The Tattooed Princess

A Deadly Encounter

        Feeling bolder that he and the girls were now under armed guard, Moshtok led the party further up into the foothills into what could be considered dangerous territory. He remembered hunting for boar there when younger and with his uncles and Sharvur. All efforts to describe the environment with Scythian words and phrases were now lost on his miscreant pupils who never stopped in their merriment from being united.

            As the noisy entourage passed into a stand of trees with the armed escort now closer behind, the dread of all nomadic peoples happened—a flurry of arrows flew into the area, initiating an attack. Several of the arrows embedded themselves in the nearby trunks of trees while one struck Moshtok in the shoulder and another became firmly lodged in his horses neck. This caused the animal to panic and throw Moshtok onto the ground where he lay unmoving. Amid the screams of the girls the soldiers arrived just when another fuselage of missiles hurled into the area of the ambush. One of the men took an arrow directly into his chest, which with its force, penetrated his leather vest, killing him instantly.

        The girls brought their horses together and each lay prone on the animals back, hugging its neck to reduce their vulnerability. The other three Pazyryk warriors had assembled around them in a defensive triangular position with bows poised to strike a still unseen enemy. Zaria called out to Moshtok who still remained motionless in the grass, though he answered back in a weakened voice, telling them to leave him and flee the area.

        Suddenly three marauders appeared, charging the party on foot. They were of the primitive Uratu tribes from the north. They wore thick wolf-fur coats, had braided black hair and the scalps of former victims haning from their belts. Their charge was attended by a battle cry, which they screamed out in unison. Running at full speed, they threw down their primitive bows and wielded long, curved swords. One of them overtook a second of the king's warriors, striking him off his horse and violently laying him open with the sharp weapon. The other two primatives were struck simultaneously with arrows in mid-leap by the prowess of the remaining two Pazyryk archers. They remained poised and stolid before the girls. They had skilfully planted their deadly shafts into the ruffians' necks, causing them to drop to the ground, twisting and writing in a choking death.

        The last original attacker stepped back, brandishing his sword in a couched position. It was obvious to the guards that there were no more of the Uratu's comrades in the raid. As he turned to retreat into the woods, the archers had already reloaded their bows and their swift bronze-tipped arrows took him down like a bird in flight.

        All three girls dismounted and ran to Moshtok's side while the two warriors continued to stand guard. They could see he was in great pain as the arrow had entered high on his shoulder but protruded out of his back, just above his shoulder blade. Zaria quickly wrapped the sharp stone tip of the barbed arrowhead in a fold of her chitin and began to work it free from the shaft of the arrow. She did this skillfully, careful to keep the shaft unmoving in Moshtok's body. She had watched her mother perform the same task to remove an arrow  which had passed through her fathers' lower leg once. It was during a raid upon her village. Zaria tried not to think of her father or mother now, who were both killed by the same brutal people who defended her as a princess.

        Branka cradled Moshtok's head in her arms as Zaria had finally separated the stone tip from the arrow. She then nodded to her that she was ready to pull the shaft out of Moshtok's shoulder where it had entered. Branka took her own chitin and ripped a swath of it off her sleave. She wound it up and made a thick rope for Moshtolk to bite down on. It would serve to counter act the pain he would feel when Zaria pulled the arrow shaft through his flesh. Svetlana held both Moshtok's hands and massaged them in preparation for the procedure. As Zaria nodded to Branka once more, the frailest of the three girls held the rolled cloth up to his face