Tribal Bonds Ch. 06

Hello Readers! This is Part Six of a Six-Part story. It takes place in the same universe as my "Sultanah" series, but you don't need to read any of that to understand this story (but you really should read it). In Part 1, Kedi was sold into slavery along with a member of a rival tribe, Cilek, but the slavers were seemingly attacked by ghosts. In Part 2, Kedi wakes up surrounded by warrior women who may e ghosts, but are certainly kinky. In Part 3, Kedi learns about the Hayalet and is seduced, in more ways than one. Please, please, please let me know what you think! In part 4, Kedi witnesses a Hayalet wedding and peeps at the wedding night. In Part 5, Kedi watches Cilek join the Hayalet and runs away.

Chapter 6: The Words

I could hear the sounds of mirth pouring out of the window behind my head. Despite the cold, the window to the inn was open. The raging fire and the crush of people made it clammy inside. In fact, I could just feel the barest hint of warmth wafting out over my head, where I sat in the mud. I was not welcome inside. I didn't have any money. I didn't have anything of value, save for my body, and I refused to sell it. But I didn't dare leave my spot by the window, right next to the door. Not only was I absolutely dependent on the light and warmth that poured free from the inn's window, but I was waiting on someone inside.

I had arrived at the small inn a few hours earlier. It sat at the easternmost edge of the Hayalet valley, where the river entered. Where I had entered many weeks before as a slave. There had been a caravan of traders lodging at the Inn when I had arrived. I saw the first men I'd seen in weeks. Shivering with cold and relieved that I had made my way out of the Valley, I had approached every man I saw. I had requested transportation East. And North. Back towards the Buz. Being traders, all of the men heading in roughly in my direction were willing to take me along. For a price.

Unfortunately, I had fled from Daire with nothing but a few articles of clothing. The white cloak I had stolen. And a large, warm black cloak that I had stolen from outside of Orospu's longhouse as I had run to the village gate. I had been fortunate, leaving when I did. All of the village Cadilar were still in the longhouse, watching Cilek's initiation rite. By chance, the girls of the village had been engaged in some sort of game, a martial exercise. The women were crowded around the square, watching and cheering. They had not seen me leave the longhouse And they didn't see me a I sneaked towards the gate. There was supposed to be a guard at the gate, but she had evidently wondered over to the village square, to join in the excitement. A rare lapse in discipline.

I had barreled into the forest, in no way certain as to where I needed to go. My only plan was to run as fast and as far as possible before it got dark. I knew that once that Hayalet learned that I was missing, they would set out immediately to find me. They knew the land, they would know I was trying to leave. I needed as large a head start as possible, in order to avoid being caught.

East. I knew when I left the longhouse that I wanted to head east, to go to the head of the valley, where I'd entered. To retrace my steps to the far North. But I did not know whether I had been taken to the north or the south side of the valley when I had been captured. So, at first, I just sprinted away from the setting sun, knows that I was going east.

The mountains were steep, and the trees were dense. As I ran, I found that, more often than not, the easier footing tended to be towards the south. While the hills rose and fell, I found that they tended to fall more sharply towards the south. I remembered that, as a slave, I had been camped on the North side of the river. And the Hayalet had attacked from that direction. I gathered that I was in the hills to the north of the valley, and plunged south.

I ran for hours, until my feet ached and my lungs burned. I grew darker and darker as the evening wore on. Eventually, I was tripping over roots and stones. I tumbled once, falling down a six-foot high ledge and crashing into leaves below. I recognized that, despite my desire to get away, I could no longer run safely. I would need to rest. I crawled under the ledge, too tired to even shelter myself or even think.

The sun woke me early the next morning, and I felt an instant stab of panic. For some reason, I suspected the Hayalet were around me. That they had tracked me during the night and were set to pounce. I honestly did not know what it was that I feared. I suppose part of me figured that, enraged by my breach of trust, the Hayalet would descend upon me and kill me. I knew the were fearsome warriors and, what's more, deeply wary of being exposed to the outside world. It was entirely possible that would die.

But, in my heart, I knew I was afraid of something much more sinister. I had essentially run away on a sudden, unyielding impulse. I had been scared. Not of the Hayalet, but of my reaction to the Hayalet. The comfort that I felt with them. I believe that I was more frightened that the Hayalet would come and find me, laugh ruefully at my folly, and carry me back to Daire. Because I knew that if I spent one more day with the Hayalet, I would join them. Would dishonor myself and Buzcu by abandoning my people.

With that thought in mind, I rose quickly from beneath the ledge and quickly began to run towards the south and the east, following the sun and the indications of the tree moss. I was slower today, and more controlled. Some of it was that I was exhausted. But some of it was that the passion that had pushed me from Daire was more controlled now. As I ran, I kept my eyes opened for fast-moving mountain streams, where I would stop and drink. I also looked for berries and edible mushrooms, eating when I could to keep up my strength.

I ran like that for three days. I woke with the dawn, looked for water, and then moved in the direction that I believed would lead to the Valley. Sometimes I moved very slowly, crawling over tall rocks and through felled trees at a snails pace. Other times, I would stumble upon a path. And, moving rapidly, I would cover several miles at a clip. But I never felt comfortable on the paths for long. I knew that I was surrounded by the Hayalet. Behind me, the women of Daire had known for days that I was missing. They would be following me. What's more, I knew there were patrols, somewhere, in front of me. Waiting for their turn to come home. I would run as long on the paths that I felt comfortable. Then, at the snap of a twig or the rustle of a leaf, I would dart back into the woods moving slowly.

On the third day, near the evening, I suddenly stumbled through a dense copse of trees, and found myself in, what I initially thought was a clearing. But, after a few seconds, my eyes adjusted to the flash of sunlight. I threw back the hood that covered my face and I shielded my eyes with my hand and gazed across the clearing. Except, I realized, it wasn't a clearing. A few hundred yards away I could see, and hear, the river that ran through the center of the Hayalet valley! I could see the mountains in the distance to the south. I had made my way out!

I stood for a few minutes and gazed with satisfaction at the slow-moving river. Not having any idea where I was, and surrounded on seemingly all sides by well-trained warrior women who sought to catch me, I had made my way to the mountains and into the valley. Whatever weakness or softness I had displayed while living with the Hayalet, I had prove myself to still be a Buz.

After several minutes of admiring my skill as a pathfinder, I heard something. I am not sure, exactly what it was. My first impression was that it was a horse, whinnying in the distance. But, upon reflection, I couldn't be sure. It might have been a screaming woman. I had I instantly jumped back into the copse of trees that I had escaped. It was still daylight out. There could be Hayalet patrols nearby who could see me. I crouched in the enveloping darkness of the trees for several hours. I never heard another sound.

Sighing with relief, I had continued to tread my way to the east, moving slowly. I had remained in the forest, but just barely. I moved along the edge of the valley, with just a screen of trees of protect me. I moved quickly on the relatively flat ground. Plus, the moon was near full, and I was able to walk into the night in the thinner trees. I walked until well after midnight, slept briefly, and then walked again for a few hours in the morning. I saw the mountains to the south drawing nearer and nearer.

And then, right before noon, I had stumbled out of the valley, finding the inn. I had escaped. But that had only gotten me out of the Hayalet valley. Tired, hungry, and completely without money. I had many hundreds of miles to go before I returned to the Buz.

Finally, I had found Esek. An elderly trader who hated waking early on cold mornings to feed his horse. Who no longer wanted to lift heavy items. Who didn't want to repair broken wagon parts. He had agreed to take me to Ticari and to feed me along the way (giving me a loaf of bread as a down payment), in exchange for doing all of the work. I had jumped at the offer, agreeing to do any and all work that he needed.

He planned to leave the next day, wanting to get one last night of drinking. However, our agreement did not include any payment. Therefore, I could not afford to go with him into the inn. I certainly couldn't afford a meal or a room. What's more, Esek's wagon was filled to the brim with goods. As a result, I could not climb inside and sleep. And so, I had staked out a spot next to the Inn door, making sure that Esek did not walk out in the morning, forget about our contract, and leave without me.

It had been cool the entire time I had been trying to escape from the Hayalet. But this night, the weather had turned to bitter cold. Even with my heavy, brown cloak, I was chilly on the wet ground. I was huddled into a small, shivering ball. I kept telling myself, over and over again, that this was an example of fortitude, that the Buz would appreciate. I was re-establishing myself as a member of the most fearsome tribe on earth. But, the longer I sat, the less I thought about the distance Buz and their austere pride and then more I thought about the cozy longhouses of the Hayalet. The beautiful women with their warm, inviting bodies.

"Bullshit to your bullshit!" a voice suddenly called out from inside the inn. Some men had taken a seat at the table by the window, just inches from my head.

"You don't have to believe just me," another, less drunken, voice said, "Ortagi was with me, he saw it."

"Well bullshit to Ortagi too," the drunk said.

"What did he see?" a third voice said. He had a commanding voice, like someone who was accustomed to being obeyed.

"Arayici says he had Ortagi saw something in the Hayalet Valley the other day," the drunk voice said. My ears perked up, I leaned towards the window.

"What?" the commander asked. There was a pause.

"A girl. A blonde girl. Coming out of the mountains on the North side of the river," Arayici said. I felt my stomach drop and my eyes bulged. I remembered again the sound of horses as I stumbled into the valley.

"Ortagi, come over here," the commander yelled across the room. Then, to Arayici he spoke quietly, "Don't say a word to him."

"Yes, colonel?" A new voice, Ortagi, said a few moments later. This confirmed my theory about the identity of the commanding voice. But I was hardly gratified. I held my breath and waited to hear the rest, praying that it was not what I feared.

"Did you see anything of note in the Hayalet Valley when you traveled here?" the colonel asked curtly, 'Don't look at him. Just tell me what you saw." There was a long pause.

"Yesterday, in the early evening. We were a few hours ride from here. We had stopped to feed the horses near a bend in the river. And I, well Arayici heard a crack. Like a stick breaking. And, you know how nerve-wracking it is to be in the Hayalet Valley...so we got down low and looked at the direction of the noise. And at first..." A long pause.

"What?" The drunk demanded, "This isn't story time, give the colonel information." I already knew the rest of the story.

"Yes Sergeant," Ortagi said, "Well, at first...we saw a ghost. You know the legends. That ghosts that haunt the place. I admit that I was scared. We just froze, looking at this white creature standing on the edge of the woods. It moved sort of...ghost-like. Sort of swaying and such. My blood ran cold. And I, well we, we were about the run and then...and then the ghost lifted up her hands and she slipped her hood off of her head. And it was a little blonde girl. A Northerner, I think. I stared for a minute, and went to grab my sword and head towards her. But when I looked back, she was gone. I think he may have been a ghost."

"I had seen a ghost in the Hayalet Valley before," Arayici said, "in the night. Years ago. It looked just like that girl in her robe. But it was dark. And I was scared. We were scared, the whole patrol. But I swear, it was the same."

"Bullshit," the drunken sergeant said again. But then there was silence again. My heart was racing. Men had seen me. Soldiers of some sort. I wondered how it was possible that they hadn't recognized me, crouching by the door. Then I remembered I was now wearing my brown cloak over my white garment. I felt slightly safer.

"Goddamn ghost stories," The sergeant said after a long while.

"Not ghosts," the colonel responded thoughtfully, "A girl disguised as a ghost."

"What difference does that make?" the sergeant said sharply, there were a pregnant pause, "sir?" the sergeant finished, more reverently.

"Have any of you ever been in the hills on either side of the river? Down in the Valley?" there was a pause, "me neither." Another long pause. I couldn't breathe.

"Sir?" Arayici asked.

"We have all heard the legends, the ghost stories about the Hayalet Valley," the colonel said thoughtfully.

"And we know for a fact that men go missing in the valley. Or are killed," Arayici added.

"A whole caravan just a few weeks ago," the drunken sergeant replied.

"What if there are bandits up there, in the mountains? Bandits who heard the legends and then decided to take advantage. To use the fear that people had because of the mysterious events that happen there, to control the mountain," the colonel said.

"The ghosts, they don't ever steal anything," Ortagi responded.

"You idiot," the colonel said, suddenly heated, "You just said yourself it was a girl, not a ghost."

"Well whoever it is don't steal anything," Ortagi said.

"I don't presume to know their intentions," the colonel said, "but if there are people up in those hills dressed like ghosts, then they have the advantage. They hold the high ground. They have fear. They have the element of surprise."

"It is a thin reed, sir," Ortagi said.

"We have seen arrows in the valley. Seen footprints. Do ghosts fire bows? Do they walk on wet dirt? There have been many, over the years, who have questioned the old-wives tales about ghosts in the Valley."

"I have questioned it," the sergeant said, "a bunch of bullshit that built up over the decades."

"I think you are reading too much into it, sir," Arayici said, "with respect. This has gone on for hundreds of years. The cities and farms that were wiped from the face of the earth. That happened sir, bandits don't do that."

"Maybe there were...spirits once," the colonel said dubiously, "Or maybe there have just been bandits in the Valley for centuries. I don't know. I just know that I want to know what is happening there."

"What do you mean, sir?" Arayici asked.

"It might be nothing. It might be...spirits, I suppose. But there might be something out there. Something living in the Valley. And if there is, that means we can clean them out." the colonel said.

"You want to go into the Valley?" Ortagi said, nervously.

"There is no other way to clean it out," the colonel responded simply.

"I ain't never seen a ghost and I ain't never been scared of the Hayalet Valley. Aye, men die in there. But I have always said there must be an explanation. And I think you cracked it, sir. We can ride to Sato, and request reinforcements from the general and then ride in there..." the sergeant began.

"Are you stupid, sergeant?" the colonel interrupted.

"Sir, I..." the drunken sergeant responded.

"We have obtained information that could, possibly, clear the Hayalet Valley of...whatever it is that has infested it. And if we clean them out, that means that a fertile valley, our homeland, can be returned to the Ulus. Can you imagine what sort of rewards would be bestowed on the men who managed that task?"

"Yes, it would..." the sergeant began.

"Well I can't," the colonel interrupted, "It would be a reward beyond my imagination, and certainly beyond yours. And you want to share it with the general?"

"No, I..."

"I have 100 mounted men camped within three miles of this inn. We will collect them in the morning, and we will go into the Valley. And, if it is ghosts, we will beat a hasty retreat. And if it is a rag-tag group of bandits who have usurped the Ulus for centuries, then we will take it back, and reap the reward," I could hear the colonel's voice glittering with greed. And blood lust.

* * * * *

"I am Kedi...of the Buz!" I yelled as loudly as my tender, aching throat would allow, "I have been at Daire for the last month! Please, I am here to warn you!" I yelled.

This had not been my first plan. I suppose, when I started, I didn't have a plan at all. After listening to the colonel and the soldiers from Ulus discussing their plans, I just jumped into action. I rose from my spot on the ground by the inn and sprinted towards the stables. There were a few dozen horses inside and I found the one that looked the fastest. In a matter of minutes, with no food or drink, I was dashing back into the Hayalet Valley, searching for my former hosts.

I pushed the horse hard, forcing him to sprint for long stretches, only permitting him short rests to drink from the river. I knew that I had snuck out quietly, but in the morning there would be 100 Ulus troopers streaming in behind me. I had the advantage of only a couple hours, I needed to warn the Hayalet.

Because, at that point, there was really no choice but to go back. To warn the women that I had exposed them. The Hayalet, who had freed me from slavery and taken me in when they could have made me a prisoner or killed me. Who fed me, clothed me, and made love to me. I had selfishly escaped them and, as they had predicted, I had put them in danger. If I had an honor, not as a member of the Buz, but simply as a woman, then it was my absolute duty to do whatever was in my power to mitigate the damage I had caused.

Getting into the Valley, however, had been the easy part. The Hayalet had spent centuries learning both the land and the art of deception. Their entire purpose was not to be found. And so, as I moved my horse through the Valley, I kept my eye on the treeline, hoping to see a flash of white. Or anything. But I saw only darkness. I heard nothing but the hoof beats of my exhausted horse. Sometimes, I would leave the horse by the water, and walk over towards the forest, looking inside, hoping to see someone or something. But inky blackness met me at ever turn.

It was long after midnight when I passed the place where I had stumbled out of the forest two evenings earlier. I could see the bend in the river where Arayici and Ortagi had been standing. For the first time, I reflected on the madness of my plan. If the Hayalet did not want to be found, they would not be found. "They" were only seen by the Ulus soldiers because I, for all my delusions about being a tough and resourceful Northern warrior, was stupid. And clumsy. And soft. I had trudged through the forest, loudly. Been discovered. Endangered others. I was a liability. I felt a cold sweat rush over me. I was near panic with shame and guilt. I had put so many good people in so much danger. And I didn't know how to fix it. Each passing moment brought the Ulus closer and closer and closer. Each second lost was a second in which the Hayalet could not plan a response to the coming invasion.