Torches blazed inside the troops' dining hall, casting light and shadows on the wooden walls and common tables. Alana's stomach groaned with hunger. Tor walked in from the open door, his hair had grown past his shoulders, and he held a hemp book under his arm, on which he practiced writing whenever they were not traveling. He did not care much for fight training anymore, and although Alana could still sense jealousy and mistrust between Tor and Kassius, they were getting along.
Gitara walked behind him, holding her baby in her arms. She was now two months old. She had named her Lesa, and she was growing strong even in their dire circumstances. Kassius' adopted bear cub followed, walking close to Tor, colored like a chestnut, and sturdy at four months, it was growing so big that it would soon be impossible to carry in arms. Two other women, Vita and Lashka, were older than the rest and had lost a lot of weight during their travels. Hrezia, the old chieftain's daughter, and Irema accompanied them from behind.
"Follow us," said the bald slave, looking down.
The slaves guided them to a wide kitchen, with large barrels covering the walls, built to store grain and beer, and hemp bags full of hard barley bread. In the corner, underneath a wide iron chimney, there was a large cauldron supported by a metal stand, with red coals still heating the furnace beneath. Aylix walked toward it and removed the lid. It was as big as a shield, and Alana was the first to look at its contents. It was a red broth, with lamb cubes and lentils floating about. Its soft, fatty smell made her stomach roar for a taste.
They distributed the soldiers' clay vases and shared the meal, devouring it like hungry peasants in silence. Kassara said she was well enough to stand and take care of herself, so she joined them at the table. After the meal, Alana felt bloated and sluggish, and many of her companions complained about the same. Then, the slaves distributed fresh goat milk.
Before the refreshment, Raxana stood up and told the slaves to follow her outside. She returned shortly, banging open the door.
"We must leave now," she said urgently.
"What is it?" Alana said, putting down her vase.
"I've seen a carriage coming from the north. Soldiers."
"Oh," Alana said, getting up and instinctively eyeing Kassius. Although those surroundings were Spartan and rudimentary, she felt unwilling to leave the protection of a warm dry roof and run back into the fields.
"Fine, let's go," Alana said with a sigh.
"We have good news as well," Raxana said. Alana noticed a slight smile of relief on her lips. "Come and see for yourselves."
The group marched into a barn, home to about half a dozen horses. Raxana, a horse mistress in her youth, approached one of them.
"Do any of you not know how to ride?" she asked.
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Tor raised his hand."We will have to share, then," Raxana said. "There are thirteen of us. Fifteen with the two men. Kassara, I will come with you. Aliya, please take the boy, Tor. Are you two comfortable riding together?" She looked at Kassius and Alana. They both nodded. At least they would rest their legs.
"How about you, mistresses?" she asked the matrons. They nodded as well. They had also fought before.
"A white horse for the bearers of the sword," Kassius said, eyeing a horse of the same color, its snout dark and its hair neatly trimmed. Alana had not ridden in years, since the death of Targitaos, her father's horse. A sudden flow of grief invaded her heart, remembering those days in the village, and she wished her father was there to give her ideas on how to be a better rider.
The bald slave opened the barn door for her, and she approached the horse slowly. It stepped back nervously.
"It's fine, boy, it's fine," she said, extending her hand and patting it with care and patience. The horse responded positively and moved its ears forward.
"Alana, let's go, there's no time to waste," Kassara said, already mounted on a black steed, with Kassius' shirt still tied to her body.
Alana looked around. What they were about to do was considered one of the worst crimes, especially if it was done in a town like hers. Stealing was a hideous crime, unthinkable in her tribe, and when it happened, it was dealt with severely. But stealing a horse was equal to murder.
And now, she had done both.
"I know what you are thinking, Alana," Kassius whispered next to her.
She shook her head. "This is unimaginable. I would never think of doing this . . ." she said.
Kassius held her hand. "This is a righteous act. If we do not take their horses, their men will ride them to find us and kill us. They will have seen what we did to their men, and the new governor will think he has a good reason to punish our women. We need these horses in order to raise our own army."
Alana nodded.
Kassius placed a saddle on the horse. Alana calmed the horse down and climbed slowly, Kassius mounted and sat behind her.
It was time to go. Tor held onto the bear cub, and Aliya held the reins. They spurred into the night, leaving the post behind. Alana guided the horse out once the slaves had already mounted their own horses, and she spurred. Once again, she felt the air blowing through her hair. Kassius held on and leaned on her back, and she felt as if breaking the chains that had kept her, and leaving a dark prison into a new world, the one she was born to live in. Before them, the steppe spread far and wide, below the infinite map of stars sinking into the dark horizon of grass shaking like the waves of the sea, with a pure orange tint that marked the coming sunrise, and she breathed in as if the air there was purer.