by V. K. Ludwig
Neither could I live with Toagi’s death on my conscience. “You’re doing it.”
Old sorrow roughened her voice as she said, “I merely exist.”
Because her mate was dead.
A fissure cracked along my heart for her loss, and yet it reassured me that returning to Katedo would achieve my goal. “All the more reason for the warlord to spare Toagi, if only to keep me alive.”
“But you wish to be with Toagi, yes?”
More than anything. “My wishes rarely ever matter, Mayala.”
She nodded. “During your heat, has he—”
“No,” I said. “As much as I want Toagi alive, I won’t save one life by burdening another.”
“And he accepted it?”
“He didn’t touch me throughout my heat.”
Mayala cursed underneath her breath. “I hate myself for saying this, but I am starting to respect that rebel.”
“His brother attacked him during the trial. Toagi never meant to kill him. It was an accident. His claim is solid.”
“That does not change the embarrassment he has put Katedo through,” she said. “And if the scout gives me the location, how will we get there?”
“We’ll steal Canja and Yelim’s yuleshi. Might even take the scout with us, so he can act as a guide. It’s nothing but a backup plan in case Toagi fails.”
“Warlords negotiate with blood, urizaya.”
Against that hollowness spreading at my core, I straightened. “Well, I’m not a warlord. I’m an urizaya.”
Eighteen
Toagi
Weary and crestfallen, my tribe trudged along the dark edge of the cliff, shouldering the few belongings we could afford to take. Yuleshis carried most of the heavier items, bearing those children on their backs too young to walk. They pulled makeshift cots behind them, where the wounded groaned in pain.
Yelim rode ahead together with three of my warriors, driving off whatever beasts loomed underneath the cover of the night. Ushtis mostly, although we’d also come across two trained yuleshis. Mayala sat on one of them, shaking her head whenever her stare met my eyes.
I couldn’t blame her.
There was so much Ceangal didn’t know. It hadn’t been her concern at first, and I didn’t bother telling her just how far my plans reached. Once her bond had showed itself, I couldn’t burden her with the truth. Now that she was mine in every way, feelings blossoming between us, I didn’t quite know how to tell her.
I’d always planned to care for her.
Never had I planned to love her this much.
I glanced down to where she rested in my arms, eyes closed, her head shifting against my chest to each lazy stomp of Canja’s paw. Angry scratches decorated her arms from how she’d helped strap uri rods to our mounts. For hours, she’d helped us prepare, well… without a single complaint.
Now she slept, and I stared.
Before me, Tjala wrapped an ushti fur tighter around her shoulders and stumbled over a rock. It took her a few steps to regain her balance. Did her upper body sway?
I leaned slightly forward, letting Canja walk up beside her so as not to risk waking Ceangal. “Are you alright?”
“Yes, urizayo,” she said and wiped a wild, gray strand from where it stuck to her forehead, her smile somewhat pinched. “Nothing but exhaustion from how quickly I had to roll all the furs.”
Canja tolerated nobody on her back but Ceangal and me. “Let me see if I can find you a yuleshi—”
“No, urizayo, do not trouble yourself with me. I have it better than most and don’t carry a single injury.” And yet, her legs seemed wobbly underneath her.
“Nafir.” I waved him over from where he rode with his mate Seren leaning against his back. “Search along the upper cliff for more yuleshis, and bring one to Tjala. Take two warriors with you, in case you come across a leap of them.”
He rode off, barking the names of those warriors who soon trotted behind him.
Tjala lowered her head. “Thank you. You are a caring urizayo.”
Was I?
More than once, I’d been tempted to turn Canja and ride for the plains with Ceangal, leaving everyone behind. Just her and me. No responsibilities. No politics. No burdens other than finding food to survive.
My heart lightened at the thought, but reality tethered it to the devastation of the here and now. Funny, how the very woman I’d stolen to establish myself as warlord now made me want to be a bastard. A nobody, free to ride away from it all while my female slept in my arms.
“You can have mine.” Mayala slipped off her mount, handed the reins to Tjala, helped her up, then fell into step beside Canja.
Her eyes flicked back and forth between Ceangal and me, but they ultimately settled on me, darkening with each slow shake of her head as she snarled, “You have not told her.”
My ribs curled around my organs, clawed into them. “Neither have you.”
“I never had a reason to bring it up.” She quickly lowered her voice when Ceangal shifted in my arms. “All this time, I hoped only you felt the bond.”
“She might feel it now, but it is not as strong as that of a Jal’zar female. Perhaps, it will never solidify in such way.”
“Regardless, you have to tell her that the bond can be broken.”
My fangs clenched so hard their roots ached. It had taken me almost an entire moon to make Ceangal accept our bond; the thought of telling her that it could be severed hurt deeper than any pain had ever reached before.
“I will confess this much; you are a male of honor,” she said. “Honor and stupidity, because Katedo will chase you across Solgad until he slits your throat to break the bond. Perhaps Razgar will sting her and force half his soul into that void you will leave behind, and that is if Mekara blesses her. They might refuse her. Or Katedo will marry her, but he will not offer her a bond to drive out her grief.”
“No, he won’t. He refused her the first time, that prideful urizayo of yours.”
“Not because he is cruel, but because he suffers the void himself,” she said. “He cannot bring himself to part from it because he embraces the pain. By Mekara, the only reason I betrayed Katedo was so you would have the time to tell her.”
“And I will.”
“When?”
“I… I don’t know,” I said on an exhale. “Not between changing the dressings on burns and handing extra rations to the elders. She already carries so much guilt over something that is my burden alone to bear; this is no easy thing to put to her.”
“The largest warband is less than a half day’s ride from us.” Her words put a clench into my stomach all over again. “Whatever your plans, urizayo, her own might interfere simply because she believes she can save you.”
The very fact that she’d called me urizayo, for the second time now, made me consider her words more closely. “By Mekara, is my wife scheming again?”
“Goddess forgive me; this male makes me a traitor twice in one sun,” she mumbled, neck straining as she made certain Ceangal was still asleep. “She had me report on everything I lured from the scout. Fail, and she will sneak away to—”
“Katedo.” That realization stabbed my heart as much as it soothed my soul. My female had indeed made good use of the scout she’d captured. “Because she thinks he might spare my life, not knowing that the bond will make him come for me twice as fast once someone confirms it, and there’s no pregnancy that would have to make him reconsider.”
She rubbed the base of her horns as she often did when she felt overwhelmed. “Because of you, I had no other choice but to lie to her, betray her trust. By Mekara… I cannot ride to Katedo with her, knowing her devastation when she finds out.”
“It will not come to that” I forced across my lips, no matter how those words bittered my tongue. “Once the tribe is settled, we will consult. I spent most of my childhood wandering the plains by myself; I dare say I’d make a good freeraider. No warlord ever manages to catch those either.”
�
��That is the life you want for her?”
“Of course not, but I’ll take whichever version is the one where both of us are alive and together. Ceangal doesn’t care about sweat, bruises, or the hardship of the plains.”
“She is not Jal’zar, but a woman from Earth.”
“As well as you serve as her uiri, and I mean that…” I let that sit for a moment, waiting until her shoulders squared. “You underestimate her strength and persistence.”
That silenced her long enough it almost terrified me until she dipped her head and said, “She was born urizaya.”
“At least once, we are in agreement,” I said, and that grin tugging on her lips didn’t go unnoticed. “You want what is best for her. So do I, because I love her.”
Mayala huffed. “I know you do. And because of this, you will tell her.” Her eyes snapped to mine. “Or I will.”
Mayala was right.
I’d promised Ceangal that I would be a good mate. Good mates didn’t keep secrets, didn’t deceive and plot — something that had been my constant companion ever since I was a child, had kept me alive, even.
“Once I have a moment of peace with her,” I said, and we continued beside each other in silence for a while as I watched the uiri from my peripheral vision. “What does it feel like?”
She frowned, then she pouted her lips when I pointed at the side of her ribs. “Like something grabs whatever you carry within, rips it out of you, and leaves you behind an empty shell.”
“My father was a quiet male. Reserved. After my mother’s death, he downright disassociated from most things around him.” When she said nothing to this, I added, “May Mekara save his soul, but Yelim likes you.”
She tortured her upper lip and stared at where he laughed with a warrior several paces ahead of us. “He saved me from the fire and lost half his horn for it.”
“He wouldn’t hesitate to lose another if it kept you safe. Yelim is one of my best warriors, loyal and honorable.”
Her eyes wandered to him once more, features softening, but still, she shook her head. “What do I have left to give—”
Thud.
A plume of ash whirled up where Tjala had hit the ground. The female shifted on her ushti fur, turning her head from one side to the other as if disoriented.
“Ceangal.” It took a bit of shaking until she jerked awake. “Tjala fell off her yuleshi. Here, take Canja’s reins.”
I dismounted and hurried over to the female, where Mayala already kneeled beside her. “She said she wasn’t injured.”
“I am not, urizayo,” Tjala mumbled. “Sleep took me, and I fell off.”
“Everyone keep moving,” I shouted, gesturing the convoy to ride along before I turned back to Tjala.
Mayala stroked over the female’s arms, legs, checking everywhere for broken bones. “No injuries. Perhaps she should ride with me so she can find some sleep.”
My nod came too slow, fingers stiff as I brushed them over Tjala’s cheek. She was neither cool to the touch nor did she appear sick. Perhaps it was nothing but exhaustion after all. It had to be.
“Hold the reins while I put her onto the yuleshi.” While Mayala did as told, I picked Tjala up and lifted her onto the beast’s back. “Make sure you hold her if she falls asleep.”
Mayala swung herself up, reins in one hand, arm clasped around Zari. “I will not let her fall.”
With a nod, I mounted Canja and pulled Ceangal tightly against me as if on instinct, her eyes half-lidded as if she hadn’t quite woken. “My people are tired. Before the night ends, we will make camp somewhere. Go back to sleep, Ceangal. I’ll hold you.”
She stroked her fingertips over my chest, but it turned choppy before the touch faltered altogether. “Need to… rest… as well, kunozay.”
My lips curled into a grin. “I love it when you call me that.”
“Mmh…” Her head pressed harder against my chest, and her posture rounded in my arm. “And I love you.”
My heart gave one massive jolt, which sent a burst of energy through me before it quickened enough, I sensed it pounding against my ribs. Nobody had ever spoken those words to me. For the first time in my life, I felt complete, that void inside me smaller.
Because Ceangal filled my missing pieces.
Nineteen
Ceangal
Knuckles stiff, fingertips chafed raw, I braided five shaved strands of uri rods into the pattern the females had taught me. "It's taking me way too long to make even a regular-sized nabu."
Across the fire, Seren, Nafir's mate, offered me a sincere smile, her black hair braided into a knot between raven horns. "You are still learning, urizaya, and your skin is not as thick as Jal'zar."
Beside me, Mayala huffed and rolled up yet another nabu she'd finished. "This is no task for any urizaya. Your skin is much too thin for this, and you have refused your meal all so you could keep doing it."
I'd refused my meal, so those who needed it more would benefit from it. We'd traveled through the storms for hours, the grit like needle pricks along my legs, and now made a small camp underneath an even smaller tree so we could rest for a while.
I gave Mayala a little shove with my elbow. "Way to say I braid like shit and should just give up."
There was the hint of a smirk underneath her sideways glance, but she tsked it away. "Forgive me, urizaya. I am tired, and the wind chills me to the bone out here."
Not to mention that she was still pissed that she had to trick the scout into spilling the warbands' locations, along with three more scouting parties. One of which we'd encountered on our way north-west, but Toagi had them captured. They, too, braided nabus now, along with the one he and I had caught.
I grabbed the fur Toagi had given me and draped it over Mayala's shoulders. "Hard to believe you're cold, considering you keep wiping sweat from your forehead."
Yet her skin was indeed cool to the touch when she squeezed my hand. "You braid too tightly, urizaya, which makes them stiff. Ease your grip, and it will not exhaust… exhaust you…" Her voice trailed off when Yelim passed us, and she rose. "Whatever have you done to your horn?"
Yelim stopped and reached for that filthy rag he'd haphazardly wrapped around the stump. "Is it bleeding again?"
"Bleeding? You are lucky it has not festered and died off completely. Lower your head." Her nose scrunched up when she tugged the rag off and tossed it promptly into the fire, where it sizzled and popped. "When was the last time you have rubbed it with ash?"
"Was I supposed to?"
"Does your shimid teach you nothing?" From the bottom of the fire, she scooped up a handful of fresh ash and rubbed it onto the injured stump.
Yelim groaned in pain.
Mayala… hummed?
But only for two seconds. Then she flinched, told him he's a brute, turned, and sat back down beside me. She grabbed a new bundle of shaved rods and started braiding, her lips pressed so tightly together they whitened.
I tied the endings of my nabu, cleared my throat, and said, "I heard that."
"You heard nothing."
Instead of grabbing more material, I stretched my aching fingers. "As fascinating as zovazay is, it seems rather cruel that someone will remain forever alone after a bonded mate passed away."
"Who told you this, urizaya?" Seren asked, intrigued enough she lowered her nabu to look at me from pale pink eyes.
"Katedo said zovazay is a bond so strong it lasts beyond death."
For a moment, I thought Mayala shook her head at Seren before she said, "In time, you will understand zovazay."
When my eyes flicked to Seren, she lowered her head, grabbed the nabu, and stared at one of the knots. Mayala didn't say another word either, and silence settled around our fire. The uncomfortable kind that put a jitter in your leg. What was it they weren't telling me?
What had the scout said when he’d seen my scar? Katedo would cut it out of… out of whom? Me? Toagi? None of that made sense, and yet—
A shrill cry jerked me to
my feet.
Zari, a girl not even six sun cycles old, must have escaped her nabu and climbed down to the gathering area. Tears streamed down her face, tiny fingers nervously tugging on her cotton tunic. Along her temple, black bruises bloomed where she'd hit a low-hanging branch when she’d escaped the fire.
"Shh…" I picked her up, and she immediately pressed her snotty nose into the crook of my neck. "Bad dream, huh? Let's see where your mommy is."
Toagi jogged up to me, sporting a cut along the side of his ribcage where the other scout had injured him with his horn. "What's wrong?"
"She just suddenly showed up," I said and brushed her dark brown hair back. "Poor thing probably had a nightmare. She's Reyja's daughter, right?"
Toagi nodded and lifted Zari off me. "I know where her mother is."
The girl immediately reached up and grabbed one of Toagi's horns, running her little gray palm up and down the bony ridges. It must have given her comfort because she soon stopped crying. Whatever Toagi whispered into her ear even lured a wet giggle from her.
Something inside me blossomed at the sight. For someone who'd known little affection in his childhood, Toagi was very generous with it. I had no doubt he would make a loving father, just like he made an excellent mate.
He returned shortly after, his face ashen even against the purple flames, and rubbed the dust from his eyes. Ever since we'd stopped to rest, he'd hauled water from a nearby yoni, divided rations, gave his own to his warriors, and even hunted a tendetu.
"When was the last time you've slept?" I asked, grabbed a waterskin, and let him have a swallow.
He leaned his forehead against mine. "I wouldn't remember."
"Well, it's time you got some rest as well. How long until we break up camp?"
He gestured me to pour water into his palms, washed his face, then wiped his wet, cool hands over the nape of my neck. "With the first light."
