hope so, Elder.” She winced as he applied a medicated salve to the wounds on her hand and wrist. He then bound it in soft skins for a dressing and looked down at her troubled, youthful face kindly.
“There is something about you, that was there from the beginning,” he mused. “You are special, and you are meant for some destiny that I cannot foresee. Perhaps you will lead your own tribe of yellow-haired folk,” he smiled.
“I don’t want to leave the Khehbas, I love you and mother and my mother’s mate, and Jor,” she spoke.
“I know, Val-il. You are young, though, with your whole life before you.”
II
The next spring saw delegations from the neighboring tribes seeking out the hand of Val-il as word of her bravery and passing into womanhood spread. They wanted someone skilled and beautiful and different, and she represented all those things. Val-il rejected all suitors despite admonishments from Azon and Retta and Venniz, her mother’s mate.
She wanted Jor as her mate. He was a young hunter, swift and clever and strong, but mating him wouldn’t guarantee the friendship and cooperation of another tribe and all the benefits that went with it. She thought he wanted her too, but she wasn’t sure. A few hours after the runners from the visiting tribe left she sought him out. He was standing, looking out to the south, silent and alone. She stood there beside him for a few moments, just enjoying the cool evening air. “I wondered where you were,” she said.
“Have you considered their offer?” he asked, not looking at her.
She snorted. “I’m not mating any of those idiots.”
He glanced at her, surprised. “You’re not?”
“Noooo,” she smiled at him, then put her arms around him. “I want you.”
He smiled back at last and returned her embrace. “Really?”
“Yes, really. Well? Do you wish to mate with me?”
“Of course I do, Val-il. It’s what I’ve wanted ever since I could remember.”
“I brought my travel tent,” she went on.
“We can’t go far..” He reminded her.
“We’re just going to the outskirts,” she told him, then pressed herself against him. “I want you. Tonight.”
He stared into her eyes, surprised. “But, it’s not a Feast Day, and we’re not mated yet.”
“I don’t care,” she rebutted, still the rebellious teenager. “There’s no one else I want to be with.”
“The tribe will be in an uproar,” Jor pointed out. “Along with the tribes offering for you.”
“I know,” she sighed sadly. “This makes me so sad.”
“We could leave. Run away,” the boy suggested.
Val-il gazed into his smooth, youthful face. His dark hair and blue eyes were imprinted into her memory, but she still loved drinking in the sight of him. “Where would we go?”
“We could go north,” he answered. “Find a tribe to live with. Maybe form our own tribe. Doesn’t matter because we would be together.”
She was silent for a good while as she digested this. “I don’t want to leave my mother and Venniz and Sennar, but I don’t want to mate someone else. I would be miserable. I will run away with you. Mayhap we could visit our mothers after some time.”
Jor grinned from ear to ear. “Good! We have some planning to do. But first...” He kissed her deeply. When they parted, he said, “Let’s get that tent set up.”
Later, as they lay in their sleeping furs together, they discussed how they would slip away from the Khehbas. It was decided that they would hide extra spears and belongings in a cache to the north of the camp, since it would be known if they both disappeared together with their spears and traveling packs right away. They would wait until everyone went to sleep and sneak out after dark, retrieve their supplies, and use the cover of night to travel a good distance away. Azon would likely send runners in search of them, but after a day or so of finding nothing they would most likely turn back.
So they would be together, with nobody to tell them what they could and couldn’t do.
The next few days as they worked on their plan, Val-il was walking on air. She was exuberant and pleased with herself, and helped her mother with the stretching of animal hide for the making of clothing with no complaint.
The night finally came that they had everything ready to go, night had fallen and the fires in the hearths had died down. Silence descended on the tiny village, and when Val-il had determined it had been enough time, she donned her traveling clothes and quietly made her way out of her family hut, threaded past the other houses, and met her love a few minutes’ walk from the encampment. She melted into his arms, her heart beating loud and fast in her own ears. “Are you ready?” he whispered in her ear.
“I am,” she whispered back.
“My brave Val-il, my yellow haired woman,” he spoke softly. He kissed her deeply, with the two of them clinging to each other hungrily. Screams suddenly ripped through the night stillness, breaking their youthful passion.
“What was that?” gasped the young woman, her eyes wide.
“Something’s wrong!” Jor exclaimed. More screams followed, causing the pair to fly back toward their homes.
What they found was horror and chaos, the whole village being torn apart by people that they’d never seen before yet resembled them, interspersed with others they did recognize attacking as well. The Ulln. Huge, hulking, brutish trolls that flattened any Khehbas within reach with one blow. The enemy men carried flint-tipped spears while the Ulln had their thick, crude daggers and clubs, but it was more than enough to get the job done. Khebasi women fled from their huts with children in their arms, only to have their heads smashed in by Ulln clubs. The Khehbasi men grabbed their simple spears and stone knives, desperately trying to defend their village.
“No! Oh, no!” Val-il cried. As one the pair grabbed up pieces of discarded wood and rushed at three human intruders. They turned in surprise as the two young people swung at them with makeshift clubs. Val-il’s head whirled around when she heard Jor scream, to find he had sunk to his knees with two spears embedded in him. She yelled out her anguish, then broke one of the intruders’ jaw with the chunk of wood in her hand. The third man buried his spear in the young woman’s side.
She dropped the piece of wood as the pain registered, and looked down at herself. The long shaft protruded from her body as her blood poured out, soaking her right side and hip. She managed a strangled moan before sliding down to the ground. She was still conscious for a while, was able to hear the slaughter of her folk. The trolls dragged the few women still alive out into the open and savagely violated them as the men looked on and laughed. Some of the intruders searched through the huts looking for anything of value. The surviving Khehbas were then executed by having their heads smashed open with the heavy clubs. Then she fell into blackness.
A short time later her eyes opened. She was lying next to a hut with the spear still sticking out of her. She couldn’t hear anything else, no voices or movements, but she smelled smoke. They had set fire to the houses. Val-il reached down and pulled the weapon free from her body, eliciting a painful groan.
Everyone she ever knew was dead.
The smell of smoke and the heat drew nearer as she lay on her left side with tears streaming down her face. It would be good to just burn up. Or perhaps she’d bleed to death first. Would there be nothingness? Would she...go someplace else? Would there be no pain? Would there be anything? What if she couldn’t find her loved ones?
Anger began to well up inside her. This was so wrong, so terribly unfair. Her people had done nothing wrong, had always honored the Spirits. They were here first, had never done their neighbors wrong, were hardworking and industrious...how could this have happened? And why? The ones who did this would pay, she vowed to herself.
Val-il rolled onto her stomach, reached forward with her arms, and pulled her body away from the village. She pushed with her left leg an
d pulled with her hands, and slowly dragged herself clear from the flames, leaving a trail of blood. Her whole right side burned and ached. Something important inside her had been punctured, she knew, but she ignored the pain. The scent of smoke and burnt flesh drifted to her nostrils. Everyone she loved was dead.
Except her.
“Spirits of the Khebas,” she managed to croak. “Hear me. I am the only one left of my folk. You have failed in your duties. Could be it was my fault for angering the Ulln, but for whatever reason, I am the only one left. Hear me!”
The wind picked up, swirling around her, whipping her thick blonde hair around her face where she lay. She felt a coldness she had felt once before, when she had driven her enemies away. We hear you, came a raspy voice on the wind.
“Let me avenge my people,” she went on. “Let me have revenge against the ones who did this. Show me the way to do so, show me the magick to make me powerful. Share with me the knowledge to cheat death itself. If I die, there will be no others to worship you and make you strong. I want to know everything! I am your pupil!”
You are but a girl. You cannot