For a long moment there was no answer and El Aran caught her breath as cold anger rose in a wave and washed over her. This was no way to die, sodden and limp as a stinging jelly washed up on the sands. To die in battle was honorable and right, and her son would not disappear into the earth as his sire had. Encantador’s name might fade from existence when she was no longer alive to speak it, but horses who died in battle were never forgotten. Orhan’s name should be among the stars, not buried under dirt. The seer lifted her head and gave voice to an explosive exhale as she prepared a lamentation for the gods.
Orhan mumbled something in a voice El Aran barely recognized. The black mare’s nose dropped so she could look into her son’s pale, wet face. “Aşk,” she breathed, the prayer encompassing both disbelief and thanks as her son fought to lift himself upright. She stood and backed away to give him room, head lowered and eyes intent on his soaked body as if she could transfer her willpower over to him and help him make it to his feet. Her son remained on his belly, but at least his head was up now. He was breathing hard and it was obvious he was not well, but El Aran could do nothing except keep watch.
His skin lacked the physical signs of a brutal attack, but still the black mare lifted her head and scanned the beach, ears up and eyes skipping across the wet wood and heavy stones that had been ejected from the waves as she searched for hiding places and signs of movement. She found neither, and her gaze dropped once more to her son as he spoke again. This time she could make out the words he said. Searched for her? The idea of Orhan leaving the islands to find her was terrifying: she had gone back home, back to the desert that had birthed her, and that was no place for any horse. Well did she know how traumatizing war could be, and she wondered now if perhaps it was mental anguish that kept Orhan in the water instead of something physical. "I am here now," she said. "As are you. That is all that matters. Now get up, get on your feet, and we will go to the oasis. You can rest in the shade there after you have slaked your thirst with the freshwater that pools there, and I will watch over you. But get up, Orhan. You must stand up."
Every muscle in her body was tight, screaming at her through little pulses of hot, fiery discomfort to get out of the open. They were defenseless here in the open, and with Orhan’s weak appearance anyone wishing to do them harm would be wisest to strike now while the stallion was indisposed. El Aran looked around again, nostrils widening as she sucked in more breath to slow the gallop of her heart.
el aran
Seer of Aşk. |