Blood And Bone Mongol Heleer -

Borte knelt, pressing her forehead to his. The blood from his wound soaked into the hem of her deel, hot then instantly cold in the biting air.

The fire crackled. One of the Tanguts was telling a story. Something about a woman he’d taken in the last raid. Borte felt her blood rise, hot and red—but no. She silenced it. Blood was temporary. Bone was patient. blood and bone mongol heleer

The leader was mounted now, sawing at the reins, trying to turn the frightened animal. He was shouting in Tangut—curses, prayers, it didn’t matter. Borte reached up, grabbed a fistful of his horse’s mane, and vaulted onto the rump behind him. Borte knelt, pressing her forehead to his

The first man she took in the knee—a downward slash that shattered his patella and sent him spinning into the fire. The second she gutted with a backhand swing of the lance’s blade. The third drew a bow, but his hands shook. She threw her father’s knife—the one she’d tucked in her belt—and it buried itself in his throat up to the hilt. One of the Tanguts was telling a story

Three left.

“When I was a boy,” he said, his voice fading, “my father told me the Mongols did not conquer the world with swords. We conquered it with ears. We listened to the ground. We listened to the wind. We listened to the enemy’s guts when they were afraid. That is the old magic. Not spells. Heleer .”