These Old Bones

25-2

"She doesn't mean it. Grief makes people say many things they regret." Garuth looked at the monument, but Brorzjav knew it meant little to the Maraki Captain. "And she'll regret it before too long."

"Maybe, maybe not. We shall see." Brorzjav stood, turning his back to the monument to Tiera and heading to his horse. "I reckon you'll be heading back with your prize now, eh?"

"Yes, My Lord. We stumbled upon one of the leader, Anganurg's, lieutenants. Almost ran into our arms." Garuth made a stuttering laugh. He coughed and straightened up. "Not all of us are going back. Five wish to remain with you. To serve you. Five from the battle in the city."

Brorzjav grumbled. He knew which ones before even looking at the group on their horses. Yisrith, for one, Jutruth another. He suspected the other three to be Aeraduth, a good spear man, Coratuth, another spear bearer, but less experienced and Ristith, who Brorzjav believed to be Yisrith's younger sister, they looked alike, though Yisrith had a good ten years, at least, on her.

"There's no need. We don't need company and I certainly don't want anyone 'serving' me. I am not a king, Garuth!" He still didn't look around, even when he heard the rustle of people gathering behind him. He fussed with the reins of his horse.

"My Lord, I pledge my bow and my sword to you, as I pledge my heart and my arms. Where you lead, I shall follow." Yisrith! Patrons damn the woman! He heard other voices reciting a similar pledge.

"Get up, woman! All of you!" He turned, seeing the five he expected, kneeling before him, heads bowed, their weapons on the ground, offered to him. "Damned fools, the lot of you! I expect you'll just follow if I told you to go home?"

"We will do as you order, My Lord." Yisrith looked up and grinned. For a second, Brorzjav's saw Tiera's lop-sided grin there, but Yisrith looked nothing like the Pony Rider. "Unless we think it's against your best interests, of course."

Brorzjav clambered up into his saddle. He could feel the girl's eyes upon him, burning into his back. He had missed that girl's anger. It almost made him laugh, but not here. Tiera would understand, but he still didn't feel it right, or proper. He gathered up the reins and turned the horse to face Garuth.

"I blame you for this, Captain Garuth! Be away, now. Stay off the roads and get the truth back to your city." The horse felt impatient beneath him, turning this way and that. "Remember, Captain, orders are only orders until they break down. Never stand waiting for orders when you can act and apologise later if you need to."

"I won't, My Lord." Garuth jumped into his saddle, the other guards falling into line. "Patrons bless you, Brorzjav Indūrzj, King of the Steppes."

Before Brorzjav could shout his denial of the title, Garuth kicked his horse to a gallop, his guards at his back. They soon began to make distance, dust flying in their wake and Brorzjav shook his head. By nightfall on the next day, everyone in Maraki would hear of this 'King of the Steppes'. A monarch that did not exist, not in Brorzjav at least. He turned towards his five soldiers and the girl, all now upon their horses.

"Right, you stupid bastards. You decided to follow me, eh? Your mistake." The girl watched with an emotionless face, but anger in her eyes, still. Brorzjav pulled the skittish horse's head tight, controlling it. "You think you trained hard before? If you follow me, you'll train til you drop and that includes you, my girl."

He pointed towards the girl, causing a flash of excitement to enter those eyes, soon repressed, but there, nonetheless. She still felt that urge to train, though she would not like the training he had in mind for her. The Eternal Mother told him he had failed the girl and, perhaps, he had. If he had forced the girl far harder to embrace her power, Tiera could have yet lived. That burden lay on his shoulders, the girl, in her way, spoke true.