I whisper.
Ghoa hands me my staff, and I take my first step down the overgrown trail. The high, frosty grass tickles my palms and crunches beneath my boots. “Send word once you arrive,” she calls. “And every night thereafter. As well as the moment you learn anything of Temujin.”
My stomach dips ever so slightly at his name. He’s the only person who showed me mercy at Qusbegi. But the Lady of the Sky confirmed this path. Ghoa needs me. And she’s saved me far more times than Temujin has.
I march forward with long, purposeful strides. Hardening my resolve. Reawakening the warrior within me. If I want to reclaim my life, I cannot second-guess. Cannot waver.
Orbai shrieks with agreement and takes to the sky, leading the way to Sagaan—and redemption.
After two hours, I limp up to the fateful shrine where Serik and I stopped to worship. Orbai perches on a stick at the top of the mound, next to our empty bottle of vorkhi, and I feel a sudden pang of longing—followed by a sharp stab of guilt. Serik is trapped in a dark, windowless temple receiving countless lashes and muttering thousands of penances while I’m out here, on a secret mission, with a chance to earn back my position.
“I’ll find a way to help you too,” I vow, kneeling before the shrine to whisper a prayer for us both. Serik would hate it, but we need blessings and guidance more than ever. “Help me,” I beseech the Lady of the Sky as I finger the porcelain cups and dried petals. “You are the window to the universe; you see everything from your lofty perch, and I know I’m smaller than a speck of dust, but I ask you to see me. To guide my feet. Help me accomplish this mission and restore my and Ghoa’s honor.”
After murmuring amen, I check both shoulders to ensure no one’s watching, and stretch my fingers toward a stone at the base of the mound. I hold my breath—even though I know a gateway to the realm of the Eternal Blue won’t appear. I may be blessed with a gift from the Lady of the Sky, but that isn’t the same as being Goddess-touched. Only three people in the history of Ashkar have held that honor, and they were all personally marked by the sky in some way: Jamukha the Invincible, who was struck by seven bolts of lightning and lived; Zen the Devoted, whose prayers were so fervent, the Lady of the Sky parted the clouds and lifted him up into Her presence; and Ciamar the Daring, who built a tower so tall, it scraped the heavens. When she pitched herself from the top of it, her faith was so firm, the Lady of the Sky caught her in a chariot of sunlight and bore her away.
I have done nothing so grand to prove my devotion, but I place my tingling fingers against the stone anyway. The rock remains cold and sharp beneath my fingers, as expected.
Shaking my head, I regain my feet and circle the mound three times, content to incur the blessings reserved for common men and women. Then I cup my hand over my eyes and gaze at the top of the cairn. It’s so tall, Orbai appears to be swaying between the clouds, dancing to the howl of the late autumn wind.
Dirt crunches behind me, and I freeze like a deer staring down a hunter’s arrow. I cannot be caught worshiping the Lady of the Sky.
I cannot be caught period.
In less time than it takes to draw a breath, my good hand shifts to the center of my staff and I spin to strike out at the stranger. Blinding pain flashes down my bad leg, but I grit my teeth and move faster, grip tighter. A war cry tears from my throat as my staff slices through the air. I make three frantic slashes before I realize the path is empty, save the brown rump of a marmot dodging into a bush.
The staff clatters to the dirt and I double over panting. At first from pain, but my gasps slowly turn to giggles, and soon I’m laughing so hard that tears stream down my cheeks. Orbai screeches and takes flight. I must look like I’ve lost all sense, lashing out at harmless rodents and laughing hysterically, but for the first time in two years, I feel the pulse of Enebish the Warrior beating faintly through my veins—like the first green