Warlords, Witches and Wolves: A Fantasy Realms Anthology

by Michelle Diener

  Ogodai narrowed his eyes. After a long moment he nodded once. “Very well. Your dead are piled on the steppes to the west. Speak to no one of the mercy you gave.”

  Relief filled her. “Thank you, khan.” But that wasn’t all she’d come here for. “Afterwards, can we discuss peace between our tribes?”

  Ogodai frowned. “I will think on it. See me before you leave.”

  She inclined her head. “Thank you.”

  She smiled at the two brothers and they stood aside so she could exit. She took the women’s hands and led them out of the tent.

  “Are we really safe to leave?” Yesugen asked.

  “It appears so.” But the khan could change his mind, so they must make haste. She strode through the camp towards the wagon. The sun had disappeared beneath the horizon and the light was fading. The same man stood guard and he scowled at her.

  “The khan has given us permission to gather our dead,” she told him.

  He glanced behind her. “Fine.”

  Shuree looked over her shoulder. Dagar had followed them. He would ensure the khan’s wishes were carried out. She helped the women into the wagon noting her bow and quiver of arrows in the back. “I will return after I have my men.”

  He shook his head. “I will show you the way.”

  Her shoulders tensed. Could he be trusted? “You may ride one of our horses.”

  “It might be faster if I walked.”

  His humour made her smile. The Erseg horses were of a higher quality than the Saltar breed and were highly sought after by the other tribes for their stamina and build. “Suit yourself.”

  Though it was dark, it did not take long to find the pile of bodies. A couple of wolves lurked nearby and Shuree shot them.

  “We should go,” Tegusken whispered, casting a fearful glance at Dagar. “This is a trick. They won’t let us go.”

  “I will see my father returned to his land,” Shuree said. “If you wish to go, you may take one of the horses and ride home.”

  Yesugen clucked her tongue. “We will help. You cannot lift the bodies by yourself.”

  The smell of dead flesh reached them and Shuree gagged. She hadn’t considered that the bodies had been in the sun all day. She gritted her teeth, glad of the dark. “Tie your sash over your nose.” It might help a little.

  She dismounted and studied the pile. Her skin prickled as she made out an arm or a leg sticking out. Her brothers and father were there. Her knees buckled and she fought to stay standing. Grief battered her and she took a moment so she could speak calmly. “Yesugen, can you take the feet?” She wanted to be gone from here as soon as possible.

  Tegusken vomited nearby and her sobs were loud in the night. “Tegusken, move upwind until you can’t smell it anymore.” She would be of no use, but Shuree envied that she didn’t have to stay here with this.

  She picked up the cold, stiff shoulders of the nearest man, refusing to examine the body. She didn’t want to see who it was. Yesugen took the feet. “On the count of three.” She counted and they lifted, but Yesugen struggled with the weight. They managed to heft the body into the back, but it wasn’t easy. At least she didn’t have to worry about hurting them.

  Yesugen bent over, panting. At this rate, it would take them hours to lift the remaining twenty-two bodies.

  “Let me help.” Dagar’s deep voice startled her. She’d forgotten he was there.

  “Thank you.” She placed a hand on Yesugen’s shoulder. “Join your daughter.” She approached the next body.

  “Let me take the shoulders,” Dagar said. “They’re heavier.”

  She went to the feet, relieved she wasn’t near their faces. If she saw her family, she wasn’t sure she would be able to keep going.

  They worked quickly, lifting body after body into the back of the wagon, and she kept count, to ensure they had them all. Shuree forced herself not to think about what she was doing, to simply lift and carry, breathing through her mouth to avoid the smell. Her muscles ached and it was with relief she reached twenty-two. Only one more to go.

  She turned back to the ground and frowned. What was the round lump next to the body?

  She moved closer and crouched down, and horror spiked her. A head. Her gaze went to the body and she recognised the cut of the tunic. Her father. She stumbled away and vomited, grief and disgust overwhelming her. She fell to her knees, sobs wracking her body. It wasn’t bad enough that they’d killed him, they’d mutilated him as well. Beheadings were reserved for only the worst crimes and Amar had said their father had been shot.

  “Shuree?” Yesugen touched her shoulder.

  “It’s Father,” she sobbed. “They cut off his head.”

  Yesugen gasped. “Child, I’m so sorry.”

  Her chest spasmed and it was almost impossible to get enough air.

  “We will ensure he goes to the great steppes in the sky.” Yesugen stroked her back. “Because of you, he will be saved.”

  Shuree struggled to inhale slowly. Yesugen was right. She had to take back control, had to finish what she had come here for. It still took her a few minutes before she managed to control her shaking. She wiped the tears from her eyes and stood. With another deep breath, she turned. Dagar stood by the body, waiting for her.

  Swallowing hard, she moved over.

  “I am very sorry,” he murmured. “I did not know. I will find out who did this and punish them.”

  She didn’t respond as fury replaced the grief. It was just as well Dagar had taken her sabre from her because she wanted to pave a path of destruction through the Erseg camp for the way they’d mutilated her father’s body.

  “Shuree? Are you ready?”

  She jolted at Dagar’s voice and unclenched her fists, taking a moment to calm the anger. Violence wasn’t the answer.

  In front of her lay her father. She gritted her teeth and took hold of his legs, lifting him into the wagon. Squeezing her eyes closed to stop the tears from leaking out, she turned back to where the head lay. Carefully she cradled it in her arms, brushing the hair away from his face. They had cut his plait as well, the hair he hadn’t cut since he was a boy, and now it fell loose around his cheeks. Gently she lay her father’s head next to his body. She touched her fingers to her lips and then brushed his cold ones. She would never hear his commanding tones again, never be comforted in his strong arms.

  She tied the back of the wagon in place and covered the bodies with a blanket. She wiped her eyes and turned to Jambal’s family. “You two start back to camp.” She cleared her throat to stop the rasping. “Tell Amar I am negotiating with the khan and I will return in a couple of days. Hold the funerals without me.”

  “He might not let you go,” Yesugen said, glancing at Dagar. “You should come with us.”

  “I promised I would return,” she said. “If I don’t keep my word, they will never trust us.” She hugged both women. “I will be fine. Make sure my brother knows not to come for me.”

  Yesugen nodded. “I wish you all the support of our ancestors.”

  “I will do my best to ensure she is safely returned to you,” Dagar said.

  Hope filled her.

  Yesugen and Tegusken both got onto the wagon, the spare horse tied to the back, and rode away. Shuree didn’t mount her horse. She would walk next to Dagar. “Let’s go.”

  A different guard waited at the edge of the tribe and when he recognised Dagar, he waved them through.

  Shuree focused on her surroundings. It was close to midnight and fatigue hovered around her like a swarm of flies. She stroked her horse’s nose to calm herself as she followed Dagar through the camp to the horse herd at the edge. It was unsettling how familiar the setting was. She could almost be in her own camp if it wasn’t for the unease swirling in her belly. They were all Rhoran tribes, so why were they constantly at war with each other?

  “You can leave your horse here for the night.” He showed her where she could stow her tack.

  “Is your father willing to talk to
me?”

  “I cannot speak for him. He will see you in the morning.”

  Her muscles tightened. “And in the meantime?”

  “I would like to hear what you have to say. You can stay in our guest yurt.”

  “Will I get my sabre back?” She’d left her bow in the wagon.

  He nodded. “When you leave.”

  So Dagar thought she’d be allowed to leave. She unsaddled her horse, brushing it and then taking the tack into the nearby yurt, conscious of Dagar’s gaze on her. Though nothing in his body language was threatening, her shoulder blades itched. Experience told her the Erseg couldn’t be trusted, but Dagar hadn’t sent anyone after Jambal’s family, so perhaps he was a man of his word.

  When she was finished, she followed him into a yurt on the edge of the camp. A lantern glowed and she blinked a couple of times to get used to its brightness. The yurt was much like their guest yurt with a mattress to one side and a low table with cushions surrounding it on the other. Dried meat and cheese were on the table, along with a bowl of water, some clothes and a washcloth. A couple of storage chests were against the curved wall.

  “I requested the yurt be prepared,” he said. “I will wait outside while you clean yourself.”

  “Thank you.” She waited until he left before she examined herself. Her clothes were stained with blood and other bodily fluids and her hands were filthy. She washed her hands and face first, trying to rid herself of the stench. Then she quickly stripped and washed the rest of her body, before she dressed in the dress and pants. They felt wonderful and were the same style as she had at home, only the embroidery was a little different. She tied her dirty clothes into a bundle and then fetched Dagar who stood outside the yurt.

  “Can I wash my clothes somewhere?” she asked.

  “I will get someone to do that for you,” he said. “Place them by the door and I’ll take them when I leave.” He moved back inside, his presence filling the room. His dark eyes studied her and made her skin prickle. The intensity was terrifying and thrilling at the same time.

  She sat at the table across from him and chose a piece of cheese from the platter. Her stomach was a little unsettled, but she hadn’t eaten in hours and she needed the energy. She also needed to keep control of this conversation. “Why are you willing to listen to me?”

  He smiled, just a slight upturn of his mouth, but it made him so much more attractive. “I am grateful you didn’t kill my brother. I have no desire to be khan.”

  She raised her eyebrows, willing her heartbeat under control. “I thought every man wanted to be in charge.”

  “And I thought every woman wanted to tend her family.”

  She raised her cup in acknowledgement. Perhaps together they could convince others that peace was the way forward. “My tribe is my family,” she said. “I want them safe and happy. Will you tell me why you raided us? Was it simply for the harvest or was your aim the women as well?”

  “The women were unexpected,” Dagar said. “Father was not impressed.”

  “And yet he did not return them.”

  “To do so would appear weak.”

  Always the concern for how they appeared to others. It was exhausting. “Do you not have many women in your tribe?” She hadn’t seen many walking around.

  “Tell me what you propose for peace,” he said.

  The trust wasn’t there yet. She would have to offer her information before he would offer any, but she would do so gladly, if it prevented anyone else from feeling this hollow ache inside. “I am not certain,” she admitted. “I don’t know what you want, so therefore I am not sure what to offer. I just know I can’t keep seeing my people die.” Her voice broke and she took a moment. Her hand was steady as she poured mare’s milk into her cup and filled his as well. Focus on the future, on what her tribe needed. “You do not have the fertile land to grow crops, but your horses are much stronger than ours. Perhaps we can trade some of our harvest for some of your horses each year.” Yul would have loved to have an Erseg horse.

  “Is that it?”

  “What else do you want?” Frustration tried to push its way into her tone and she exhaled. “Part of the problem is, we only come together to fight, we do not know each other.” Her mind whirled for other options. “Perhaps you can join our summer hunt next year. We meet with the Kharil, Horkham and Bulgat tribes each year. We trade and talk, and our young people flirt and find marriage matches.”

  He frowned. “Wouldn’t that be an opportunity to attack us? You would be at strength and we would be vulnerable. How can we trust you?”

  The first step was always the hardest. Each side worried about betrayal. “Don’t you have treaties with the Adhan and Tungat tribes? Perhaps they can come as well. We can all trade and learn about each other.”

  He chuckled. “Do you know how optimistic that is? The tribes of Rhora are warriors not poets.”

  Dagar was right. But there were still so many similarities between them. She remembered the wrestlers she’d seen earlier. “Then how about a tournament? Our people can compete for prestige; we could have archery tournaments, wrestling bouts, horse races. The winning tribe gets a title until the following year.”

  “There’s still the trust issue.” He sipped his drink.

  Why did she have to do all the work? Didn’t he have any suggestions of his own? “So we camp at a distance from each other and our khans and spiritual advisors gather at a central point to lay down rules for weapons and behaviour.”

  “You’re determined to make this work, aren’t you?”

  She nodded. “The women of my tribe are tired of grieving. There must be another way. We are all Rhoran.”

  “We are,” he agreed and stood. “I will let you rest. There will be a guard at your door.”

  Of course. “As long as he doesn’t enter, he will be safe.”

  His lips twitched. “As long as you don’t try to leave, you will be safe.” He left.

  Shuree exhaled and slumped over the table. It had gone better than she had expected. If Dagar had his father’s ear, perhaps they could negotiate a peace. Though his brother may not like it. Maybe she should have allowed Amar to come with her. As a male, he might have been given more respect, but he also had more of a temper.

  She finished her drink and carried the lantern over to the mattress. She checked beneath the covers for any surprises and then scanned the tent for anything else she might have missed. Only the single entrance to monitor. Without any weapon, she felt naked, but she’d worked with Vachir to sharpen her hand to hand combat skills.

  And she desperately needed to sleep so she was alert tomorrow.

  It was her turn to trust Dagar’s word.

  She lay down and fell asleep.

  Chapter 4

  Shuree woke as the sounds of the camp entered her yurt. People called morning greetings, horses whinnied in the distance and children shrieked with laughter. Suddenly she sat bolt upright. This wasn’t her yurt.

  Memories flooded back. She was in the Erseg camp, awaiting discussions with the khan. Her pulse slowed. Had Yesugen and Tegusken made it home yet? Would Amar keep his promise to wait until she returned? He would be furious when he saw what they’d done to their father. Her stomach heaved at the memory.

  No, she would remember him as he had been, strong and kind. Some nights she would wake and listen to him speak with her mother about things that were troubling him, how to always do right by the tribe. He never showed that vulnerable side to anyone but his wife and Shuree. She used to climb into his lap when she was little and cuddle him, tell him everything would be all right.

  How she missed him already.

  She brushed the tears from her cheeks and stood, stretching her aching muscles, and brushing the wrinkles out of the clothes the best she could. It was important she spoke to Ogodai soon, before her brother had time to retaliate for their father’s mutilation. She took a piece of dried meat from the table and opened the chests she’d noticed the night before. On
e had a hair comb in it, so she undid her plait and combed her hair before rebraiding it. She was as presentable as she could be.

  She pulled down the top flap of the yurt which let smoke out when the central fire was lit. The light was still soft, pale, so perhaps not long after sunrise.

  Ogodai might not be awake yet, but she should let the guard know she was.

  As she approached the door, it rippled and a voice called, “Are you awake, Shuree?”

  She stopped where she was and said, “Yes, come in.”

  Dagar ducked his head as he entered. “I wasn’t sure if you would still be sleeping.” He stood upright, his clothes tidy, no sign of fatigue on him, yet he’d probably had less sleep than her. He adjusted his top knot and smiled, then winced as the scar on his face pulled.

  She sympathised with his pain. “I am ready to speak to the khan.”

  “How about we break the fast first?” He gestured for her to leave the yurt.

  “Thank you.” Shuree hoped his courtesy was genuine. She walked with Dagar to a nearby tent. Inside were his brother, a young woman and two girls. Dagar’s brother glanced up and scowled. “What’s she doing here?”

  She glanced at Dagar.

  “Having breakfast with us.” Dagar turned to her. “Shuree, this is my brother, Batbayar, his wife, Narangerel and his daughters, Naran and Saran.” He gestured for her to sit. “Shuree is from the Saltar tribe, here to speak with our khan about peace.”

  Narangerel smiled. “Welcome. May your journey be fruitful.”

  Batbayar gaped at his wife. “What are you saying?”

  She glanced at him. “I am tired of fearing for your life every time you ride out,” she said. “I want my children to have their father.”

  Excitement hummed under Shuree’s skin. “I understand. I hope the khan and I can come to an agreement.”

  Narangerel pursed her lips. “Perhaps we can talk in private before you see him.”

  Batbayar was spluttering now. “You can’t do that. She’s our prisoner.”