She headed back outside and towards the section of the camp where the elders lived. On her way she passed a group of children chasing each other. So quick to recover after an attack, because it was part of their normal life.
At the edge of camp a ten-year-old boy stood with his bow and arrow, facing the direction the warriors had gone. “Do you wish you’d gone with them, Sube?” Shuree asked.
“No. I’m standing guard. With all our warriors gone, we must watch for other raiders.”
Sadly he was right. The Erseg tribe wasn’t the only tribe that attacked, but at least the tribes to the east of them were friendly. “Thank you. I shall send someone to relieve you in an hour.”
He nodded, his eyes not leaving the horizon.
One of the elders drove a cart past her and she jolted at the dead bodies in the back. Their hair tied up in top knots identified them as raiders. “Wait,” she called. “Where are you taking them?”
“These are Erseg scum,” the elder replied. “I’m dumping them on the steppes.”
As if they were waste. That wouldn’t do. The dead required a proper ceremony to see them safely to the afterlife. If she wanted change, she needed to instigate it. “Don’t go yet. I need to speak with Erhi.”
She jogged through the camp until she reached Erhi’s tent. Their own dead were lined up inside, and prayers had been said over them. They would be buried tomorrow when the warriors returned.
“What worries you, child?” Erhi asked.
Nerves played in her stomach. “Can we bury the Erseg men properly?”
The older woman gaped at her. “Your father said to dump them on the steppes.”
“But he didn’t say they couldn’t have funeral rites.”
Erhi pursed her lips.
“They are people like us,” Shuree argued. “Wouldn’t you want our warriors to be shown the same respect?”
Erhi’s lips slowly widened into a smile. “Yes. Let us go now.”
Relief filled Shuree as she returned to the cart with Erhi. “Has the hole already been dug?” she asked the elder.
He nodded.
“Then Erhi and I will see they are buried properly.”
His mouth dropped open. “You can’t mean to give these filthy animals the funeral rites!”
“That is exactly what I aim to do.” She climbed onto the driver’s bench seat and took the reins from him. “You can help us.”
He jumped down from the cart. “I will not!”
She sighed. “Then please tell anyone who is looking for me I will be back shortly.”
Erhi climbed up beside her and it didn’t take long to find the hole. Shuree and Erhi lifted the legs of the first body and dragged it towards them. It was cold and stiff and when the face came into view, Shuree fought back the urge to wail. He was barely more than a boy, only a few years older than Sube who stood guard. He wouldn’t have even grown his first whisker. A carving of a wolf was pinned to his top, probably a good luck charm. Tears ran down her cheeks. Somewhere a mother grieved the loss of her child, a child who she would have tucked into bed only a few years ago.
After they lay the boy in the hole, Erhi stroked Shuree’s back. “He is with his gods now. Qadan will take care of him.”
She swallowed, not sure it would be much consolation for his mother. She avoided looking at the faces of the rest of the dead, the similarities of their clothing too close to their own warriors. How many Saltar men would be like these and never return home?
When they were all in the ground, Erhi lit a torch and wafted smoke over them, circling the grave three times while praying, sending them to the afterlife with love. “May Qadan guide you and may you ride the steppes endlessly.”
They covered the bodies in dirt.
Shuree was filthy by the time they finished, but her mind was calm. She had done the right thing. When she arrived back at camp, she cleaned herself and then made a round of the perimeter. They really were at a disadvantage with the warriors away. She was the only woman who knew how to fight. The communal tasks were still very much divided between men’s and women’s roles, but she knew of men who hated to fight, and she had wanted to be like her father from a very young age. It was another thing she’d tried to convince her father to change.
Shuree knocked on Maidar’s door. Most everyone gathered at her yurt as she had the largest space and lived alone.
“Come in!”
Shuree pushed open the door and, as she’d suspected, a dozen older men and women sat around Maidar’s table eating, drinking and doing their tribal tasks like embroidery or fletching arrows.
“Shuree, welcome.” Maidar held out her arms and Shuree placed her hands on the elder’s gnarled fingers. “What brings you here?”
Shuree smiled. “I am seeking advice.”
Maidar beamed. “Then sit. We can all offer advice, but whether it is any good is another matter entirely. Help yourself to food and drink.”
Shuree sat on one of the cushions next to the low table and placed a little cheese and meat on her plate. She wasn’t at all hungry, but it would be rude not to eat.
“What is it you want to know?” Maidar asked.
Taking a deep breath, Shuree said, “I am worried. I worry the raids are becoming more frequent and more violent; I worry they are now kidnapping our women; I worry our tribe is left undefended when our warriors retaliate; I worry we won’t have a tribe left if this continues.”
A fletcher looked up and then swore as he cut his finger. The rest of the elders stared at her, the weight of their gaze heavy.
“Do you not trust your father to lead us?” Koke, one of the most senior elders asked.
Shuree’s eyes widened. “No, it’s not that.” Bless the ancestors, she hadn’t considered they might see it that way. “I merely wondered whether there may be a different way, something Father hasn’t considered, a way we used to do things, a time when there was peace between the tribes.”
“You are right to worry.” Maidar glared at Koke. “All my children are dead because of the violence.” She glanced around the table. “All of us have lost at least one child.”
“What would you propose we do?” someone asked.
“Has there ever been a gathering of the ten tribes of Rhora where we’ve discussed issues and tried to find a solution?” Shuree nibbled on the cheese.
“Yes, about fifty years ago,” Koke said. “It was a massacre. The khan and spiritual leaders of each tribe were supposed to meet at Lake Tolui, but the Marheg tribe ambushed them and slaughtered them all.”
Shuree felt sick. No wonder the tribes didn’t want to talk. She frowned. “Then how is it we have a good relationship with the Bulgat, Kharil and Horkham people?”
Maidar smiled. “It’s because of the marriages,” she said. “Before the massacre, your great grandfather married his daughters into those tribes. Afterwards their husbands became khans and they became tribal mothers. They arranged trade between us.”
It wasn’t something they could do now. She was the only daughter of the khan and she couldn’t marry into every other tribe. She shuddered.
“The Erseg tribe did something similar,” Koke said. “They have close relationships with the Adhan and Tungat tribes.”
Which left the three most western tribes as unknown. “Do you have any suggestions?”
“Don’t like the idea of marrying the enemy?” one of the fletchers asked with a grin.
“There are too many to choose from.” The Erseg warrior who had collected his comrade popped into her head and she shook the memory away. One day soon her father would arrange a marriage for her. He might have already done so if she hadn’t protested against marrying the Bulgat khan’s son. He’d been an opinionated, self-aggrandising man who had fortunately offended her father after the match had been proposed. But perhaps a strategic marriage into one of the other tribes would be wise.
And maybe her father could remarry, take a wife from the Adhan or Tungat tribe, and Amar was yet to marry.
That would start the process.
“Perhaps after we defeat them in this battle, the Erseg will be willing to talk,” Maidar suggested.
They’d shown no willingness before, so why should this time be any different? Shuree pushed away her plate, her food barely touched, and stood, despair still her companion. “Thank you for your time, and for your refreshments. I must arrange a replacement guard for Sube.”
She left the tent and strode over to her friend’s place. She wanted a guard who was well trained in fighting. “Vachir, are you home?”
“Come in.”
Shuree entered and found Vachir fletching a new batch of arrows. He had been injured in the raid and she was glad he had been forbidden from the retaliation. He hated fighting. His crooked grin eased some of her worry. “Tribal Mother, how are you?”
She sighed. “I am worried. How is your wound?”
“Bandaged and aching.” He pulled up his top to show the cloth around his stomach.
If the blade had gone much deeper, he would have died and she would have lost the friend who always made her laugh, and her sparring partner. “Are you well enough for guard duty?” she asked.
“The Erseg won’t attack again so soon.”
“No, but Sube is standing guard in case other tribes attack, and he is a little too young to do so.”
Vachir rose. “All right. I’ll take my things out to him. Perhaps he can help me fletch.”
“Thank you.” She helped him carry the equipment over to the boy. “Vachir will help you.”
Sube smiled. “Thank you, Tribal Mother.”
As she walked back through the camp, Badma hurried over to her, still as beautiful as she had been this morning, though worry creased her face. “Shuree, can you teach me how to fight?”
Shuree blinked and gave her friend her full attention. “Why?”
Tears glistened in Badma’s eyes. “I don’t want to be kidnapped during the next raid,” she said. “I saw you fighting, and I want to be able to defend myself and my sisters if the warriors are busy elsewhere.”
It was another way to strengthen her tribe, but there would be many who wouldn’t approve. She had pestered her father for years to learn and had watched all Amar’s training sessions, pinching his training sabre whenever she could so she could practise. Eventually her mother and Yul had convinced her father Shuree would be safer if she learnt the correct techniques, but she’d had to train inside, where no one else could see. Men were supposed to protect their women. “All right. Let me get my weapons. Meet me at the training grounds.”
“Thank you.”
When Shuree arrived at the training grounds a few minutes later, she found a dozen women of all ages waiting for her.
“They all want to learn,” Badma said.
Good. Her father had told her to protect the tribe and fortify the camp. This might not be what he had in mind, but it was time for change. “Let’s get started.”
Chapter 2
Shuree spent several hours training the women how to shoot a bow and arrow quickly and with accuracy. It was the safest thing for them to learn, so they didn’t have to get too close to any raiders. Badma had difficulty pulling the bowstring back far enough so the arrow would fly a decent distance. After the third failed attempt to hit the target she huffed. “What am I doing wrong? The warriors make it look easy.”
“They’ve had years of practice,” Maidar said, taking the bow from Badma. “I used to watch my husband,” she continued, wrapping her gnarled fingers around the bow. “He would never let me try though.” She aimed, released the arrow, and it hit the target with a satisfying thunk. She beamed and handed the bow to the next woman. “Not bad for an old nag.”
Shuree grinned.
When they finished, she ordered the bow maker to make each woman her own bow, and the fletchers to make more arrows. The next time someone raided their camp, they would have far more fighters to contend with.
The warriors hadn’t returned by the time the sun sat low in the sky. Shuree hesitated outside her yurt. It was her duty to prepare dinner for when her father returned, but the thought of food made her nauseous. Something had gone wrong. Though it was bad luck to think such things, she knew it to be true.
How many men had been killed this time?
She wandered over to the edge of the camp to gaze in the direction of the Erseg tribe. In the dusky light, the steppes were empty. She yearned to mount her horse and ride out to find them, but she was in charge of the tribe and couldn’t leave.
Vachir joined her. “They should be back by now.” His voice seemed loud in the evening quiet.
She nodded. Neither of them needed to voice further concerns.
“Want me to ride out?”
The warriors would view it as a lack of faith in the outcome and the women in the tribe would worry even more. “Not yet.”
He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Have faith.”
She wanted to, but Erhi’s warning echoed in her head. Something moved on the horizon. “What’s that?” She shielded her eyes as if it would help her see further.
“Horses,” Vachir said. “I’ll go greet them. If you hear my horn, they need help.” He jogged over to the herd.
Shuree stayed where she was as the riders came closer. In the fading light it was impossible to tell how many or who they were. Vachir galloped towards them and she prayed they were the warriors coming home. They weren’t riding fast, so it was unlikely another tribe attacking them.
Vachir reached the riders and a few moments later his horn blasted into the air. She flinched. They needed help.
People ran out of their yurts, frantically looking around. A couple of mothers were already herding their children away. “I need healers!” Shuree yelled. “The warriors are home.”
Koke and two other elders ran for their horses, Badma and Maidar hurried to set up the healing tent and still more women gathered around Shuree, looking towards the approaching party, fear on their faces. Her sisters-in-law stood either side of her.
“Can you see who’s at the front?” one of them asked.
Shuree shook her head. It should be her father or one of her brothers, but it was too dark to tell. Someone brought a couple of torches to light the way. It seemed to take an age for the warriors to arrive. She scanned the men at the front for her father.
He wasn’t there.
All the men were bloody and exhaustion lined their faces. She counted, recognising Amar, but not her father or her other brothers. At least twenty men were missing.
Her chest squeezed. Now was not the time to panic. She helped Jambal from his horse, the devastation on his face all she needed to know they hadn’t rescued Yesugen and Tegusken. She took his horse’s reins. “Go, clean up.”
He left without a word.
“Sube,” she called. “Gather your friends and take the warriors’ horses back to the herd. Make sure they’re well groomed.”
Sube ran to do as she asked.
Shuree turned and almost bumped into Amar. She didn’t need to ask the question. Grief covered his face and he shook his head. “Father and our brothers didn’t make it.”
Stabbing shock pierced her and she caught her scream of anguish before it escaped. Her sisters-in-law weren’t so restrained. They wailed and Shuree battled the urge to join them, pushing it hard down into her stomach and inhaling long breaths to calm herself. She was Tribal Mother, she had to lead her people. When she was certain she could keep the scream at bay, she said, “See to your men, and then we will hold council.”
He nodded.
Shuree stared across the steppes, the final image of them riding away playing in her mind. All she could hear was Yul telling her not to worry. She would never again hear him call her ‘little dragon’. She swallowed hard, blinking away tears. She didn’t have time to grieve. She was in charge, she had to care for her people, shore up their defences and protect them. It was time for change. This grief would not happen again. She found Vachir. “Gather
the elders. I want to speak to them in my yurt.”
His eyes were sympathetic. “Yes, Tribal Mother.”
The crowd had thinned out. Families who had lost warriors headed back to their homes to mourn. Shuree swallowed hard. It would be her time soon, but not yet. She spotted Erhi. “Please come to my Tribal Council.”
The spiritual advisor acknowledged her with a wave. “I’ll be right there.”
Then Shuree was alone. Darkness hid her and a tear slipped past her defences. She sniffed, wiping it away. Her father had put her in charge until he returned.
And he hadn’t returned.
Shuree lit the lamps in her yurt and filled the table with food and drink. Though she had no appetite, others might want to eat. Erhi was the first to arrive and she sat by Shuree’s side. Then Vachir walked in with the elders and Amar arrived with Jambal.
“Sit, please.”
Amar sat at the opposite end of the table to her. Everyone looked at him.
“What happened?” Shuree asked.
“They were ready for us,” Amar said. “The moment we attacked they were on us with a consolidated force, surrounding us on all sides. Our khan fought bravely, but even he knew we were outnumbered. He called the retreat and then he was shot. He fell off his horse and I couldn’t get to him.” He cleared his throat. “We rode hard to escape.”
“How many dead?” she asked.
“Twenty-three,” the senior warrior answered.
She wanted to weep. “And injured?”
“Fifty,” Amar said. “Maybe ten who might die.”
She closed her eyes briefly. They could not go on like this. She turned to Vachir. “When this council is over, ensure the healers have all the help they need. Organise a roster through the night.”
“Yes, Tribal Mother.”
“I want guards stationed all around the camp,” she said to Jambal. “We do not know whether the Erseg will attack again.”
“We must get Yesugen and Tegusken back!” he shouted.
She softened her tone. “We will. Did you see them?”
Warlords, Witches and Wolves: A Fantasy Realms Anthology Page 28