The next day, Dessine came to visit Sabit. The chief hunter of the Pride showed no scars from her defeat at the hands of the sorcerer. Her easy gait was like an unspoken challenge to Sabit’s own slow recovery. The spear woman had barely risen from her bed since waking. The wound at her shoulder … Read more
Sabit struggled under the weight of slumber, reluctant to awaken. She knew that a dull, throbbing ache awaited her in the waking world—her injured shoulder a nagging reminder of her failure before the sorcerer. Sabit hated failure. There was nothing commendable about hiding from her failures in the deep semi-doze of a healing sleep, but … Read more
For Dessine, trapped in the sorcerer’s spell, his wordless singing stretched to all eternity and beyond. Her life, open to the sorcerer’s unflinching gaze, was like a drop of rain before the endless ocean. She was nothing. He was everything. The song rose in pitch and tempo. The future beckoned. The blood she would spill … Read more
Kneeling alongside the fallen Dessine, the sorcerer shifted the tone and volume of his chant back to its previous soft, low rumble. He leaned over the chief huntress until the ends of his long hair—stringy and purest white—touched her face. The sour stink of his breath mingled with the low vibration of his wordless song … Read more
With a single powerful swipe of her sword, Dessine lopped the head from the shoulders of the boy who had felled Sabit. Leaping over Sabit’s crumpled form, the chief huntress of the Pride charged toward the village center. Her high-pitched war-cry overwhelmed the sorcerer’s low, soft chanting. Keeping her eyes low, Dessine ran straight toward … Read more
The eyes of the villagers were wide and bloodshot and devoid of awareness. Their fists and feet struck Dessine and Sabit without the skill and strength of those trained in the ways of battle. But the villagers’ numbers could not be denied as they piled on the two fallen warriors. Sabit parried and blocked the … Read more
Sabit’s arm would not move. Her head would not turn. Her eyes would not blink. The sorcerer’s gaze bored into her skull like a dagger. Sabit’s muscles were locked as tight and unflinching as if she had been bound in steel chains. The mass of enthralled villagers turned and charged toward the spear woman. Sabit’s … Read more
Days later, Sabit crouched behind the curving stone wall of a village hut, her trusty iron-tipped spear in her hand. Dessine and the other members of the Pride crouched close behind her. The group of warriors took care to silence their movements through the unseasonably cool mud of the village roads. They need not have … Read more
The next morning, Sabit was roused from her slumber while the sun still hung low in the sky. The warriors of the Pride gathered their newest members in front of their stronghold. The head of the entire Sisterhood, Meriama, had arrived. Walking quickly through the gate from the outer courtyard, the head of the Sisterhood … Read more
That night, Sabit danced with her fellow initiates into the small hours. Still weary from the hunt, her steps were clumsy. Always stubborn, Sabit made up for her lack of skill with a bottomless energy that outstripped the stamina of even the fully-established Sisters who had not hunted. By the time the bonfires burned low, … Read more