Sorry I didn't update yesterday, but I wanted to rework this chapter. It's almost all right now.
Mustang Gal- Thanks!
When Fire Meets Ice-I think it would be hilarious to see Sebbi as a father, but then, I am a very sick and twisted person...
A.K. Anomynous- I agree. Wacilla gives me the shivers...
Shallindra- I like to pronounce the ay at the end of Papay as a long A sound. Maybe that would make it better.
Tomb Raider X- Thanks
Camreyn- Thanks; I never really liked the old title. I've always wanted to have a character who referred to his men as "his doves" so this was great fun for me. I could definitely see where people would get creeped out by that. Don't worry, I often have those same thoughts, and thus far, Habren has not kicked my ass...though there's always tomorrow...
MonDieu666- My thoughts exactly!
HGandRHrforever- Sorry, I guess sometimes I can't update every day, but I do write everyday, if that is any consolation. I get cookies? That's awesome!
Dazzler420- Lancelot doesn't want to know. Would you want to know about your sibling's sex life? Probably not. Just a thought, though...Thanks!
Tristan was starting to feel nervous. Well, he had been feeling nervous already, he knew they were being followed. But, Rebekah was no longer concerned about it, and he trusted her judgment. No, this new nervousness was for a completely different reason. They were about to enter his village. Oh, joy. Well, it wasn't that he didn't like his village; it was just the thought of coming back after being gone for so long. His mother would probably want to make up for lost time, and talk more than she usually did. Which was saying something, really, considering the amount of time she usually spent performing that task.
Rebekah was laughing at his current sullen demeanor, trying to cover signs of her own nerves. Tristan's description of his mother was not exactly comforting. She knew nothing of mothers, never really knowing her own. The whole idea of motherhood completely confounded her. She took a deep breath, and tried to smile. Her friends, who had already gone through this harrowing experience, gave her encouraging smiles, while all the time thinking, 'That poor, poor woman...'
Api was humming to herself, stirring the stew for their evening meal. The sun would be setting soon, and Tutyr had just come back from hunting. She looked up from the pot, and saw, to her astonishment, a group of eleven riders coming their way. They were Sarmatians; well most of them were, anyway. It was the tattoos that she recognized first.
Api had given up all hope of seeing her son again. Not many survived fifteen years of service to the Roman Empire, yet here he was. She ran back to her tent to fetch Tutyr. She wasn't quite sure how to react.
Tutyr had been cleaning his weapons when Api burst into the tent. She grabbed his hand, making him drop his sword, and dragged him bodily from the tent. She was a rather short woman, and he was a rather tall man. This made for quite a picture. Api didn't look terribly strong, but Tutyr knew otherwise. It seemed as though he was simply pulled through life. He didn't even try to hold his ground any longer. Such actions were completely useless. As he was pulled along, he wondered what had caused her excitement this time. Soon, the answer became quite apparent. Tristan.
But this was not the Tristan he remembered. Tristan had been a gangly fifteen year old at their last parting, now, he was anything but gangly. The party of eleven had dismounted, but stayed where they were, not sure how the village would react. Api strode forward, Tutyr in tow, and grasped her son to her is a bone cracking hug.
Tristan, who had been expecting this, grit his teeth, and held his breath. His tunic was starting to feel a bit damp, and he found to his horror, that his mother had started crying. This was becoming a bit much for Tristan's emotional limit. He wasn't good at comforting crying women. He wasn't good at making them feel at ease (Well, Rebekah might have something else to say about that)...He patted her back awkwardly, and looked to his father for rescue. Tutyr, seeing his son's desperate expression, pulled his wife of Tristan. A look of immense relief crossed Tristan's face briefly, before it went blank again. The moment was ruined when Api started talking.
"Oh, we're so thrill that you came, I was just saying to Tutyr that we wanted to see you again, wasn't I, dear? And look at you, all grown up! What are you doing to your hair these days? And who are all your little friends dear?" she asked breathlessly.
There was a bit of a stunned silence, as the "little friends" tried to comprehend all that was just spoken. It appeared that Tristan took after his father, who hadn't spoken at all yet. He was the one to break the silence.
"Api, let the poor boy get settled in before going after his hair. Invite them to dinner." He instructed gently.
"Oh, of course. I'll have to add more to the stew, but then; the more the merrier, as my mother used to say..." this went on for some time, before they graciously excused themselves, and finally let their jaws drop. They had never met such a talkative woman. They all understood Tristan's feelings on small talk now.
They took their time setting up their tents, not wanting to return too quickly. Rebekah was taking in air in short gasps, trying to hide her rattled nerves. What if Api didn't like her? How uncomfortable would that make their stay? It was Tristan's turn to smile now. He would survive his mother's tongue, but Rebekah was distinctly unnerved by it. Rebekah's head snapped in his directions, as he let a small chuckle escape his lips. Under any other circumstances, Rebekah would have been happy to have Tristan express amusement in such a fashion. Now, however, it was an annoyance.
"How did you survive?" she asked in wonder.
"I spent much of my time alone in the forests. She doesn't like them." He said, still grinning slightly.
Rebekah collapsed on their cot, completely exhausted. They would have to spend the evening being talked at. She could only pray that she would be able to summon the strength to smile and nod every so often.
The women of the group offered silent sympathy to their unfortunate comrade, trying to think of ways to help her through such troubling times.
Night fell, and they knew that there would be no escape. It was time. They were going to dinner.
The tribe was bigger than Tristan remembered. They had obviously grown in number. His mother made sure they all had enough food, fussing all the while about something or another. He sighed. It would be a rough evening. He really shouldn't be complaining. He had been through worse, but not much. He would have preferred taking on an entire company of bandits than making small talk with his mother, but this did not appear to be an option. He resigned himself to an evening of blank features.
Api was not an empty-headed woman. She simply functioned better in an atmosphere of constant noise. Her babbling was really an attempt to mask her own insecurities about herself and others. The arrival of her presumably dead son had her speaking more rapidly than usual. Her chattering was brought to an abrupt halt when Tristan calmly stated,
"This is Rebekah, we wish to be married by the tribe."
She really didn't know what to say to this. She hadn't gotten used to thinking of her little boy in adult terms. He was in his early thirties, not his mid-teens now. He loved a woman. It was a lot for her to take in in such a small period of time. She fixed a smile on her face and kissed her future daughter in law on both cheeks. Rebekah returned the greeting. Api did not appear to hold a grudge against her, but she could tell that the old woman was not entirely comfortable with the situation.
Tutyr took the news in stride, never letting any surprise show. He slid an arm around his wife's waist when she returned to her seat, knowing that she needed reassurance from him. She needed a rock. He had always been that for her. Her muscled noticeably relaxed at his touch, and Tutyr nearly smiled. She would be all right in the end. She always was.
Papay paced his tent, unease filtering in. All through their journey, Habren had come to him every night. It made mornings very stressful, though it made the nights considerably more comfortable. She was now with a new tribe of Sarmatians, one that he didn't know anything about. He could feel something different about this journey, though he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Something was definitely off.
Wacilla smiled. They were feasting now, welcoming their long lost son home. How very touching. Habren was smiling mindlessly, allowing her gaze to wander to where he knew Papay's tents were set up. The sweetness seemed to go on and on. Every so often, Habren would converse with the woman next to her, and at one point, patted her stomach. He tucked that information away for later. You never knew when a pregnant woman would come in handy.
Deirdre was not feeling well. Morning sickness it seemed was not strictly limited to the morning hours. She ducked out of the circle, and Habren followed. Galahad watched them go, knowing that Deirdre didn't like having lots of people around to see her throw up. She would be fine with Habren. Radha got up from the circle as well. Her friend needed her. That much she knew. Pregnant women often were more receptive to female help, than male help, and she would take Galahad's place.
Amage sat up in bed, her skin slicked with sweat. Babai joined her, a questioning expression on his face. Amage shook her head, trying to clear it. She didn't know how she knew it, but she did. Her child was in danger.
Wacilla placed the last dagger in it's sheathe, and turned to leave. They would wait now.
He saw three figures huddled together, and recognized them at once. Well, it appeared that the wait was over. Spurned into action, he and his men charged. Wacilla grabbed the pregnant one, who had just finished relieving her stomach of all of the food she had just eaten. They would not risk harming her.
He held one of his numerous daggers to her throat, and immediately, the other two women stopped struggling. Wacilla weighed his options. He couldn't let the other two women go, they would alert the village. His men had been wanting some entertainment; these two could hold them until they reached civilization again. He always had to think about keeping his men happy, it was a tiresome task.
He handed off the pregnant one to one of his men, and slowly made his way over to Habren. Her hair was disheveled, face red from the struggle. Both arms were behind her back now, and she was being held by one of his men. This was not apparently to her liking. He pushed the curls out of her face, and stroked her cheek. She looked a bit shocked at this gesture, and looked about ready to protest. He brought a finger up to her lips, and indicated her pregnant friend. Though he didn't speak, his message was clear. Habren couldn't risk angering him.
Wacilla signaled his men to move them back to camp. They would be leaving soon. They would be discovered missing eventually, and Wacilla was not about to risk them being found. He had planned this quite carefully, though his plan did rely on several uncontrollable factors. He only hoped that his luck would hold.
Habren didn't know who this man was, why he had taken them, or where they were going. All she knew was that it wasn't simply Deirdre, Radha, and her in danger. There was a child growing inside Deirdre that needed to be protected at all cost. Maternal instincts she didn't even know she had kicked in, keeping her silent. She was currently riding with the mysterious bandit leader, his arms wrapped around her body. She did not think that this action was simply to keep her from running away. His nearness was making her uneasy, and he sensed her mood. He did not change his behavior, but held onto this little bit of information. He would find out everything there was to know about Habren, daughter of Sarmatia.
Deirdre was nearly in tears, her emotions already made shaky by her pregnancy, were not holding up well with their recent abduction. She was riding with a leering individual who made her skin crawl. She remembered how it felt to be in Galahad's arms, and tried to pretend that none of this had really happened. It was a wasted effort. No matter what she tried to tell herself, the facts remained the same. They were in serious trouble.
Radha was enraged. Several of the men had felt the need to slap her backside, and she wasn't even allowed to retaliate. She would kill them soon. Once Deirdre was safe, they would not last long. They dared to threaten the life of a pregnant woman, and in Radha's book, that made them lower than the worms that crawled under the earth.
Papay's unease was growing by the minute. Something was simply not right. He risked a closer look at the festivities, but found to his shock, that Habren wasn't there. He scanned the faces again, but still she was not among them. He tried to calm himself. She could have stayed in her tent. Perhaps she was ill... Two of the other women who where usually with the party were absent as well, perhaps they were together... Or, maybe, she had gone to see him, and they had missed each other. With this in mind, he raced back to his tent, leaving his men to wonder what he was up to.
She was not there either.
Review Please! Pumpkin bars for everyone! (Yes, pumpkin bars, with frosting...yum!)