The Healer's Warrior by Renee Lewin Read Free Book Online

talking while the other two stood behind him.
    The translator relayed the response. “He says they don’t know anything about them, Commander.”
    Tareq told the translator to ask for water for their horses.
    “He says there is no water here for us, Commander.”
    Tareq, irritated, stared down from Sultan at the man. “Tell him who I am,” he instructed the translator while still holding his serious gaze with Rooster.
    “Commander, he said he has no ruler and that he bows to no one.”
    Then Kaliq jumped down from his horse with his hand gripping the sword in his belt. “I’ve had enough of these godless animals!” He rushed up to the light-haired tribesman. Tareq allowed Kaliq to scream at him even though he hadn’t given the warrior permission. “We are part of the royal army of Samhia, led by Prince Samhizzan who will soon be king as fated by Allah!” Kaliq shouted, red in the face. “Do you dare go against the will of Allah, miscreant?!”
    “Kaliq, go back to your horse,” Tareq ordered.
    Kaliq took a few steps backwards, nostrils flaring.
    Tareq told the translator to ask again for water. He watched Rooster spit at the ground by Sultan’s hooves and growl some words.
    “He said ‘There is your water’.”
    In a flash, Kaliq drew his sword and slashed it across the tribesman’s face. The man fell to his knees holding his cheek together as it gushed blood. The two indigenous men behind him turned and ran, calling out to the others in the village.
    Tareq was infuriated. “Did I give you permission?!” Tareq jumped down from his horse. Kaliq lifted his chin defiantly but said nothing. Tareq shoved him, hard. Kaliq stumbled backwards and fell. “Give up your sword and may I never lay eyes on you in my kingdom again!”
    Kaliq stood, flung the bloody sword to the ground, jumped onto his horse, and galloped full speed away.
    Tareq turned at the sound of war cries. Men with spears and wooden shields were racing towards them.
    Tareq took his saif from his belt. It was a long curved sword, thin and lethally sharp. He lifted it in the air. “Men!” he bellowed.
    The squadron roared and rushed past Tareq, on foot or thundering by on their horses. The sunlight flashed off of their drawn swords. Tareq pat Sultan on the shoulder. “Stay, Sultan.” He didn’t like to bring his beloved horse into battle. Tareq’s heart and mind pounded with adrenaline. He took a deep breath and ran out into the battle. Three men he brought down with the butt of the saif and some powerful kicks. He dodged their spears and dealt a couple strong blows to their chests and legs which brought them to their knees. Two more he disarmed and brought to the ground in the same way. Tareq’s muscles ached from the exertion but he enjoyed the high of this dangerous dance and savored how it quieted his mind. He focused all his attention on each movement, on each moment of combat, and in those charged moments nothing else, past or future, mattered.  There was only now.
    He looked all around for any more opponents and saw his men engaged in numerous instances of combat, some fights just beginning and others now ending in bloodied tribesmen who were badly injured or dying.
    Then Tareq saw a very tall, well-built young man walking steadily towards him. He had long thick arms and legs, and a long dark face. Rage was in his eyes but he did not run at Tareq. He neared Tareq slowly.
    Tareq felt apprehensive. He knew this was almost an equal match.  The young man was large and fierce, but Tareq had a metal sword while the man had a wooden spear. The man’s eyes disturbed Tareq. There were tears in his eyes. Tareq had seen men get emotional during battle, so it was not the tears that bothered him. There was something about the shape and color of his dark round eyes that unnerved the prince.
    The young man’s mouth trembled with anger. “ Metama , lewome tebu oko ,” he said. “ Lewome tebu oko !” he screamed. “ Lewome tebu oko !” He