The Steppe

The wind was in his face, flaying is long dark hair. He saw a speck on the horizon, shining brightly against the raising hot air, and gave a glottal grunt. The horse picked up the pace.

As he approached the strange hut, he slowed down to a light trot. Its broken contours and unnatural glow in the Sun made it look like the ancient ruins. He’d seen them himself when he was a child.

When he first found it, he followed a falling star so bright it lit the night sky.  He was so close to it when it first appeared that he felt the tremors and heard the terrible sound. By the time he had reached it, it was dark and the smell of burning flesh stood heavy in the air. Dismounted, he carefully approached the fresh ruin. The heat coming off of it made him hesitate. He reached out with his hand, but before he dared to touch it, the wall screeched and opened. White smoke rolled out and with it soft groaning. He muttered a prayer and stepped inside.

The unnaturally dark blue eyes marked the woman as a witch, but her pleas got the better of him and he stayed with her. Following her directions, using her poultices, he nursed her back to health. All the time hoping, his kindness was not dooming his whole tribe.

After a week, she opened her eyes with clarity, looking around and at him as though for the first time. She then looked at her hands, now scarred, but miraculously healed from the burns. She tried to speak, but her voice cracked and her face twisted in pain. She was still not well, but now she was able to slowly move about. She spoke very little, mostly listened as he told her about how he found her and how he took care of her. How he knew she was a witch, but chose to help her anyway.

After another week, he had to leave. He told her about the nearby stream; it took a morning’s travel on horse, probably a day on foot, maybe more for her. Warned her that east was nothing but desert for days on end, and west, where he came from, were grasslands and other people, which may not be as welcoming as he.

She turned out to be a resourceful woman. When he came back to her almost a month later, she has made the ruin her home and was able to welcome him proper. Gave him food, water, and rest. This time she asked him about where he was from and about his tribe, about his life. She didn’t speak about herself and didn’t thank him for saving her life.

The next time, he came back sooner. He brought her furs to sleep in and for the first time he saw her smile. In return, she told him stories about the ancient ruins he saw as a child. She was so lively when she spoke of them, her eyes sparkling like the night sky, her hands in a smooth dance. It was during those stories that he realized she stole his heart.

On one of his visits, he’d asked her, why she’d come here, where she came from? He’d never seen so much pain in anyone’s eyes. So, he never asked again.

Now, it was time for her to come with him.

“Silva!” he yelled, still on horseback.

She peeked out of her hut but didn’t say anything.

“Come, we need you.” Temuulen waved his hand.

“I’m not going anywhere.” She said.

“We captured a scout, but no one can understand him. I hoped you would.”

 “I can’t ride.”

“We’ll ride tandem, just hold on.” He said.

“No.” She came out of the door, “I really can’t ride.”

He almost lost his balance when he saw her. Her belly started to fill out. He jumped off the horse and ran to her, grasping her.

“HA!” He let out.

“A little too tight.”

“We’ll go slow.” He eased up.

Grinning he looked into her deep blue eyes and again just yelled “HA!”

He helped her gather for the trip and rode the horse slow. She still ached and complained, but when they approached the village, she went quiet. He dismounted and led the horse gently. All of the eyes were on her and she did not disappoint. Holding herself tall and proud, her gaze locked on the horizon, she emanated beauty and wonder. When they reached the elders, she dismounted, made a short bow, and waited until the elders spoke.

“Welcome.” A wrinkled man said, eyeing her. “We caught a man spying on us and thought you might know something about this.” He gestured her towards one of the huts.     

Inside, a man was tied to a pole. He was dirty and beaten, blood dripped from his head. She kneeled next to him and lifted his head by the chin.

“Marin!”

Marin had an inkling of understanding in his dark blue eyes. He smiled.

“Marin, what happened?”

Marin coughed and spat some blood.

Silva touched the side of Marin’s head, he winced in pain. They broke his neural implant, that’s why they can’t understand him. She turned around and threw a piercing glance at the men behind her.

“Did you really have to beat him like this?” Her voice, lowered to whisper, slithering through the hut.

The wrinkled man opened his mouth to speak, but one look into her dark eyes and he closed it.

“Marin.” She turned back to the prisoner, “Can you hear me? Please, tell me what happened.”

“Sil.” Marin’s voice was weak “I came looking for you. We saw the crush, but we only had one launch left in us, so I came by ground.”

“Where are the rest?”

“They’re going to launch soon, go home.” He shook his head, “It took me too long to get to you.”

“Where’s the car? We can make it.”

“No.” He coughed again. “It broke. And they’re launching tonight.”

“How far?”

“The car? 50. The ship, 300.”

“300 kilometers…” she muttered. “Why didn’t you come sooner?”

“They kept saying you’re dead. Your signal, it was gone.” He gave a weak smile “But I knew you were alive.”

Silva touched the back of her head. There, under the short hair was a small pin. It sent out a signal until there was no more brain activity. Or, until it was sufficiently damaged, which usually meant the same thing.

She got up and looked back at the men.

“Untie him.”

No one moved, but no one dared to speak either.

“He will die tonight.” She said as a matter of fact.

Temuulen was the one to untie him, but Marin couldn’t stand anymore. So, he allowed him to lie down and stretch on the ground. Silva sat next to him for the rest of the day. Giving him water and whispering sweet tales to him. She didn’t bother to ask him any more questions. His fate was sealed. It was a cruel thing for him to look for her. Now that he was here, she was filled with self-flagellating thoughts. Should have left the wreck. Should have looked for others. Should have sent a signal. Somehow. She of course knew that it was all for naught. The transmitter burnt, with almost everything else on the ship. She wasn’t sure if his, or any other, expedition was on Earth and didn’t have a clue in which direction to look for them. And she only survived thanks to Temuulen. The others were right not to look for her.

The Sun sat and she dragged Marin outside to look at the starts. He was drifting in and out of consciousness, but she kept talking to him all the same. She spoke of the stars and planets. Of home. Of their late nights working, arguing about history, about the recovered artifacts, about the expeditions, about the dangers back on Earth.

Temuulen stood nearby the whole time, quiet.

When the starts were at their brightest, Silva stopped talking, still holding Marin’s hand. She stared into the sky. Temuulen looked up with her, but couldn’t understand what she was searching for. Until he saw the bright star, all wrong, falling from Earth into the heavens. They both looked on for a long time, until the star became just another spec in the sky. Then Temuulen noticed Silva’s tears.

Silva realized that up until that moment, somehow, somewhere deep inside, she hoped to return home. Now, those illusions shuttered. She looked down at Marin and realized he stopped breathing. She missed the moment when he died, but she supposed it didn’t really matter. She looked out onto the plain, into the darkness. She thought of just standing up and walking into the night. Just walk until her body would give up. She looked at Temuulen and her hand found its way onto her belly.