It was nicer when he went on.
“And they all came to me separately, knowing I would be seeking more protection for my Dahksahna, and they volunteered for this service.”
Definitely nicer.
I never went anywhere without at least two, but usually there were four of my guard with me and after what happened, their presence was definitely welcome.
During these two weeks, I saw three of what Diandra told me were “raiders” or “raiding parties”, in other words, groups of The Horde who went out marauding. They rode over the horizon to swell our ranks. In each raiding party, there were about a hundred horses all together (warriors and wives) plus their convoy of wagons. I also saw one “patrol” (again, this info gleaned from Diandra) which was a troop of The Horde that patrolled Korwahk to keep the civilians safe from other country’s marauders or to be on the lookout for invasion. Korwahk did it themselves but they did not countenance others doing it back. That said, it happened on more than the rare
occasion so these groups found action often. The patrol had what looked like a few hundred horses (plus wagons).
Lahn explained to me that these returning warriors were the groups that were closest in location to the Daxshee and would ride with us. We had been waiting for their arrival and the day after the patrol joined us, Lahn announced we would be packing up the Daxshee and meeting the rest of Suh Tunak in Korwahn.
Korwahn, by the way, was the largest city in Korwahk, where all the members of The Horde kept permanent residences even if they didn’t spend much time in them.
It was a four day ride to Korwahn and the morning of the day we were to arrive, my girls gave me the business. I would not, Jacanda informed me, ride into Korwahn for the first time as Suh Rahna Tunakanahsa Dahksahna Hahla looking anything but head-to-toe queen.
I put my foot down about gold dust in my hair and my feathers (in other words, I did not intend to wear either). The Korwahk Horde rode as one, I wasn’t going to shine like a beacon while everyone else had four days of dust on them.
But I did don a sarong made of pure gold silk, my belt of gold disks, a gold silk fold of material tied around my breasts with earrings that were simply long, thin gold chains with a gold ball at the bottom and a matching choker necklace of a bunch of the same chains with intermittent balls adorning them. I had peach tint on my cheeks, peach gloss on my lips, pearlescent peachy eye shadow and I allowed them to dust around my temples and eyes with gold dust (because every girl knows, a little glitter was always okay, even if riding a dusty trail). I also allowed them to clip my curled, twisted hair in a fall in the back with a heavy, gold clip.
That was all but, I thought, that was more than enough.
I should have listened to Jacanda.
When Korwahn came in sight, Bain’s horse came back to mine and he plucked me off Zephyr, galloped us to Lahn, Lahn plucked
me from Bain and planted me in front of him and away went Bain and Zephyr.
Apparently, I would ride into Korwahn at the lead with my Dax.
Lahn confirmed this with a squeeze of his arm and a murmur in my ear.
I didn’t make a comment; I was too busy staring at the two, large, stark, cream stone plateaus jutting into the blue sky in front of me.
They were at a forty-five degree angle to each other with one slightly taller than the other, the shorter one jutting out further. And there was what looked like an enormous, jumbled, interconnected building made of cream mud and dark beams that rode up their faces and sprawled across the landscape.
It was phenomenal.
And that was from afar.
It got better up close.
The Dax’s Horde had been seen and therefore people had time to prepare. We were greeted boisterously by men, women and children who had run out of the city to do so. Therefore, when we reached what Lahn whispered in my ear was called the Avenue of the Gods, the podiums of the enormous statues that lined it were thick with people, all of them tossing petals at Lahn and me, crying out our titles and cheering.
Even if the colorful petals weren’t drifting through the air, the Avenue of the Gods that led into Korwahn would be breathtaking.
Starting at the wide end of a sweep of statues that curved to (somewhat) narrow, were two cream stone podiums at least the height of a man and on each was an identical stone woman (the height of at least three men and we’re talking Korwahk men) carved out of what looked like ivory marble. She was full-on pregnant, her big belly protruding over her sarong, her large breasts covered in a bandeau. One of her arms was curved under her belly, the other arm lifted, her hand held over her eyes as if blocking out the sun or peering into the distance to locate something (it was the latter, Lahn
told me, the True Mother’s eyes were peeled for the return of her warrior). Her hair was long and fell in carved marble curls and twists but was adorned with gold clips all around, these looking they were made out of real gold and sparkling in the bright sun (and Lahn confirmed they were, indeed, real gold). There was also gold at her neck, her ears, her wrists and her biceps.
The next one in was a coiled snake, part of its long, thin body raised as if to strike. Its mouth was open and its fangs and thin, forked, protruding tongue were gold. The diamond-shaped markings down his back the length of the coil were also gold.
The next was a jackal, standing at attention, the spots on its back and tip of its bushy tail both gold.
Then came a grand, stately, reclining lion, its entire mane gold.
Then the horse, up on its hind legs, both front hooves clawing the air. Each hoof, its mane and tail all gold.
And finally, the tiger, carved on the prowl, its stripes gold.
They were fah-ree-king amazing. Every. Last. One.
And I told Lahn so (after I pulled out a petal that landed in my mouth).
It didn’t get better than that but it was still tremendously cool as Lahn and I rode a sedately walking Lahkan into the city.
And what a city.
It was a hustle and bustle of people; they were everywhere (as were the cheers and petal throwing). And I was not wrong about it from far away. Everywhere you looked, there were windows covered with wrought iron crosses and there were tons of doors.
There was one wide road trailing through the city, some less wide ones leading off it but there were a bunch of narrow winding paths or steep, stone staircases that cut through the buildings. Mostly, though, it was all a bunch of buildings clearly built with no city planning in mind. They rose one, two, three, even six stories up, dark wood beams visible jutting into the sky or out the sides from
the roof. All of it made from what looked like a cream-colored adobe.
Everything, in fact, was cream. The dirt and stone of the roads (not paved, just natural), walkways, the steep steps and the buildings, all of it.
But there was color. The wash lines that ran from building to building over roads or narrow pathways on which vibrant tops and sarongs hung. There were window boxes and brightly colored pots on small balconies and at the sides of doors that were filled with vivid flowers and trailing greenery (I had to say, there weren’t many of these, Korwahk clearly wasn’t filled with green thumbs – but there was enough to break up the cream, add a splash of color and give your eyes a beautiful surprise). The large squares that opened up off the main road were filled with market stalls that had colored tent tops over tables or striped awnings over stalls. And although most of the doors were bare wood, some were painted green, some red, some blue, some white, some black with blue, white and red stripes and some black (these were warriors’ homes, Lahn whispered in my ear as we rode, their doors painted to match the paint they wore on their bodies).
