Demon Child Ch. 05

Tim'kah grinned and charged toward the group of riotous warriors. Neekah stood with Jhardron as he watched his men celebrate their victory. Neekah sensed a change in his feelings and turned toward him. He was standing up more stiffly, his eyes on a group of approaching warriors. A heavily decorated warrior walked at the head of the delegation. A first year walked at the rear leading a tall red stallion that pranced and cavorted with spirit, repeatedly almost dragging the boy off his feet.

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Jhardron watched as the Broken Spear Khan approached. The older veteran warrior stopped before him. "Jhardron Khan Bak Tai Twisted Dagger."

"Drantham Khan Bak Tai Broken Spear." Jhardron returned the formal greeting.

"Your archers are the pride of the Bak Tai."

"I have the finest archery master in the Bak Tai. His skills in training my warriors are unmatched."

"It would seem that one of his pupils may soon surpass him in skill."

"It is the way of the warrior to pass on his skill and to be bettered by those he teaches. There is no greater honor than to be defeated by your student. It is a tribute to your duty; a well trained warrior is finer than a son."

"Well said. And I have a wager with you to pay." Drantham raised his hand and the young warrior led up the red stallion.

"He is a beauty. His spirit is strong. He will carry a warrior to victory."

"He requires a firm hand. His spirit may be strong but it is also rebellious. But he flies across the grass like an arrow from a bow."

Jhardron turned to the Twisted Dagger warriors that had gathered watching the exchange. Harnum and Klektor stood at the front swelled with pride at bringing such honor to their regiment.

Jhardron addressed his men. "It is rare that we have two winners." It was tradition that if two or more warriors from the same regiment were last in the elimination that they would not compete against the other. The competitions at the gathering were between regiments not among individuals. "You both have brought great honor to the Twisted Dagger. The Twisted Dagger archers are legend among the Bak Tai. You have enhanced that legend."

"And through your fine victory I have won a fine prize. I had intended on giving this prize to the victor, but now I have a dilemma. It seems I will be walking back to camp today." Jhardron handed the reins of both the stallions to each of the winners. The warriors all erupted in shrill ululating war cries.

The red stallion fought the reins in Klektor's hands and reared dragging the warrior along the ground as the rest of the men spread out. Harnum mounted the black and laughed. "That one will need a strong hand Klektor. Let's see if you ride as well as you shoot." Harnum pulled out his bow and kicking the better trained black stallion into a gallop, he raced past the target and fired three arrows in fast succession each striking the target.

Klektor got the big red stallion under control and was immediately in the saddle. The horse was off like a shot. He flew over the field with a speed and beauty that took Neekah's breath away. Klektor pulled out his bow and urging the stallion to even greater speed, fired four arrows in quick succession, all of them landing among Harnum's.

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Kwal'kek dropped the rope around Neekah's neck. "Let's go back to camp and eat something, before the race this afternoon." Neekah had to struggle to keep up with the old man. Her head throbbed with a dull ache and her thinking was dull and foggy. Her feet stumbled over and over. Finally Kwal'kek stopped and looked at her with a mixture of irritation and concern. "Ha'akh step up."

Neekah nodded and rubbed her eyes, swaying on her feet. Kwal'kek looked closely at her face and asked carefully, "Ha'akh are you sick?"

Neekah tried to find the words, "Too much warriors, too much noises in head, head hurt, head tired." Kwal'kek looked at her puzzled and shrugged. He slowed his pace and walked beside her his eyes watching her carefully.

Harnum and Klektor were already back at camp. Klektor was standing next to the tall red stallion talking with a small group of animated warriors. Neekah could see him reenacting the archery competition. Then he looked over the heads of the warriors and their eyes met. Neekah looked down and away, frightened of this warrior who was always angry at her. She tried to busy herself with stirring a pot of boiling grain near Kwal'kek's tent but she could still feel his eyes on her.

It seemed like the camp got quiet and she looked up and found him standing before her. She did not sense the rage from him, he seemed confused. "Ha'akh, I thank you for your luck. I have named the stallion Demon." He turned on his heel and walked back to the stallion, vaulted onto his back. The tall horse fought the bit, reared and was gone in a thunder of hooves.

Neekah stood frozen. She had not understood everything that Klektor had said, but she knew he had thanked her and she sensed a softening in his attitude toward her.

The feelings of fatigue and disorientation she had brought away from the archery contest were completely gone after she had eaten. Kwal'kek looked at her closely. "Sick?"

"No sick." Neekah wondered why he did not understand that it was the crowd and the excitement that disturbed her thinking. All her life she had sensed emotions of those close to her and, to some extent, she was also aware of the physical sensations of others if she was touching them. To Neekah it was normal; she thought everyone could do the same. She looked at him and tried to say it again. "Not sick, too much noises in head." She put her hands up to her head and banged her hands on the top several times. The old man looked at her and looked concerned. Neekah shrugged and giggled. She sensed he did not understand and could also tell he was beginning to get worried.

Kwal'kek looked at her. "Talking noises?"

"Not talking noise, happy noise."

Kwal'kek looked at her and shook his head. "Ha'akh it is time for the horse races and this is crazy talk." He had never heard of anything like this and wondered if it was part of her being a demon. He made another gesture to ward against evil and then shook himself. This woman was not evil, that was one thing he knew was true.

He handed her the rope and marched off. "Ha'akh hurry. I have many bets to place before the races start. If Klektor can tame that new Demon horse of his, we will make some money today."

A large number of spectators were arranging themselves along the start line. It seemed every warrior at the gathering had come to the races. Dozens of warriors on spirited horses were milling at one end of the field. Kwal'kek left her with Tim'kah and several of the older Twisted Dagger warriors that were gathered. He pulled out his coin pouch and swaggered over to another group.

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Neekah looked about at the huge group of warriors. She could even see some women, some ha'akh, carefully tethered to a warrior's belt. Her mind was buzzed with anticipation. Everyone was strung tight with pent up excitement. Neekah struggled to close her mind to the emotions swirling around her.

A crash of hooves shook the ground and she turned to see the tall red stallion carrying Klektor plunge to stop near their group. He vaulted to the ground and without a word he had her wrist in his hand. "Ha'akh, demon, lay your hands on my Demon horse. Give us your luck." He pulled her to the side of the prancing horse. Neekah looked up at him and cautiously reached up to touch the horse that was rearing and trying to fight free from the reins holding it back.

The instant her hand touched his neck the horse stilled, standing perfectly still, all its muscles trembling. He turned his head, touched her face with his nose, and snuffled loudly, his breath warm and sweet. "Fly Demon horse." Neekah breathed the words back into the nostrils of the tall stallion whose color so matched her own. The Twisted Dagger warriors watched and muttered. This was clearly magic.

Klektor vaulted onto the suddenly more manageable stallion, looking down at her with an awed look on his face. He raised his fist in salute, "Victory to the Twisted Dagger."

All the warriors roared back, "Victory."

The stallion reared and Klektor urged him toward the mass of assembling competitors.

Neekah felt a hand on her. Jhardron was there, his face close to hers, "What magic did you do, demon?"

Neekah looked at him, her head ringing with the shouts of the group. For the briefest instant as she had touched the big horse all the sounds in her head had silenced and she had seen the world through the eyes of the animal under her hand. The horse and she had been one. She felt its wildness, its fear, its desperate need to run and be far away from the noise and chaos of the race ground. She had spoken, no not spoken, but shared, "Soon, soon you will fly away. Trust the one on your back to set you free to run."

Neekah looked at the face of Jhardron and tried to put into words an experience that had no words. At that moment a horn blared, and the ground shook with the roar of pounding hooves. Every person on the race grounds began to scream. Her mind spun and she reeled with her hands over her head. She staggered and then fell, the world going black and silent.

Neekah woke lying on a skin in the camp. Kwal'kek was sitting next to her talking with Jhardron. "She speaks of noises in her head. She calls them happy noises."

"Is this sickness or magic?"

"I know nothing of magic. I know that if this is sickness it is not one I have seen before."

Neekah spoke up. "Not sick." And she tried to sit up and fell back dizzy. She rubbed her head.

Kwal'kek laughed, a relieved soft chuckle, and lifted her eyelid and looked at her eyes. Neekah pushed his hand away and shook her head. "Not sick." This time she sat up and the dizziness was gone.

Jhardron asked again. "Ha'akh what magic did you do?"

"Magic? Is talk horse magic?"

"Talk to the horse? Is that what you did?"

Neekah nodded. "He fear, he want run away. I say he run soon."

Kwal'kek spoke up. "I have heard stories about people who can talk with horses. Jha'Mak'Tah gave the horse to the Bak and those blessed by him share their spirit."

Jhardron shook his head. "They are just stories for the fire side. Even if it were true, the war god would not bless a woman, certainly not a woman not born of the Bak. If this is magic, it is not from Jha'Mak'Tah."

Neekah was looking at the two men as they spoke. She was able to understand most of what they had to say. "It demon magic Kharthmah say. He say I have magic. He say I find it."

Jhardron stood. "Come ha'akh. Show me this magic." He led her to where a single tall stallion was tethered. "Talk to this horse."

Neekah looked up at the tall warrior and then at the horse. She reached up a cautious hand and touched the neck of the horse. The dark brown eyes of the horse seemed to stare into hers. This time she did not lose herself into the mind of the horse but she had a deep sense of the animal. "He want other horses. He lonely." She stopped and looked up at the horse and then looked back at Jhardron. "He foot hurt." She ran her hand down the front leg. "This foot hurt."

Kwal'kek muttered a ward against magic. "It is true. This one is tethered because he came up lame this morning."

Jhardron turned the girl to face him. "Ha'akh, do not speak of this with others. Do not practice this magic here in this camp."

Neekah nodded. Even among the Ramaldi it was common for witches to inspire fear. They were rarely welcome. Even Kharthmah had to live outside the group of huts that made up the village. Magic was seen as much of a curse as a gift.

"Yes, Khan Jhardron. I not make magic."

Neekah was lying on the skin again, still tired and drained when the Twisted Dagger warriors returned. Their manner was subdued. Klektor had not won the race, he had not even finished. The tall red stallion had run fast, much faster than all the other horses, leading the race by many lengths but when Klektor tried to guide him to the finish line, he had shied at the roar of the crowd. The tall red stallion went wild, rearing and fighting, rather than come close to the mob of screaming spectators.

Jhardron decided that because Neekah had fainted at the race track she was too sick to serve any warriors that night. Neekah felt a sharp pang of sadness and frustration. She had pouted and sat in front of Kwal'kek's tent following the movements of the warriors about the camp with longing eyes. Harnum had joked, "Our demon is beginning to crave our jhombars."

Neekah commented softly to Kwal'kek as she settled down to sleep in the night. "The Demon horse was afraid of the noise."

"Do not speak of that. Go to sleep."

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Thank you for taking the time to read my story.

This story contains many words from the language of the Bak culture that I have created. The meaning of most of these words is easily inferred from their context. A ha'akh is the lowest rank of female slave assigned to serve a regiment of warriors. Tet is come, Ha is yes, Abak is no, venya is a woman's sexual organ, jhambar is a man's.

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xantu