Page 21 of The Naga Wanderer’s Wounded Mate

“Ekkire!” That was the Shaman’s apprentice calling out. He waved his hands, all smiles. The deep yellow of his scales and hair made him stand out, but that was the nature of Shaman placements all across Serant. Shamans, and their students, went where the council assigned them. He had a wild mane of curly hair that bloomed around his head like rays of sunlight. The kind of male everyone could not help but like, because he was so friendly and outgoing. He was a lot, but even I found myself smiling at his jovial greeting.

Ishmakah rounded on the nearest Sun Fang archer and approached with his arms outstretched, as if he intended to hug me, and I began to rock back on my tail instinctively. I liked him, sure, but not that much. I really preferred it if nobody invaded my space. Well, except Jasmine. I’d carried her all day, and I actually missed having her in my arms. Though you’d have to twist my arm to get me to admit it, I might even miss the soft little snoring noises Dove made when she slept.

The Sun Fang male in the lead, with his unusual colors, held out an arm and physically blocked Ish’s path. “Hang on, Ishmakah. He smells like a human. Why do you have the stink of a human clinging to your scales, Water Weaver?” he demanded. The previously welcoming look was replaced with one of deep distrust.

A shiver shot down my spine, which I managed to hide. It was so rare to meet hostility anywhere I went; I simply wasn’t used to the reaction. I knew that, seeing it was a Sun Fang party, revealing Jasmine was inevitable. Not that I wanted to, but there were too many of them, and we’d been traveling in the same direction. I had to convince this male he had nothing to worry about, and that his dislike of the strange sky beings was misplaced.

“Ilesekh!” Ish said, shocked. “That hardly matters now, does it? Do you not think it was a sign from the heavens that your path was ill-chosen? Disaster struck the moment we agreed to meet at Thunder Rock.” The apprentice flung his hand first in the direction of the ravaged outpost, then back down the mountain flank to where the sky wreck was located.

I knew Ish was not a superstitious man—no shaman was—but, like Thunder Rock, Sun Fang was. It took some slick navigating of their often strange beliefs from time to time. I’d been confronted with it when trading at their main settlement before, and had similar issues at Thunder Rock. They really didn’t want anything to do with the fabrics you carried if they thought you’d traveled with them through an ancestral cave, for example.

This Ilesekh hissed, his eyes narrowing at me, and when he moved forward, his body carried all kinds of hostility. He reached for the knife on his hip, rather than the deadly bow he carried. I shifted my trident protectively in front of me, but that did not halt his motion. Why would it, when the rest of the Sun Fang party shifted forward aggressively with him?

With a screech, the blue sleara abruptly launched himself from the branch above my head. I thought it was getting too dangerous for him and he was simply fleeing. A dozen eyes went up to track his flight, several hands lifting bows as if they couldn’t help themselves. The sleara would barely make a good meal, as small as he was, but they tracked him anyway. Then he dove, plummeting from the sky with his claws outstretched. He was headed directly for the Sun Fang leader, and I reacted instinctively.

“Hunter!” I called out, not certain whether I was calling to the sleara or the male he was attacking. My tail whipped out just as arrows flew, and the knife Ilesekh had pulled slashed toward me. I was too late to stop the knife, but my tail caught the barrage of arrows before they could strike the sleara. I roared in pain as half a dozen obsidian tips cut through my scales and buried deep.

The sleara chirped and darted sideways, then landed on my shoulder and ducked beneath my hair to hide, trembling violently. After that, everyone froze—the dust settling, bows lowering, confused glances shared. “Did that… sleara just try to defend you, Ekkire?” Ishmakah asked tentatively. Then his eyes dropped to the six or so arrows sticking out of the tip of my tail, and I saw him mouth: Did you just defend the sleara?

I reached up to check my ribs, but there was no knife wound, and when I looked at Ilesekh I discovered his blade was simply gone. He looked like he’d seen a ghost, shock written all over his dramatically marked face. Then he flicked his hand to my left, pointing at a nearby tree trunk, and several gasps went up.

“Who shot that arrow?” he demanded. Coiling back on his tail, he raised himself higher to glare at the males gathered behind him. Scai, Srahyi, Misha, three males I knew to be amazing archers. Others I did not know, but I had no doubt were just as skilled. Anyone of them could have pulled off that shot, except they were very much in the wrong place to have done so. I knew there was only one person who could have, and she’d done it to protect me.

“Look at the fletching, Ilesekh. It’s not ours…” Srahyi pointed out with a deep frown. His orange eyes flicked from the arrow that had pinned Ilesekh’s knife, by its woven handle, to a tree, then traced the path it must have taken straight to the ridge where Jasmine was hiding.

“You have backup lying in wait, Water Weaver?” Ilesekh demanded, still furious. He balled his fist and flexed it, but it appeared completely unmarked. Jasmine had shot it right out of his grip without harming him. Clever female. She had protected me without jeopardizing a potentially peaceful resolution. That took skill, that took thinking, and all of it had happened in the blink of an eye.

I rolled my tail, the arrows bristling from my abused flesh. “And I needed it, what is this? Shooting a peaceful trader who offers you help!” Ishmakah shook his head in dismay and immediately lowered himself next to my wounded tail, hands reaching for his satchel to pull out the healing tool he could slide over his palm. I trusted Ish, so I left my tail with him, certain it was in good hands. It hurt, those arrows, but I would do it again if they tried anything. The sleara quivered against my neck, still shaken from his brush with death.

That was curious. I thought I could not understand the bond Jasmine had with Dove. I did not mind the company, or the extra burden of feeding her, but I did not think I needed it. When Hunter huddled against me for safety and comfort, that felt good. I felt like I’d saved someone very important, and he gave me loyalty in turn. He’d dived to protect me; that was just as baffling to begin with. Why would the sleara do that? We hadn’t gotten off to a good start, and all I’d done was feed him a ration bar and then release him.

When Ilesekh moved toward me again, it was with less hostility, his chin tilted down to his neck in what was almost a submissive, apologetic gesture. That did not seem to matter to Hunter, who stuck his head through my hair and hissed furiously in his face. “Easy, Hunter, easy. I don’t think Ilesekh here intends to sink another knife in my side, am I right?” The last I aimed at the Sun Fang leader, and he lowered his head even further, the horn on his chin dipping toward his vulnerable throat.

“No, I will not,” he agreed. Spreading his hands, he began the expected apologies, the rushed words to assure me Sun Fang would never be hostile to Water Weaver males and their oh-so-valuable trade. No, he’d realized right away that he might have just incurred the wrath of every female in his clan by attacking me. I could see on the faces of the males behind him that they were equally dismayed by that prospect. Those who had actually struck me with one of their arrows might be feeling even more concerned I’d hold it over them.

Ish broke the shaft of the first arrow without warning, and a wave of pain burned through my tail. I hissed, “Warn me, Ish. Damn it. It’s been a while since I was last shot…” He tilted his head, yellow face filled with even brighter eyes and the widest, sunniest smile I’d seen in a while. Then he bent right back over my tail and snapped the next arrow in his fist.

“I smell of human,” I said then, while they were all still feeling apologetic. “Because my backup is human,” and then I pointed at the arrow pinning Ilesekh’s knife to the tree. I let that sink in for a second, eyes growing wide, mutters rippling through the group. A human? Yeah, they really didn’t like the idea that some human had shot an arrow with the same sort of skill level they demanded of their hunters. A skill some here might even be hard-pressed to rival. I knew I was; I could not have replicated that shot. I was certain of it.

“Well, where is he then? Bring him out, we must meet this human archer,” Ilesekh barked, his arms crossing over his chest, disbelief coloring his features.

“She,” I said smugly, “and I will bring her out if you swear she has safe passage. She is not here to harm any of you. In fact, she came with me to aid your kin, just like I did.” Then I looked straight at Ish. “And I would consider it a personal favor if you could heal her.”