Chapter Five: The Warrior
“You’ve got to stop killing Kuluun’s children.”
Saraal lifted her eyes when Temur swept into the tent. “Why?”
“I let you kill him because he was defiant and a problem. But you’re killing off perfectly good warriors at this point.”
“Do I have to tell you what he let those ‘perfectly good warriors’ do to me after he turned them?”
Temur sat across from her. Saraal was cleaning her blade. No doubt, there were still traces of blood on it from Kuluun’s fat son, who had laughed when he ripped her hip from the socket as he raped her. Her leg had hung useless for almost a week because it was winter and blood was scarce. It had been a painful healing.
His fine mouth was frowning. “Enough, tseetsa. Or I’ll stop your lessons.”
Temur was born farther west than Saraal’s people. She didn’t understand the language he spoke to her sometimes, but she was learning. He’d told her tseetsa meant bird. It was not a bad name. Better than Saraal. He told her she should choose her own name, as he had done. Perhaps she would use tseetsa.
“I’ll stop,” she said quietly.
“For now,” Aday whispered from the corner with a secretive smile.
She was quieter now. Still present, but often Aday kept to the side, particularly when Temur was with her. She didn’t rage or make faces when Temur stayed in her tent. Temur wasn’t as rough as other men. He was quiet when he took her. He used softer hands. Once, she’d even felt stirs of pleasure under him, but he finished and rolled away, so Saraal hadn’t said anything.
Most importantly, he didn’t share her body with the other men. The others didn’t ask. Not even Rashon, though he was Temur’s most trusted warrior. Saraal was surprised by this, but then, she was learning every day how different Temur was from Jun’s other sons.
“But if we ever find Suk,” Saraal said, “I’m killing him like I did his brothers.”
“Suk and his children fled. They haven’t made any trouble.”
“I warned you,” Saraal said in a low voice, “Suk is different. He’s dangerous. And mean. Not as mean as Odval, but close.”
“He’s always been weak.”
“But smart.”
Temur shrugged and stretched out next to her. “I suppose.”
He lay quietly like that for a while, watching her methodically clean and sharpen her sword.
Scrape. Scrape. Scrape.
It was the same sword she’d killed Kuluun with. During the day, she slept with it under her pillow. More than once, Temur had cut himself on its edge, but he never said anything about it. She knew he kept one with him, as well.
His hand reached up to play with the raw edges of her hair, which was slowly growing out. “What is my tseetsa doing tonight?”
“This. Then a lesson with Rashon.”
“He’s a good teacher.”
“He doesn’t trust me not to hurt him when we spar.”
Fingers tightened on her hair.
“Good. Neither do I.”
“I wouldn’t hurt you, Temur.”
Aday whispered, “Not while he still has things to teach you.”
His smile was slow and wily. “My tseetsa speaks with secret eyes.”
Saraal didn’t disagree.
She had stayed in Temur’s camp, even though they’d never tried to bind her. She’d stayed for the same reason she’d stayed with Kuluun. Where would she go? She couldn’t fly yet. Not like Temur and Rashon. With a steady diet of fresh human blood—which she didn’t need to drink nearly as often as pony blood—she was starting to get her flying. She could hover at will, but no more than that. Temur said there was something she was missing. If she could hover, she should be able to fly. There was some link her mind needed to make the jump, and she just wasn’t seeing it. Until she did, she would learn other skills.
Temur taught her hand to hand combat. He said he trusted no one else to do it. Rashon taught her weapons.
Their band of Sida had moved on, north and east until the forests surrounded them and the air changed. They were closer to where Saraal’s human home had been. She guessed. There was no way to be sure. So many years had passed that nothing seemed clear anymore. Temur and his men were raiders, like Kuluun. But unlike him, they didn’t destroy where they raided. When she had enough skill, she went along with them. She quickly became one of Temur’s best. Temur’s Sida were far more like the raiders Saraal remembered as a child. They came. They took. They moved on. They did take humans, but no more than they needed in order to survive. No villages were burned, and no one took the children.
For this small mercy, Saraal was grateful.
After she’d killed Kuluun, the nightmares had started. She’d never dreamed before. Not after Jun had made her Sida. She was awake; she was asleep. There was no memory or consciousness during day rest. Her mind was completely blank. But after Kuluun had died, she’d dreamed of killing him. Then different dreams came. She dreamed of the child she’d killed the first night she had woken as a monster. His dead eyes blinked at her and his silent mouth gaped.
“Mama?”
She woke screaming, even though the sun still shone. After a second of terror, she was dead to the day again.
It was the first time it had happened, but not the last. Sometimes, Temur was with her, and she roused him, too. Once, he had stabbed her, not understanding that she was the one screaming. She’d blacked out in pain, but when she woke, the wound in her stomach was already healed, so she didn’t speak of it.