The King's Horse (Shioni of Sheba Book 2) (12 page)

A
s the shadows lengthened
towards evening, the sun’s rays fled back up the canyon wall, filling the forest world with a golden, luminous light. Shioni munched on a mouthful of tart berries Tariku had taught her were edible. Only just, she thought. They made her cheeks pucker as though she were chewing a mouthful of lemon.

Suddenly,
the breeze brought a hint of wood smoke curling into her nostrils. She heard voices too. Angry voices. Her heart leaped into her throat and fluttered there like a frightened bird.

Shioni
cast about hastily, and then forced her way through several clumps of berry bushes and into the trees, away from the danger of the trail. She scanned the way ahead carefully, but if there was someone guarding the path, she could not see him. She licked her lips. Her warrior instructors often talked about courage. Why, then, did this smack of utter foolishness? Placing her feet carefully to avoid snapping branches or rustling leaves, she stole up toward the wooden stockade, which she could make out through the dense greenery.

T
he voices were arguing about the price of a horse. One accused the other of theft. The price was ridiculous. The horse was a ‘broken-down, shot-through old nag’. The other praised the stallion’s long legs and fine bearing. They swatted ideas and insults back and forth, trying to reach an agreement. From the dripping-of-acid tone of the exchange, Shioni guessed that the argument must have been going on for quite some time.

The poles making up the stockade were fixed close
ly together and chinked with grass, and too tall for her to see over. So up it would have to be. She picked a good tree, right near the edge of the forest. There were two men watching the trail–very half-heartedly–but she’d circled around behind the stockade to be as far away from them as possible. Quietly, she stowed her bow, quiver and blanket in a nearby bush, and started monkey-climbing the sloped trunk as best she could, given the pain that stabbed through her ankle every time she bumped it against a branch or put any weight on it at all.

A great deal of teeth-gritting later
, Shioni was able to push the foliage aside and gaze out over the compound.

She saw
two large huts within the stockade fence to either side of a large open space. A number of horses were tied along the fence near the gate, and she recognised Star, Hoplite and the King’s horse among them. Tariku and Talaku, trussed within an inch of their lives, were lying in the dirt in the middle of the open area. They looked battered, but alive. She counted at least fifteen men, standing in two surly groups either side of the leaders, who were still quarrelling. A couple of reedy, work-worn women were chopping vegetables into a pot stewing over an open fire outside the nearer of the two huts.

“You Wasabi are greedy hogs!” declared one of the men.

“You rebels think you’re so clever with your pathetic little uprising. Kalcha has real power! She will crush the Sheban invaders without your help.”

Hm
m. And there was Desta, sulking off to one side with his arms folded across his chest and a remarkably grumpy look on his face.

“Come on, let’s go,” said Desta, strutting forward now.
“We’ve heard enough from these Wasabi dogs. And we have our money.”

“Which way you headed?” asked the Wasabi who had been speaking.
He was an ugly brute of a man, with a shaven, scarred head and arms that looked as long as a monkey’s.

“North.
Then back to our village.”

“Better you stay clear of Chiro Leba,” said the
Wasabi leader, with a horrible laugh, “or Kalcha might pop you into her pot, just like these two fat pigeons you brought us!”

Talaku growled something brief and very rude at that point.
One of the men stepped over and kicked him casually in the neck. “Cork your mouth, you fat elephant, or my boot will cork it for you.”

Chiro Leba?
Vital information, thought Shioni, memorising the name. Exactly what the General must have been hoping they would discover.

“Then give us a pass to your bridge before it,” said Desta.

“Very well.” The man produced a scrap of parchment from his pocket and threw it on the ground at Desta’s feet. “Now get your stinking rabble out of here. You lot–make sure they find the right trail, do you hear me?”

The Wasabi warriors yi
pped like hyenas.

Shioni checked that she was shielding herself properly with the leaves.
She’d be less than useless to her companions if she was discovered now! She chewed her lower lip like it was a piece of dried meat. What now? How, in her condition, could she ever sneak in there and cut her friends loose? Or they were bound for Kalcha’s pot? Whatever that meant…

The rebels
exited the stockade, escorted by most of the Wasabi warriors. The men were exchanging filthy glances, and there was a great deal of strutting and posturing and hands resting on swords that made Shioni shake her head. They were just like the boys at the castle! But the exodus left–she checked quickly–the two women, the Wasabi leader who had disappeared into one of the huts, and the two louts outside the gate who had quickly lost interest and were playing the popular game of
gebeta
with stones in the dirt.

S
neaking in was out of the question, but fighting three warriors in her current shape–or at all–was just another form of madness. Night was closing in. The other Wasabi would want to return for their dinner. She didn’t have much time to… ah. Shioni drew her dagger. If she could somehow throw it down there without being noticed, Talaku or Tariku might be able use the blade to cut themselves loose.

Or she’d make
a fool of herself and be captured too!

Shioni
balanced the blade in her fingers, considering the distance. Yes, a decent throw could work. She needed to land it close to the men, however, or her plan would fail. Aim at Talaku? He was closer, and a much larger target. He was lying on his stomach–probably the only way of being even slightly comfortable with his hands pinned behind his back. She puffed a breath through her lips, trying to decide–if she stuck the blade into his head or back she could injure him badly, even a man of his size. Too far away and he would not be able to reach the dagger without making it obvious. So… that left his backside to aim at, didn’t it? She grinned.

Quick.
Bracing herself with her left arm, Shioni drew her right hand back to her ear and sent the blade spinning end over end into the twilight.

A
s the dagger arced
over the stockade, Shioni admired her throw. Perfect. Everything about it felt just
perfect
.

A cut-off cry came from the big lump on the ground.
It jerked. The two women looked up from their cooking.

“Cramp!”
came Talaku’s voice, over-loudly.

Shioni squinted into the Wasabi compound.
Where was the dagger? Where had it landed? The two women were keeping their heads bent over their work. She prayed they kept their eyes down, that a lifetime of habit would make them ignore a strange sound…

Talaku was squirming a little.
His bound legs kicked about. Now he was on his side wriggling, back and forth, he was…
oh my word!
Shioni knew exactly where the dagger had landed. The way he was moving, cutting the leather straps binding his wrists, left her in no doubt that the dagger had–unfortunately–landed exactly where she had aimed. What were the odds? Over that distance?

“It was meant to land
close to him, you nitwit,” she muttered, retreating down the tree trunk. Stinking hyenas, her ankle was killing her!

She heard a shout from inside the stockade.
The two warriors at the gate dashed inside, which was probably not a smart move considering an angry giant was expecting them. One of them came flying over the stockade much faster than he had entered. She saw flames licking over the roof of one of the huts.

By the time she
was sliding down the sloped part of the trunk, Tariku was waiting at the foot of the tree with Star. He grinned and called up to her, “As the General once famously said, ‘I should have known that the castle’s biggest troublemaker would be somewhere beneath this weaver’s knot. But to find out in this way is truly…’ Well, we’ll need to change it to something more suitable. Ride?”

“Great!”

As they joined Talaku, who was leading the King’s horse by a rope halter, the giant handed Shioni her dagger. “Thanks for the rescue.”

“I
–er, thanks. Where
did
the dagger land?”

Talaku turned around and indicated a bloody
puncture in his trousers. “Where exactly were you aiming?”

Shioni’s
cheeks turned a bright shade of pink.

“
Next time try not to hit your target!” Behind the giant, Tariku chortled away like a happy hyena, until Talaku turned and remarked, “Guess who’s dressing my wound later?”

The three companions, reunited,
travelled through the better part of the night to put a good distance between themselves and any Wasabi pursuit. The moon was full, thankfully, so there was enough light to avoid the worst of the pits hidden like beastly mouths skulking in the forest shadows, ready to swallow an unwary traveller.

Shioni asked Tariku what they had done with the Wasabi warriors and their leader in the stockade.
He said, “We let the women flee,” and then patted her knee. “And the rest isn’t for young ears.”

Great.
Just when she thought she was bonding with the warriors, they put her back in her place. Young, inexperienced, slave-girl. She was grumbling under her breath when Tariku added, “Shioni, to take a life is a dreadful thing. It changes a person forever.”

This coming from a warrior of many years and battles?
The surprise must have shown in her eyes. He nodded. “Some warriors don’t seem to mind. But I think everyone is changed in battle. One day I know my son will return with that certain look in his eye.” He grimaced. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.”

Before dawn they rested, and by the first hour of day
light, they were back at the river crossing where the stele stood opposite as a stark reminder to something long forgotten. As they turned their mounts into the muddy brown flow, Tariku turned to Shioni and asked the question she had been dreading.

“When we were captured, where were you?”

Talaku, wading knee-deep next to Shioni, looked up with a grunt of agreement. “I was just thinking the same. We covered for you–they thought it was just us two.”

Shioni tried not to let her
discomfort show. Desta had not revealed her presence to his men, she realised. He’d held true to his promise. But if he had any principles, he was definitely confused about them! She touched the neat lump adorning her temple. Principles that led him to club people and then drag them out of the river! Wouldn’t he be shocked when the three of them returned alive and well…

“Even with your ankle, it took you an awfully long time to turn up.”
Tariku was pressing the point, misunderstanding her silence. “While your rescue was timely, for which I thank you with all the parts of my body not currently stewing in Kalcha’s pot, I had to put stitches in a part of Talaku I’d rather not have had to deal with.”

But while his mouth
was spouting jokes, Shioni saw that his eyes were not smiling. “I slipped on a rock whilst bathing,” she said.

“And I’m a vulture’s grandmother.”

“I thought I saw the family resemblance,” chuckled Talaku.

Both men looked expectantly at her.

“One of the rebels knocked me out and left me on a sandbank beside the river.”

Tariku
scowled at her. “That makes even less sense than your first answer. Or should I say, your first
lie
. You would have made a greater prize than either of us, given how the tales of your bow shot have multiplied across the peaks and valleys. And he left you your weapons. That is beyond stupidity–even for a villager.”

“Poor isn’t the same as stupid.”

“Now I hear Mama Nomuula’s preaching.” He reached over to tap her head. “You’re trying to mislead me.”

“
Ouch! I’m telling the truth.”

The river grew deeper until it touched Star’s belly.
Tariku did not speak until they reached the far side, but Shioni could almost hear the thoughts whizzing around in his head like bees in a beehive.

Talaku said,
“I want to examine the stele.”

Tariku waved him on, before turning to Shioni.
In a low voice, he said, “You play a dangerous game, slave-girl. The only reason these rebels could possibly have left you behind is if you were working in cahoots with them.”

“
I think you know me better than that, Tariku.”

“I’m not sure I do.”

“I saved your life! Doesn’t that count for–”

“
Rat droppings,” Tariku hissed between gritted teeth. “A whole heap of steaming fresh rat droppings. You knew that rebel who hit you. Which one was it? You know something about them which you’re not telling me. I don’t care that you stuck a dagger in my friend’s–no, I don’t!”

“
Oh, so you’d rather be facing Kalcha? Simmering nicely in her pot until tender?”

Talaku’s voice floated down from the stele.
“Would you take a look at this?”

Shioni nudged Star to move her forward up the small bluff to where the stele stood guard over the river crossing.
Tariku rushed in front of her to wave his fist beneath her nose. “You still have to face the General. I dare you to tell
him
this ridiculous story!”

She
clenched her jaw and gave the warrior what she hoped was a steadfast look, a look at odds with the turmoil in her heart. “I have my reasons.”

“
Against your petty reasons, do try to weigh the hundreds of Sheban lives at stake.” Shioni stiffened at the weight of his sarcasm. “Think of all the children the Wasabi will kill to feed Kalcha’s lust for power. And remember–if you don’t speak up, I will.”

She wanted to scream:
‘Unfair!’

The stele towered above them, three times the height of Talaku.
The four-sided stone column stood on a star-shaped plinth apparently cut from a single, seamless block of black granite, and its faces were covered in line upon line of enigmatic script. Talaku beckoned them closer.

“What do you see?”

He was pointing upwards. There, above a height even he could reach–perhaps fifteen feet off the ground–was an unmarked section of stone, and set in the middle of that section was the imprint of a gigantic hand. The fingers were longer and more pointed than human fingers, Shioni noticed, but it was unquestionably a hand, a monstrous right hand with four fingers and a thumb.

Talaku spread his fingers to compare sizes.
“That is
big
.”

Shioni and Tariku stared at each other, then up at the stele, their quarrel quite forgotten
as the implications of what they were seeing began to sink in.

“How do you raise a stele
of this size?” asked Talaku, his face set in a wide, feral grin. His eyes were agleam with excitement. “How do you erect this plinth in the first instance? And why here, in the middle of nowhere alongside a river? I tell you, my friends, there are secrets and mysteries to be uncovered in these mountains; things we haven’t even begun to imagine. I wonder what would happen if my hand were large enough to press into that print?”

There was a long, long silence between them.

“Anyone laughing about giants now?” asked Tariku. “I’m not.”