“You took the most difficult step in the path of a warrior, Ilati, though not by choice.” Menes tended to the mule as he spoke. They were back in tamer lands, the sun of the seventh day since her return from the desert just now beginning to set. They had stopped among the sea of thick grasses and mud in the vacant remnants of a farmer’s house. Around the other side of the hut, Eigou performed rough funeral rites for the dead after chasing off the scavengers and digging them proper graves. Both Menes and Eigou insisted that Ilati not go near the dead.

You have seen enough death for a hundred lifetimes and you will see much more before this road is at an end, Eigou had told her quietly. Better that you not see more than you must.

Ilati drew up water from the well, pulling the rope tied to a wide-mouthed clay vessel. Fortunately, the water source seemed untouched. “What step is that?”

Menes’s dark gaze touched her face for a moment and then abruptly moved away. “You saw the face of war. You heard the thunder of crashing hosts and saw the river of blood that is a true battle. That is not something many daughters of a king can say.”

Visions of the horrors of Shadi’s destruction flashed behind her eyes. He could not smell it, but the stench of blood and death filled her senses until she felt she would vomit. “I felt it as the waters of a flood.” The priestess tried not to show how deeply the memories still affected her.

Menes frowned, a hint of confusion in his eyes. “Waters bring life.”

“In Magan, yes.” Ilati lifted the vessel of water. She was not strong after a life in the temple, at least not in her arms, but she knew how to attend to the task. “Stories say your great rivers are slow and sweet even when they swell beyond their banks, that the sacred waters your gods have gathered for you flow through the desert like a queen proceeding through her city’s streets. It is not so in Kullah.”

“The Esharra seems slow enough. You survived its embrace.”

The priestess poured the water into a mud-brick trough for the mule. “It is not always so. The gods often punish mortals, and if they are angered fiercely enough, they open the heavens and devastate the harvest with a flood, beginning at the feet of the great peaks and destroying everything in its path. Whole cities have vanished, even their streets and foundations washed away so completely that one could stand where once there was a ziggurat and see nothing in all directions except mud and grasses.”

Menes glanced towards the east, where the River Esharra coursed. “That explains you.”

Ilati furrowed her brow. “What does that mean?”

The warrior held up his hands. “I mean no offense. It is just that to live in the shadow of such a wrath would take great courage, when any may offend the gods with impiety and cause the destruction of a whole city. It…I can scarcely imagine it.”

Approaching from the direction of freshly dug graves, Eigou brushed soil from his hands. Even stone-stomached as he was, his grim expression made it clear that he had not enjoyed dealing with bodies left exposed beneath the summer sun and savaged by beasts. “The unfortunate are at rest.”

“The follies of the Nadaren are as numberless as the sand grains in the Desert of Kings. To simply abandon the dead to rot invites the attacks of vengeful spirits.” Menes shook his head. “Fools.”

Eigou nodded thoughtfully, a gleam flashing in his eye as some thought occurred to him.

“I do not like that face of yours when it is so, Eigou,” Menes muttered with a deep frown.

The sorcerer shrugged, his faraway look vanishing. “Something spoken of another time. Ilati, are you ready to begin your instruction with me? You may sit at Menes’s feet tomorrow. This evening, I think it would be best to start at the beginning.”

Ilati patted their mule’s neck. She was not used to the company of such animals, but despite his smell and stubborn disposition, she was developing a fondness for Ankhu. “I am ready.”

“Good,” Eigou said, rubbing his hands together. “Menes, we leave the beast in your capable hands.”

“I hope you do not intend to go far.” Menes looked around cautiously as he spoke. “We do not know if the Nadaren remain nearby."

The sorcerer gestured to a lonely date palm just inside the low wall of mud bricks designed to stop livestock from straying, as far away from the graves as one could go while staying within the wall. “Only there. I merely respect your disdain for magic.”

A sigh slipped from the warrior’s lips. “Very well. I will tend to the hearth and Ankhu. There may be supplies in the house to replenish our stores of food, if we are fortunate. I do not know how much the Nadaren might have taken. Be wary.”

Menes’s warning ringing in her mind, Ilati followed Eigou to the solitary palm. Someone had molded the earth around the tree into a small slope with the plant in a hollow, creating a shaded space to sit. It was a wonderful feeling, to sit down after a day of walking at a swift pace. Both Eigou and Menes told her the exertion would teach her strength and endurance. That did not, however, mean she enjoyed it.

“What do you know of magic, Ilati?” Eigou eased himself down onto a seat across the hollow from her.

Ilati considered her answer carefully. “I have seen the blessings of the gods, and many diviners knelt before the throne of my father.” What little good their prophecies did…

“There are many paths to power. Some entreat gods to lend them their heavenly strength, others conjure and bind demons, still others cast oracles and pursue dreams, and even a rare few craft their own. It will be the last of these that we begin with, the mother of all others. Even if you learn to harness K’adau’s power eventually, she will most reward you if your own power makes you worthy.”

The priestess pulled in a deep breath. “How?”

Eigou smiled faintly. He seemed quite pleased to have a pupil. “Perception. Priests do not train such a thing, so they rely upon revelations, scratching in the dust for crumbs of wisdom scattered by their gods. Those of us who stand beyond such circles must learn to rely on ourselves. Gods are only good as far as they can reach.”

“Nadar’s gods reach far,” Ilati said as bitterness welled in her throat.

“But not everywhere. Kullah may be destroyed, but the wilderness remains untouched. I am certain you have an inkling of your mistress’s power. The Nadaren gods are as arrogant as their followers, but even they would not dare trespass into her wilderness.”

Ilati found hope in that, some measure of relief easing the worst of the pain in her chest. “So what does perception gain me?”

Eigou studied her, the gaze of his empty eye socket somehow more unsettling than the piercing gold of his good eye. “If one sees nothing, one learns nothing. Once you have learned how to clear your mind, I will show you what I intend for you to learn and master.”

“How am I to clear my mind, Eigou?” She knew what happened when she tried to sleep. Why would this be any different? Death hounded her like her own shadow. It was a merciful surprise that Eigou hadn’t noticed it and told Menes to drive her out with stones.

Then again, she was certain Eigou was a man with dark shadows of his own. It was one thing to see many deaths in one lifetime, as most did, but Ilati had heard many stories of her grandfather, including from the man himself. In his lifetime, Ilishu had united all the warring cities of Kullah, conquered many lands in the north that were now Nadar’s, and broken three separate invasions of nomadic hordes sweeping up through their neighbors before bringing to heel Sarru and Sebet. Surely Eigou had seen many wars at her grandfather’s side.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

In the days of Ilishu, all four corners of the world bowed to the jewel that was Shadi. All stones lost their luster under the erosion of desert sands, however, and theirs had faded even before Nadar’s assault. Kullah withered after Ilishu’s death, though the land between the two rivers stayed strong and connected. Her brothers were meant to be the rising stars destined again to bring the power of the old days…or had been.

No more.

“Deep breaths, Ilati. Take them in slowly and let them go the same.”

She tried to push the thoughts away as she focused on her breathing, but the horrible memories dug in their claws like demons.

I will not be taken as a prize of war for Nysra. Neither should you.

Ilati heard herself weeping for her mother. Her eyes were dry now, but she still knew the animal choking noises. Her breathing stuttered when her thoughts coursed to her brothers. Had they died in battle? Were they captured and tortured until they could take no more, as Nadar so loved to do to their captives? Had Nysra’s soldiers dragged him to the seat of the dark king himself and fed their essences to his magic?

“Ilati, you are shaking. Listen to the sound of my voice. Do not follow this jackal of thoughts into its den.”

The priestess’s throat was closing, suffocating her. Her thoughts rampaged through her mind. She could see them with her eyes closed, in the dark and miserable Ersetu wearing cloaks of feathers, chewing on dust and weeping bitter tears. They were dead, cut down in the prime of their lives, and nothing she could do would ever bring them back.

The gods were cruel, clustering around sweet offerings like flies and drinking in the golden songs of their priests, but when that no longer pleased them…Kullah’s destruction was the end.

“Ilati.” Eigou crushed her hand in his grip. “Look at me.”

She opened her eyes, but the suffocation still wrenched tightly in her chest and throat.

His golden eye glared into her with gimlet focus. “Breathe.”

The tone of voice reminded Ilati of her grandfather, a man who demanded nothing short of perfect obedience from the world around him. She gasped and air flooded into her lungs as a sweet relief.

Eigou commanded her to breathe four more times before she could do it on her own. Once she was better, he sighed. “I know this rules your nights, Ilati. Do not allow it to steal your days too.”

“What choice do I have?” Her rough breathing left her voice ragged.

“There is always a choice. Fear and anger are your greatest foes, not Nysra and his army. Both will rob you of your mind and your power if you let them.”

Ilati took another steadying breath. Eigou had been right about things so far. Surely this too he knew better than her, as one who had lived to the age of gray. “I do not know if I can empty my mind, Eigou.”

“A child does not rise from crawling to walking in a single day. First we will begin by training you to focus on a single task until eventually it becomes all in the world. This too can help hone your perception. That will lay the foundation bricks.”

Ilati resolved to take any task Eigou set her to as seriously as she had taken the duties of priesthood. “What shall I do?”

“A task Menes will approve of: fostering strength in your body. Go to the well. You will haul up as many buckets as you can, lowering them again once they reach the top. Focus on the way it feels in your body, which muscles move, the smell of water and wet earth, the exertion of the motions.” Eigou rose to his feet and helped her up. “Mastery of your heart will come, Ilati. Remember to breathe.”

Ilati nodded. She felt weak as she walked to the well, drained from her thoughts of death. She said nothing as she started her task. Better to just do as Eigou bade her to and hope she could survive it. The rough rope bit into her hand as she pulled again and again. She timed each breath to dwell between pulls and pushed her thoughts towards the burn of exertion in her muscles. The heat of the summer sun bore down on her dark hair and weary shoulders. Soon sweat beaded on her forehead as she worked and made her wish fervently for a cool bath. She did not care for dirt. Still, she kept to her task even when it hurt her hands and strained her back.

She had no idea how long she was there, repeating the motions, her mind following her breath. She stopped when the rope pulled her to the edge of the well and she almost lost the bucket. Ilati tied the rope off and looked down at her stinging hands. Fresh blisters covered her palms and fingers.

“How do you feel?” Eigou asked as he approached with a small jar of salve.

“I endure.” Ilati’s breathing came ragged from exertion more than emotion, which was an improvement. The pain she felt was physical.

“You are not weeping,” Eigou said approvingly. “That is better than most would expect from a temple priestess turned loose to labor.”

She brushed her hair out of her face before he could apply the salve to her hands. “I wept my last tears into the River Esharra.”

Eigou gently applied the salve. It felt cold, but soothed her hands almost immediately. When he looked up from her hands, his expression was so deep with sorrow that she felt she was gazing into the Abyss itself. His words stayed caught behind his teeth, but for a long moment, Ilati saw the troubles in his soul almost pour out. He looked back down at her hands, neatly bandaging them in linen. “The blisters will heal quickly,” he said in his normal, firm tone. “Until then, go carefully around them.” He seemed back to his customary self as he took a step back.

Menes poked his head out of the small house. “It seems the Nadaren were not as careful about their looting as others might be. The beer has been taken and most of the food is gone, but there was a jar of grain hidden behind a loose brick.”

“Well, they are not here to make use of it and I think their ill will towards the living will be laid to rest as their bodies were.” Eigou followed Menes into the house with Ilati at his heels. “We will have enough food to reach the next town.”

“That will be a perilous proposition,” Menes muttered. “Nysra’s edict destroyed Shadi, but it also subjugated all lands of Kullah. Even beyond where the army ran rampant, there will be many Nadaren soldiers.”

“The further we go from Shadi, the less Ilati’s identity will cause alarm. Those scars have done much to change her appearance. The Nadaren are not likely to peer too closely.”

“Where are we stopping?” Ilati asked.

Eigou scratched at his beard. “A town called Aham-Nishi. It is a trade town. I suspect there will be tension with the Nadaren, mostly because the Sut Resi often pass through and have little use for such conquering armies. I suspect Nadar will have its hands full if it tries to subjugate their lands.”

“They are quite the warriors,” Menes muttered. “Sebet is fortunate and unfortunate to have them on their border. Not that Kullah was immune to their raids either.”

Ilati had heard much of the nomad warriors who made their homes in the wild countries, more bonded to their horses than any civilized folk could understand. The stories were not flattering. It was said that the Sut Resi ate raw meat and were forever filthy, coated in mud and the sweat of horses. They spoke in vulgar words and would quarrel to the point of blades over nothing. Her father had warned her brothers that they were extremely dangerous and never to be trusted.

How much of that was true remained to be seen.

“Will we have trouble with them?” Ilati asked.

“With the Sut Resi?” Eigou shook his head slightly. “Not unless we seek it. They are proud, warlike, and vicious, but seldom do they strike below them. There is no honor in defeating the weak. Menes will need to mind his manners more than ever before, but you and I will be safe so long as we do not directly insult them.”

“They might be allies.” Menes stretched as he settled in by the small hearth and set about cooking. It was a woman’s task, but he seemed to enjoy it and had not asked Ilati to do it instead. “Though perhaps as dangerous to us as to the Nadaren.”

Eigou winced. “I think it would be easier to catch seven cats by their tails, lash them to a sledge, and drive them forward a hundred miles.”

“We will see,” Ilati said. She was not going to discard Menes’s suggestion out of hand. “If nothing else, perhaps they can be a shield or shelter from the Nadaren.” She flashed Eigou and the charioteer of Magan a half smile. “They cannot be crueler than the hands that devastated Shadi. I think we should seek them out and speak with them.”

“Very well.” Eigou leaned back in his seat and rolled his shoulders. “Tomorrow, though, we will think more of magic.”

Menes made a grumbling sound, but Ilati nodded. Despite the burning of the blisters on her hands, she wanted to soak up every drop of wisdom the sorcerer had like the rain-starved earth.

She would not be a victim to the Nadaren ever again, not if she had any power at her fingertips.