Chapter 4

I was bound to Cerys, and both being ungagged we had chance to talk and an opportunity to rest as best we could. In this I learned much, but I will return to our conversation later.

Our journey from the gathering had been a miserable one. The heavens opened (and it can rain even harder on Sevir than it did in my more familiar surroundings of London and indeed England, though my fellow humanhorse may well be used to hard rains in her native Wales) and the three of us: our rider Akrith, Cerys and myself were lashed by strong winds and bitter cold rain. I am fortunate that two years of being a farmhorse after being taken from Earth gave me the ability to withstand naked the worst of this planet’s weather, though even this storm was unseasonal. It was as if the heavens were weeping for the outrageous expulsion of Akrith from the gathering, and the wind behind us propelled us away from the mass of female warriors who spat at us as we departed.

The Egri woman sitting high up on my back was now a warrior without an army and worse, without a sword. Now she rode me along muddy paths with Cerys in tow, not caring as wet branches whipped and slapped my wet body, looking for shelter. Her mood, understandably, was black: she had been bested not in a fight which properly armed she might have won, but by the words of an old enemy of her fold and trapped into leaving. Akrith did not speak as we made our way on unmarked paths and though I had my bit gag in I thought it best to make no sound. Cerys too was gagged, though with a wedge gag as she had no burden to carry, other than a small bag of my rider’s meagre possessions and a little food secretly given to us by one warrior who wore the tunic of Akrith’s own fold. Like Cerys had before, I had been stripped of my elbow weapons and while Akrith retained her knife and spurs, she was obliged to leave behind her iron armour. I had my saddle and reins of course as I was indisputably Akrith’s property, but though Cerys had her reins her saddle was taken away, which was understandable as it was of good quality and would be auctioned ‘for the welfare of the gathering’ as the evil Kemmor put it, though I suspected she would benefit more.

I did not, having hauled ploughs in the fields, find Akrith a heavy weight to carry, though I swear her mood somehow made her feel heavier. Going to battle she had sat high in the saddle on my back and I found her light enough. While she had muscle as any female warrior on Sevir does, with her being only three foot tall it was like giving a child a piggy-back on Earth and I had come to believe the gravity was a little less on this planet. More, the saddle is skilfully constructed to sit well on a humanhorse’s upper back and shoulders. But then the people of Sevir have been taking Earth women for many centuries, I was to discover from Cerys.

Eventually, with the day wearing on and the weather easing somewhat, we found a ruined wall to shelter behind. A small overhang of an old roof provided Akrith with a measure of comfort but Cerys and I had to huddle on our knees, facing each other a few feet away and we were secured with a rope round our necks so our breasts and bellies pressed together. In this manner it not only gave us some shared warmth but gave us chance to whisper to each other, for our neck binding meant I was looking over Cerys’ left shoulder (as she looked over mine) so my left cheek was pressed against her left cheek our lips close to an ear. It was a clever arrangement to stop us running off together and allowed me to retain my saddle on my back. Kneeling and neck bound like this, I expected we would sleep in this position too, weather or intense discomfort permitting, though the ground was soft and not stony.

Of course as humanhorses we both had our wrists chained to our belts. Cerys may have been part of the Tankic forces but they secured their humanhorses exactly as the Egri did. The only difference was that the Egri prefer three chain links between wrist and belt, the Tankic favour four links. No doubt both sides believe theirs is the correct way, but it meant little difference for the links were small and both the Egri and Tankic are much the same height and weight.

As I have said before, their women are equivalent of a ten year old girl on Earth but child-bearing and with breasts. Yet they are adults, and as such subject to all mature emotions, including depression. I had the feeling the way I was being ridden that Akrith was very much depressed, and understandably so: she had been willing to give her life for the cause she believed in and now she had been rejected by those she fought alongside. I swear some of the moisture that fell on my shaved head was not rain but her tears. I doubt however that she would ever let me see her cry, but she was above me so little danger of that.

Now we had found shelter of a kind (though the rain had thankfully ceased and a warm wind sprang up to give us some comfort, for Akrith had no kindling for a fire) with Cerys and I bound by our necks and on our knees, we had been positioned so that I was facing away from Akrith. We had been given some food by Akrith, which for human horses is a cake of compressed herbs, plant stems and a chopped root which has been soaked in salt water and allowed to harden. It takes time to chew and the salt content makes a humanhorse very thirsty, so access to water is imperative. Happily, the gathering had allowed us to leave with some flasks of water and we were given a drink by our rider, who no doubt hated having to feed us like animals but she was in no mood to allow us to find a stream or a pool and get down on our bellies to drink ourselves.

I asked Cerys—once she had told me something of herself on Earth including her name and I told her mine—what Akrith was doing as she could see her. “She has her knife out and is sat scraping into the soil, staring at the marks she has made in the dirt. No, she has scuffed them over ... Now she’s starting again. Carving some words into the ground, I think.”

“A curse, I expect,” I said. “Something she hopes will haunt that bitch Kemmor. She wants to get the appeal to the Sevir gods right, so she is wiping it away before trying again. I feel sorry for her.”

“I am grateful to your rider for saving me,” sighed Cerys. “If you had been taken by our forces as I was by the Egri you would have died a worse death than was before me. No one would have spoken up for you.”

“Not even your rider?”

Cerys hesitated. “Perhaps. She was not like so many of them. She was a princess of one of their line. Princess H’lorc, Exalted High of the H’Geyn royal clan. That was why I had so many jewels on me, including my nipples. I confess I am thankful they were removed without being ripped from me, again I think the Tankic would not have hesitated to slice my boobs off if they thought it quicker.”

“And she was killed? Your princess, I mean, which is why you were empty saddle.”