Updated due to an insightful comment from LuckyPlum
"You think I'm better than I am."
Keilah
Keilah watched until Jagur was swallowed up by the crowd, and then Dakkoul led the way back to their horses and past her mother's body. Several Enderaii warriors were covering it in stones as protection from the jackals that lived in the forest. A sob caught in her throat and she made Wicker stop.
"We must keep going," Dakkoul urged and she nudged Wicker forward even as her gaze lingered behind until all sight of her mother was gone.
A numbness threatened to overtake her. Her mother was dead. Dakkoul had a child. She fought it by concentrating on the road ahead fringed by giant ferns and wandering blackberry bushes. The rain had ceased but there was dripping sound that came from water running down the leaves and trees.
After several hours of riding they were down the other side of the mountain. By the side of the path a trickle of water ran down a rocky cluster of rocks. Dakkoul halted. "Are you thirsty Keilah? There's a stream here you can drink from."
She slid off her horse. The inside of her mouth was as dry as a stick but before she drank she had to question him. "You said you have a daughter. When were you married? Who is she? Will I meet her soon?"
He let out an unpleasant sounding chuckle. "Wayvolkan slaves don't have wives."
Not a wife but a lover? Keilah felt shock gripping her heart. Jagur hadn't even kissed her, wanting to wait until they'd crossed the commitment stones, but Dakkoul had fathered a child! He was looking at her with an odd expression on his face. Something within her twisted and she fixed her gaze instead on the wooden bowl hanging on a twig above the stream. She used it to scoop up the clear mountain water and let it wash away the dryness of her mouth.
Refreshed, she risked a glance at Dakkoul who was kicking at an exposed tree root. He'd probably guessed at the turmoil racing through her. Was it fair for her to judge him, if marriage wasn't allowed? Perhaps slaves had their own form of marriage, not sanctioned by the Wayvolk but blessed by themselves. That was probably it and he was worried she would only see the lack of rim-stones. She wasn't as village as that.
She handed the bowl to Dakkoul who gulped the water down, wiping his face clear of drops when he finished. "Tallie's mother howls with the foxes, five years ago now. She died after giving birth."
"I'm sorry to hear that," she murmured, aware that the words were a lie. All she felt was relief.
Dakkoul rummaged in his saddle bag. "Your uncle ordered me to be with her. She wasn't my choice."
Keilah looked at him blankly as he pulled out
some round, ridged bread, passing a portion to her before squatting on the ground to eat his own. Why would her uncle order such a thing? Something in his face made her shrink back from asking. She ripped the bread into small pieces and placed them on her tongue before chewing.
Dakkoul snorted. "You still eat the same."
She welcomed the change in topic and pretended to be offended. "I remember you used to tease me for it. I still say it tastes better this way. You should try it."
"I did. It took too long."
"But it tasted better, right?" She insisted until he acquiesced. Then she sucked at her bread until it vanished then stood up. When he arose too, she threw her arms around him. "It is so good to see you again Dakkoul."
He stiffened, then relaxed and hugged her back. "Keilah, I promised myself the next time I saw you, I would do this." He bent his head down towards hers and she realized with a sudden shock he was going to kiss her. His mouth, with the sweet smell of bread still on his breath, lightly caressed hers.
For one joyous moment, she kissed him back with all her heart until guilt stabbed her. She wrenched her head away and pushed with her hands on his chest. "I can't, Dakkoul."
He let go, turned away from her and started fumbling with the strap of his saddle bags. "I forgot myself. Forgive me. We should ride now if we are to make it to camp by nightfall."
She put a hand on his forearm, the warmth of his skin seeping into her icy fingers. "I want to explain."
"There's nothing to explain. I shouldn't have kissed you. We should go."
"I can't be kissing you while Jagur is out there with the rim folk waiting for my answer."
He huffed out a sigh. "He's not waiting for your answer Keilah. He knows he won't make it out of there alive."
"What do you mean? You vowed to go back."
"What's the word of a slave? If it were that easy to escape, I'd have run off long ago. And what good is the Sheradith's version of freedom to me? She only wants to use me to kill even more people."
Keilah's eyes flashed at him. "Then Jagur will die."
"He knew what he was doing. He told me not to come back for him."
Keilah's breath caught. "You won't listen to him, will you? You'll go if you can?"
"You think I'm better than I am. No promises, Keilah."
"Then I'll go back for him before the three new moons pass," she said as though mulling the idea out-loud. "She'll think you'll come for me. It might save him."
He clenched his jaw. "You are free to do as you wish. We should be riding fast now. The forest becomes dangerous at night with jackals and worse. Unless you want to go back to Vene-Jakaan?"
Back home without her mother. She shook her head. "I can't though, can I? Even if I wanted to?"
"You could escape to the hills. But now that the Sheradith wants you and your uncle is after you, I wouldn't advise it. I think your grandmother will protect you, but I can't be sure."
"Please take me to her." Keilah got back on Wicker, who gave a disgruntled snort before starting at an amble down the road. She pressed her legs against her body until she groaned and began moving at a faster pace.
Dakkoul cantered, his skinny mare making up in speed what she lacked in looks though she did her funny shivery dance every now. The sky was darkening and it was growing hard to see the path ahead.
"We're nearly there. Just over that next rise."
Heartened, Keilah pressed her legs against her horse until she perked forward. Then she saw a circle of tents around a camp fire and the artic fox flag of the Wayvolkan army hanging limp from a pole implanted in the ground. A soldiers' camp. There was a tightness in her chest as she scanned the tents and saw a man in his thirties with a round jaw covered in gray and brown hair and a jagged scar at the top of his nose. He came towards them but did not come too close. Beside her Dakkoul said in an undertone, "He's not a friend so be careful what you say, but he won't harm you."
He dismounted with a muttered sigh of relief. "This is the Lady Keilah, Jalen."
Jalen's dark brown eyes darted back and forth between Dakkoul and herself and then he squeezed his lips together. Finally he spoke, "Are you testing my loyalty, Hattavah? Because I don't wish to prove it on her."
Dakkoul shook his head. "I have decided to bring her to her grandmother."
Jalen's forehead relaxed. "Is that wise?"
"No." Dakkoul's jaw tightened. "However, it is what she wants."
Jalen crossed his arms and leaned back on his feet. "I would dissuade you from this if I could, my Lady and you, Hattavah. Lord Rustavan's orders are always clear and he does not respond well to surprises." His puzzled eyes rested on Dakkoul's face. "You know this Hattavah, better than most."
"I do," said Dakkoul aiming a hard look in Jalen's direction.
Keilah spotted the slightest twitch of his cheek as he did so and realized with a shock that for all his bravado, Dakkoul was afraid. She spoke up. "We don't have to go back if you don't want to."
Dakkoul shook his head. "I must go back. My daughter is there."
Jalen's lips pressed thin, before he opened them into a polite smile. "Welcome to our camp, my Lady. Shall I give you the tour?" Jalen led her round past the circle of tents, pointing out the captain's more elaborate affair, then the simple soldier's domiciles, the supply tent, the latrine which was a hole thick with flies before leading her back to sit on one of the wooden logs that were placed by the fire. Then he found some wooden bowls, gave them both one and ladled out some hot watery-looking stew.
"Just made a big batch. Will the others be along soon?" he asked as he plonked down beside Keilah, across from the Dakkoul.
"We met with the Sheradith. Only Lady Keilah and I escaped."
"The rest were on the ground with their throats cut." Keilah's voice rose as she spoke, the horror of the memory coming back to her. Even as she spoke, the sun disappeared and the sky plunged into grey-black.
Jalen put his head his hands and groaned. "Balec and Grent and all the others? All gone?" His head moved from side to side and his breathing became heavy.
The fire danced between them, a flickering orange flame in the darkness that twisted and cast shadows on Jalen. Keilah watched his chest still. He cleared his throat, glanced at Dakkoul and then went silent. The quietness stretched on between them and Keilah began to feel uncomfortable. Again Jalen opened his mouth, and then snapped it shut.
Dakkoul growled, "Speak if you have something to say."
Thank you keeping on reading. What do you think Jalen will say?