The Lioness of Shadi

9 - The Wild Horse

In his wisdom, Artakhshathra did not wait for the Nadaren to learn the shame that had befallen their soldiers. By the time the army camp stirred, the fires of the Sut Resi were nothing more than cold ash. Ilati was awed by how quickly every tent was taken down and bundled, carried in many pieces across the herds so that nothing slowed them down. After a lifetime on the move, it was no problem to depart somewhere suddenly.

It was universally agreed that Ilati was too inexperienced to ride a horse alone. She had no argument or even wish to argue on that point: the horses of the Sut Resi, even if they were not the greatest of horses in size, were still large enough to frighten her. Their fiery temperaments and love of the gallop were hardly reassuring either. Menes and Eigou both had much more experience than she did, but they did not have their own horses: Eigou rode their patient, if slower, mule and they trusted Menes to ride Roshanak's horse with the girl in front of him as the true leader holding the reins.

Ilati clung fiercely to Shir Del's back, arms wrapped around the warrior's waist as she prayed to any god listening that she not be flung from Araxa's back. The stallion was larger and stronger than any of the other horses, save for Artakhshathra's monster of a mount. Ilati glanced over to see the chieftain towards the front, effortlessly commanding from his place on Babak, a red dun stallion with subtle stripes down each leg.

"Araxa and Babak are much bigger than the other stallions," Ilati murmured, trying not to show in her voice all the pain coursing through her with every thump. They had been riding for hours and her thighs and core burned from use. It was not at all like sitting in a chair that could walk.

"They have different parentage," Shir Del explained over her shoulder. "Only their mothers were steppe horses. They share a father, a heaven-touched stallion named Khshayarsha. When Artakhshathra was becoming a man, he followed his dreams to a hidden place on the steppe, a rare crag sacred to Skyfather. There he wrestled and tamed Khshayarsha, who in time added his blood to the herd."

"So why doesn't Artakhshathra ride Khshayarsha?" Ilati stumbled on the strange name. Truth be told, she was only just now confident in how to say the chieftain's.

"He thought no horse would be better than Khshayarsha to carry his son, Mithradatha. They died together at the hands of Nadar, may birds peck the eyes from those who killed them." Shir Del spat to the side, clear in her opinion of the Nadaren. "It was a blow that will not be forgotten."

"I didn't realize horses lived so long."

Shir Del shook her head slightly. "We are happy if they make it to seventeen summers. That is a long, good life. With battles and the dangers of the world, though, we know they may not live so long—just as we lose many children before they grow higher than our knees. Khshayarsha was thirty-six summers old when he died, and he had not shown an inch of his age. We are grateful his blood lives on in our herds."

Ilati nodded. It made sense to her. "How did you come to hold Araxa?"

The warrior woman laughed. "You have more questions than Babak has hairs."

"You should be used to that as a mother to a small girl."

"You are not wrong," Shir Del said, a smile in her voice even at the thought of her daughter, who rode comfortably with Menes up between Artakhshathra and Tahmasp. "When Araxa was a newborn, he caught a sickness and almost died. I volunteered to nurse him, as I had only one other horse to my name then, an old and sickly mare that gave me much practice at finding remedies for illness. Artakhshathra was so pleased when Araxa recovered under my careful tending that he gave the little foal to me. We have not parted ways since." She patted Araxa affectionately. "He has the heart of a lion, but a sweet soul."