Stars and soil, p.43
Stars and Soil, page 43
“Of course, my princess,” he replies. His domineering tone gives way to gentleness and care. He is the only one she has allowed to address her thusly.
The shrill cries continue, interspersed with cruel chuckles. Ashur’s soldiers visiting some sort of violence upon a helpless civilian. She leaps from her horse, putting away Katynna, drawing her spear in one swift movement, and stabbing at the predators before they even see her.
Their prey is small, dark hair pulled back, exposing every inch of fear etched in her face, back pressed against the city wall, fingers curled around a dirty gray robe. She is terrified, cowering, weak. But for the brief second that Sari glances into the woman’s eyes, she sees a golden, radiant light. Power untapped, strength unharnessed, determination hidden beneath fear.
What a waste of potential. And yet, it is her duty to save this woman, even if the woman is too cowardly to save herself. In two graceful arcs, she dispatches the rest of the leering soldiers, sending them to meet Xana. “Hurry back inside,” she says, not bothering to look at the woman as she plunges her spear into the sand and then wipes the sharp point it on her wrist brace.
“I am not going back in there,” the woman says. Her voice quivers, but Sari hears just a glissando of defiance in it. A defiance that she can admire, praise, even respect. But not one she can tolerate. Not right now.
“That’s an order. Get back inside. Things are about to get violent, and the fighting out here is not something a delicate flower like you should have to witness.”
“I assure you, I have seen worse.”
Sari laughs. This woman looks like she’s never seen the outside of whatever walled garden she lives in. What, has she seen the kitchen cat torture a rat? Sari turns around. The woman still shakes, but her back is straight, and her chin is high. Just the right combination of fear and defiance for playtime but a lethal combination on the battlefield. Crossing her arms, Sari wonders if she could recruit the woman for something like armor repairs or weapons maintenance.
“Fine. Do as you like, but I don’t like my work going to waste. I saved your life; pay me back by not losing it tonight.”
The woman looks out into the desert, a death sentence if she has no supplies. “Thank you, ma’am. I will wait out here until the fighting is over and then go home.”
“If I see you out later, I won’t be pleased.”
“Understood.”
Sari mounts her horse, enters the city, and only chides herself for not getting the woman’s name as she unleashes a fury of lethal assaults on the soldiers she meets inside. She slices her way through the throng; how Ashur acquired so many soldiers is baffling, and yet his numbers are overwhelming. His laugh echoes on the wind, mocking her as she forces her way toward his unspoken call. Haunting her as she races to answer it.
Arishaki—loyal, brave, dependable Arishaki—is already engaging her brother. Blood pounding in her ears, she takes a deep breath. Steady. Steady. You don’t win by being reckless; you don’t win by being hasty. Squaring her shoulders, she leaps from her horse, lunging at her brother, her sword point slithering toward his throat.
“Ah, sister dearest! I had not expected to see you here. What a delightful surprise! A family reunion. How have you been, love?”
Sister dearest, he would say before wrapping his hands around Zisuthra’s throat. How have you been, love? He would say before dragging Zisuthra down the halls by her tail. He never hurt Zisu because he hated her; he hurt Zisu because he knew it hurt Sari.
Steady, steady. Don’t let him win; don’t let him get to you. She swings upward and then back down, quick and ruthless and without aim or method. He dodges easily, just as easily as he had dodged her attacks in the iseru. His smile just as cruel now as it had been when they were children fighting in that arena.
But this is different. She has Katynna strapped at her hip the royal seal concealed under her tunic this time. She has the power of the mar’sahre’dan‘i. She slashes, he dodges, neither getting a hit on the other. But he is clearly winning, no sweat upon his brow, no quiver of fatigue on his lips. Her face is contorted in anger and concentration; his is as tranquil as the glow of Yludi on the full moon night.
Why can’t I win? Why can’t I beat him? I can’t lose, I can’t. I have to save our people from him; if he claims the throne, it will be worse than even those brutal insurrectionists.
“Well, this has been so much fun, sister dearest,” he says, jumping backward to land on the edge of the city wall and nodding at someone behind, most likely his second-in-command. “But I have more important things to do than to toy with a little mouse. I got what I came here for, but thank you for keeping me entertained.” He leaps back over the wall, a silent signal to his troops to retreat.
As quickly as they came, Ashur’s army leaves Antalyza. All that remains for Sari to do is drive out the insurrectionists now.
Dax Murray, Stars and Soil
