The Story so Far: Ilati's homeland has been destroyed by the northern kingdom of Nadar at the command of  Nysra, who has taken her family's title as King of Kings and spread his dominion far. With the help of the goddess she sought out in the desert, K'adau, the Mother of Demons, a mysterious one-eyed sorcerer named Eigou, and Menes, a warrior from a far away land, Ilati is on a quest to defeat Nysra. They have joined forces with the Sut Resi, a nomadic horse-riding people. Coming upon the town of Sa Dul and the demon that terrorized it, Ilati met the creature in single combat and defeated it with the help of her wild horse...but spared its life after it claimed the people of the town destroyed its home.

***

As her blood cooled, Ilati looked down at the scorched remnants of the arrow she held in her hand. The obsidian head had split in half and the wood splintered from the power that had coursed through it. The throbbing pain in her arm became more and more real as she stared at the last remnant of her weapon, even though the demon had stopped the bleeding. She would likely bear the scars of Ezezu’s claws for the rest of her life, much as she carried the ones K’adau had ripped into her face.

She leaned against Youtab’s side more heavily as the exhaustion set in. A fight with a demon after a long ride to reach Sa Dul drained more energy from her than she expected. The mare responded with a gentle nicker, turning her head to look at the wounded priestess.

The divine-blooded horse’s eyes shone with intelligence. Only a fool would consider any horse simple, Ilati had learned, but her savior was above the rest of her kind, standing only beside Babak and Araxa, her siblings. Ilati leaned forward, pressing her forehead to Youtab’s nose and wrapping her arms around the mare’s neck. “Thank you for saving me,” she whispered.

Youtab needed no words to respond, not with the connection that crackled between them like lightning between clouds in a storm. She understood, and so did Ilati.

“Ilati!” The next thing she knew, Menes swept her off her feet, the warmth of the sun emanating from his chuckles. “That was a battle to be remembered!”

“Yet it lives.” Shammu, the youngest son of Hedis, had stepped out of his mother’s house, his family following close behind him. The young man’s brow furrowed deeper than a vineyard’s soil. “Why did you not slay it?”

Menes set Ilati down, steadying her when he realized she was swaying. “Is it not enough that it is driven from this place, man of Sa Dul?” the charioteer said.

Ilati gripped the arrow’s shaft more tightly. “It will return,” she said with grim certainty. She could not share in Menes's elation at her victory, not with an evil deed unaddressed.

Shammu’s words came untempered by reason, even when his older brother seized his shoulder. “Then what was the point of your battle? We are no better now than before you arrived! Perhaps now its anger even grows! Your mercy to such an evil thing was a mistake!”

Ilati leveled the remnants of the arrow at him like an executioner would point a sword. “Your plague was of your own making, Shammu, son of Hedis,” she said in a low, even tone. “Who drove off the old man with sticks and insults? Who hacked apart the home of the one who has tormented you? You were warned.”

Shammu went red in the face. “It was the evil eye!”

Ilati’s voice sharpened like a dagger. “Your own!”

Now that they were certain the demon was gone, the townspeople and their Sut Resi defenders clustered around to hear the words spoken. Ilati knew she was now watched by many eyes, listened to by many ears. She had a chance to persuade the people of Sa Dul away from their own destruction.

“That is a lie,” Shammu spat.

Menes stepped forward, seizing Shammu by the front of his shirt. “You will not call her words falsehood in my presence, boy.” The gentleness of the charioteer vanished in a snarl of anger, worthy of the leopard whose skin he wore as armor.

“He speaks so because he is guilty,” Shammu’s brother said, releasing his shoulder and leaving him to Menes. Hardness settled in Kaspum’s face as he looked at his sibling. “I heard what the demon said, Shammu. Your envy doomed us all.”

The simmering tension in the air would boil over, Ilati knew. Neighbors looked to neighbors, trying to seek the shame of those who had acted so thoughtlessly, to punish them for their misdeed. “You cannot return to the demon his tree,” Ilati said, raising her voice to be heard. “That does not mean you cannot restore your lives and your crops to better than what they once were.”

Everyone halted at that pronouncement, turning their attention back to the priestess. “How?” Hedis asked, stepping past her sons.

“The creature will return to you what is done to it sevenfold, whether scorn and injury–” Ilati turned her gaze to Shammu as she spoke before fixing her gaze on his brother. “–or reverence and benevolence. You have a choice, people of Sa Dul. You can leave this affront, this wrongdoing, as a black stain upon your town and it will spell the destruction of it, or you can offer contrition to the beast you have made for yourselves. The demon gave me an ultimatum: you may offer it a home and the sweetest of offerings for twelve and twelve years, earning a bounty beyond that which your greed imagined, or it will destroy you.”

“Words easily spoken by one in league with it,” Shammu growled out. “If you had simply slain it, there would be no need for us to enslave ourselves to it.”

“And left your fields fallow with its lingering curse, your vineyards and gardens choked with thorns, the waters of the life-giving Nintu stinking with foam?” Ilati did not know if killing the demon would have ended the effect, but she doubted it. Creatures of the night winds were famous for having vengeance that lasted far beyond even their own deaths. “Which is sweeter to you, Shammu: your pride or your home? Can you not admit your wrongness?”

Shammu’s balled fists tightened as he glared at Ilati, words barely kept locked behind his pressed lips.

“This is a chance to redeem yourself,” the poet said more gently. “Your envy and cruelty brought this evil upon you, but this does not have to be the end. You can work to put things right, for yourself and for all of Sa Dul.”

He let his hands fall open, shoulders slumping slightly. “Perhaps you are right.” He hesitated. “How do we know the demon will truly relent?”

Ilati quashed her sigh of relief while it was still internal. There would be a time for that, but not in public. “I have its vow and its name.”

“Then you have nothing to fear, young man. Even a demon cannot break its word to one who knows its name,” Eigou said. The old man clapped Ilati on her good shoulder, practically beaming with pride. He leaned in close enough to speak in her ear. “Well done. It seems the blood of victory did not die with Ilishu.”

“I could not do it again,” she admittedly freely to the sorcerer, leaning back against Youtab’s side.

“I will look at your wounds as soon as they have been set to their tasks,” Eigou promised.

The priestess nodded, clearing her throat. “People of Sa Dul,” she called, letting her voice carry. “If you wish an end to your sufferings, take the greatest stone of your village and place it upon a raised mound. In the morning, invite the one you have transgressed against to its new home with offerings and build a shrine around the stone. For such a kindness, the creature will reward you sevenfold.”

“It will be done.” Shammu’s tone was subdued, but there was a faint hope in his eyes after Eigou’s guarantee. “I will argue with you no longer, sorceress. I displeased the gods with my cruelty and wronged my neighbors with my pride.”

Kaspum put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Then come help me move the stone.”

With that said, the villagers set about following Ilati’s directions, leaving her with her companions. Eigou immediately pulled out his kit of healing herbs and poultices. “You will have some marks, but I can heal these wounds.”

Ilati limped over to a low stone wall and sat, still brushing her hand over Youtab’s side. “Next time, Eigou, you fight the demon,” she said, allowing a faint smile to crack through. She hardly knew what to say now that it was over, exhausted and beaten. Even after defeating Ezezu, the demon’s blows had made short work of her endurance. “I would have died without Youtab.”

Shir Del was the first of the Sut Resi to approach, perched on Araxa’s back. “It seems you are who she awaited,” the warrior woman said. “She chose you.”

Tahmasp frowned at the sight, riding in at Shir Del’s side. Ilati doubted he appreciated the fact that Youtab showed any affection for her. “The loyalty of such a horse is not given lightly,” he said instead of rebuking her, however. “You know Youtab was sired by the divine.”

Ilati held still as Eigou bandaged her wounds. “I do not take it lightly, Tahmasp. She will have my gratitude for all the days of my life.”

“Good,” the Sut Resi seer grunted. “Artakhshathra will not be pleased to lose her from our herds.”

“She does not have to follow me.”

Tahmasp shook his head. “Have you paid no attention to Araxa and Babak? They would follow those they give themselves to unto the ends of the earth and beyond. Youtab is no different. She is yours now, and you are hers, until the gods have decided your fates should be severed.”

Ilati looked up at Youtab. “Do you want to follow me?” she asked softly, reaching up to the horse with her good hand.

A soft nose pressed into her hand and then huffed. The Sut Resi mare was just as intense in her gaze, but she seemed much more comfortable with Ilati’s presence.

Shir Del grinned. “Let us not forget the stunning victory they won together. Surely that is a tale worth telling to Artakhshathra. Perhaps it will convince him that Ilati is worthy of such a companion.”

“No need.” The voice of the Sut Resi chieftain rumbled out of the darkness. Seated atop the beast of a stallion that was Babak, Artakhshathra emerged from the shadows between two houses. “Did you think I would lend warriors and not see for my own eyes what was to become of them, Shir Del?”

The warrior woman inclined her head to her chieftain. “It is good you are here. I think Youtab has chosen rightly.”

Artakhshathra observed Shir Del for a long moment before speaking. “Youtab is not the only who intends to follow, I think.”

“This one has a destiny that leads far from the herds,” Eigou said, one hand on Ilati’s shoulder. “You would travel many miles into unfamiliar and unfriendly lands, Shir Del.”

Shir Del shrugged. “I have no fear of this journey. Besides, Ilati is a worthy companion and a capable fighter. With such a friend, few dangers are a problem.”

“You will find many that are. The battles that face us are not few or small.” Eigou’s warning was serious. “Besides, you have another person to worry for.”

“It would be safer if Roshanak stayed with her people,” Artakhshathra rumbled.

Something in their warrior woman’s eyes flashed and Shir Del straightened her back to almost rigidity. “She is my daughter, chieftain’s son for a father or no. I brought her into this world with blood and water. I held her body when it was still and wept, rejoiced when a second life breathed into it. In all things, she has been my only treasure and heart. Do you think I will suddenly cease to defend her because I follow Ilati?”

The chieftain’s expression stayed stony, eyes dark and serious in the night. “You are ersham, Shir Del. I cannot forbid you from going, but by kinship ties, Roshanak is ours.”

Tahmasp sighed and rubbed his forehead. The words he spoke seemed to cause him physical pain. “Let her go.”

“Have you seen something you have not spoken of, seer?”

The cantankerous old man looked up at his chieftain. “No, but I know Roshanak. She would wither like a cut bloom without her mother until sorrow was her end. It is not right to part them. Besides, the second-souled are meant for greatness. Her time away will make her wise to the ways of those who are not Sut Resi.”

“And if she does not return?” Artakhsthatra challenged. His voice held no heat, only focus.

“She will return. Sut Resi always heed the call of the silver-grass plains,” Tahmasp advised. He raised an eyebrow at his leader. “If you are so worried, sire another son.”

Ilati sat quietly, watching all of this play out. She wasn’t certain Shir Del and Roshanak coming was the wisest plan, but she was grateful for the company. Both the warrior woman’s prowess in battle and her daughter’s strange insight would undoubtedly be of great assistance in things to come. She knew it was not her place to speak without invitation on the matter, of course.

Artakhshathra looked back at Shir Del. “Your daughter must return to us,” he said firmly. “She is my chosen.”

“I would not keep her from her people forever,” Shir Del said, softening slightly. “Nor do I intend to spend the last of my days in the lands of crawling anthills.”

“You are a warrior, Shir Del,” Tahmasp pointed out. “You do not choose where the last of your days are spent. Only Skyfather and Earthmother know.”

The warrior woman shrugged, but gave no argument. “I will speak to Roshanak about it tomorrow morning.”

Eigou nodded as he started bandaging Ilati’s wounds, applying salves and poultices where needed. “Tonight has had enough event. In the morning, our priestess here will help them consecrate the stone and offer an invitation. Back to your beds, everyone. Everything that can be done has been done.”

The others murmured assent and parted, leaving Eigou and Ilati alone except for Youtab and Menes’s watchful presence. The charioteer prowled back and forth along the street, keeping an eye out for any hint of return from the demon. “Are you certain of this, Eigou?” he asked more thoughtfully.

Their one-eyed sorcerer chuckled as he worked. “You will have to be more specific. It seems a great many things are changing at once.”

“Bringing Roshanak.”

“That is not my decision,” Eigou said, quickly finishing with Ilati’s clawed arm. The bandages were fresh and the herbs applied beneath soothed the pain very well. “That said, I do think it will be quite helpful to have her. If your concern is that she will come to harm, well, she has very capable defenders. I have it on good authority that Magan’s best charioteer and a priestess of the Mother of Demons intend to help ward her from harm.”

“Most assuredly,” Ilati promised.

Menes seemed unsatisfied by Eigou’s answer, however. “We are walking into a war against the great sorcerer-king Nysra. There is no safety in such a thing.”

“You could have spoken when the Sut Resi discussed it.”

“You know how easy it is to convince Shir Del of anything once her mind is made up. Besides, it was not my place,” the charioteer muttered, running a dark hand over his shaved head. “I am uneasy.”

Ilati offered him a smile that she hoped was comforting. “She has us to protect her, as Eigou said. We will be very careful.”

Menes nodded and waited until Eigou had finished bandaging Ilati up before stepping over, offering the priestess his hand up from her seated position on the low wall. “Are you certain of this demon’s sincerity?” Even with the change of subject, Ilati knew his misgivings about bringing Roshanak were not gone.

“When I spoke its name, I tasted its power,” Ilati said with more confidence. In this, she was quite certain. “I do not think it can contend with me any longer, not so long as I have that.” She leaned against Youtab as they walked back towards camp, smoothing her hand over the horse’s dappled gray coat.

“And it will suddenly be benevolent?”

Eigou smiled, but there was a hint of hardness to it. “That depends on the people of Sa Dul. I suppose we will see in the morning.”