The chain-mailed charioteers sat near a fire where tea boiled. They sat under a leather awning, shaded from the sun. Each warrior sat erect on a mat, cross-legged, with his spear laid on his right and with his sword beside it. Herrek had wrapped his belt around his sword’s scabbard. The silver buckle was shaped like a lion’s head, the fangs acting as securing clamps.
At the southern edge of camp steppe ponies shifted nervously. Ropes attached to their bridles secured them to stakes. Their eyes were wild. Blood welled from the rump of one brown stallion. Perhaps a sabertooth had raked him.
Joash hurried to pick out burs from Herrek’s dogs. He took a thorn out of a paw and smeared smelly ointment on it. When the dogs were all clean, he took a leather bucket and poured water into it. The huge dogs jostled each other as they lapped liquid. Joash then went to Nestor, who was busy watering the horses. Nester gave him a sack of meat. Carrying it, Joash led the dogs from the horses before he cut and tossed them bloody chunks. When the dogs were done eating, he leashed the two leaders to stakes and told the others to stay.
Since no warrior had brought falcons or eagles to look after, Joash helped Nestor with the horses. Not all the grooms were here, and Nestor needed help. Joash brushed horses, and with a pick, he cleaned hooves. These were Asvarn stallions, bigger and sleeker than the steppe stallions.
“Joash!”
He looked up, with a horse’s hoof cradled between his knees. A stoop-shouldered man with a dangling mustache motioned for him to hurry near. The man was Gens, Herrek’s chariot driver. No one could miss lean Gens, one of the greatest drivers of Teman Clan.
Joash dusted his clothes as he ran to the leather awning. The charioteers still sat in a circle and drank tea. Herrek patted the ground beside him.
Joash took his place in the circle, gingerly accepting a cup. It was a small ceramic cup, but thick, so he could hold it without scalding his fingers. As steam rose from the tea Joash could smell its rich aroma. He blew over it, causing ripples, and the steam to float away from him.
“Nestor tells me you saw a new sabertooth pride,” Herrek said.
“Yes, lord,” said Joash.
“I thought you said the sabertooths we spotted today was a new pride, too,” Gens said. “That can’t possibly have been the same beasts Joash saw. Is it possible there are two new prides?”
“No, it is impossible,” said Karim. He was a shaggy charioteer with a long beard and opinions about everything.
Frowning, Herrek tugged at the laces to his leather wrist-guard. “Can anyone doubt the beasts are acting strangely? Consider how they led us into an ambush.”
Joash perked up. He hadn’t heard about that.
“You can’t believe the sabertooths planned it,” Karim said with a snort.
“Sabertooths ambush game,” Herrek said. “Why not ambush people?”
Karim laughed. “Yes, as game, but not in war.”
Herrek turned to Joash. “How can you be certain you saw a new pride?”
Joash’s tea had cooled so took a sip as he considered his words. “I saw a massive sabertooth with a crippled left paw. Until now…” He trailed off because all the charioteers stared at Herrek.
“A crippled left paw?” Herrek asked thickly.
“Yes, Lord. Old Three-Paws, I call him.”
The laughter had drained from Karim’s bearded face. “That sabertooth almost slew you once, Herrek. After all these years has he come back to try again?”
“That was more than ten years ago,” Herrek said, who had turned pale.
A trumpet sounded, indicating an approaching chariot. Relief flooded through Joash as he glanced up. He remembered the chariot-tracks headed north. He had been worried about Ard. Surely, this was Elidad returning, who liked to make a show.
As was their custom, the charioteers arose, although Herrek stared at the ground, perhaps in thought. The chariot came from the south, the direction of the main camp at Hori Cove.
Joash frowned. The approaching chariot-driver wore a burnished bronze helmet polished so it shone like gold. He had a red horsehair crest that blew in the wind. There was missing horsehair from the middle of the crest, no doubt where an enemy had once struck and chopped the holding slot. Elidad owned no such helmet.
Adah the Singer rode with the driver. She was a strange woman from faraway Poseidonis. She wore a blue cloak with yellow designs of starfish, shells, and sea-flowers. A small bow and a quiver, filled with parrot-feathered arrows, hung from her back. She was darker-skinned than Joash and had midnight-colored eyes.
Adah shouted, “Lord Uriah sent me. We need help. Sabertooths attacked the southern herd.”
That started a babble of comments among the warriors.
Adah was beautiful, and had short dark hair that curled around her face. She was Lord Uriah’s confidant, privy to many of his secrets. The parrot-feather arrows showed her exotic nature as much as anything. They were colorful, red, green, bright orange, and one with purple feathers. Joash hoped the fletcher had plucked tame parrots, and not slain birds with such beautiful plumage.
“Two stallions have been slain,” Adah said, as her chariot came to a halt. “It’s chaos back there.”
Herrek became stern. “It’s good you didn’t listen to Elidad then.”
“Elidad?” she asked.
“I sent him south with a message,” Herrek said.
“Elidad never spoke to us.”
“Did sabertooths intercept him?” Herrek asked, alarmed. “Quickly, we must—”
“Lord,” Joash said, tugging Herrek’s cloak. “Nestor and I saw chariot tracks headed north.”
Before Herrek could react, the small singer stepped off her chariot in front of him. “Tell me exactly what you saw.”
Joash blushed. The singer had never spoken to him before, and he found her exotically beautiful. Her eyes—
“Speak,” Herrek said, nudging him.
Joash stammered, describing what he’d seen, including the giant skeleton.
“Why would Elidad head deeper inland?” asked Herrek. “That makes little sense.”
“This is Giant Land,” Adah said. “Its ancient name is the Kragehul Steppes. Here mysteries are dangerous. Added to the strange behavior of the sabertooths, we must hurry back to Lord Uriah.”
After a moment, Herrek nodded. “Ready the chariots. We’re heading for Hori Cove.”
Grooms and drivers raced to hitch the teams. Joash ran to the dogs, unleashing the leaders. Wagon masters went to their wagons, servants and hunters ran to the captured stallions.
As Joash unleashed the last one, the dogs began barking, their hackles up as they glared at the dry riverbed.
“What do they sense?” Herrek shouted at Joash.
Joash stood among the dogs, away from the others and closest to the riverbed. “I’ll go see,” he shouted.
“Wait, I’ll go with you,” Nestor said, as he drew his sword, running to help.
The dogs took courage in the company of the armed groom and barked louder than before. Perhaps stung by that, a hidden sabertooth roared with hatred. The huge beast scrambled out of the riverbed and charged Nestor.
Joash snatched his javelin from where he’d laid in on the ground. Blood flowed from recent wounds on the sabertooth’s flanks, and the beast’s saber-like fangs were an odd yellow color. Joash hurled his missile and missed. He drew his dagger, and froze as the sabertooth roared again. The dogs jumped out of the sabertooth’s path, leaving an open lane to Nestor. The groom shouted the Teman war cry and swung viciously. He might as well have swung a stick. The massive sabertooth sent the sword spinning. Then its claws shredded flesh as the beast crushed Nestor backward into the ground.
Horror struck Joash numb. He blinked once, twice, and then forced his arm to lift. He stepped near the beast with his puny dagger. A parrot-feathered arrow hissed past him and sank into the sabertooth’s side.