Daughter of Nomads

by Rosanne Hawke

  ‘We thought we should be ready,’ Hafeezah said, as if they weren’t about to abandon him.

  Azhar stood by the dying fire and sheathed his sword.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Jahani ventured.

  ‘All is well, do not fear.’

  ‘I am not afraid,’ she said too quickly. Then she added, ‘I should have helped you.’

  He looked up at her with interest. ‘How?’

  ‘By being able to use a sword.’

  ‘But you don’t have one,’ Azhar replied.

  ‘This is nonsense,’ Hafeezah said.

  Jahani fixed her gaze on the outline of Azhar’s head. ‘You have gold coins, you could buy me one. Then I could support you.’

  Azhar walked up to Chandi and said softly to Jahani, ‘You do not know what we are fighting.’

  ‘And you do?’ she taunted.

  He didn’t answer that. ‘There was one man only,’ he said. ‘A scout. When he doesn’t return to his camp by dawn they will be suspicious, so we need to leave immediately. I’m glad you have the horses ready,’ he said drily to Hafeezah.

  ‘I knew you would want me to keep the girls safe.’

  ‘You did well, kaka.’

  Anjuli opened her eyes and looked at Azhar. Jahani could see the devotion in her gaze. First Hafeezah and now Anjuli – what was it they saw in him?

  ‘I want to learn to fight, too,’ Anjuli said drowsily.

  Azhar smiled at her. ‘Why?’

  ‘To seek justice for my family. I want to stay with you.’

  Jahani was shocked to hear Anjuli speak and she tightened her arms around the girl’s chest.

  Azhar glanced at Hafeezah and she inclined her head slightly. ‘You can stay with us,’ he said, laying a hand on Anjuli’s head in blessing, ‘but you will not need to fight.’

  He glanced at Jahani and she wondered if ‘not fighting’ included her.

  8

  En Route to Shogrun Kingdom of Kaghan

  As dawn broke over the mountaintops, Jahani swayed in the saddle. She fought waves of sleep as they crashed over her mind and body; she wouldn’t be able to hold on to the reins much longer.

  They had taken to riding at night and resting during the day. There was the risk of ambush at any time but, as Azhar said, it was easier to be spotted if they were travelling during the day. Though Jahani welcomed the coolness, it took longer to travel at night as the horses had to be kept to a walk because visibility was minimal. Their supplies had dwindled so Azhar often found villages to buy food, especially vegetables for Anjuli as she didn’t eat meat. He also used his bow and arrow to kill ducks and rabbits, which Hafeezah and Jahani cooked over the fire.

  So many places they had seen, albeit in the light of dawn or dusk, as the paths grew steeper. Most recently they had travelled through Balakot, another sprawling village like Mansehra, though not as big. Azhar usually kept them away from settlements, but they had needed to cross the Kunhar River and the best bridge for horses was at Balakot. Jahani remembered that it had been evening and she could hear the roaring of the river long before they had dismounted. ‘Lead the horses across,’ Azhar had instructed. Chandi took to the crossing easily, even though the bridge was made of planks of wood.

  Now three weeks had passed since they’d left Sherwan and they steadily climbed into the foothills of the Hemalleh Mountains. Hafeezah had said the Qurraqorams were much higher in her childhood home of Hahayul. Jahani wondered if Hafeezah would return there when they arrived in Kaghan, and she felt a pang in her heart. She was enjoying the travel and was used to riding now, but she wondered what would happen at their destination.

  Just as she thought she’d fall, Azhar gave the call to halt. Still, Jahani didn’t move. She barely registered Azhar taking Anjuli from her arms, and then returning to carry Jahani to a blanket. She stretched out on the ground in aching but welcome relief.

  When Jahani woke she was alone. There was little light, but she could see that she was surrounded by dirt walls. Was she trapped in a cave? Her heart beat faster until she saw Hafeezah and Anjuli’s blankets neatly folded and Azhar’s carpet rolled up against the wall.

  She stood to unroll the carpet a few inches and her breath caught in surprise. The border had all the red richness of a beautiful Persian design and yet it looked thin and ancient and threadbare in one corner. Azhar must have paid a lot of money for it. Hafeezah was too poor for fine carpets like Sameela’s family’s. Jahani’s own little prayer rug must have come from her parents as she couldn’t remember a time she didn’t have it. But why did Azhar possess such an expensive carpet?

  She touched it with her finger and felt a tingle as if she had run an iron comb through her hair.

  Just then she heard a footfall behind her.

  Azhar.

  She quickly put the carpet back and turned to face him. His eyes flickered. What did he think – that she would steal it?

  ‘You are awake,’ he said.

  ‘So it would seem.’

  Azhar hadn’t yet wrapped his turban and Jahani couldn’t help noticing his brown hair: the way it fell softly below his ears and the tight curl touching his forehead. It made him appear younger, more approachable, but she felt as if she’d caught him undressed.

  He tilted his head and smiled and she lost her sudden embarrassment.

  ‘Where are we?’ she asked.

  ‘Close to the Kaghan Valley.’

  ‘We passed into the Kingdom of Kaghan during the night?’

  He nodded. ‘This cave is only a day from the fields of Shogrun.’

  ‘Can I see them?’

  His amiable smile disappeared. ‘It is best we stay hidden during the day. We will keep travelling by night.’

  ‘But Shogrun is reported to be beautiful.’

  ‘Awa, and you’ll see it tonight by moonlight.’ His words were firm as if he anticipated further objection.

  ‘Where is my mother?’

  He hesitated. Could he know that Hafeezah wasn’t her true mother? She wondered if Hafeezah had told him when Zarah and Baqir had said to tell no one.

  ‘Come,’ he said. ‘We are eating in another part of the cave.’

  Anjuli ran to Jahani as she entered a cavern. There was a hole in the roof where sunlight streamed through. To the side their horses stood, eating grain from cloth bags.

  ‘I like this place,’ Anjuli said. ‘My brother Shaan would have liked it, too.’

  Jahani gave her a hug. It was the first time Anjuli had mentioned her family since the night they’d fled in the forest a few weeks ago. ‘Will you tell us more about him?’

  ‘He was thirteen summers, almost a man. He always looked after me …’ Her voice trailed away. It made Jahani think of Sameela. She should talk of her more, to keep her alive in her heart.

  ‘It’s difficult to lose a loved one,’ Jahani said. ‘But there is no shame in feeling sorrow.’

  ‘Jahani bai—’ Anjuli said. Then with the changeability of a child, ‘Could I see the fields of Shogrun? Hafeezah says there are flowers as far as the eye can see.’

  Jahani smiled, but Azhar repeated what he had told Jahani. ‘We cannot venture out until dark. We must stay safe.’

  The word ‘safe’ dried up Anjuli’s sudden chatter and a shadow darkened her eyes.

  Jahani took a cup of chai from Hafeezah, sat by Anjuli and said, ‘You’ll have to tell me a story, Anjuli.’

  But the girl shook her head.

  It was Hafeezah who told a story instead. ‘I’ll tell you about the Lake Saiful Maluk, which we shall soon see,’ she said. ‘My father used to tell me this story when I was a child. And then I told Jahani.’ She glanced at Jahani before continuing. ‘Once there was a handsome prince of Persia called Saiful Maluk who visited the lake.’

  Anjuli smiled faintly.

  ‘He saw a pari, a fairy, who lived there with her people. She was so beautiful and sang so sweetly that he fell in love with her. One day he saw her bathing and, without thinking of the cons
equences, he snatched away her silken clothes. “Marry me,” he cried. The demure pari agreed to become his wife for when she saw him she loved him.’

  Jahani noticed Anjuli’s rapt expression. Jahani had also loved this story as a child.

  ‘But the pari had a demon lover who wouldn’t let her go so easily. He was so angry to see them wed that he flooded the entire valley.’

  ‘What happened to the other paries?’ Anjuli asked.

  Hafeezah put an arm around her. ‘Some say they left the lake. Others say paries can still be seen dancing on the grass and bathing in the water, especially on a night when the moon shines its brightest. It is a charmed place.’

  ‘Magic?’ Anjuli asked.

  Hafeezah nodded. ‘The closer you get to the Qurraqoram Mountains, the more magic there is.’

  ‘I want to see the paries,’ Anjuli cried. ‘Did Prince Saiful Maluk become one, too?’

  Before Hafeezah could answer, Azhar motioned to them to be quiet. He stood under the hole in the roof of the cave, listening. Then he directed them to follow him into the cavern they’d slept in.

  ‘Stay here,’ he said.

  ‘What are you going to do?’ Jahani whispered.

  Azhar put his finger to his lips. Then he walked toward a tunnel.

  ‘I’m coming,’ Jahani whispered.

  Azhar shook his head and kept walking.

  She caught up to him. He looked at her with exasperation, yet he pulled out a dagger from his belt and handed it to her.

  It was like a miniature scimitar. She hadn’t held one before.

  ‘To protect yourself,’ he said in a low tone. ‘Do not do anything heroic. And stay back – it will be hard enough to fight without having to protect you as well.’

  Jahani didn’t like his tone. There must be something she could do to help?

  As they crept along, she could hear what had alerted Azhar: horses snorting outside. Then she heard a man’s voice. Azhar held out a hand, urging Jahani to stay still while he edged closer to the mouth of the cave. But Jahani crept closer, too. Azhar drew his sword quietly and parted the bushes hiding the entrance. In a moment, he was gone.

  At first there was silence as Jahani peered through the leaves at the bright daylight. Then she heard an oath and the sudden clash of swords. Azhar must have drawn the fight away from the cave.

  Jahani slipped through the cave entrance. She followed the sounds of battle and found Azhar fighting three men dressed in brown shalwar qameezes and red turbans. Azhar sliced with his sword and Jahani gasped as one man fell to the ground. The concentration of a second man was broken, but the third quickly grabbed Azhar around the neck.

  Without thinking, Jahani leaped forward and hit the man on the head with the butt of the dagger. He fell to the ground in a daze, enabling Azhar to block the other man’s attack. Within seconds Azhar’s sword found its mark. His attacker fell at the same time the man Jahani had hit fled.

  Of the two men Azhar had struck, only one was alive. He lay groaning on the ground. Azhar knelt beside him. Jahani crept closer.

  ‘Who is your master?’ Azhar asked.

  The man choked; his voice gurgled.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Dagar …’

  Jahani couldn’t hear the rest.

  Azhar stood and saw her there. ‘Thank you for your help.’ He paused. ‘Jaldi, we must go.’

  ‘Are you leaving him here?’ Jahani said.

  ‘They would have killed us all—’ He stopped suddenly as if he thought better of sharing what he was about to say. ‘His men will come back for him.’ He guided her into the cave.

  Hafeezah hurried to them as they entered. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Awa, but we must leave now.’ Azhar’s tone was brusque. ‘We cannot wait for nightfall.’

  Within minutes their belongings were packed, the fire scattered and they urged the horses out into the daylight before mounting. They made their way through the forest, climbing ever higher. Jahani couldn’t stop thinking of the men who followed them. Could they be connected to the attack on her in Sherwan?

  Azhar pushed them forward; he rode at the rear. When Jahani glanced back, she could see him continually checking the way they had come.

  It was evening and becoming cold when they reached the high fields of Shogrun. ‘Ooh.’ Anjuli was enchanted. ‘It’s a pari field.’

  They pulled their mounts to a standstill and stared in wonder. ‘It is called the Forest of the Sky,’ Azhar said.

  Something strange was happening to Jahani. As she gazed at the miles of moonlit silver grass she saw the fields in daylight with a little girl, a boy, a horse and a leopard playing amongst the wildflowers. It was the place from her dream! But how could she have known about this place? She looked up to find Azhar regarding her, a crease between his eyes.

  ‘It’s so beautiful,’ Jahani said.

  ‘Isn’t it?’ Hafeezah said. ‘We used to come here.’ Then she glanced at Azhar and fell silent.

  ‘We? What do you mean?’ Jahani asked.

  ‘I came here,’ Hafeezah said steadily with another glance at Azhar, ‘and often times I brought you, Jahani. But you were only four. I’m not surprised you don’t remember.’

  But I dreamed it, Jahani thought. Maybe I wasn’t too young to remember, after all.

  ‘Come.’ Azhar’s voice sounded strained. ‘We must reach the lake, there will be people we can trust.’

  Jahani had the oddest sense he was upset, but why?

  The full moon rose a few nights later as they reached the mountains surrounding Lake Saiful Maluk.

  They descended and guided their horses around the perimeter of the lake. It was cold, still, and so achingly beautiful in the moonlight. A mist hung over the centre of the lake and the snowy mountains reflected silver on the surface. The water lapped at the horses’ hooves and the jingle of their harnesses and their nickers punctuated the surrounding silence.

  Chandi snorted and Jahani could see steam hanging in the cold air. ‘You like it here, don’t you, girl?’ she whispered.

  Jahani felt peace flood her body; it could have been one of her dreams.

  Azhar led them to a wooden hut near the edge of the water. As he dismounted, the door opened and an older man emerged.

  ‘Rasheed, old friend,’ Azhar cried.

  The man kissed Azhar’s hand and sank to touch his feet.

  Azhar pulled him up with a laugh and glanced at Jahani.

  She frowned. Why would an old man touch Azhar’s feet?

  ‘Mikal, my son, see to the horses,’ Rasheed said as a young man Azhar’s age took the reins.

  Rasheed ushered them inside. After a welcome meal of rice and Mahseer fish curry, they sat back against cushions to talk. Jahani could see that Rasheed knew Azhar well. ‘Has it taken you a moon to reach Lake Saiful Maluk?’ he asked.

  Azhar nodded. ‘Almost.’

  Rasheed glanced at the others. ‘You must be very tired. You will sleep well tonight – you are safe here.’

  ‘Accha, good,’ Azhar said. ‘But we may need to stay awhile even though we are only a half-day from Naran.’

  Jahani wondered how Rasheed knew they’d be safe. The lake seemed isolated – a good place for an ambush.

  As if he could read her thoughts, Rasheed said, ‘People are frightened by the paries. This is a charmed lake.’ Then he said to Azhar, ‘Do you know for sure who it is that follows you?’

  Azhar inclined his head in affirmation.

  ‘But why?’ Jahani burst out. ‘Why are we being followed and attacked?’

  There was a silence that Hafeezah finally filled. ‘Can you still ask that? Think of Sameela.’

  ‘Why me? I am just a girl.’

  ‘It is not always what we do but who we are that proves us chosen,’ Azhar said.

  Rasheed glanced at him in approval and Jahani said, ‘But I’m a nobody. Why should I be chosen to be killed?’

  No one answered her and Hafeezah shifted uncomfortably.

>   So Jahani asked a different question: ‘Who follows us?’

  Azhar exhaled but answered steadily. ‘The men of Dagar Khan from the northern Kingdom of Hahayul.’

  There was a pause. ‘Are you sure?’ Rasheed asked as Hafeezah sat stunned.

  Azhar nodded. ‘I extracted this information from a man near death. There was no reason for him to lie.’

  It was Anjuli who asked, ‘Who is Dagar Khan?’

  Azhar regarded her sadly before he spoke. ‘He is a new King Zahhak.’

  Jahani gasped. ‘The Demon King.’

  9

  Baltit Fort Kingdom of Hahayul

  Dagar Khan, the self-appointed tham of the Kingdom of Hahayul, sat on a dais covered with carpets and cushions in Baltit Fort. He terrorised the northern kingdoms and ruled by fear. Many likened him to the ancient King Zahhak who had struck a deal with Shaitan, the Demon King.

  Since the small and isolated northern kingdoms were on the edge of the Mughal Empire, Dagar Khan had not yet attracted the attention of Emperor Aurangzeb, who was not only busy fighting kingdoms in the south of Hindustan, but also his brothers, who were trying to take his throne.

  Dagar Khan stared with distaste at the cowed form of his salar, his army commander, in front of him.

  The man knelt on the floor in obeisance, babbling, ‘We travelled far, my lord, but my men were killed by a man with demonic powers. Only one escaped with his life. We burned villages but no one has heard of this girl.’

  Dagar Khan glanced at the grey-haired man seated at his side. His powerful pir, a seer who could foretell events, shook his head in response.

  ‘Lies!’ Dagar Khan snarled at the commander.

  The commander lifted his head but didn’t look directly at the dais. ‘Truly, my lord, there is no such girl. We asked everywhere—’

  ‘Fool. You haven’t looked long enough. I know she is on the move.’ He indicated the man beside him. ‘Pir Zal has told me she is alive.’

  The pir tilted his head slightly, while joining his fingertips under his chin.

  ‘With respect, my lord, we were told summers ago she was killed as a child when we sacked this fort.’ The commander hesitated. ‘Perhaps that was true, my lord?’