The moon was full and monstrous in the vast night sky with her own harem of a million stars, and I carried my girl across the lands, moving with such speeds that I was sure she thought we were flying just above the sands. But I held her tight, and she held tight back, perhaps more from fear of falling than anything else.
But even then, I could see her staring up at me, her eyes suspicious of my countenance, and why not? For all that I look human, perhaps I look too human. My skin too unblemished, especially in these harsh environs. And my eyes surely gave a clarity and lustre, even by the light of the moon, which belied my humanity. And, let's face it: there was probably little of that left. Inspired by that thought, I bent my head and put my lips to her ear, feeling her soft tresses against my cheek. My lips brushed her ear as I spoke, and I felt her tremor from the touch.
"I am neither aลกa and I am neither druj," I told her. Did she understand those concepts? She hadn't been long at that harem, but she'd been in the company of Persian's long enough, I wagered, to understand. If she did, she gave no indication. And why would she? I'd killed four men easily, and carried her across miles of desert in speed.
Finally, the light of the city was gone, and we were now small and insignificant in a cold desert that stretched to all horizons, save but for one that was girthed by the dark waters of the Caspian. And all above - reaching in an impossible arc from side to side - was the miraculous depth of the night sky shattered all over by an improbable amount of bright stars. Some so bright it seemed we could reach out and touch them.
I spied a small encampment of Parni farmers, somewhere in the lands of Dahae, or perhaps it was Khorasmii. I carried my girl, her breasts squeezed together in my embrace and those dark nipples showing enticingly through her thin cloth dress, at a steady pace now, towards the camp. I took the long way around their stock, so as not to spook the animals, past their horses armoured with plates that layered down over their flanks like the feathers of a bird, and approached the camp. There were as many as a dozen yurts erected around a bonfire, and the families milled around the warmth of this fire and ate of the meat that cooked at its edge.
I stepped into the light cast from that fire, and the families gasped as reached for their weapons. Immediately some men broke away with spears and searched the darkness beyond the reach of their tents, ready to defend against an attack. I looked for the clan leader amongst them, but he was not with them. He was only now emerging from his own tent, bow and arrow in hand, and followed by two of his wives. When he saw me holding my Indian girl, and that no attack seemed imminent, he lowered his weapon. The other men did not.
I spoke to him in Parthian, and told him that I was a walking death but that would I be accommodated this night then no harm would befall his people, or his livestock. Gold and silver meant nothing to these people, but water was everything, and they had a deep superstition of it. And of magic. And so I promised that as death I would see their rivers run dry, and their lakes empty into the earth. Of course, I could do no such thing, but they were not to know this. Simply, the way the light of their fire reflected in my eyes and was absorbed by my skin was probably enough to tell them I was not human. And if I was not, then perhaps I was a god, or a devil. Either way, they would assume I had power enough to do as I promised.
I was allowed possession of the central yurt, and I warned them that no intrusion should be made on me or that I would slaughter their children before the dawn and finish their river and lands before the next harvest.
Inside the yurt, it was warm, and the thick leather sides held the chill of the desert's post-midnight air at bay. Thick pelts of beasts, yak and deer and some others I did not know, hung from the walls and lay across the floor. There was a raised platform covered in them, a kind of bed, and I lay my girl upon it. She scooted away from me, glaring at me, scared and hostile. From a post she snatched a bronze dagger, its handle bejewelled with red and green inlays, though she didn't take any heed of its beauty. She pointed it at me, and her eyes told all she would do to me if I were to come closer.
Quickly I was on the bed, and she thrust the blade towards me but I danced away from it, and slid in behind her, my arm sliding along hers and closing over her hand that held the blade, my other hand snaking around her waist and closing around her midriff. I jerked her hand back towards us, and the blade, now pointed directly at her, stopped a finger's length from her throat. I held it there, and felt her stiffen. I relaxed, and let my body press against hers, feeling her warmth. I nuzzled my face into her hair and smelt the night in it.
Still pinioning her grip over the handle, I guided the blade tip down across the leather collar, the bronze making a clacking sound against the jewels there, and I dug its tip in under the edge and suddenly sliced the blade upwards, towards the ceiling. She gasped and turned her face away as though I meant her harm from the dagger. The leather collar cleaved in two, and immediately fell open around her shoulders, pulling the tunic apart and splitting it down to her cleavage. The fabric was now stretched taught against her breasts, and her nipples rose in two bumps against it.
I threw the blade across the yurt, and it clattered against a war drum sat against the wall.
