The Elemental Mysteries: Complete Series (188 page)

His hand reached over and tugged her short hair. Saraal hissed and he let go, but he still glared at her.

“I know you’re mad, but do you understand me at all?”

Saraal curled her lip, revealing a vicious fang.

The other man was standing at the tent flap. “I don’t trust her. She needs to be guarded.”

“I think if we feed her, she’ll become more lucid. She’s barely conscious right now.”

Aday stretched out on the ground and threw an arm around Saraal’s waist. “We’re not mad. Why can’t they see that? There’s a difference between madness and anger.”

“Put a guard on her, Temur. Or put her in the ground.”

Saraal screamed and rolled away. She felt her body leave the ground as she scrambled to move away from the man called Temur. She had to get away. Far away. Away from the ground. Into the air where she could dissolve into darkness. If she could only become nothing, perhaps they would leave her alone. Perhaps—

“Stop!”

Four hands pulled her down from the corner of the tent, where she was trying to tear through the skins. They pushed her down to the ground, holding her arms and legs. The screams froze in her throat. Saraal let her body go dead. She let her limbs fall still. Then she closed her eyes and turned her head to the side, spreading her legs to that it would be over more quickly.

The man who’d been standing by the tent flap grunted. “I think we know one of the things they did to her.”

“Are you surprised?”

“No.”

“Obviously, they buried her, too. My guess is that is what caused this. So let’s not mention the ground again. Eh, Roshan?”

The man’s voice dropped. “She’s powerful. Do you feel it? Even in her condition—”

“I know.”

They slowly let go of her arms and ankles, and Saraal curled into a ball again. Safe. She went to the black sky in her mind and flew, humming a tune her grandmother had taught her.

A soft hand stroked her head. “Girl, we will not bury you.”

She rocked back and forth, and Aday sang along with her.

“Do you understand?”

She felt a wrist pressed to her mouth. She didn’t think; she just opened her mouth and drank.

Sweet, sweet, sweet. Sweeter than Kuluun’s woman, even.

Someone pinched her nose and pulled her away from the wrist.

Saraal gave into her instincts and slept.

When she woke, the tent was empty. She was healed. Her hair was clean and her clothes were fresh. She looked down at herself, barely recognizing what she could see. She opened her senses, but she couldn’t hear Aday anywhere.

The tent flap was partially open, letting fresh air invade the stuffy shelter. Saraal crept closer and peeked out.

Half the camp was gone. Tents burned. Animal and human bodies scattered. A huge fire was burning in the cooking pit. Though she smelled humans around, she did not hear any screaming. Voices drifted from around the fire, so she crept closer, staying in the deep shadows. The moon was full and the air smelled of smoke, roasted meat, and blood.

“—too much attention. Our father is not pleased.”

“What does he care if the humans die?”

Kuluun was still alive, but clearly was being questioned by the Sida called Temur. Saraal recognized him now. He was the other Sida who had been there the night Jun had sired her. He’d been there, but had left with Jun. Years had passed, but now Temur was back. And Saraal could hear the anxiety in Kuluun’s voice. He was trying to mask it with arrogance, but she could hear through it.

“Jun doesn’t care about the humans. He cares about discretion. You have become a terror over these plains. Stories spread. They spread about the god who flies, burns villages, and steals food. They spread along the trade routes where they meet stories of a god in the west who commands fire from heaven. Do you want this god to hear of us?”

“Who are we to fear some myth from the west?” Kuluun scoffed.

Temur’s voice rose. “Are you so stupid you think we are the only of our kind? Jun commands this place, yes. But there are others, Kuluun. I have seen this Sida from the west, and he is frightening to behold. You kill with a sword, but this immortal kills with fire from his hands. He and Jun avoid each other, and you are testing your father’s patience with your actions.”

Saraal heard a low murmur and realized that many other Sida were also listening. She peeked around the corner of the tent and saw Kuluun and Temur staring at each other from across the fire. Kuluun’s sons stood at his back, but Temur had his own men, and they looked far more dangerous. Saraal also noticed that many of Kuluun’s sons were gone. Where there had been thirty or forty before, no more than a dozen joined him now.

Or had something else happened to them?

She allowed herself to drift on the edge of the gathering. Unfortunately, Temur must have caught her scent.

“And what have you done to the woman?”

Kuluun puffed up his chest. “What do you care what I do to my woman?”

The crowd had parted when Temur’s eyes landed on her. Saraal tried to run, but the man from Temur’s tent, Roshan, was there. He must have been able to fly, because he appeared out of nowhere to block her escape.

“You’ve driven her mad, you idiot.
Jun’s child
. You told Jun you wanted a woman. He gave you one. He made an immortal for you, and you have driven her to madness with your cruelty. Humans are one thing, Kuluun, but she is a Sida. Not a human for you to play with.”

Kuluun’s eyes narrowed on her. “What has she said to you? Saraal lies. Constantly.”

“She says nothing. She talks to herself. She laughs at nothing and bites like an animal.”

“She is
my
woman. It’s none of your concern.”

Rashon herded her to the edge of the fire. Kuluun’s eyes found hers, and Saraal curled her lip.

Temur laughed. “Yes, she’s obviously your woman! Well done, Kuluun.”

“What are you going to do to me?”

Rashon released her arm, but stood behind her, clearly prepared to grab her again. Now that she was closer, she could see that Kuluun and Temur where not talking. Kuluun was bound and two of Temur’s guards stood behind him. His sons were pale and frightened, their eyes darting between their sire and the new Sida with the powerful energy and the longer sword. Temur was as tall as Kuluun, but leaner. His figure was striking and Saraal saw the human women who remained eyeing him appreciatively, so she guessed they considered him handsome. To Saraal, he exuded a threatening power.

“I’m not going to do anything to you, Kuluun.” Temur stepped around the fire, eyes fixed on his brother, and a smile curled the corner of his mouth. “I promised Jun that I’d do nothing to you without consulting him. And he is away in the east somewhere. I have no idea when I will see him again. So, Kuluun, I may have killed your children. I may have burned your camp. But I will do nothing to you.”

Then Temur’s gaze left Kuluun and swung over to Saraal. He nodded once and she felt a weapon pressed to her side. She turned, and Roshan met her eyes. He said nothing, but pulled out her hand and slapped the handle of a bronze blade into her palm. Then he closed her fingers around the hilt and stepped back.

Saraal looked at Temur. His eyes told her nothing. Luckily, at that moment, Aday came to her side.

“They give you a weapon to kill him, my girl.” Aday’s voice was gleeful. “You may kill him so they don’t break their word to their master.”

Kuluun started, but Temur’s men held his arms. “What are you doing?”

“I told you, brother,” Temur said. “
I
will do nothing to you.”

“You gave her a weapon, you ass!” Kuluun screamed. “You can’t give her a weapon!”

“She is a child of Jun. A female, yes. But a warrior by his blood. Are you saying you never trained her with weapons
as all his children must be trained
?”

“She’s crazy!”

Temur bared his fangs at his brother and hissed, “She wasn’t when he made her, was she?”

“She killed Odval! We never even found his ashes.”

Temur looked at her with new respect. “Well, then giving her a weapon hardly seems necessary. I suppose at this point, I’m merely curious what she can do with it.”

Saraal approached Kuluun as if he was a banquet laid before her. A harvest feast, like those she remembered as a girl. Temur’s men stepped away. Kuluun’s sons deserted him, clearly understanding where the power had shifted.

She stood before him, and he vibrated with anger. “You stupid bitch. You won’t do anything. You’re a mindless sheep. Too stupid to even—”

In a blur of movement, Saraal bent down and cut behind Kuluun’s knees, slicing the tendon as if she was preparing a goat for the spit. He cried out and fell to the ground, but Saraal immediately grabbed the tongue out of his mouth and pulled, cutting it off as he retreated into enraged gurgles. He spit up blood, and Saraal did not waste it, licking up his chin to capture it before she bit his neck.

She heard the crowd behind her, but she ignored them. Aday was at her side, coaxing her on.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she crooned. “Powerful blood. You will be strong, my girl. Drain him. Kill him like Odval.”

She drank and drank, latching her fangs into his neck and sucking as he tried to jerk away. She plunged the short sword into his kidney and held him still. She could hear laughter around her, but she didn’t stop.

Eventually, his veins ran dry. Saraal pulled away and looked down. The front of her new clothes were dripping with blood. She could feel it falling from her chin, smeared over her face. Her hands dripped with it; she had stabbed Kuluun over and over any time he tried to move. When she pulled away, his body fell to the ground and Saraal turned to Temur, licking the blood from the fingers of her free hand.

Her voice was rough and wet when she spoke.

“Fire destroys us?”

“Yes,” Temur said, glancing toward the burning pit.

“Good to know.”

She turned, hefted Kuluun’s body over her shoulder, then tossed it into the fire. It jerked and sputtered, but soon went up in flames. Saraal watched it for a few minutes, then turned and walked away, still gripping the bronze blade.

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, but 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 that 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. They 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.