A Hollow Mountain (The Brightest Shadow Book 2), page 55
"I know of the shortcomings of breeding pits. But I require numbers if I am to conquer, and nothing else will be so effective." Kreue stared down at her as if she were babbling like an infant. "Do you truly care so much for such worthless creatures? They would never have become anything on Orphos, either. At least this way they can contribute to our cause."
"But they cann-"
"And what about the men?" The young woman propped her elbows on Kreue's shoulder and stared down at Celivia from the cradle of her hands. "You shed no tears for them."
"I assumed they were workers employed by the army." Celivia clenched her eyes closed, trying to let their rebuttals slough off her. What mattered was reaching them in some way. "The pits breed fear. Generations of men who refuse to sleep with women who are their equals because they can never allow themselves to be vulnerable to a warrior who could threaten them. There will be no children of warriors, and they will never know what it's like to be with someone they trust..."
Kreue laughed uproariously and she knew that her cause was hopeless. The young woman joined in, taking particular joy in seeing Celivia derided. She had seen that before too.
"No more of this." Kreue grinned down at her. "If you want to impose such ideals on the world, conquer your own nation and then see how long they last. For now, you will help find this connection to the Legend, to the best of your ability."
There had been a chance that he would strike her down, but it seemed she received only derision. Celivia snapped a fist to her chest and spoke flatly. "As you command, Zeitainan Kreue."
"Yes. Everything is as I command."
Celivia moved quickly to the next tunnel, examining her own feelings and pretending to ignore every group of women. Compared to the steady horror pulsing within her, the tension in her stomach felt like a petty thing. Perhaps it was the Legend, perhaps not. Stories that carried the message of everything meant nothing.
Gradually she felt a pattern: her stomach grew tightest in the west while easing to the east. In one tunnel she thought she even felt a flare of irrational anger. All of it could have been her imagination, and she had no idea if she was deluding herself. But when they finished their explorations and Kreue demanded to know what she had felt, she was certain in her answer.
"Dig to the east."
Chapter 39
-
"A woman's hair is her glory, which is why it must be appropriately presented. The most proper position is a braid coiled about the head, but a tight band will suffice in times of duress. Only brazen strumpets would wear their hair unbound in public, but a lock or two might be allowed free if one wishes to be bold in appropriate company. Hair falling free while female errants are in training can be avoided with proper braiding, and should never be allowed to lead to uncontrolled passions."
- Portantese Young Lady's Handbook
-
As the enemy fled, Mohuno waited for the perfect moment to let out a cry of victory. Too early and some of the men would still be recovering. Too late and the cry wouldn't strike terror into the enemy, or worse, his men might think he lacked confidence. Mohuno picked up one of the men who had fallen to buy time, then raised his sword and let out a shout after the fleeing raiders.
The Steelbone clan echoed his cry and victory pulsed through his blood.
Mohuno paced over the valley that had served as their battlefield. The uninjured men he struck on the shoulder and laughed with, while those who had received more serious injuries he commanded to take messages back to the village. That way the fools might actually recover instead of killing themselves.
From the corner of his eye he spotted someone throwing aside an axe. He immediately reeled on the man, one of their new recruits. "What are you doing, man?"
"That axe was shit." The burly man patted the weapon at his side. "The boys of other clans are playing with sticks compared to the new weapons you've brought us."
"Remember, the trash of the Steelbone clan is the prize of lesser clans." Mohuno grinned and gestured toward the axe. "Take it back. Our women can sell it to weak children after they cower from us."
The man laughed and went to get the axe. Mohuno kept grinning as he moved on, glad that it was becoming easier to influence the men. Every little change had been like forcing a boulder up a mountain, but now he'd finally reached level ground. They all did as he commanded, even if only a few understood his reasons.
Once, many of their weapons had been forged from brittle iron, but now most of the men in the clan carried steel. They considered it the spoils of victory, which was a lie. The majority of their weapons had been acquired via trade, not battle. He had seen the true value of the treasures that raiders usually looted and sought to use them better.
Some of the men considered it weakness, but Mohuno considered it no different than the strength of blood. Weak boys had blood that barely pumped through their veins and men had hotter blood, but the strongest of men knew when to let their blood flow and when to hold back. Spending one's strength before the proper time was merely waste.
In the same way, he saw how raiding and smashing was the weakness of boys. By trading away the useless luxuries they found, they could increase the strength of the Steelbone clan. Some men from broken tribes had even come to join them, hearing how well they ate and drank.
Many called him the greatest man in the Steelbones. Yet with every action Mohuno found himself instead thinking of that damn girl. He furiously pushed her from his mind and gathered his men to return to the nearest village.
Instead of the central Steelbone village, they would spend the night in a village captured from the Hardblood clan. Though he needed their home village to remain a place of respect, Mohuno had been moving his men from place to place more frequently. If his enemies never knew where their forces sat, they couldn't know where to attack. He might lose a village when he found an opponent bold enough to strike anyway, but for now the other clans feared all of them.
Just in case they made an attempt against him, Mohuno gathered several strong and uninjured men with him as they returned. Yet when they reached the village, he saw only anticipation. The boys even stared at him in adoration, now wanting nothing more than to join the men of the Steelbones.
"Your village is safe!" Mohuno raised a fist over his head and exalted in the cheers of the villagers. As they rushed closer, he upended a sack of some of the trivial items they had taken from their enemy. Nothing that his men would want, but small items useful to herders and farmers.
All the villagers wept and thanked him as they scrabbled for the treasures at his feet. Nothing but gratitude, because of all the good things he brought their village.
Tani had been wrong. Completely wrong.
Mohuno insisted that his men stay alert before beginning any celebrations, to be prepared in the event of a counter attack. Yet as the day wore on, his caution proved unnecessary yet again. A few of the men bridled at the discipline, but they were mostly distracted as other men returned bearing more of the spoils of victory. The smells of the villagers cooking a feast for them set the men's blood flowing as well, building their anticipation.
When at last everyone was accounted for and a guard had been set, Mohuno gave the command to signal that the battle had ended. Nothing remained but to celebrate.
He drank several mugs of ale and tore through a whole roasted cockatrice the grateful villagers offered him, but Mohuno's blood was up. Food and drink would not satisfy him, not like this. There was only one way to celebrate such a victory.
As one of the larger villages, this place had more than a few women to choose from. Mohuno saw a woman with hips he'd kill for smiling lustily at him, and once he would have gladly taken her to a room. That night, his eyes instead fell on a slim young woman with short dark hair. There was something about the way she smiled when he made eye contact that sent his blood pumping.
It had nothing to do with anyone she resembled.
After saying his farewells to his strongest men, Mohuno went to her, took the pitcher from her hands, and guided her from the hall. He didn't force her. He'd never forced anyone. She even took his hand and led him back to a small house with a few ragged furs on the floor. After he warmed her for that night, he'd leave her with a thicker fur and she'd remember him fondly.
Except Tani was in his blood, leaving him hard with memories of her, not this girl. Some men could fool themselves and imagine another woman, but Mohuno had never been able to imagine it. He did his best to push Tani from his mind, but couldn't help comparing this shy girl to the fierce passion he remembered so clearly...
He guided the woman to the ground in defiance of that memory. She seemed hesitant at first, but as he slid a hand between her legs she soon gave him a sweet moan. Her body might not be ready, so he moved his fingers gently, guiding her until she was slick for him. It simply took her body some time to catch up to her moans and that smile.
Mohuno realized that he stood atop a peak with two paths. He could have cast aside his doubts, fucked the girl, and slept soundly. He should have. But he never ran from a fight, even one against a ghost in his head.
In one swift movement, Mohuno snarled and grabbed the girl by the neck.
Instant terror.
His plan had been to caress her soothingly, reassure her that he was only playing. Instead his hand remained locked on her neck as he saw the fear ripple through her. And with that flinch, he tumbled down the wrong side of the mountain.
If she had truly wanted him, there should have been a heartbeat of confusion or surprise. He wanted to see surprise in her eyes and failed to lie to himself. Instead his action had stripped away the mask of pleasure to reveal the fear that had been there all along, just as she said.
"Fuck!" Mohuno let go of the woman's neck and instead drove his fist through the wall. He didn't even feel it break.
The woman scrabbled away from him, pulling her arms and legs against herself as she watched with dread. Because that had been what she always expected from him. Mohuno spat out more curses and stormed from the hut, leaving her huddled in terror behind him. Because nothing had changed. His sword still hung over her head as surely as if he held it there himself.
Out in the cold of the night, Mohuno released an incoherent shout of rage skyward. His anger only seemed to make his cock harder, mocking him, yet now the blood pumping through his body had no outlet. It would never be possible for him to fool himself again, leaving him with nothing.
"Something wrong, Mohuno?" One of the men emerged from another hut, a bicorn leg in one hand and a woman against his side. "Girl fight back?"
"It's nothing." Mohuno let all his anger become a look of scorn. "Go back and enjoy the spoils of victory."
The man nodded and pulled the woman back in with him. She laughed and Mohuno could hear nothing false in her laugh, but how could he know? Even if she wanted the men of the Steelbone clan, did it matter? He would always think about that fear he'd seen, as if he was nothing but a wild beast. Which he was.
Mohuno furiously paced from the village, waving aside the guards. As he walked out, his mind devoured every detail of his memories of Tani.
With her, he could be certain. His blood ran hotter than hers, but she had never feared him. She would never pretend to be someone else like the villager girl, never submit to his rage. If she ever let him touch her, it would be because she actually wanted him.
Yet she had gone north, never to return. Mohuno found a tree and began hacking at it. None of his blood flowed properly, so instead of cutting through with a single stroke, his blade only gouged chunks from the bark. He loosed his rage against the trunk, wild strikes without any discipline, over and over until his sword stuck deep in the side.
All at once he was exhausted. His blood flowed hotter than before, but he had no strength in his arms. The edge of his blade had twisted slightly, leaving it trapped in the wood. Once it would have been easy to simply tear it free, but now the tree resisted him. Something about that meaningless fact left him empty of everything else.
He kicked just above his blade, snapping the tree in half. Not a proper man's blow, his blood burning within him, but a cold strike. It could just as easily have gone through a man's chest.
Mohuno returned the sword to his side and stared at the broken trunk.
~ ~ ~
After having kept Tani from his mind for so long, now Mohuno couldn't shake her. The Steelbones were stronger than they had ever been before, yet with every preparation and every victory he only thought of her. His men noticed his fury and completely misunderstood.
To prevent himself from making any foolish mistakes, Mohuno left their movements in the command of his uncle and returned to the central village. Once it might have been a good place to relax and enjoy himself, but now he went only to confirm another part of the plan. If his new mercantile efforts were successful, they might cast out part of her memory.
Everyone greeted him as he arrived, but Mohuno pushed past them. He looked instead for the boy who scowled at him, trying to remember his name. Rudako, that was it. Though no one in the village refused him, Rudako always had that same look.
"What do you want?"
"Well, you're looking strong!" Mohuno looked him up and down. "Keep up your work and I'll be asking you to join the Steelbones!"
"I don't want to join your clan." Rudako did finally loosen his grip on his spear. "Stop suggesting it."
Mohuno shrugged - it had been a lie anyway. The boy didn't have hot enough blood to fight like a man. Or a hot-blooded woman, or that damn girl. "I need to speak to your sister."
"I don't like any of this. It's putting her at risk..." Before Rudako could say more, his sister emerged from one of the houses behind them and he immediately shut his mouth.
As she approached, Mohuno watched her carefully. He'd spent one night with her, more because she was the only woman of the right age in her village than because she was beautiful or even pretty. Had any of that been real? She smiled when she saw him, but it was a flat expression without any heart behind it. No, he doubted that she ever thought of their night together.
Or, if she did...
"I need to discuss the ombos." Mohuno jerked his head for her to follow, shaking away unnecessary thoughts with the same movement. Cabari bobbed her head in agreement and returned briefly to pick up a basket before following him. Her brother stamped the butt of his spear against the ground and returned to scowling.
"This litter was better than the last." Cabari reached into the basket and handed him a piece of ombo wool. "The first litters after moving were so thin, the quality of the wool was low. I was confused at first, because we raised the ombos the same, but then I realized that we were feeding them different greens because different ones grow here. I don't know which is-"
"I assume you will figure that out. How is the sewing going?"
"That is... not so well." Cabari meekly pulled another piece of fabric from her basket - fearfully? Ignoring her for the moment, Mohuno grabbed the wool and shook out the garment.
Instead of a traditional cloth of a clan, it was one of the cloak-like garments he'd seen errants and travelers wear in the north. The proportions were right, and the wool was soft indeed. But when he compared it to everything he had seen, he knew it was too weak. Mohuno tightened his jaw to prevent him from hurling the cloth to the ground and instead handed it back to her.
"I know that it isn't very good now. "Cabari lowered her head and stuffed the wool away. "But I think we can do better over time..."
"No." Mohuno knuckled his eyes roughly and then shook his head. "Practice all you want on your own garments, but we can't compete with these. Do you remember those... sticks of fabric they had in the north?"
"Bolts of cloth?"
"Yes. Those. To start, we should just create the best wool we can. We'll raid you some of those sticks and we can sell them for more."
Cabari nodded and smiled again. He thought that smile was real, since it was about her work, not him. Once he might have yelled at her, but now he was only tired. The truth was that the Steelbone clan simply could not compete by the standards of strength many merchants used. Though the girl knew her ombos and Mohuno could puzzle out some on his own, he wasn't capable of everything he knew should be possible.
They might have spoken of more, but at that moment Mohuno heard shouting from near the village entrance. He rushed there, hand on his sword, and found several women and boys surrounding a man. The Steelbone panted for breath with his hands on his knees, yet he wasn't wounded. A message?
"Mohuno!" The man straightened when he saw him, hacked up phlegm, and managed to speak. "Deathspawn... lots of Deathspawn!"
"Attacking? How did they get past our posts?" Mohuno drew his sword, eyes on the mountains around them before he realized they couldn't be near.
"Not... not attacking. They want... to talk."
Though Mohuno stared down at the man, it appeared to be the truth. From that moment on, his movement had a dream-like feel. As he determined the direction and ran to meet them, his thoughts drifted higher than the highest peaks.
Deathspawn did not simply wander this deep into the Sotunn Mountains, fighting or talking. They weren't part of his world, only something referenced in stories, or by the occasional travelers. He knew that those who claimed the largest passes both fought them and fled from them, but they weren't supposed to be part of his clan's life.
If they did come in violence, Mohuno wasn't sure what he would do. Once, he would have declared war, like the men of any clan would do. But he felt certain that the Deathspawn had warriors as strong as the errants of the north. His clan had no chance against the larger clans, much less a true national military.
When he found them, the Deathspawn and his men camped on opposite sides of a valley, staring at one another suspiciously. A large group of his men, none injured but all tense. On the other side, he could see a horde of Deathspawn. Each would be weaker than he expected, but together they might be the equal of any one of his groups.
