Chapter Forty-Three: Shepherds

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It had been nearly a week since I spoke with Aric alone. With grain stores and other necessities running low, he and I now embarked on an expedition into the northwest along a tributary to the Varga River to negotiate an exchange of goods. Trading bases stretched east and west along the forest’s edge. We hadn’t come this far north again since our mishap with the Mard-Khwaar, but the camp desperately needed supplies. According to our scouts, the court camp drew nearer with each successive move, though we had not encountered them since Midwinter, and Aric hoped to keep it that way.

Being such lonely country, we were unlikely to meet much trouble this season. But though the tribes that dwelled here were friendly, we were just as likely to encounter wolves as bandits on the road. We could have used some more men. But Aric insisted the others could better serve the band by guarding the stock and hunting than by touring the local villages with us.

Despite the snowstorm that blew in midmorning, we rode on. I could see a small fort of earthworks and palisades in the distance. It looked like the other trading outposts we’d visited, but we rode by it. We rode through scattered flocks of sheep poking aimlessly at the snow or curled up in their own fleecy blankets, their legs tucked beneath them. Sheep did poorly in high snow, and some poor shepherd would likely have to come to dig them free if the storm got much worse. The country was otherwise empty of settlements, which must have been hidden away in the forest. 

We rode this way well into the evening, over rolling hills peppered with trees and brush, before finally breaking to rest in front of the charred gates of an abandoned fort rising stark and black against the snow as the last light of day faded behind them. At this hour, I was uneasy at the edge of the forest. Dusk was when the wolves prowled.

“What is this place?” I asked. 

“This was the hub of a great wheel of trade whose spokes extended over all the steppe—and beyond. Goods that fed the great empires in every direction of the wind passed first through these gates.”

“A city? Here?”

“A fortified city called Gelonus. There are a few like it along the tribal borders. But this was the greatest. Destroyed many years ago.”

“Was it besieged?”

“It was burned before it could be. Darayavaush, the Dragon, was eager to capture it to satisfy his insatiable greed. To hold the Skythai hostage and take possession of the trade routes across the steppe. If he had possessed this place, he might have possessed Skythia. The three Skythai kings argued over strategy. My great-grandfather, Idanthyrs, wanted to fight the Persai in the open, while the other kings wished to gather their possessions and hide behind these walls, awaiting the armies of the Dragon. So, Idanthyrs burned it to the ground, denying them all. Leading a coalition of the three Skythai kingdoms before the invaders’ path, Idanthyrs spoiled the wells and burned everything that might have been of use to the enemy’s forces—including the city. The Dragon’s armies couldn’t survive on the steppe without water and pasture for their stock, much less catch the Skythai to fight, so he gave up and went home in shame and defeat.”

“Was it worth it?”

“We are still free.”

“Such sacrifice. I don’t know if I will ever understand the Skythai.”

“You are not a Skythian until you know what it means to burn everything you have to keep everything you love.”

The fort was in the rough shape of an arrowhead, shot into the junction of two rivers, and we stood at its southern tip where the rivers met. Before us stretched massive bank-and-ditch walls towering nearly forty feet high. The remains of burnt wooden palisades stood against the sky in the fading light. My father’s fort was the most impressive thing I could imagine. Its banks and walls were half as big and encompassed one hundred fifty acres. Even in ruins, this made that feel quaint. Three massive keeps, now destroyed, stood stark and imposing over the empty country, filled with overgrown fields, encroaching forest, and forgotten barrows. 

“Why was it never rebuilt?” 

“From time to time, the Geloni still try. Their ancestors are a mix of Budini, Skythai, and Hellenes who came north from the colonies long ago to get rich off the spoils of trade. They built temples alongside their workshops and worshipped the same mad god they do in Olbia. It is said every third year they held a festival in his honor, and I’d not be surprised if somewhere out there, the lot of them aren’t raving naked in the woods. They would have this place again if they could. But you saw the grand barrows that surround this fortress. This stronghold made its masters rich, and any tribe who held it would be almost untouchable.”

“Where are the Geloni now?” 

“They farm the riverside and herd their sheep. Their villages are scattered through the forest, but we come and clear them from the fort from time to time. The Budini are a separate people with a language and ways all their own. They’re nomads and keep to themselves, living by their reindeer; they’ve also gone north into the wood.”

My eye swept the dusky treeline, fading into shadow. There was no sign of a trail in the freshly fallen snow. No trace of a village or any human habitation. The ruins gave no sense that anyone called this forsaken place home.

“Are they really so dangerous? Reindeer herders and trinket merchants?"

“It is a fragile thing, the covenant that binds this kingdom’s many tribes and clans. One gift the destruction of this fort gave the Paralatai is that it unified our people and brought all the tribes of Skythia under the command of a single High King. But should our kingdom fall, it would shatter like a clay pitcher, and all these small pieces would lie scattered about, jagged and dangerous. Any one of them might move to seize control. Or all of them will. There would be many kings and many wars, as in the past. Such chaos makes us ripe for invasion.”

“And Ariapaithi doesn’t want this place for himself? All this effort to build it... It seems a waste allowing it to languish when there is so much trade to be had.”

“Our trade flourishes without it. The war proved it was a target—and a last retreat—like all settlements. Our strength is our mobility.” He turned and allowed his eye to scan the charred walls. Then he lowered his gaze and continued to speak in a hushed, almost apologetic tone. “Its time is passed. As you said, it’s a ‘sacrifice.’ Fate takes the dead for a reason—it is not for us to resurrect them.”

“Then why have you brought me here?” This was not what we planned. He’d deceived me.

“Because I feel a kinship with this place,” he said with a sigh. “And I wanted for us to be alone.”

At the edge of the forest, at this late hour, shadows stretched stark and solemn over the snow, and the air hung damp and dank with the rotting wood of the fallen walls. And all of it lay in uncanny silence. Even the stray sheep that pawed and grazed about the fortress walls were voiceless. And the faithful voice within Aric I longed to hear was the most silent of all. 

“We can be alone anytime,” I joked, trying to banish my nerves, “just volunteer us to set the rabbit snares in the snow.”

His eye locked on mine as he grabbed hold of my arms. Then he looked away but did not release his grip. “I’ve been losing sleep. But I’ve come to a choice—a hard choice. But the right one. I’m sure now.” He swallowed and moistened his lips, tightening his grip on my arms. “I can’t let you return to Skythia. For honor’s sake.”

A wave of panic flooded me. The wilderness. The ruin. The storm. There would be no trail, no trace. No return. What had I done? Blood rushed in my ears, and the fire of panic burned through my veins as I tried to steady my breathing. I had nowhere to run. I was faster, but he was stronger. I could ride, but I wore no armor against his mighty bow. The iron throbbing of my heart, trilling blood through the vessel in my throat, heat in my cheeks, trembling in my hands, lightness in my legs all conspired against sense. How could this come to pass? Above the crashing surf that thundered in my ears, I could hear only my father’s voice berating me. Trust no one. The one lesson he cared to teach me in my life was the one lesson I’d failed to learn, and like some foolish girl, I’d let myself be led here. I knew better and had still been blind. 

I flexed my arms and squared my shoulders, resisting his grip and drawing myself up before him. I raised my eyes to his. “I’m no match for you,” I said, my voice quavering despite my defiance. “But at least let me go with a weapon in my hand. Let me die fighting. You speak of honor; you owe me that.”

Shaking his head, he released my arms and took a step back, searching my face. “Good gods, Ana, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I promised I’d leave with you. That’s what I’m doing. I can’t let you be wedded to my—” he swallowed again, “the King. What in the name of Goeto did you think I meant?”

“You want to…? Now?” I asked, still shaken.

“If you still do?”

I drew a deep breath to steady my pounding heart. “But why here, like this?” 

“The Budini. They keep to themselves and owe their allegiance to no one. If we wish to pass this way, they won’t betray us. We can shelter here.”

“And you didn’t trust me enough to tell me this before we traveled all this way?”

“The others couldn’t suspect anything.”

I lunged at him, driving both hands into his chest, shoving him with such force he fell back two steps before recovering himself. “Don’t ever deceive me again,” I said coldly, then looked away and drew a long breath, exhaling slowly.

He nodded, still looking confused.

“Swear it.”

He frowned. “I swear. By all the gods.” His face softened into pleading. “We keep going?” 

I nodded, my throat too tight to speak.

He lowered his head and glanced sidelong at me. “Did you really think I was capable of—of that?”

“I regret that I even thought it.”

“You know me, Anaiti. I am capable of many things, but hurting you is not one of them.”

I did know him. Whether he admitted it or not, he was perfectly capable of hurting me. As I was of hurting him. 

He put his arms around me and held me to his chest. “We’re safe now.” 

It was far from true. And yet somehow, our words and arms made it briefly so. 

We stabled Saena and Aruna in a shop overtaken with weeds and found refuge ourselves in the shelter of a burned-out house. Little was left of it but the square angles of broken walls amid the charred wood and ash of a falling roof. Some broken pots lined the wall where a pantry must have stood. Aric warned me not to wander about the fort but to stay on the paths we’d already walked. Concealed beneath the snow lay a network of pits, snares, and traps the Warband had laid to punish trespassers. 

We hunkered down in the far corner where the fierce wind did not reach the dusty pallets. We covered one with dry grass and a blanket of waxed hemp. The cold might have been unbearable since the ground was too frozen to dig pits for a smokeless fire, but we spread Aric’s bearskin over us and huddled close. Of all the different silences, none is so eerily sublime as the still eye of a storm. Here was a lull, and we basked in the peace, knowing what must follow. 

“It’s too dark in here,” he said, rubbing his eye with the heel of his palm and fumbling to light a wick in a small pot of deer fat with his flint.

“Here, let me,” I said, taking the flint and striker from him and lighting a tiny wisp of tinder grass. The lamp made a gentle glow in the cold, dark space, flickering wildly in the confused winds rattling through the broken walls.

“Your hands are cold,” he said as I reached for him in the dark. “Let me warm them.” Clasping my hands to his breast, he pulled me close, and the nearness of our bodies made a warmth of their own. 

“Think of it,” I said, “soon we may also spend our summers just like this, but in some quiet valley by the side of a creek. You will tell me stories of the steppe, and I will tell you of the forest. And we’ll lie under the shade of a tree, laugh together, and forget these troubles.”

He drew a shuddering breath and spoke, his voice quavering, “Even the richest king could not buy that.”

When I was a child, I was caught in the fury of the sea and thrown down by a wave. How ferociously I fought as the waves tried to submerge me. But there was a moment when panic gave way to calm. When something within my child’s mind grasped the sheer magnitude of the forces I fought. I realized that panic was useless in the face of nature, gods, or multitudes. I could not control the sea. I could not calm the waves before me. But I could compose myself before them and find my way back to shore.

So it was with us as together we drifted in the storm, sent by forces relentless as the sea. The desperate clinging of cloth to skin and flesh to bone could be so easily undone. Undressed of clothes, of flesh, of pain, I gave up the fight and let myself sink beneath the waters; I filled my lungs and surrendered myself to the depths. 

I could feel the warmth of the dawning sun through my eyelids. Without opening my eyes, I drew the golden light deep into my lungs and held my breath. As I opened my eyes, Aric combed his fingers through the tangles in my hair. “You’ll never be a queen now,” he said wistfully.

“I told you, I never wished to be a queen.”  

“And I don’t know what happens with your father’s treaty.”

“My father… I do regret that. I hope our fathers can still mend things if they discover what we’ve done. But you’ve also sacrificed your claim to the throne.” In the excitement, all he’d sacrificed was quickly forgotten.

“I’m karik. I need no other crown.”

“I’ve taken that from you as well.”

“I have all I want.” He smiled reassuringly and pressed me closer.

“Then we shall be the lord and lady of this place. Let us have our kingdom here, free from the eyes of the world.”

“Mmm, you and I shall be the King and Queen of Gelonus.” He grinned impishly. “I like the sound of that.”

“And what a formidable king you’d be. That first night in the Marches… how did you know I hid my dagger under my pillow?”

He looked at me quizzically. “I saw it wasn’t in your belt after you made your bed. It was a lucky guess.” He beamed, his eyes crinkling.

When he smiled like that, his eye became a dark crescent moon suspended in a shining sky. I took his face in my hands and kissed him.

“You’ve been wondering about that all this time?” he asked.

“I have,” I chuckled. “You should’ve let me believe you were all-knowing.”

He raised his eyebrows with mock wariness. “I’d be afraid to know your thoughts,” he said with a stilted laugh.

“They’d turn you into a monster, swelling you up with pride,” I teased. “No man needs that.” I wrapped my arms around him and nestled into his chest. 

“Even if you can’t hear my thoughts,” he mused, “I trust you already know them well.”

I doubted if that was true. How well could one ever know the thoughts of another? That was our tragedy. That with all our tools of language and art, we forever strove to apprehend the inner worlds of others—and to make our innermost hearts plain to them—and fell woefully short on both accounts. Our attempts to unravel the knots of longing, to soothe the ache of sorrow, were blunders through a cave without a torch. But I trusted in him—in the notion of him I held—and had to hope that the woman he saw in that dim light was at least a semblance of myself and not some shadow I had cunningly cast. 

“What will become of the Warband when we don’t return?” I asked. “Won’t they be searching for us now?”

“Antisthenes is my steward. He takes temporary command in my absence. He has instructions that if anything should happen to me, he must assume my place after a week’s time. After six months, the men will call an Assembly and choose a new leader. I hope it will be him—no man has a better grasp of the duties demanded of the Warband both in times of bounty and hardship.”

“Would they choose a Hellene?”

“The Skythai do not ask after the tribe or kin of noble spirits. We listen without resentment to the glories of both friends and enemies. My tutor, Ispakaja, was an Issedoni warrior. He served as karadar and I as his steward for many years until he fell in battle against the Massagetai.”

“Are the Issedoni not also maneaters?”

“It is so. Yet I’ve never known a man of greater virtue or courage. He was Skythian in all but birth. Antisthenes is as well.”

“Then, I hope they see the worth in Antisthenes.”

“We should set out within the hour. The sun will soon rise.”

The thought of prying myself away from this shelter of comfort and warmth filled me with anguish. I was likely a coward, but I was beginning to regret our leaving. I would miss Antisthenes and many of the kara. And once we were gone, there’d be no coming back. 

“Where are we headed?” 

“We can’t just ride across the plain. We must go north first to go east. We could take refuge with the Navari or the Fenni until spring. Or I know a few places in the Wild Fields where we could hide. Places abandoned this season. Or we could go downriver to Symbolon and find a ship.”

“I’ve never even heard of this place.”

“Taurica. The Tauri are a good people. A strong people. The last of the Kimmeroi and great raiders on land and sea. They go where they please. The world belongs to them, and no one stands in their way.”

I did kind of like the sound of that. “Then we’re really going?”

He sat up and looked at me with a furrowed brow. “What troubles you?”

“Well, won’t they worry for us? We never even said goodbye.”

I’d left Vatra behind. Who’d care for him? I thought of Antisthenes. Of Bornon, Gohar, Stormai, even Olgas; the men who had become my friends. Of all the lifelong brothers Aric was leaving. Without a word. I thought of my family.

“When you run, you don’t get to say goodbye.” 

I swallowed hard past the lump in my throat. None of this troubled him?

He took hold of my hands. “Speak now. Have you had a vision?”

“Not exactly…”

But something nagged at me. Something felt off. Disjointed. Why could I not celebrate this leavetaking—this freedom—as Aric did? I closed my eyes and tried to compose my thoughts—to summon my will. We were finally free of all our obligations—all our duties. Soon Skythia and the danger would be behind us. But we were leaving work undone, promises unkept, all on a whim, for a future neither of us had designed. For things I never wanted. 

“It’s just… all of this fills me with dread,” I confessed.

“I know. But what else is there for us?” He forced a smile, which was meant to hearten me, but only bruised my heart more.

I wanted to share his conviction. Was he right? Didn’t we have our own lives and hopes, too? We might have but a moment to live them. This should have been a joyous time. Free as the winter birds perched on their bare branches, songs ringing clear in the cold morning—defiant of the raptors circling somewhere in their same skies.

We began readying the horses for our departure. My hands worked numbly at the straps of Aruna’s girth. I would go as I had promised. But my feeling of foreboding persisted. A shadow stretched and grew inside my mind. My guts tied into a knot as I looked around and realized why. 

“Aric? The shepherds—where are they?” I exhaled in relief as I said it, even though I was sure it foretold something dire. Hoping, praying its ill portent might just spare us something worse—something inspired by madness.

“Hmm?”

“There are no shepherds.” 

“Good. Then no one will see us,” Aric smiled, cupped my face in his hands, and kissed me.

I pushed him away. “Were you listening to me? Who leaves a flock untended? Especially in a storm? You heard the wolves in the night. We rode for a day and never saw a single shepherd. Where are all the Geloni men who should be tending these flocks? Was there a plague in this country, or have they all gathered elsewhere?”

For a long moment, he looked past me, staring at nothing, then gazed back into the South, from where we came. His eye narrowed, and his jaw clenched tight. “Indeed. There is only one purpose which gathers all of a tribe’s men.”

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Chapter Forty-Four: Plot

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