Page 72 of Warlords, Witches & Wolves

Nergui hugged her. “You are doing well in your role as Tribal Mother since your mother passed.”

Her heart twinged. Gone only a year ago and still it hurt as if it was only yesterday. “Thank you.”

She went into the spiritual tent where Erhi prayed over one of the dead warriors. Shuree waited until Erhi finished and opened her eyes. The black circle tattoo under her right eye marking her as their spiritual advisor seemed more prominent today.

“Shuree, I knew you wouldn’t be long. Are you ready to visit the families?”

She nodded, though she was never ready. She would rather ride into battle than deal with the grief these families faced. It reminded her too much of her own grief when her mother had died.

“Then let us go.”

* * *

By midday Shuree’shead throbbed with the pain of unshed tears, she hurt from the despair of the families, and her muscles had stiffened from the battle. Hopelessness filled her as the warriors gathered their weapons and mounted their horses. They were going to rescue Jambal’s family and get their harvest back.

Though Shuree had been trained to fight, she only protected their home, never riding out when the men attacked. Her father called her over. “You are in charge until I return. Your duty is to ensure the camp is fortified and to protect our people.”

She raised her eyebrows. How could they fortify the camp when all their warriors rode into battle? There were no fences aside from those around the sheep herds and no easy way to defend the collection of yurts. Still she replied, “Yes, Khan.” His strong arms encircled her, a protection and comfort she had always known. She inhaled deeply, his musky scent filling her nose. She didn’t want to let go.

“This is the only way to deal with them, child,” he murmured and moved over to his horse.

Yul stopped next to her after saying goodbye to his wife and children. “Don’t worry, little dragon. We’ll defeat the Erseg and then maybe they will be willing to talk.”

She bit her tongue to stop herself from begging him not to go.

The women and children waved the warriors off, almost half their whole tribe, and worry lodged deep in the pit of Shuree’s stomach. Her father and three brothers rode into battle, with no guarantee they would return. She swallowed, blinked the tears from her eyes and turned to Erhi. Her concern spiked again at the deep frown on the spiritual advisor’s face. “What’s wrong?”

Erhi hesitated. “Dzhambul does not ride with them.”

The god of war and hunting guaranteed a successful mission if he rode with them. Shuree’s skin crawled and she bit her tongue to stop herself from calling them back. “Can you see an end to this fighting?”

“I will consult the Gods.” Erhi left and Shuree returned to her now empty yurt. It was usually full of people meeting with the khan or her family coming to visit. Both her eldest brothers had their own families and yurts, but they were always around, learning how to be khan from their father. Now the lack of people felt like a bad omen.

Shuree couldn’t stay here. It was too quiet. She wanted to speak with others, discover if they too had had enough of the endless bloodshed.

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.”

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