Nuë and the Djinn

Go to chapter 1 if you want to know what's going on. Once again, I have to post before I hear your responses to chapter 1. If an issue comes up, such as a question, or some kind of delay in posting or other some such, I will usually put something in the comments, so look for it there, if you'd like. -Harp

Chapter 3

The horse rocked under her. Nuë had traded with Tiv. She'd offered everything she had for a horse, for supplies and some food, for a bow and arrows to hunt. Tiv had been kind, the old man patting her hand even as he was shaking his head at her.

Fada tribe had decided Nuë was crazy.

The sorcerer had left, taking Mihel with him. Nuë reached for her canteen, lifting it and drinking water. She had been ill when Mihel had been taken from her. Divided from herself. Lost. She had only been aware sometimes, and her dreams had been terrible--falling rocks and Mihel trapped under them, unable to move. She couldn't get to him. She had woken screaming over and over, her voice still hoarse even now.

When she had finally come back, days had passed and the people in the village believed the demon had driven her mad. Levsa had been elated when Nuë had opened her eyes, knowing herself. But Nuë hadn't felt any relief, waking with the knowledge of what she had done. Her mind flashed on Mihel's face, his eyes. Beautiful and strong and all hers, giving her his name because he trusted her.

Once again, Nuë felt Mihel bringing her with him, his light reaching out to her as their bodies joined, feeling his joy, her own, such relief to find him again. She felt Mihel sense their danger and move to protect her. She felt the arrow enter his body. She felt him rise to attack the sorcerer and then understand, a jolt of deep alarm, that the sorcerer had said his true name. His true name, the one thing that could bind an ifrit, if you knew the right magic. She felt his despair.

Nuë's face didn't react as she relived it. She had already relived it a thousand and one times. She would continue to relive it until she freed him.

Once again, she saw Mihel realize that only she could have betrayed him. She saw him meet her eyes, saw him understand, saw his knowledge that she had done this.

Her breath released. She was crying again. Nuë's face didn't change.

#

"Talk to me," Levsa had said as Nuë packed the horse. "How does the demon torment you from afar? What causes this grief?"

"He wasn't a demon," Nuë said again. Nobody heard her. She didn't expect them to. They didn't understand.

"Why can't you tell me how he's still controlling you?"

"Maybe you should seek a different question, Levsa," Nuë said.

"I'm supposed to believe you love a demon of the underworld?" Levsa said. "You're too much like your mother."

Nuë had looked away.

"I'm sorry, sutka," Levsa said a moment later, regret in her voice.

Nuë stopped what she was doing. She came and took Levsa's hands, who gripped them tightly. "You did what you thought was right, out of love, to protect me. How can I blame you when I thought the same? It's my fault. I was the one who betrayed him, not you. I understood too late."

"You keep saying that. What didn't you understand before? How can you betray a demon?"

Days of variations of that same question, and Levsa still didn't like the answer Nuë gave. Levsa couldn't hear it. Nuë had searched for better words, not finding any. "He's my light, auntie," she said again.

Levsa shook her head. "You'll forget him. It was only a little time you spent with him, just a few days. You couldn't possibly feel what you think you do. You're young."

"I have been with him much longer than that," Nuë said, tired of arguing with Levsa. "I returned to him and I didn't recognize him soon enough. I have to go. I have to try to free him."

"You think this sorcerer is going to let you come and take his prize?"

"And you think the men of our village are going to leave me alone, a punal?" Nuë said in return, blunt.

"Don't say that word," Levsa said, looking away. She seemed to struggle. "I will sleep with you. They won't dare to come."

Nuë's glance was skeptical. "The mechi, living with a punal on the edges of the village. Will you stay with me day and night? There's nothing left for me here. This is something I must try. Let me go."

"No," Levsa said, her jaw setting, stubborn. "Don't say that word."

Nuë reached and drew the smaller woman into her arms. "A punal is what I am now, and my spirit is torn without him. I love you. I'm sorry to bring you pain."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," the mechi whispered. She was crying now, too. "You are the joy in my life, sutka." When Nuë stepped back, Levsa placed a small bag into her hands.

"What's this?" Nuë said.

"Put it away before someone sees. You can trade the gold for protection," her aunt said, wiping at her eyes. Seeing Nuë's refusal, Levsa leaned in, speaking fiercely. "You are my sister's daughter. You won't leave your home with nothing."

Nuë took it, putting it in her pocket as she mounted the horse, dressed in Sidean cloth, pants and a shirt, the long tunic, a linen cloak over that with a deep hood she raised against the morning sun. "Thank you. Will you tell me the sorcerer's name? Where he has gone?" Nuë had asked Levsa these questions repeatedly and the mechi had refused to answer.

Levsa's mouth tightened. She came, putting her hand on Nuë's leg, looking up at her. "He's in Heltas," she said. "His name is Ezrel. Be wary until you're clear. Some of the men of Fada tribe will come for you in secret, the cowards."

Nuë put her hand on Levsa's. "I won't stop. I'll try to find a way to let you know I'm well," Nuë said, both of them knowing it was doubtful Nuë would be able to do so. The tribes migrated. And anyone who could protect Nuë would be as likely to take the gold instead and do what he wanted with her.

Nuë turned the horse, Levsa following for a few steps, still holding on, and then their hands parted. Levsa's hand reached out toward her still, the mechi giving a cry of grief. Nuë faced forward. Tears traced their paths down her cheeks, although her face didn't change. She didn't look back again.

#

The horse rocked under her. Nuë stopped in the worst heat of the day, late summer, and fed the horse. She found a high place, watching her tracks. Some of the men of her village would be frustrated to know she had left. They would want to visit the tent that had been waiting for her at the edge of the village where the punal lived, the criminals, a part of the tribe but also not. Where her mother had lived. Where her mother had died. By Sidean tradition, a punal was denied any protection.

Making a meal of food from her pack, Nuë foraged as the horse grazed on the rich grass next to the river. When the worst of the sun's heat passed, she repacked the horse. Turnips swayed off her saddle, tied together. Boiled, they were a starch that was filling, if somewhat tasteless. She had found wild plums she ate right away, tart. A sunflower, Nuë picking out the seeds as she rode.

The sun went down. She didn't stop, using the stars to guide her as people had since they'd first looked up and noticed the patterns in the sky. Singing to keep herself awake, Nuë listened to the night sounds of the grassy plains. She was afraid the horse would wander if she slept.

She woke abruptly from a doze, correcting her path, hearing the yips and then the slow wail of howling, more of their voices joining. Wolves. Nuë had always feared them, ever since she was a child. She was wide awake then, the horse under her as nervous. Their call was far, hunting the lowland hills to the south past the steppes. But they would run on the grasslands to hunt, yes, if they smelled her or the horse.

When dawn came, she found a place and took off the horse's saddle, the packs. The horse was tired. She grazed it, her eyes on the horizon behind her, her eyes grainy with exhaustion, the light too bright. Sitting at the base of a tree, Nuë dozed, her head in her arms, the horse doing the same beside her, locking its legs as horses did.

When she moved on, the land was empty all around her, dry, the wind gusting and hot. Her eyes felt too wide, the landscape stripped of color. She saw a herd of antelope. A fox slipped through the grasses near the well when she stopped to fill her canteen again and give water to the horse.

She stopped again, making a small fire and setting up her pot, boiling water, adding the turnips. The horse was already asleep where it stood. She pulled her cloak over two bushes, crawled under it, and slept.

Nuë woke with a start. It was late afternoon. Packing the horse quickly, putting the cooling turnips in her pockets, she mounted, her eyes on the trail she left behind her. The plains allowed her to see a long way, hours of travel. She looked back frequently.

Before the sun went down, she turned and saw a rider behind her in the distance. He was still hours from her, but he would have already spotted her. Her eyes went to the foothills to the south, the caves there. She waited until dusk, the rider still behind her whenever she looked. Tahon, she imagined, hating him for shooting Mihel with an arrow in the back, the coward. Or maybe it was another man of her tribe. It didn't really matter. Her hand touched her knife.

When it was too dark for the rider to see her horse's tracks or to see her, she slipped off the horse, careful of her silhouette against the sky, which still had some light in it. She led the horse and cut south. When she was far enough, she mounted, staying low. She rode the horse across the plains at night, risking turning its leg, but she needed distance.

If the rider behind her chose to keep going all night, he risked missing her tracks if she turned from the trail. If he stopped, he risked falling too far behind to catch up with her. If it was Tahon, he would keep riding, eager to catch her. He wasn't one to think ahead. But there were men of her tribe who had offered for her who were smarter than Tahon.

Hours later, her horse was walking, the moon rising, casting light on the foothills around her. She dismounted, leading it, hearing the wolves howling. These were their hunting grounds. If they scented and came for her, she would die. She went from place to place, looking for what she wanted.

When she found a cave large enough, she dropped the reins, going carefully. If it was large enough for the horse, it would be large enough for other things. "Hai, hai," she called, listening. Looking back at the horse, she saw it was calm. Tired. It didn't smell anything worrisome. She came back, taking the reins and leading it into the cave.

The cave had crickets and rodents. Bones, but they were old, no smell of a larger animal. There were many caves here. Getting grain from the pack, she fed the horse, taking off its saddle and the packs. If the rider found a way to follow her here, there was nothing she could do except fight. In the meantime, she had to sleep. Nuë pulled her cloak over her head, finding a place. She curled up.

The horse woke her in the morning, breathing onto her face, blowing. Nuë sat up. As she found a place for necessities, she thought about it. If the rider had stopped, she didn't want to return now. If he hadn't stopped, he would see there were no tracks and would wait for her on the trail, she decided. He might even backtrack, but the ground was too hard in the south to track her past the plain and she'd moved west.

She could have a brief bath, then, a grove farther west in the lowlands with a fast-moving stream. She went to the stream, shallow, giving the horse water, stripping and going in quickly. She used a cloth, scrubbing at herself, using her cup, rinsing. Dressing, she gathered dry wood that wouldn't smoke as much, returning to the cave, making a small fire in the back.

On the fourth day since she'd left the village, when it was a few hours until dark, Nuë saddled the horse, going carefully, and headed north.

When she crossed her previous path, she went carefully, the moon bright. Sideans said that what was good luck for one person was often bad luck for another, and she didn't want anyone finding her by chance. She rode all night, finding the trade road, a wide dirt path, packed and well worn. It went east-northeast. It would lead to Heltas, which was a large port city with high walls, a journey of weeks. Nuë had never been there.

On the one hand, being on the trade road was a good thing. The riders who hunted her might guess that she would go there, but not when. They wouldn't know if they were ahead or behind her, and the extra days in the cave would almost assuredly mean they would guess wrong. She thought they'd give up then. On the trade road, travelers were free to pass through territories that were otherwise dangerous to traverse, the local people liking the trade but not wanting strangers to wander on their lands.

On the other hand, this was a large trade road, the largest, running from the sea inland through the grassland plains where the tribes wandered to the highland peoples and, from there, to the base of the huge mountain range. There would be travelers on the road with her. She had gold, a horse they could take. And other things. She wasn't wearing a maiden collar. She had no protection, no tribe to avenge her, and she was alone.

Nuë traveled at night, keeping to the road. In the mornings, she found a hidden place to rest. It was boredom punctuated by anxiety. Seeing the lights of fires as she passed, she sometimes heard the voices of people camping by the road. She missed Levsa and her tribe, but more than that, she missed Mihel like a pain in her spirit that didn't fade.

Eight days later, Nuë slowed to hunt. The bow got her two pheasants and she foraged, spending the day in camp. It was a long road and she needed to conserve her food.

She was sitting in front of her fire when she heard a man's voice, approaching on her right. Nuë stood, her heart pounding. It was too late to run, her hand on her knife.

A man and his son came through the bushes, carrying fish from the river. The boy was seven or eight. They stopped when they saw her and then approached. From Cadmom, highland people, Nuë knew, seeing their clothing. The man looked around and then at her, not seeing anyone else with her.

He would recognize she was Sidean. His eyes went to her throat, looking for her collar, she knew. He spoke to her, but she didn't understand the language. She shook her head, her hand still on her knife. The boy looked up at the man and asked a question, the man shrugging and answering.

The man held up two fish, pointing to the pheasants and putting up one finger. Nuë relaxed a little, looking at the fish. She nodded, getting one of the birds. She set it down on a rock, backing away. She would have to move her camp, since the man knew it now.

After the father and the boy had gone, she watched carefully as she packed up, making sure the man didn't return. She wrapped the fish, grateful for it. Risking the road for a short time, she looked for another place, needing to sleep.

#

Her routine resumed. At night, Nuë walked the trade horse, going quietly. During the day, she found a place to rest. Her sleep was broken, thinking others were near. She couldn't tell, anymore, if her fears were real or imagined, unable to stop waking, exhausted.

Four days later, she was leading the horse in the morning, tired, looking for a place to camp and to sleep, when she stumbled onto three men around their fire. It was just bad luck. They were Shati people, tribesmen. She saw their camp behind them. She froze and then turned and mounted her horse as they got up. She heard them calling behind her.

After a time, she didn't hear them anymore. Nuë continued to risk the road, finding a different place to camp. She slept uneasily, waking often. She didn't know if she shouldn't leave the trade road altogether. But the road currently cut straight through Shati country, the tribes thick here, and they defended their territory. She would have to wait until she was past them.

She was breaking camp two nights later, in a small clearing behind tall rocks, the sun going down, when the three Shati tribesman found her again. They must have figured how she was traveling and been looking for her.

Nuë stood, her hand on her knife, backing away, feeling a wave of hopelessness. She had known this was the likely outcome of her journey, a punal traveling alone. She couldn't defend herself against so many. They probably wouldn't kill her. They would want to take her, to bring her with them, and she would travel this road on her back, three men riding her.

The men were speaking to one another, nothing Nuë could understand. One turned and said something to her. She shook her head, not understanding. He gestured to her throat, no maiden collar. Nuë backed away, her eyes darting. The man turned and spoke to the other two.

She was moving slowly toward her horse, trying not to draw their attention. She would leave without her things if she could possibly get away. The man turned and saw it and ran toward her, the other two watching.

Drawing her knife, Nuë faced him. She yelled at him. All Sidean women learned to defend themselves with a knife. But these men weren't helpless Heltasian traders. They were nomads like her people. They would have learned the same, and they were larger, more experienced. There were three of them. Her heart was pounding. The man slowed his approach, looking wary. The other two men approached behind him. They spread out.

Nuë did the only thing she could. She put her back to a tall rock, breathing fast. Her only advantage was that they wanted to take her alive and she was only interested in killing them, if she could.

The first man made a snatch for her arm. She swiped with the knife, the man pulling back just in time. But the man to her left used the distraction, stepping in and reaching for her. She brought the knife around and it caught his arm, the man crying out and stumbling back, his hand on the slash. The third man's fist came swooping from her side vision and he fell to the ground dead, his head twisted in the wrong direction.

For a heartbeat, all three of them stopped, staring at the dead man and then at each other.

The other two men looked just as surprised as she was. One of the men said something and reached for her and his head twisted, a sickening crunch, his knees buckling. The third backed away from her, pointing at Nuë, babbling. He broke into a run away from her. She watched as he was lifted into the air off his feet, his head twisting and his feet tangling. He dropped to the ground like a piece of cloth, limp, his eyes staring blankly.

Nuë didn't move, although she didn't think it would matter. Waiting. She assumed she was next. She waited more. Nothing touched her. She slowly walked away from the rock, her eyes darting.

Going around the bodies, she turned to look at them. She faced forward again and startled, a large figure in front of her in a long ash-gray robe, a deep hood.

Her heart leapt. "Mihel!" she cried, running to him.

The figure pushed back his hood and she stopped. Not Mihel. Like him, so like him, but not. Another ifrit, black hair. She stared at his features. Wrong. Blue eyes, but not Mihel's eyes.

She had thought it was Mihel. The disappointment was so bitter she couldn't move. She wanted it to be Mihel. She realized she was crying. She turned away from him, walking. She didn't care what he wanted. Maybe he wanted sex, or to kill her for what she'd done. Nuë went to her knees in front of the remains of her fire, her tears coming fast, her shoulders shaking.

She realized the ifrit was sitting across the fire, watching her. She finally calmed herself, wiping her face. She was so tired. She had to get away from the bodies. Their relations would avenge them if they thought she had anything to do with their deaths. She got up, packing things, working around the figure, who still watched her.