Godborn Read online

  “What clan are you from?” Belolukos shouted at the fallen man. “Where did you come from?”

  “Let me go,” he said without looking up, his voice deep and commanding. “Just let me go, boy.”

  Belolukos stood up straight and brandished his spear. “I am the koryonos. You will show me respect.”

  That seemed to amuse the man and he looked up through his tangle of hair. “I beat you. I beat all of you.”

  “Not me,” Holkis said, looking down.

  The man pulled the hair aside from one eye and peered up at him. “No, not you. Why are you so strong?”

  “Do not speak to him,” Belolukos snapped. “I am the koryonos. Now, tell me who you are. Why did you attack my men?”

  The man sighed, rolled over and got to his feet. He moved stiffly, straightening until he stood before them while they levelled their spears at him. He watched closely while Kasos helped their fallen brother to his feet. Blood soaked the side of his head and his nose was broken.

  “I could have spitted that one when I tripped him,” the man said, pointing. “But I did not.”

  “Why did you attack us?” Belolukos shouted.

  The man winced as he took a step forward. “Ask him,” he said and pointed.

  “He surprised me!”

  The man shook his wild locks. “I called out a greeting and came in peace, you fool,” he said. “You attacked me. You all did.”

  Belolukos glared at his follower. “Is this true?”

  Holding his bloody head, the youth looked down. “He surprised me. Came out of nowhere.”

  Belolukos stared for a moment and lowered his spear. “You should know better than to approach a koryos.”

  “Is this not your clan?” the man asked, looking between them. “I saw you placing the dead into the river?”

  “We came here to raid,” Holkis said. “And found it like this. We will stay until it is time for the Great Sacrifice and then return to our own clan.”

  Belolukos scowled. “You should not have told him.”

  The man shook his head. “I care nothing for you. I follow the yotunan.”

  They froze, staring at the man. Most of the koryos frowned, confused by the word, but some of them understood. Kasos and Dhomyos exchanged a look.

  “You saw them?” Holkis asked.

  His eyes seemed to shine. “Saw them? Yes, I saw them. Once, I got close, tried to slay the one who had taken my people. But I failed and they left me for dead. I have followed them ever since but they are ever ahead of me. You saw them, then?”

  They were silent, some shook their heads, but then a voice spoke behind them.

  “I did,” the girl said.

  The man nodded. “So this was your clan,” he said. It was not a question. “They did the same to mine. And to many others.”

  “You call them yotunan,” Holkis said. “She called them demons.”

  The stranger shrugged. “Yotunan, demons, dura, giants. Different people call them different things. But we all know what they are. What they want. Where they come from.”

  Kasos cleared his throat. “Where do they come from?”

  “They have come from the underworld to destroy all clans.”

  “All clans?” Belolukos said, shaking his head. “How can this be? We would have heard of it.”

  “When they find a clan, they destroy it. Any that survive flee from them.”

  “You do not,” Holkis said.

  He took a deep breath and looked at the sky for a long moment before answering. “My clan are gone. I took my koryos against the yotunan, seeking vengeance and death. They did not even slow. One of them alone turned and killed all my koryos. Fifty of us. When I woke, I thought I was dead. Perhaps I am. I have followed them since but they are too fast. It is as though they never tire. I tried to come up on them from the south but they changed direction to come into these valleys where they meet the great river in the east. I was well past here when I heard wood being cut and I came back to ask you how long ago they came through here. And to ask if you would join me. We can die together. Perhaps we can kill one of them before we die.”

  They looked at Belolukos and at Holkis and back to the stranger.

  The seeress spoke first. “When these demons attack a clan, not all are killed or taken?”

  The stranger brushed the hair from his face. “You saw them yourself. And you live. They are giants and kill with ease and pluck women and girls for the wagons but they slow for nothing. Herders tending the flocks have survived. Boys cutting wood in the forest hiding under leaves. But the men fight and the men die.”

  Holkis held up a hand. “And they came through the Vale of the Kweitos River, to the northeast?”

  The stranger turned and looked downriver. “I don’t know what you call it but they came up a wide valley a few days that way and from there into this one. They are so many it is like a dozen clans all moving together. Thousands of people and animals. The tracks are as wide as the valley itself.”

  The seeress looked at Holkis. “Then it is as you feared. They came through your homeland, Holkis. Your clan was attacked. But it is possible that some of your people, your mother perhaps, may still be alive.”

  They stared at her in horror while the stranger nodded slowly.

  “Our people?” Dhomyos said, his eyes wide. “You mean these demons destroyed our people?”

  No one could bring themselves to answer him.

  Holkis stepped forward. “Belolukos, my brother, my koryonos. What is your command?”

  Shaking his head in wonder, Belolukos cast his gaze downstream for a long moment.

  “Yes. We shall return to our people.”

  4. Homeland

  “You know that I cannot come with you,” the stranger said as the wolves packed meat into leather bags and rolled up furs in preparation around them. “I have sworn to Kolnos to slay the yotunan or die in the attempt. My path lies opposite to yours.”

  “I understand,” Holkis replied, thinking on the man’s words. “You are a superb warrior. My spear-brothers are not weak but you defeated them with ease.”

  The man snorted a laugh. “I have been fighting longer than any of you. My name is Makros,” he said, offering his hand.

  Holkis took it. “Meghaholkis,” he replied. “My people call me Holkis.”

  “Meghaholkis?” Makros smiled and looked him up and down. “Your name means great elk. I can see why your father gave you that name. I was the tallest in my clan yet you are taller than me and you are not even a man yet. How old are you?”

  “I have sixteen years.”

  Makros shook his head in wonder. “Who is your father?”

  Holkis looked across at Belolukos before answering. “Our mother was wed to Gendryon the chief of the Kweitos Clan. We have always called him pater. He is a good man.”

  “Very well,” Makros said, speaking slowly. “But how is it that you are so strong? And so fast. I saw you coming across the camp and a few heartbeats later you were on me like a bear. How is it so? I have initiated more than a hundred boys and never felt the like of it.”

  Holkis glanced at Belolukos before he answered. “I have always been strong. And fast.”

  “Do boys practice running in your clan?” Makros asked. “And wrestling?”

  Holkis shrugged, unwilling to speak the truth about his blood. “Of course. I do what every boy does. Riding, wrestling, hunting, the spear dance…” He looked at Belolukos again. “The same as my spear-brothers.”

  “Then they must breed you well in the south,” Makros said, shaking his head. “For I never saw the like anywhere else and that’s the truth.”

  The girl stepped forward, looking up at the three of them. “He is descended from one who was godborn,” she said.

  Makros’ eyebrows shot up.

  Belolukos scowled. “You told her?”

  “She asked about mother.”

  Makros frowned at that. “Your mother is descended from a godborn, is she? Who wa
s the godborn ancestor?”

  “Did you ever hear of a man named Perseyus?”

  Makros gaped. “He was Chief of Chiefs in my grandfather’s time and I have heard his glory sung many times. As a boy, I liked to hear about his slaying of the death serpent in the mountains between the seas but as I grew older I preferred to hear how he subdued clan after clan. You are truly one of his descendants?”

  “Yes.”

  Makros looked between Belolukos and Holkis. “But if that was your mother’s ancestor and you are brothers, why is it only you who has this strength?”

  Belolukos scowled. “Enough talk! You, Makros, be on your way. We have delayed enough and now we must go home. You, girl, stay here until we return.”

  “No,” she said. “Whatever you find, you will not return. And I will not die alone here.”

  Belolukos pinched his nose. “You cannot keep up with a koryos.”

  “I will.”

  “It is not permitted.” Belolukos sighed. “Why am I wasting my breath on you, girl?”

  “If she can keep up,” Holkis said, “what is the harm?”

  “She should not be with us at all,” Belolukos said. “But if she falls behind, we leave her, do you understand?”

  With that he walked away, shouting to the others to hurry up and finish their preparations.

  “I will not fall behind,” the girl said to Holkis.

  “See that you do not.”

  She looked at Makros, who regarded them both in turn. “You should join this koryos,” she said.

  Makros shook his head. “My oath takes me after the yotunan, not away from them. I am already far behind.”

  She pursed her lips and glanced at Holkis. “What will you do if you find your clan is destroyed as mine is?”

  “They may not be.”

  “What will you do, though? Will you not go after your people? The ones that survive, I mean.”

  “Go after them?”

  “Your women might have passed through here already, Holkis. Along with the women from Makros’ clan. Together they are being driven across the plains. Will you not go after them and seek to bring them back or die in the attempt?”

  “That is not my decision. I follow my koryonos.” He looked at Makros then back at her. “But yes. If my people have been taken I must pursue them.”

  “So,” she said, turning to Makros. “Would it not be better for you to come with us to the Vale of the Kweitos River? And if his clan is gone these boys will go after the demons. Surely together you are stronger than if you are apart?”

  Makros laughed quickly. “Sometimes I think I miss women but then I am reminded of how much they scheme and plot. But it is well, dear girl, it is well. If the koryonos will allow it, I will run with you for a time.” Makros looked her up and down. The hunger in his eyes aroused a spark of jealousy in Holkis. “You have strong legs. If you can keep up with me, you may run at my side.”

  She shook her head. “I stay beside Meghaholkis.”

  Belolukos rubbed his eyes. “She is as stubborn as you, Holkis. Keep her, then. But we do not slow for her. If she cannot match our pace, she will be left behind.”

  He turned and called out to the wolves, gathering them to him.

  Together they ran northeast down the valley with the river beside them. Ever since their seventh year, they had spent months every season in the forest and on the plains, hunting and running wild before returning to the clan. Sometimes they went alone with an older man who taught them how to make traps, how to camp, how to make fire. Other times they went in threes or nines. Every year they had ranged farther and for longer until that year when they had made their oaths to Kolnos as twelve brothers together, not cutting their hair or shaving their beards—if they had them—until the end of the year when they would return to their clan in time for the feast of the Great Sacrifice. In the days before, they would be bathed three times in the river. They would be washed and their hair cut and their faces shaved and they would be dressed in new clothes before undergoing the rite to welcome them back into the clan. If the signs were well, that spring they would join the others in a great raid deep into the west to find the people of the long halls. They could be gone for up to seven years before returning to become men of the clan. Sometimes, Holkis knew, men never returned but stayed to found their own clans in the territory taken from the people they raided, taking foreign women for wives and using foreign men as herders. That was always how new clans had been founded.

  But if his clan was gone, none of that would happen. All he could hope for was to find his mother and his sisters somewhere and even that seemed a faint hope.

  Their years in the wild had made them all as strong and as fast as wolves. Indeed, they had outrun wolf packs more than once. But the young seeress was not a wolf. She had spent her childhood sitting in wagons or riding on horse’s backs and could not keep up with the others, even on the first day.

  Holkis dropped back as far as he dared so that he could see her behind him and his brothers ahead. By the end of the day, he slowed until she caught him and they ran in silence together. She was breathing hard and wincing with each breath. Holkis knew then that he had made a mistake in allowing her to come. It would be worse for her the next day, he knew, and Bel would not slow for her. If anything, he seemed to be setting a faster pace than normal.

  Though she fought for every step, she did not stop and she did not fall. It was full dark when they found the camp in a copse of alder by the river. The wind howled through the trees and the bare branches and narrow trunks did little to slow it. She dropped by the fire and curled up into a ball, still breathing heavily. His brothers laughed at her and at him but he ignored them and wrapped her in furs, gave her a piece of meat to chew on and brought her water from the river before she fell asleep. The others made lewd noises but he lay beside her and wrapped his arms around her until she stopped shivering. Holkis soon fell asleep himself.

  It was dark when he woke but morning was coming and he found his arms still around her, both of them covered in the furs he had taken from her camp. Even though he could not see her face, he knew that she was awake. She stirred and whispered.

  “Your name is Meghaholkis.”

  In reply, he made a low sound in his throat.

  She shifted her body closer to his. “I am Helhena.”

  It meant deer-eyed. He knew she had told him because it seemed fateful, in some indefinable way. He was great elk, and she was named after the eyes of the red deer. It was too dark yet to see but he recalled her large brown eyes and their long black lashes and knew why her mother had given her that name. He squeezed her slightly and she nestled against him further still. Holkis wondered if she would allow him to do something more with her body but she seemed content and, tired as he was, he soon fell asleep again.

  When he woke it was light. Helhena was gone and he jumped up in panic before seeing her crouching to make water a few paces away. The sun was touching the horizon and he blinked and looked around.

  “It is late,” Makros said from where he stood across the camp beside Bel. The others sat or stood here and there, chewing on dried meat.

  Belolukos snorted. “Always, he sleeps long.”

  “And he snores like an aurochs,” Dhomyos said, grinning. The others laughed.

  “Be quiet,” Belolukos snapped and turned back to Holkis. “Go for your morning piss, grab the girl and let us be off.”

  “And a good day to you also, my brothers,” Holkis said, laughing, his breath glowing in the light of dawn. He yawned and stretched, making a show of it and sauntered away a few steps to urinate. Helhena passed him as she returned to the group and he called out to her. “Cut me some of that meat, will you, Helhena?”

  “I do not serve you,” she said but she did it all the same, handing over a piece with a glare in her eyes when he came back.

  He wiped his hands on his clothes before taking it and shoving it into his mouth. “Your legs must hurt this morning.”

>   “I can run,” she said quickly.

  “Of course you can,” he replied. “The pain will ease after half a day but tomorrow it will be worse.”

  Her expression wavered. “I will not be left behind.”

  Holkis nodded. “Then you will have to keep up.”

  They ran for three days. All the while they ran along through the tracks left by more than a thousand feet. Men and horses, cattle and sheep, and wagons drawn by oxen had ruined the earth from the riverbank to the high ground. Detritus left by their passing littered the sacred ground. Torn shoes and strips of cloth. Broken pottery and holed leather bags. Frayed cordage and broken poles. Trampled dung everywhere. The remains of campfires showed where they had rested overnight and every bush and small tree had been cut down. Copses were stripped bare and branches of trees ripped off.

  Every now and then they came across the rotting corpse of an animal or a human discarded on the march.

  On the second day they found a dozen old women lying together. Their skulls had been smashed in.

  “Why take them if they were just going to kill them?” Kasos asked, shaking his head as they looked down at the bodies.

  “To make room on the wagons for something more valuable,” Makros said, bending to look at the faces. He used his thumb to wipe mud off the cheek of one. “I do not know these women. Do you?”

  “No,” Belolukos said. “We must go on.”

  On the evening of the third day they came into the lands of the clan. The river had joined with the Kweitos River at a boiling confluence that marked the boundary of their home territory. As boys they had been warned never to stray further upriver than that point and so they had delighted in daring one another to do that very thing. Holkis remembered when they were six and still living in their mother’s tent when the older boys fell back, afraid, and only he and Belolukos had dared to go on into the next valley. Only when darkness had threatened did they decide to turn back. When they returned, cold, hungry, and filthy, their mother had beaten them bloody with the whipping stick. But that night in their bed they had held their hands over their mouths as they laughed in joy at their bravery and their victory over the other boys.