wrist, distracted in thought. “I’ve always liked how you look in this,” she flicked at the scales over his shoulder, “though I’m eager to get back to summer and seeing you run around shirtless again.”
“And I you,” his eyes still didn’t leave his wrist. She needed a more powerful distraction, running a finger along his clean-shaven jaw, just as powerful without the beard, down to the fastenings of his vest.
“Two promises you’re breaking right now, you know. I’m absolutely beside myself with sorrow.”
“What promises?” Either he was pretending to forget, or he really was distracted.
“Staying until I’m due, but we already established that was inevitable, and marrying me.”
“That promise is still on the table,” he rebuked with quiet seriousness, flicking his eyes from his wrist to her, tracing a line up from her swell to her breasts to her face. He looked tired—she smiled for him, as best she could—if she could ease him, it might lift her own spirit. They both needed a distraction, so she continued at the fastenings while his muscles relaxed, lazy amusement colouring his amber eyes. The shoulder pieces fell and she ran her hand over the padded silk underneath—an imported rarity, he was far from a humble horselord now—moving on to the next set of fastenings under his arms. “Stop,” he said, and she did, not wanting to upset him if he wasn’t in the mood.
“What’s wrong?”
“Fetch me the jug there.”
On a low table she picked up a skinny jug with a hemp cord wrapped tight around. He took it in his good hand, holding it as if contemplating the design of the clay and cordage.
He exhaled sharply, a sombre smile. “Reminds me of Tanner,” he explained. She felt warmed by his sentiment, not knowing what the memory might have been, and pulled the cork for him. He drank freely, a red drip on his lip she wiped with her thumb. He then sat with his head back, and she returned to unfastening his armour so he could sleep.
***
Lauren had never seen such a mass of humans moving at once—an ocean of bodies and horses and carts, or rather, a floating island on the ocean, through a storm—the air was a roar of activity. No matter where she looked there was human migration, and all of them were on course for killing or being killed.
She hadn’t felt Meired’s presence since the day Tanner was taken—assuming he was indeed taken, like she had been, and he didn’t just vanish of his own accord. She was heading south, toward the witch—if she took him, Lauren would find him. If he was hoofing it somewhere else… that might be a problem, but she was prepared to meet it.
Pouring over the scrolls and books, the elders assisting her with the archaic language, and it helped build her confidence. With the right tools, she could form whatever she imagined, like canvases and paint and brushes in her hands made art. The tools in this case being the horses, which she learned were, as she had suspected, clusters of little creatures, like how a flock of birds or school of fish moved, so they did, and however they managed any central brain, they could develop a pleasing bond with human riders, but it never really settled the long-standing argument with Ddun whether the horses were alive, because they weren’t, but they were. To her, they were alive enough she would pat them and talk with them and admire aloud their shifting stripes. Ddun thought it was ridiculous, but humoured her by letting her act how she pleased.
By studying, she also learned Meired used “trick-sight”—and now that she knew what it was, she could sense that too, a sort of burning in her head. She remembered the feeling from the castle. There was still a lot of gaps to fill, not just in her memory but many of the old artifacts from the room were ripped or damaged or incomplete, and some simply made no sense at all. But she knew more now than she did before, which was all she could ask. She wanted to be the best damn witch she could be for Ddun—and get her brother back, wherever he was.
“I told you we’d be going south,” Irynna commented as she approached out of the throng, noting how Lauren was taking in the sight of it all. Ddun cleared his throat, the reminder that Irynna wasn’t supposed to speak with Lauren without the proper formalities in front of the men, but Irynna paid him no mind, much to Lauren’s satisfaction.
“So long as I’m not popping this kid out on horseback.”
“I couldn’t leave you in Kaddusk, my conscience wouldn’t allow it. We have all the elders we need with all the medicine with us as we move,” Ddun said.
“And should Lauren ‘pop’ early, which of the elders is the most experienced midwife?” Irynna had a sickeningly sweet tone.
Lauren moaned, losing the humour toward her friend. “Please, stop, when I’m stressed I get heartburn.”
Irynna laughed and faded back to the crowd, earning a frown and a backhand at her arm from a man that looked just like her.
“Are you ready to lead at the head of the column?” Ddun asked, an undertone of real concern through his formal voice.
“Yes, my General,” she gave a cocky grin, and nudged her horse on—they finally taught her how to ride, which was convenient. Borga was a gentleman about it.
Heavy with her own armour, it was empowering, too—and she loved the thought of all the eyes at her back, becoming quite the little narcissist. On either side of her saddle lances were strapped, flying long banners, tall above her head and they twisted far behind her in the wind. There were other bannermen through the sea of soldiers, but hers and Ddun’s were the most impressive.
There hadn’t been a force this large and organized through the prairie or the desert in a hundred years, and pride swelled in her heart as she looked to Ddun beside her, wearing his responsibility so well.
They were out of earshot of the column before she spoke candidly again. “What would you be doing now, if I had’ve stayed with the clan?”
“Probably still arguing with myself and seeing shadows at my feet, the men would think they had elected a madman.”
“You are a madman, but you’re just the right kind of insane, that’s why they picked you.”
He laughed. “You’re more right than you know.”
Turning, he blew a pair of short bursts into a gilded horn, an echo of trumpeting through the mass, and in unison the horses picked up speed, the very air shaking. With a jolt of excitement through her limbs she urged her horse faster too, and the baby fluttered.