Cave Geeks II, Chapter 21
Title: Clan of the Cave Geeks Book II: The Warrior of Honor
Author: Taylor Dancinghands -laughingunicorn@gmail.com
Characters/Pairings: Zelenka/McKay, Beckett/Lorne, and eventually Sheppard/Weir, plus: Teyla, Ronon, Stackhouse, Markham, Miller, Kavanagh, Cadman, Halling, and Jinto, and a big ol’ pile of OCs
Category: slash, drama, action/adventure, h/c, AU
Warnings: Sloppy Paleolithic history, anachronistic technological leaps and funnied up names.
Rating: NC-17, explicit M/M and eventually M/F sex depictions
Summary: So what does a bonafide genius do in an era of stone knives and bear skins?
Spoilers/Season: none
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, never will, not claiming to. Just wanna play with 'em a little. Can't I, can't I, huh?
Beta:Many thanks to my most worthy betareader
smingus for her encouragement and feedback. We loves our betareaders we does.
Chapter 21
Shef'hred stretched out his aching legs again, slowly and carefully, as he watched the toolmaker depart. In a strange way it had been easier to deal with the man as he first encountered him -angry and vengeful. That was the sort of thing he expected from his captors. R'dek, as he was behaving now, and the Headwoman, Li'bet, on the other hand, were confusing the hell out of him, and this made his next decisions even more difficult than they already were.
He was fairly sure that Li'bet had told him the truth when she'd said he was free to go. If he took off running now... well, Shef'hred reflected, he'd probably get no more than a dozen steps before he fell on his face, the way his legs were feeling now, but give it a few days and he'd be back in shape again. And if he did take off, he really didn't think anyone would chase him down or kill him. They'd probably watch their boarders carefully for a few months, maybe track him to see if he was hanging around or not, but that was all.
He looked across at the woman guarding him -Teleya, he thought her name was- and she met his eyes directly, without a trace of either fear or aggression. She and her tall, scary looking friend would probably be the ones to track him, and they were probably pretty good at it. They had that look about them. They wouldn't give him any trouble, though, as long as he didn't bother anyone else, Shef'hred was sure of that too, but what of it?
What would he do, a homeless, tribeless, former warrior, out in the world alone? Turn to robbery on the road? Hire himself out as a fighter? Become a hermit? None of those choices sounded very appealing. How could he bear to live any other life, though? How could he endure a life of labor and sameness, year after year, in a place like this? Eventually he'd become the sort of man that he loathed the very idea of now. How could he allow himself become that man? Wouldn't he rather be dead?
Wouldn't he?
More than likely, no one would stop him if he staggered over to the lake and drowned himself either. He was just as free to do that as anything. If he would be the man his father raised him to be, he would do just that. Why wasn't he, then? The part of Shef'hred that spoke with his father's voice had an answer for that. It was because he was weak, and a coward, and because he'd meant it when he'd told the toolmaker that he was looking forward to visiting with him again, when he should have wanted nothing other than to kill the man who had spit in his face.
Shef'hred had no particular love for his father, but there was a part of him that was impossible to ignore, who devoutly believed that the man had been right about what a good -and real- man really was, even if he'd been an asshole. Shef'hred wanted to be a good man; it was all he had left now, and if that meant dying to prevent himself from becoming... something far less... Shef'hred felt a painful resolve form in him, and began the equally painful process of dragging himself to his feet.
Teleya, wisely, did not offer him help, though she watched him like a hawk. When he stood, finally, leaning heavily on the post to which he'd been bound, and which now served as his 'tent pole', she stood as well, saying nothing, and keeping her posture carefully casual. It was then, of course, that her tree-like companion showed up, and they appeared to be switching off.
He had some food with him too, for Shef'hred -a piece of flatbread rolled around a strip of dried fish- and although he didn't really feel hungry, he ate it, chewing mechanically as he leaned against his tent post. The tall man, he thought he'd heard Teleya call him R'non, stood to watch him for a moment, then finally sat, evidently satisfied that even if Shef'hred took off 'running' he'd easily be able to catch him.
Eventually he began working on making arrows again -long ones for the absurdly long bow he used- apparently not paying the least bit of attention to Shef'hred, though he knew that not to be true. Shef'hred tried a few tentative steps, wincing as he did, then tried a little stretching, which he could not manage without a grunt of pain or two. R'non remained mercifully impassive.
He did not fail to notice when Shef'hred began to make small forays away from the support of his tent post, though did no more than to occasionally lift his head from his work. The man was never going to let him wander off unattended, Shef'hred realized, even if his intention was only to drown himself. Still, maybe there was one avenue of subterfuge open to him.
"Hey pal," Shef'hred called. "Is it okay if I go, ah, water a tree? I'll be right back, I promise."
R'non looked up, casting about for the nearest tree which, Shef'hred now realized, was some distance to the west. "You think you'll really make it that far on your own?" R'non asked with a humorless smirk.
"Sure," Shef'hred responded with entirely false bravado.
"Why don't you go and water the barricade instead," R'non suggested the row of waist high sharpened stakes set into the earth, a few steps away. This, Shef'hred sensed, was not really an optional suggestion.
"Sure," he said again, trying to sound casually agreeable, not at all sure that he had fooled R'non in the least. It was only a handful of steps to take him to where the barricade stood between him and his guard, and it was about all he could manage. He'd have never made it to the tree, he thought with a sigh, bracing himself with one hand on one of the sturdier stakes while he relieved himself. It was still good to be able to take care of this himself, but his idea about casually wandering off in the direction of the lake was clearly not going to fly.
Of course, the lake was always going to be there, Shef'hred thought as he refastened his leggings and hobbled back to his shelter, but his resolve, he knew, was not. Every day, that passed, every handspan of the sky that the sun crossed, weakened the determination that he had formed to do the right thing, and end his life before it became something he could never take pride in. His father's voice goaded him to do it now, not to wait, but rushing off now would only result in an embarrassing incident that might result in his wishing to die with greater intensity, but bring him no closer to achieving that goal.
He could, he supposed, just sit here on the ground and beat his head against this post until his skull cracked open, and sinking deeper and deeper into a morass of helpless anger and self pity, Shef'hred began to wonder if he couldn't really do just that, but before he could try, he saw a villager, one he did not think he had seen before, approaching his 'camp.' Shockingly, the man was actually a shade taller than R'non, but he was no where near as intimidating. Leaner, with long, lank gray hair and kind eyes, the man greeted R'non, then strode directly over to Shef'hred, looking him up and down only briefly, then settling his gaze directly to meet Shef'hred's.
"I am Hallen," the man introduced himself, "Master Fisherman here in Lakeside. Headwoman Li'bet tells me that you have agreed to help us rebuild our fishing dock. Is this so?"
"I guess," Shef'hred said, now recalling what Li'bet had said about this man coming to walk with him and show him the dock. Gods he was an idiot. They were going to take him right to the lake. All he had to do was play along for a little while longer.
"Good," Hallen was saying with open sincerity. "Then I will say we are well met. Will you say the same?"
Shef'hred responded to Hallen's open hand gesture with his own. "Well met, Hallen," he said, nodding. "I am Shef'hred, the rider, and Headwoman Li'bet told me that you'd take me walking to see the dock, or rather, the place it used to be. Is that the plan?"
"That it is, friend," Hallen said, "and I know that you may still find walking a little difficult, so please do not hesitate to ask for assistance if you need it."
"I think I'm gonna see how far I can manage without it," Shef'hred said, pushing himself away from his shelter pole. "Just lead the way."
"Fair enough," the fisherman said, striding out effortlessly to do as Shef'hred had asked. The fisherman bid R'non farewell as they departed, letting him know that they'd be back before dinner time, and Shef'hred frowned to think that he'd eaten his last meal, and should never see R'non again. He glanced over at him one last time as he walked painfully away, but said not a word.
Hallen slowed his pace after a bit, and though Shef'hred had not asked him to, he was grateful nonetheless. Every muscle and joint, from his hips to his toes, ached horribly, by the time the lake and the charred remains of the dock came into view. When his left knee gave way suddenly for a second, Hallen was right there for him, letting Shef'hred grab his shoulder to keep from going down. Shef'hred left his hand resting there for the rest of the trip, telling himself that he could redeem his lost dignity, for once and for all, when they reached the lake.
He would certainly have enough witnesses, Shef'hred reflected, for the lake shore was a busy place. Here, where a handful of men worked at sorting the possibly useful, only slightly charred pieces of wood from that useful only for firewood, and further up the sandy shoreline, where a group of women worked, washing and doing other chores, as their children played nearby. The day was fair too -the sky completely cloudless, with a pleasant breeze blowing. A nice day to die.
Hallen was introducing to someone who looked faintly familiar... right, this was the guy who had stood guard over him that first night, and his name, apparently, was Demery. Shef'hred returned his greeting politely, his mind on the steps from here to the water's edge. "Let me show you where we are now, and what our plans are," Hallen was saying, so that made things simpler still.
He was able to walk slowly, without the fisherman's support, down to the dock's surviving stone footings, nodding appropriately as Hallen spoke of how the dock had been constructed, and the improvements he and Rodne -that rude stargazer guy- had planned. None of that was important now, however, because here he was, standing with his feet nearly in the water, all he had to do was turn away... walk a few steps. He'd dive down if they came after him, and Shef'hred had no idea how to swim -not that he could in his current condition, anyhow. He'd be done for as soon as he got out to where the water was over his head. Shef'hred shuffled a little ways into the lake, pretending to want to get a look at the other side of the footings. Nearly there...
There came a shout then, first from a small group of youngsters far down the lake shore to the east, then from some of the other children on the nearer shore. Then he heard it himself, the too familiar distant thunder, though there was not a cloud in the sky.
"The riding beasts! The riding beasts!" the children shouted. "There they are! Look! Look!" Even the adults working around him stopped what they were doing for a second, looking out, to the south, to see the herd of recently emancipated horses, galloping together across the grassland, flowing like water, the way that they always did.
"Horses," he heard himself say, softly at first, and then loud enough to be heard. "They're called horses... not 'riding beasts'." Shef'hred had thought his legs hurt, but that was nothing compared to the ache that seized his heart when he saw them, saw his own, coal black, Jumper, flying out ahead of the group, leading them with an innate skill Shef'hred himself had never possessed.
He was hardly aware that he was moving, out of the water to make his way slowly toward them, though they were much too far away to reach. The herd slowed now, evidently finding good grazing, though Jumper still circled around them, making sure none of his charges wandered off. Wincing in sympathetic discomfort, Shef'hred could see now that Jumper still wore his saddle and halter, as did most of the horses, as no one here would know to remove them. There, Gods help her, was a mare with her reins tangled with a foreleg, and bringing up the rear was Ba'ates red colored stallion, Spark, with his saddle come loose and hanging under his belly. He bucked again and again, as Shef'hred watched, but of course, could not dislodge it.
None of the people here would have even the faintest idea how to approach a horse, much less that they could become injured or crippled, or even killed with their riding gear left on like this. He couldn't leave them. He couldn't bear to leave Jumper. Not like this; not with no one to care for them. Shef'hred felt his resolve to end his life break into little pieces, his father's angry, disapproving voice falling on deaf ears.
"They are indeed magnificent creatures," Hallen was saying, and then he was telling Shef'hred about how he could be useful carrying newly cut logs from the forest to the far lake shore where they would be floated across to be used in the rebuilding of the dock, and Shef'hred heard his own voice saying, "Sure, I can do that... I mean, not today, obviously, but at some point here..."
What was he doing?
He'd been a heartbeat away from saving himself and instead, here he was agreeing to labor of the basest sort. He felt disoriented... like he'd lost something he could not even name any more. Was it his honor? Now he wasn't even sure what that meant.
"Shef'hred, are you alright?" Hallen was asking him, and Shef'hred had no idea how to answer him.
"I think... I might need to give my legs a rest for now," he said, not sure where the words had come from, though they were true enough.
"Of course," Hallen was immediately understanding, letting Shef'hred take what help he wanted, and letting him set the pace. They made their ways slowly back to his shelter, Shef'hred lost in his thoughts and Hallen kindly leaving him be. He lowered himself to the ground the moment they arrived, dragging himself under the hide shelter Li'bet had built for him there, to curl on his side, back to the world. He'd not thought to ever see this place again, and returning to it came as a personal defeat, of the profoundest sort.
He might have dozed; he might have cried a little, though he would never admit this even to himself. Time passed, the angle of the sun shifted, little by little, until long shadows fell over his little shelter, and there came the sounds of a familiar voice, speaking softly with R'non, and then the sound of footsteps approaching.
"Shef'hred?" Li'bet's voice came, sounding a little tentative. "How are you doing this evening?"
"'M'fine," he bit out, as tersely as he could manage.
"I... I'm not sure that you sound fine," Li'bet replied after a moment, sounding even more tentative.
"And how is that any business of yours?" If Li'bet didn't know the real reason his voice sounded so harsh, he could pretend he didn't either. Li'bet didn't respond for a long spell, and Shef'hred began to think that maybe she'd left when she spoke again, barely loud enough for him to hear.
"Should... should I just leave your food and go?" she asked, not frosty and hostile as he'd expected, but sad, worried... and maybe just a little hurt.
She would go too, Shef'hred knew, if he didn't speak up... and he didn't want her to, didn't really want to be alone, even if he should. "No... wait..." Rolling back over was an ordeal, both physically and emotionally, and Shef'hred knew, as he scrubbed his hand over his face, that she would see the misery written there. There was no point then in disguising the grunt of pain he gave as he pushed himself upright, to sit once again with his back resting against his tent post.
"Shef'hred..." Li'bet said again sadly, seeing everything he was too weak to hide. "I'm so sorry..."
"For what?" he asked, feeling defeated, and yet still puzzled by this woman.
"I'm not sure," she said, sounding a little lost herself. "For your pain, for your loss... If you would speak of it... or would you rather not?"
Shef'hred drew his knees up so he could rest his elbows there, and then rest his head in his hands. "I don't know..." he began, the words coming without his having made any particular decision one way or another, he'd thought. "I don't know who I am anymore, but I don't think I can be... what everyone here wants me to be."
Feeling Li'bet's hand come to rest, carefully, on his leg, Shef'hred shuddered, not with discomfort, but the opposite. "I don't think anyone here knows who you might or might not become, if you chose to stay," she said. "I don't think you know yet either, but I do think it will be someone none of us knows yet. We've never known anyone like you before, Shef'hred, but most people here can only imagine that you must either be an uncivilized killer, or happy to settle down and be just like the other fishermen and hunters of Lakeside. Neither of those things is true, I know now, but the alternative -the truth- is something unknown, for all of us."
Shef'hred was surprised to hear the faintest note of recrimination in Li'bet's voice, as though she thought she'd made a mistake with him, though he couldn't imagine what it could be. He lifted his head to meet her gaze and saw it there in her eyes as well. She wanted to make something right with him and he had no idea what she'd done wrong. "How do I go forward," he asked, wanting to offer her something, "when I don't know who I am?"
"You'll need to feel your way," she answered him, receiving his offering graciously. "We all will, and take small steps." She took one of her own then, small but a little bold, in reaching up to take one of his hands, clasping it in her own. "Do you think you could eat something?" she asked then.
Shef'hred looked down at their joined hands, part of him afraid at what it could mean, another part desperately grateful for the touch, the human contact. He wasn't terribly hungry, but eating would mean being able to let go without rejecting her. He found he didn't want to do that at all. "What have we got?" he asked, still not letting go of her hand.
"Roast duck and onions," she answered with a smile. "And I think it's probably still fairly warm."
She retrieved a cloth covered bowl from behind her, and as soon as she removed the cloth Shef'hred could smell the cooked meat and onions, and he found, to his surprise, that the scents were actually waking his appetite. He plucked up a bit of meat at her gesture, finding it falling away from the bone easily, and the first taste woke his appetite further still, for it was absolutely delicious. "Damn, this is good," he said said, finding a piece of onion to follow it, and he realized that he was smiling.
"I'm glad you like it," Li'bet said with a smile of her own, that was surprisingly shy. It was a look that Shef'hred had never seen on her before, one that made him think of her, for the first time, not as a leader of her people, but as a woman.
"You made this?" Shef'hred asked with a flash of insight. He was rewarded with a dazzling smile, and a little color on her fair cheeks.
"I did, in fact," she confessed, handing him some bread. "So thank you."
They ate in contented silence for a while, and Shef'hred found himself savoring the food, the feel of a cool breeze on his cheek and the sight of the long angled, amber colored sunlight falling on Li'bet's face. He found he could not make himself sorry that he was alive.
After a bit Li'bet began to tell him something about Hallen and his family and, when Shef'hred asked, about the tool maker and his odd friend, and he could not help but smile at her stories. Clearly Li'bet cared for her people, with all their faults and foibles, and for a moment, the idea of being one of the people she cared for seemed oddly attractive. Shef'hred soon recalled the burden of drudgery and menial labor that went with it, however, and the attraction faded again. The people here were only content because they didn't know any other life, and couldn't imagine one. Shef'hred couldn't make himself believe anything else.
Still, by the time the meal ended Shef'hred had to admit to a certain fondness that had grown in him for the headwoman. She was... impressive, in her own way. Almost honorable. It was because of this last that Shef'hred finally decided that he could trust her with his need to see the horses cared for. He brought it up as they were finishing the plums she'd brought as a sweet finish to the meal.
"Can I ask you... a favor?" he asked, wiping his plum juice sticky fingers on the grass.
"Of course," Li'bet answered him, brightening as though his asking did her a great honor.
"The horses... the ones that survived the battle, they'll mostly be okay here, running loose," he said, "but a lot of them still have their riding gear on -their saddles and halters and reins..." Of course she wouldn't know what those things were, but she was nodding. She got the general idea.
"That's not good for them?" she guessed.
"No," he confirmed. "They can end up getting hurt, or trapped, or even killed. Someone needs to get it off them. They can even cut it off -seeing as the owners are all dead. I'd do it myself, but I don't think I'll be up to chasing horses down for a few days, and besides..."
"Besides, you don't think we're going to be all that eager to give you that much freedom yet, or a knife," Li'bet said perceptively. "And you're probably right. Any instructions I should pass on to whoever wants to give it a try?"
A lifetime's worth, Shef'hred thought with frustration, but... "They're smart," he said, "and they'll pick up on what you're feeling, so be calm around them. Don't make any sudden moves and for the Gods' sake don't ever come up behind one. They can kill you with a kick from their back legs."
"I'll be sure to mention that," Li'bet said seriously.
"Yeah," Shef'hred said with a wry smile. "They'll be skittish around strangers, but if you bring an apple or a beetroot or something, a lot of them will make friends real fast. I, ah... I always talked to mine. Doesn't really matter what you say, as long as your voice is calm -it'll calm the horse down."
"Makes sense," Elizabeth said with a nod. "I think I can remember all that, or I can have whoever agrees to do the job come talk to you."
"Sure," Shef'hred replied, stretching his legs out with a comfortable sigh. He could feel them recovering already, and having this solid evidence at last lifted a small burden of anxiety. Li'bet watched him silently for a moment, then leaned forward to lay a hand on his arm again.
"Are you feeling any better now, Shef'hred?" she asked him, a soft intensity to her question that he found almost startling.
"Yeah," he said thoughtfully, finding her voice compelling the truth from him. "Yeah, I guess I am. Thanks." Her smile was brighter than the half moon, shining high in the sky, now that the sun had set. It's light remained with him too, even as she made her farewells, leaving him alone with R'non and the small fire that burned between them.
He stood once more and, with R'non's approval stepped over to 'water the barricade' again, finding the short journey much less of an ordeal than it had been this morning. So much had changed for him in only one day, he mused, returning to his shelter. He had been made free and yet not. He had determined to end his life, but hadn't, and had finished his day by extending a degree of trust to a woman who, by all rights he should have considered an enemy -and who should have considered him an enemy in turn.
He'd been thanked for a gift that he'd meant as little more than a creative discarding of property he could no longer keep, and been told that he must expect a gift of great significance in the future. He'd freely committed himself to a future life of a sort that he'd once considered worse than death, and turned away from the clean and honorable death he thought he'd longed for, for the sake of some animals, then turned the care of those creatures over to an unknown stranger. None of it made sense, but Shef'hred could not find any moment in the day that he regretted, or that he wished he'd done something different.
One small step at a time, Li'bet had advised him, and so it seemed it must be. It recalled Shef'hred to a misadventure he'd had when he and Jumper had first been getting to know each other. He'd taken a wrong turn and lead them both into a marshy area, with dangerous quagmires on every side. Horse and rider had been forced to trust each other that day, as they'd made their way, step by cautious step, out of that treacherous place, and at the end of it, Shef'hred knew they'd forged a bond with each other that would last for the rest of their lives.
Coming to attack Lakeside had certainly been a wrong turn of his own making, Shef'hred had to own, but Jumper was not with him now. It seemed he was alone... and yet that had seemed the case in the marsh as well -at first, for he had not yet learned to trust his mount. Could it be, he wondered now, that it was Li'bet who made this perilous journey with him? Was the way not just as uncertain and fraught with danger for her as it was for him? Might they not find their way forward best if they learned to trust each other?
The very idea left Shef'hred a little thunderstruck, but the parallels were too obvious to ignore. The enormity of this truth, and what it all might mean filled his thoughts and imagination as he gazed into the small fire that R'non continued to feed into the night. It was a long time before Shef'hred slept, and when he did, his dreams were all of uncertain journeys though unknown lands.
****
Next week: Toolmaker Magic for a wounded Hunter
Author: Taylor Dancinghands -laughingunicorn@gmail.com
Characters/Pairings: Zelenka/McKay, Beckett/Lorne, and eventually Sheppard/Weir, plus: Teyla, Ronon, Stackhouse, Markham, Miller, Kavanagh, Cadman, Halling, and Jinto, and a big ol’ pile of OCs
Category: slash, drama, action/adventure, h/c, AU
Warnings: Sloppy Paleolithic history, anachronistic technological leaps and funnied up names.
Rating: NC-17, explicit M/M and eventually M/F sex depictions
Summary: So what does a bonafide genius do in an era of stone knives and bear skins?
Spoilers/Season: none
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, never will, not claiming to. Just wanna play with 'em a little. Can't I, can't I, huh?
Beta:Many thanks to my most worthy betareader
smingus for her encouragement and feedback. We loves our betareaders we does.Chapter 21
Shef'hred stretched out his aching legs again, slowly and carefully, as he watched the toolmaker depart. In a strange way it had been easier to deal with the man as he first encountered him -angry and vengeful. That was the sort of thing he expected from his captors. R'dek, as he was behaving now, and the Headwoman, Li'bet, on the other hand, were confusing the hell out of him, and this made his next decisions even more difficult than they already were.
He was fairly sure that Li'bet had told him the truth when she'd said he was free to go. If he took off running now... well, Shef'hred reflected, he'd probably get no more than a dozen steps before he fell on his face, the way his legs were feeling now, but give it a few days and he'd be back in shape again. And if he did take off, he really didn't think anyone would chase him down or kill him. They'd probably watch their boarders carefully for a few months, maybe track him to see if he was hanging around or not, but that was all.
He looked across at the woman guarding him -Teleya, he thought her name was- and she met his eyes directly, without a trace of either fear or aggression. She and her tall, scary looking friend would probably be the ones to track him, and they were probably pretty good at it. They had that look about them. They wouldn't give him any trouble, though, as long as he didn't bother anyone else, Shef'hred was sure of that too, but what of it?
What would he do, a homeless, tribeless, former warrior, out in the world alone? Turn to robbery on the road? Hire himself out as a fighter? Become a hermit? None of those choices sounded very appealing. How could he bear to live any other life, though? How could he endure a life of labor and sameness, year after year, in a place like this? Eventually he'd become the sort of man that he loathed the very idea of now. How could he allow himself become that man? Wouldn't he rather be dead?
Wouldn't he?
More than likely, no one would stop him if he staggered over to the lake and drowned himself either. He was just as free to do that as anything. If he would be the man his father raised him to be, he would do just that. Why wasn't he, then? The part of Shef'hred that spoke with his father's voice had an answer for that. It was because he was weak, and a coward, and because he'd meant it when he'd told the toolmaker that he was looking forward to visiting with him again, when he should have wanted nothing other than to kill the man who had spit in his face.
Shef'hred had no particular love for his father, but there was a part of him that was impossible to ignore, who devoutly believed that the man had been right about what a good -and real- man really was, even if he'd been an asshole. Shef'hred wanted to be a good man; it was all he had left now, and if that meant dying to prevent himself from becoming... something far less... Shef'hred felt a painful resolve form in him, and began the equally painful process of dragging himself to his feet.
Teleya, wisely, did not offer him help, though she watched him like a hawk. When he stood, finally, leaning heavily on the post to which he'd been bound, and which now served as his 'tent pole', she stood as well, saying nothing, and keeping her posture carefully casual. It was then, of course, that her tree-like companion showed up, and they appeared to be switching off.
He had some food with him too, for Shef'hred -a piece of flatbread rolled around a strip of dried fish- and although he didn't really feel hungry, he ate it, chewing mechanically as he leaned against his tent post. The tall man, he thought he'd heard Teleya call him R'non, stood to watch him for a moment, then finally sat, evidently satisfied that even if Shef'hred took off 'running' he'd easily be able to catch him.
Eventually he began working on making arrows again -long ones for the absurdly long bow he used- apparently not paying the least bit of attention to Shef'hred, though he knew that not to be true. Shef'hred tried a few tentative steps, wincing as he did, then tried a little stretching, which he could not manage without a grunt of pain or two. R'non remained mercifully impassive.
He did not fail to notice when Shef'hred began to make small forays away from the support of his tent post, though did no more than to occasionally lift his head from his work. The man was never going to let him wander off unattended, Shef'hred realized, even if his intention was only to drown himself. Still, maybe there was one avenue of subterfuge open to him.
"Hey pal," Shef'hred called. "Is it okay if I go, ah, water a tree? I'll be right back, I promise."
R'non looked up, casting about for the nearest tree which, Shef'hred now realized, was some distance to the west. "You think you'll really make it that far on your own?" R'non asked with a humorless smirk.
"Sure," Shef'hred responded with entirely false bravado.
"Why don't you go and water the barricade instead," R'non suggested the row of waist high sharpened stakes set into the earth, a few steps away. This, Shef'hred sensed, was not really an optional suggestion.
"Sure," he said again, trying to sound casually agreeable, not at all sure that he had fooled R'non in the least. It was only a handful of steps to take him to where the barricade stood between him and his guard, and it was about all he could manage. He'd have never made it to the tree, he thought with a sigh, bracing himself with one hand on one of the sturdier stakes while he relieved himself. It was still good to be able to take care of this himself, but his idea about casually wandering off in the direction of the lake was clearly not going to fly.
Of course, the lake was always going to be there, Shef'hred thought as he refastened his leggings and hobbled back to his shelter, but his resolve, he knew, was not. Every day, that passed, every handspan of the sky that the sun crossed, weakened the determination that he had formed to do the right thing, and end his life before it became something he could never take pride in. His father's voice goaded him to do it now, not to wait, but rushing off now would only result in an embarrassing incident that might result in his wishing to die with greater intensity, but bring him no closer to achieving that goal.
He could, he supposed, just sit here on the ground and beat his head against this post until his skull cracked open, and sinking deeper and deeper into a morass of helpless anger and self pity, Shef'hred began to wonder if he couldn't really do just that, but before he could try, he saw a villager, one he did not think he had seen before, approaching his 'camp.' Shockingly, the man was actually a shade taller than R'non, but he was no where near as intimidating. Leaner, with long, lank gray hair and kind eyes, the man greeted R'non, then strode directly over to Shef'hred, looking him up and down only briefly, then settling his gaze directly to meet Shef'hred's.
"I am Hallen," the man introduced himself, "Master Fisherman here in Lakeside. Headwoman Li'bet tells me that you have agreed to help us rebuild our fishing dock. Is this so?"
"I guess," Shef'hred said, now recalling what Li'bet had said about this man coming to walk with him and show him the dock. Gods he was an idiot. They were going to take him right to the lake. All he had to do was play along for a little while longer.
"Good," Hallen was saying with open sincerity. "Then I will say we are well met. Will you say the same?"
Shef'hred responded to Hallen's open hand gesture with his own. "Well met, Hallen," he said, nodding. "I am Shef'hred, the rider, and Headwoman Li'bet told me that you'd take me walking to see the dock, or rather, the place it used to be. Is that the plan?"
"That it is, friend," Hallen said, "and I know that you may still find walking a little difficult, so please do not hesitate to ask for assistance if you need it."
"I think I'm gonna see how far I can manage without it," Shef'hred said, pushing himself away from his shelter pole. "Just lead the way."
"Fair enough," the fisherman said, striding out effortlessly to do as Shef'hred had asked. The fisherman bid R'non farewell as they departed, letting him know that they'd be back before dinner time, and Shef'hred frowned to think that he'd eaten his last meal, and should never see R'non again. He glanced over at him one last time as he walked painfully away, but said not a word.
Hallen slowed his pace after a bit, and though Shef'hred had not asked him to, he was grateful nonetheless. Every muscle and joint, from his hips to his toes, ached horribly, by the time the lake and the charred remains of the dock came into view. When his left knee gave way suddenly for a second, Hallen was right there for him, letting Shef'hred grab his shoulder to keep from going down. Shef'hred left his hand resting there for the rest of the trip, telling himself that he could redeem his lost dignity, for once and for all, when they reached the lake.
He would certainly have enough witnesses, Shef'hred reflected, for the lake shore was a busy place. Here, where a handful of men worked at sorting the possibly useful, only slightly charred pieces of wood from that useful only for firewood, and further up the sandy shoreline, where a group of women worked, washing and doing other chores, as their children played nearby. The day was fair too -the sky completely cloudless, with a pleasant breeze blowing. A nice day to die.
Hallen was introducing to someone who looked faintly familiar... right, this was the guy who had stood guard over him that first night, and his name, apparently, was Demery. Shef'hred returned his greeting politely, his mind on the steps from here to the water's edge. "Let me show you where we are now, and what our plans are," Hallen was saying, so that made things simpler still.
He was able to walk slowly, without the fisherman's support, down to the dock's surviving stone footings, nodding appropriately as Hallen spoke of how the dock had been constructed, and the improvements he and Rodne -that rude stargazer guy- had planned. None of that was important now, however, because here he was, standing with his feet nearly in the water, all he had to do was turn away... walk a few steps. He'd dive down if they came after him, and Shef'hred had no idea how to swim -not that he could in his current condition, anyhow. He'd be done for as soon as he got out to where the water was over his head. Shef'hred shuffled a little ways into the lake, pretending to want to get a look at the other side of the footings. Nearly there...
There came a shout then, first from a small group of youngsters far down the lake shore to the east, then from some of the other children on the nearer shore. Then he heard it himself, the too familiar distant thunder, though there was not a cloud in the sky.
"The riding beasts! The riding beasts!" the children shouted. "There they are! Look! Look!" Even the adults working around him stopped what they were doing for a second, looking out, to the south, to see the herd of recently emancipated horses, galloping together across the grassland, flowing like water, the way that they always did.
"Horses," he heard himself say, softly at first, and then loud enough to be heard. "They're called horses... not 'riding beasts'." Shef'hred had thought his legs hurt, but that was nothing compared to the ache that seized his heart when he saw them, saw his own, coal black, Jumper, flying out ahead of the group, leading them with an innate skill Shef'hred himself had never possessed.
He was hardly aware that he was moving, out of the water to make his way slowly toward them, though they were much too far away to reach. The herd slowed now, evidently finding good grazing, though Jumper still circled around them, making sure none of his charges wandered off. Wincing in sympathetic discomfort, Shef'hred could see now that Jumper still wore his saddle and halter, as did most of the horses, as no one here would know to remove them. There, Gods help her, was a mare with her reins tangled with a foreleg, and bringing up the rear was Ba'ates red colored stallion, Spark, with his saddle come loose and hanging under his belly. He bucked again and again, as Shef'hred watched, but of course, could not dislodge it.
None of the people here would have even the faintest idea how to approach a horse, much less that they could become injured or crippled, or even killed with their riding gear left on like this. He couldn't leave them. He couldn't bear to leave Jumper. Not like this; not with no one to care for them. Shef'hred felt his resolve to end his life break into little pieces, his father's angry, disapproving voice falling on deaf ears.
"They are indeed magnificent creatures," Hallen was saying, and then he was telling Shef'hred about how he could be useful carrying newly cut logs from the forest to the far lake shore where they would be floated across to be used in the rebuilding of the dock, and Shef'hred heard his own voice saying, "Sure, I can do that... I mean, not today, obviously, but at some point here..."
What was he doing?
He'd been a heartbeat away from saving himself and instead, here he was agreeing to labor of the basest sort. He felt disoriented... like he'd lost something he could not even name any more. Was it his honor? Now he wasn't even sure what that meant.
"Shef'hred, are you alright?" Hallen was asking him, and Shef'hred had no idea how to answer him.
"I think... I might need to give my legs a rest for now," he said, not sure where the words had come from, though they were true enough.
"Of course," Hallen was immediately understanding, letting Shef'hred take what help he wanted, and letting him set the pace. They made their ways slowly back to his shelter, Shef'hred lost in his thoughts and Hallen kindly leaving him be. He lowered himself to the ground the moment they arrived, dragging himself under the hide shelter Li'bet had built for him there, to curl on his side, back to the world. He'd not thought to ever see this place again, and returning to it came as a personal defeat, of the profoundest sort.
He might have dozed; he might have cried a little, though he would never admit this even to himself. Time passed, the angle of the sun shifted, little by little, until long shadows fell over his little shelter, and there came the sounds of a familiar voice, speaking softly with R'non, and then the sound of footsteps approaching.
"Shef'hred?" Li'bet's voice came, sounding a little tentative. "How are you doing this evening?"
"'M'fine," he bit out, as tersely as he could manage.
"I... I'm not sure that you sound fine," Li'bet replied after a moment, sounding even more tentative.
"And how is that any business of yours?" If Li'bet didn't know the real reason his voice sounded so harsh, he could pretend he didn't either. Li'bet didn't respond for a long spell, and Shef'hred began to think that maybe she'd left when she spoke again, barely loud enough for him to hear.
"Should... should I just leave your food and go?" she asked, not frosty and hostile as he'd expected, but sad, worried... and maybe just a little hurt.
She would go too, Shef'hred knew, if he didn't speak up... and he didn't want her to, didn't really want to be alone, even if he should. "No... wait..." Rolling back over was an ordeal, both physically and emotionally, and Shef'hred knew, as he scrubbed his hand over his face, that she would see the misery written there. There was no point then in disguising the grunt of pain he gave as he pushed himself upright, to sit once again with his back resting against his tent post.
"Shef'hred..." Li'bet said again sadly, seeing everything he was too weak to hide. "I'm so sorry..."
"For what?" he asked, feeling defeated, and yet still puzzled by this woman.
"I'm not sure," she said, sounding a little lost herself. "For your pain, for your loss... If you would speak of it... or would you rather not?"
Shef'hred drew his knees up so he could rest his elbows there, and then rest his head in his hands. "I don't know..." he began, the words coming without his having made any particular decision one way or another, he'd thought. "I don't know who I am anymore, but I don't think I can be... what everyone here wants me to be."
Feeling Li'bet's hand come to rest, carefully, on his leg, Shef'hred shuddered, not with discomfort, but the opposite. "I don't think anyone here knows who you might or might not become, if you chose to stay," she said. "I don't think you know yet either, but I do think it will be someone none of us knows yet. We've never known anyone like you before, Shef'hred, but most people here can only imagine that you must either be an uncivilized killer, or happy to settle down and be just like the other fishermen and hunters of Lakeside. Neither of those things is true, I know now, but the alternative -the truth- is something unknown, for all of us."
Shef'hred was surprised to hear the faintest note of recrimination in Li'bet's voice, as though she thought she'd made a mistake with him, though he couldn't imagine what it could be. He lifted his head to meet her gaze and saw it there in her eyes as well. She wanted to make something right with him and he had no idea what she'd done wrong. "How do I go forward," he asked, wanting to offer her something, "when I don't know who I am?"
"You'll need to feel your way," she answered him, receiving his offering graciously. "We all will, and take small steps." She took one of her own then, small but a little bold, in reaching up to take one of his hands, clasping it in her own. "Do you think you could eat something?" she asked then.
Shef'hred looked down at their joined hands, part of him afraid at what it could mean, another part desperately grateful for the touch, the human contact. He wasn't terribly hungry, but eating would mean being able to let go without rejecting her. He found he didn't want to do that at all. "What have we got?" he asked, still not letting go of her hand.
"Roast duck and onions," she answered with a smile. "And I think it's probably still fairly warm."
She retrieved a cloth covered bowl from behind her, and as soon as she removed the cloth Shef'hred could smell the cooked meat and onions, and he found, to his surprise, that the scents were actually waking his appetite. He plucked up a bit of meat at her gesture, finding it falling away from the bone easily, and the first taste woke his appetite further still, for it was absolutely delicious. "Damn, this is good," he said said, finding a piece of onion to follow it, and he realized that he was smiling.
"I'm glad you like it," Li'bet said with a smile of her own, that was surprisingly shy. It was a look that Shef'hred had never seen on her before, one that made him think of her, for the first time, not as a leader of her people, but as a woman.
"You made this?" Shef'hred asked with a flash of insight. He was rewarded with a dazzling smile, and a little color on her fair cheeks.
"I did, in fact," she confessed, handing him some bread. "So thank you."
They ate in contented silence for a while, and Shef'hred found himself savoring the food, the feel of a cool breeze on his cheek and the sight of the long angled, amber colored sunlight falling on Li'bet's face. He found he could not make himself sorry that he was alive.
After a bit Li'bet began to tell him something about Hallen and his family and, when Shef'hred asked, about the tool maker and his odd friend, and he could not help but smile at her stories. Clearly Li'bet cared for her people, with all their faults and foibles, and for a moment, the idea of being one of the people she cared for seemed oddly attractive. Shef'hred soon recalled the burden of drudgery and menial labor that went with it, however, and the attraction faded again. The people here were only content because they didn't know any other life, and couldn't imagine one. Shef'hred couldn't make himself believe anything else.
Still, by the time the meal ended Shef'hred had to admit to a certain fondness that had grown in him for the headwoman. She was... impressive, in her own way. Almost honorable. It was because of this last that Shef'hred finally decided that he could trust her with his need to see the horses cared for. He brought it up as they were finishing the plums she'd brought as a sweet finish to the meal.
"Can I ask you... a favor?" he asked, wiping his plum juice sticky fingers on the grass.
"Of course," Li'bet answered him, brightening as though his asking did her a great honor.
"The horses... the ones that survived the battle, they'll mostly be okay here, running loose," he said, "but a lot of them still have their riding gear on -their saddles and halters and reins..." Of course she wouldn't know what those things were, but she was nodding. She got the general idea.
"That's not good for them?" she guessed.
"No," he confirmed. "They can end up getting hurt, or trapped, or even killed. Someone needs to get it off them. They can even cut it off -seeing as the owners are all dead. I'd do it myself, but I don't think I'll be up to chasing horses down for a few days, and besides..."
"Besides, you don't think we're going to be all that eager to give you that much freedom yet, or a knife," Li'bet said perceptively. "And you're probably right. Any instructions I should pass on to whoever wants to give it a try?"
A lifetime's worth, Shef'hred thought with frustration, but... "They're smart," he said, "and they'll pick up on what you're feeling, so be calm around them. Don't make any sudden moves and for the Gods' sake don't ever come up behind one. They can kill you with a kick from their back legs."
"I'll be sure to mention that," Li'bet said seriously.
"Yeah," Shef'hred said with a wry smile. "They'll be skittish around strangers, but if you bring an apple or a beetroot or something, a lot of them will make friends real fast. I, ah... I always talked to mine. Doesn't really matter what you say, as long as your voice is calm -it'll calm the horse down."
"Makes sense," Elizabeth said with a nod. "I think I can remember all that, or I can have whoever agrees to do the job come talk to you."
"Sure," Shef'hred replied, stretching his legs out with a comfortable sigh. He could feel them recovering already, and having this solid evidence at last lifted a small burden of anxiety. Li'bet watched him silently for a moment, then leaned forward to lay a hand on his arm again.
"Are you feeling any better now, Shef'hred?" she asked him, a soft intensity to her question that he found almost startling.
"Yeah," he said thoughtfully, finding her voice compelling the truth from him. "Yeah, I guess I am. Thanks." Her smile was brighter than the half moon, shining high in the sky, now that the sun had set. It's light remained with him too, even as she made her farewells, leaving him alone with R'non and the small fire that burned between them.
He stood once more and, with R'non's approval stepped over to 'water the barricade' again, finding the short journey much less of an ordeal than it had been this morning. So much had changed for him in only one day, he mused, returning to his shelter. He had been made free and yet not. He had determined to end his life, but hadn't, and had finished his day by extending a degree of trust to a woman who, by all rights he should have considered an enemy -and who should have considered him an enemy in turn.
He'd been thanked for a gift that he'd meant as little more than a creative discarding of property he could no longer keep, and been told that he must expect a gift of great significance in the future. He'd freely committed himself to a future life of a sort that he'd once considered worse than death, and turned away from the clean and honorable death he thought he'd longed for, for the sake of some animals, then turned the care of those creatures over to an unknown stranger. None of it made sense, but Shef'hred could not find any moment in the day that he regretted, or that he wished he'd done something different.
One small step at a time, Li'bet had advised him, and so it seemed it must be. It recalled Shef'hred to a misadventure he'd had when he and Jumper had first been getting to know each other. He'd taken a wrong turn and lead them both into a marshy area, with dangerous quagmires on every side. Horse and rider had been forced to trust each other that day, as they'd made their way, step by cautious step, out of that treacherous place, and at the end of it, Shef'hred knew they'd forged a bond with each other that would last for the rest of their lives.
Coming to attack Lakeside had certainly been a wrong turn of his own making, Shef'hred had to own, but Jumper was not with him now. It seemed he was alone... and yet that had seemed the case in the marsh as well -at first, for he had not yet learned to trust his mount. Could it be, he wondered now, that it was Li'bet who made this perilous journey with him? Was the way not just as uncertain and fraught with danger for her as it was for him? Might they not find their way forward best if they learned to trust each other?
The very idea left Shef'hred a little thunderstruck, but the parallels were too obvious to ignore. The enormity of this truth, and what it all might mean filled his thoughts and imagination as he gazed into the small fire that R'non continued to feed into the night. It was a long time before Shef'hred slept, and when he did, his dreams were all of uncertain journeys though unknown lands.
****
Next week: Toolmaker Magic for a wounded Hunter