"You've lost none of your fire, have you?" He turned the pony again, exchanging an amused look with the other rider, and continued the steady walk onwards. "Good. I'll need that ferocity when you fight your brother to become Chaffti of your String, then, together, we will have one of the largest Strings in the Graatfeld."
"My ... my brother is Chaffti? Then ... my father ..." Tiera felt a chill run through her bones.
"Is dead. Yes. He fought 'courageously' on the front lines against the aggressors from the Steppes, the so-called 'Kingdom of Turszdava'. A kingdom in the Steppes. Ridiculous." The other rider gave Kulira a small smile as Tiera's betrothed looked around for approval at what he thought humorous. "Your father died. My father died. It's all so terribly sad. At least your old man died in battle. Mine fell from his pony and took weeks to die. From his pony! Oh, the embarrassment!"
"I won't fight my brother. I don't want to be Chaffti." Tiera still tried to work out all that she had heard. Her father, dead. So strong, so vibrant, she thought he would live forever. And her brother now Chaffti. A good choice. He took after father.
Kulira stopped his pony once again, handing the reins to his companion, jumping from the saddle. He moved to Tiera, whipping his cloak over his shoulder and towered above her. He placed a finger beneath her chin and raised her head, not allowing her time to grieve for her father. Kulira glanced at Viriili, her icy eyes matching his.
"You will. Of course you will." He reached out to Viriili, pulling her closer, not as gentle with her. "You shouldn't have shown your affection for your 'handmaiden'. A bit young for a lover, my sweet."
"I'm no-ones lover!" Viriili struggled against the hand gripping her shoulder.
"Shush, girl. Adults are talking." He returned his gaze to Tiera. "See, I don't want to get married as much as you, my dear Tiera. Your not my type. But we have a duty to our Strings to marry. We can pop out a couple of children, keep people happy, but I no more want to bed you than you want to bed me. What I do want is control of both Strings and that, you will provide."
"Not your type? I suppose lover-boy over there is?" Tiera nodded towards the pretty young man on the other pony. His short, dark hair framing petite features. His armour hiding a strong, lithe form. "I don't blame you. He is pretty. I'll fulfil my duty and marry you, but I'm not 'popping' out any children and I will not fight my brother."
Kulira sighed. Pressing down upon Viriili's shoulder, he forced her to her knees, removing a dagger from a sheath on his belt. Viriili scrambled, in pain, turning her head to the side and biting deep into Kulira's hand. He seemed to find that more funny than painful. Taking the dagger, he bent over, holding the blade to Viriili's throat. He turned his head to Tiera and raised his eyebrows.
"Coward! Give me a dagger and I'll kill you!" Viriili, eyes blazing, struggled even more. "Don't agree, Tiera!"
"Oh, I like her! She's feisty!" Kulira didn't take his eyes from Tiera.
Tiera locked eyes with Viriili. She knew that if she gave in to Kulira now, that would set the table for every interaction between them to the end of her days. She loved Viriili and she surprised herself by thinking that, but she couldn't allow Kulira to win this one. Even if it cost Viriili her life. She could tell Viriili knew this and the girl relaxed, lifting her head back, showing her throat to the dagger held there.
They remained in that position for, what felt like, hours. Yet only scant seconds could have passed. Kulira's lover, upon his pony, began to look worried. Murmurs erupted from the raiders around them. Still Tiera held her tongue. Still Viriili glared into the back of Kulira's skull. And Kulira's eyes began to twitch and flicker around. He threw Viriili to the ground, impatient, impotent, and sheathed his dagger.
"Patrons damn you, Tiera! I will bring you to heel!" He turned back to his pony, digging his foot into the stirrup and launching himself back into the saddle, grabbing the reins from his lover.
"I would have killed you." Viriili picked herself up from the ground and she looked at Kulira with no emotion on her face. She stated it as a matter of fact. "Now, you look weak in front of everyone."
Of all the things Viriili could have learnt from Grey, saying things as she thought them would be among the most dangerous of traits. Instead, Kulira turned away, his face burning and tapped the flanks of his pony, his companion copying him.
Tiera felt a shove in her back and began to follow Kulira. She glanced at Viriili and caught the tiniest of cheeky grins. She enjoyed standing up to Kulira and, Tiera had to admit, so did she.
It wasn't long before they passed a high ridge and found themselves facing a camp. Fires littered the area and, taking note of how many there were, she estimated a force in the thousands. Far more than she had thought moved through Maraki. Then she saw ponies, lots of them, and realised Kulira had not met the Gaeradine raiders alone. He had brought his entire String with him.
-+-
The tent was an Urit. A Pony Rider style tent. Circular, covered with animal skins and with long, supple tree branches curving up to the centre of the roof, where a hole allowed smoke from the blazing fire to pass through. The furnishings were far too lavish, taken from Western stylings of heavy woods and intricate carvings. Tiera looked at the chairs, the table, piled high with food, the large, fur-covered bed and a heavy, locked, wooden trunk, and grimaced.
Kulira had always favoured ostentation and the fool had brought all of this nonsense to a war party. She picked up a chicken leg and bit into it. She didn't care about pride. She felt hungry and not eating would not sway Kulira either way. Viriili, however, didn't even pick at any of the food as she usually did.
The girl sat upon the plush carpet, flexing her hand and then passing her other hand above the fist she made. Finding nothing there, she punched the carpet in frustration, before trying again. Tiera knew what Viriili attempted. The invisible sword, made from her magic, saved her life back in Maraki. Now, she tried to replicate the spell.
Since the raiders tossed them into the Urit, Tiera had spent much time pacing around the tent. She had tested the lock on the trunk, but it refused to open. Every so often, she would rustle the animal skin curtain of the door and see the reactions of the raiders on guard outside. Every time, they would enter, push her to the centre of the tent, beside the fire grate, and check the entire tent.
They took no chances.
Viriili growled in frustration, slapping the carpet once more, her face like a thundercloud about to pour the heaviest of rains. Tiera moved to her, putting an arm about her shoulders, attempting to comfort the girl, but Viriili shrugged her arm away, not even looking at Tiera.
"It'll come, little one. You'll work it out. I know you will." She crouched on her haunches, trying to catch Viriili's eyes.
"How do you know?" Viriili's ice blue eyes snapped up to glare at Tiera. "Do you have magic? You and the old man trying to teach me something you don't understand. It's stupid! Just give me my dagger and I'll fight with that!"
"Grey only tried to do his best. The old Dragon-Kin said he'd done well with you." Tiera matched the glare with a compassionate, lop-sided smile. "If Grey were here, he'd tell you to focus, not grimace."
"But he's not here, is he? He's dead and we're captured!" The girl stood up, turning away from Tiera. "He died and he left me and now we're here."
"We don't know that he's dead, little one." She sighed, placing her hands on Viriili's shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze. "I like to think he's out there, carving his way through people to find us."
"He's dead!" Tiera almost backed away from the fury in Viriili's voice. Instead, she gripped her tighter, turning her around and pulling her to her chest, smoothing her hair. "He's dead and it's my fault. It's all my fault."
"How is it your fault?" She felt Viriili's arms circle her, the girl's fingers gripping the back of her jacket.
"Because, if I'd practiced the magic like he said, I could have used the 'invisible hand' to protect us." Viriili buried her head in Tiera's shoulder. "Because, if I hadn't forced him to take me to the Temple Valley, he wouldn't have even been here. Because ... because I'm a bad person. Choices have consequences."
"Oh, little one!" She separated herself from Viriili, cupping the girl's cheeks, wiping the tears away with her thumbs. "You're not a bad person. And no-one can make Grey do something he doesn't want to do. You're both alike. Stubborn as mules."
She kissed the top of Viriili's head, pulling her back into the embrace, the girl's soft, silken dark red hair, soft against her cheek. Tiera knew that Grey would never have left the girl to fend for herself. After she'd run from the safety of the town he left her in, he knew he'd take up the girl's protection. Tiera knew that and, once decided, nothing would have stopped him from doing that job. Except death and Tiera couldn't allow herself to believe him dead.
For a second, Tiera thought she had got through to Viriili, but, after a short, tearful pause, she pushed away from her and sat back on the thick, Western style rug. She flexed her fingers, glared at her hand and made a fist. Again, she passed her hand through the air above the fist, meeting nothing.
Tiera sighed, rubbing her own eyes. Stubborn. Stubborn and angry. Neither emotion helpful in their current circumstances. Through the flaps of the animal skin door, she saw the first rays of light crawl upon the ground. Daytime approached and, no doubt, Kulira would return to check on them. She moved to the door to rustle it once more, to annoy the raider guards.
Before she could reach the door, a hand pushed aside the curtain and Kulira barged in, walking past Tiera and squinting at Viriili, sat on the floor with her fist before her face. Kulira shook his head and turned back to Tiera with a smile and out-swept arms.
"I have something for you." He rolled his hand, urging her to follow him through the door. "The girl stays, though. I don't like how she looks at me."
Viriili's face didn't change as Tiera glanced her way, before exiting the Urit with Kulira. A low mist curled through the fires and Urits of the Pony Rider camp. Members of Kulira's String stood and bowed as he passed and he smiled, waved, shook hands and patted shoulders as he passed, portraying the benevolent Chaffti.
Reaching a clearing between the Pony Rider camp and the Gaeradine camp, Kulira spread out his arms, revealing the reason for their early-morning walk. Kulira's lover held the reins of a pure white stallion. A creature of such beauty and magnificence that Tiera felt her breath catch in her throat.
"My wedding gift to you. Daryya, give her the reins. Let her see her new pony." Kulira waved at his lover, Daryya, with impatience and grinned at Tiera. "I noticed you had no pony. Whatever happened to Socks? She was such a sweet thing."
"She died." Tiera couldn't help herself, her hand reached up to the pony's neck, stroking the perfect fur.
"Oh? Pity." Kulira sniffed, not seeming to care about Tiera's old pony at all. He patted the stallion's rear end and jumped back at a sharp stamp of the pony's hooves. "Still, you have a new one, now. What will you call him? I've always been partial to calling my ponies after great warriors. Gahura comes to mind. What do you think of Gahura?"
Tiera couldn't hear him. She circled the stallion, touching the remarkable beasts strong muscles, allowing the silken tail to fall through her fingers, a whisper's caress. She ran a hand down the pony's legs, testing the poise and straightness. She returned to the front, stroking the pony's nose, watching the nostrils flare and the eyes follow her. She locked eyes with the pony and, in an instant, they became one. Imprinted. Inseparable.
"Istiril." She whispered, pressing her forehead to the pony's head.
"What? What was that? Was that a name?" Kulira, stood to the side and leaned forward, a look of confusion on his face. "It doesn't sound like a warrior's name."
"That's because it isn't." Tiera felt her heart pumping with new fire as she turned to Kulira. The pony nudged her shoulder. "Istiril. It means 'Beauty' in the Fae language. Thank you, Kulira. I'm still not killing my brother."
"Fae? Filthy creatures!" Kulira let out a deep sigh, hooking a thumb at Daryya. "It's your pony, I suppose. We'll see about your brother, though. We'll see. Daryya take 'Istiril' back to the paddock. Make sure it's tended to."
As Daryya led Istiril away, Tiera felt the pony within her. Kulira, fool that he was, had given her an advantage, now. She and the pony were one and that would prove to be vital to her and Viriili's escape.