Another Fine Mess: 12
Isaac had already once experienced the dangers of letting go while travelling the terrifying reaches of the Shadow Realm. He determined to hang on tightly to his partners, Arrafin and Kani, as they rocketed through the howling shadowscape under the sorceress' guidance.
He was not prepared, however, for the sorceress simply letting go of him deliberately.
Suddenly his left hand flailed in wild helplessness. He felt his weight immediately pulling on Arrafin and tore his right hand free from her weak grasp. Better he should fall alone into darkness, or the ocean, than that he pull that girl with him into death.
Arrafin, for her part, suddenly realised Isaac was gone and, shrieking pointlessly into the howling gale of Shadow's edge, clung even more tightly to Elena. Elena hung on to Nevid who hung on to Etienne.
Who hung on to nothing. Seconds after shaking Isaac free, Kani had done the same to Etienne. The four friends had a few screaming seconds of plunging through a hurricane of blackness, and then brilliant sunlight stabbed into their eyes.
The four lay sprawled in variously awkward poses on a rough shelf of wind-stippled rock, listening to tiny rivulets of sand hiss through the thin stone channels beneath them.
The heat broiled them.
Elena sat up.
"What the hell?"
Etienne groaned.
"I always knew all that nonsense about Al-Tizim being a great city was crap. Look at this place. Not even a wall."
They looked around. Rocky cliffs rose up high in eroded canyons, their floors dusted with shifting layers of sand. The pink sky overhead revealed no clouds, no relief from the sun.
Arrafin stood up and smacked Etienne.
"Obviously this isn't Al-Tizim. And where's Kani?"
"And Isaac."
More looking. No sign of the burly Saijadan.
"Do you think? Maybe Kani? Did something?"
Nevid began walking across the canyon floor, away from the others. They watched him as he marched across the uneven sands until reaching the shadow of the high cliff wall. He stopped.
The other three at first waited for him to do something. Once they realised he was just standing in the shade, they joined him. Elena considered Arrafin's questions.
"She was looking at us kind of cranky-like. Well, at you, anyway. I think she was jealous."
"Jealous?"
"Well, her boss sure had a thing for you."
"What?"
"I said, her boss--"
"Whatever. The question is, where are we and what are we going to do?"
The desert offered no answers.
Etienne spoke up.
"Well, we must be somewhere between, uh, wherever we were and Al-Tizim, right? So we just keep going in whatever direction we were going in at first, and we'll reach Al-Tizim, right? That'll work."
Arrafin rolled her eyes.
"Sure. And what direction would that be?"
"Well."
Elena joined the debate while Etienne was formulating more of a comeback.
"I don't like to say this, as a rule, but maybe Etienne's got a point. We were in Shaer, right? So we must have been going west. Pretty much, right? Shaer's out at the east end of the Inner Sea, And Al-Tizim's about halfway along the south coast. So it must be somewhere to the west of us. We keep heading west, we'll find it."
Nevid did not look at the others as he spoke.
"Shaer is about two thousand miles from Al-Tizim. We might be months away. And I don't know about the rest of you, but I haven't got any water or food with me just now."
As the import of his words sank in to the others, he turned around to face them.
"We're all going to be dead in a few days."
Elena managed a shrug.
"Isaac's probably glad he's not with us, then."
Etienne
"What?"
"What?"
Etienne's confused expression only raised his friends' eyebrows. The halfbreed looked around slowly, but there was no obvious source for the voice that had so familiarly whispered his name.
Etienne, listen to me.
Elena frowned as Etienne raised a finger.
"Could you guys excuse me for a second?"
He walked a few paces away and stared down at the sand. After two or three breaths he raised his head and returned. He pointed.
"This way."
Nobody moved. Not even Gral.
"There's water this way. About eight hours' walk from here."
Still no movement.
"Come on."
Arrafin turned her head and regarded the little owl on her shoulder. The tiny bird launched itself into the air, spiraling upwards towards the pale pink sky high above.
The others watched it go in still silence. The bird flapped energetically, rising up and up until it was nearly lost from sight.
Arrafin nodded, then shook her head in amazement.
"There's a valley that way. He might be right."
Elena and Nevid both frowned. They turned to Etienne.
"Don't ask."
Elena considered that, then shook her head.
"Nuh-uh. What the hell, Etienne? What is this? How are you suddenly an expert on desert survival? You told us you'd never left Pavairelle before."
"I, uh. I. Look, let's just go. We need the water, right? Not dying, that's good, right? Right?"
Elena walked up to the half-Kishak and shoved him back.
"Who are you working for? Who's in that half-empty head of yours?"
Etienne stumbled back but made no answer. He and Elena stared at each other, and then the slender Pavairellean youth shrugged.
"Fine. Stay here and die of thirst. Me, I'm going where the water is. Any of you want to come, you're welcome."
Anger set in his broad shoulders, the young man strode off up the canyon. The others watched him go.
Arrafin clucked at Gral as the little owl returned to her, then looked over at Elena.
"Why would you think he'd be the only one of us without a bunch of ugly secrets? Anyway, I'm thirsty."
She followed Etienne. Elena glared at Nevid but the Saijadani youth had no response. He lowered his head and set out after Arrafin and Etienne. Elena watched them go, fighting back anger. At length, as her friends rounded a shoulder of towering, wind-scoured rock, she marched forward, the same direction they had gone.
*****
Zuleika tried not to be happy the soldiers had started on her sister. Shalia hadn't stopped weeping since they'd gotten away, but Zuleika knew that if Hamman hadn't pulled his trick when he did, those soldiers would have turned on her next.
And now it looked like it was only a matter of time. Hamman was bleeding badly and no matter what Shalia said, her husband wasn't going to make it another day. The little boys, clinging to one another on their gallo behind the adults, hadn't spoken since yesterday morning.
Since the Crimson Host had descended on their farm and slaughtered the hands, fired the buildings and butchered poor, beautiful, courageous Maheem. Her young husband. Zuleika couldn't let herself think about him. She could recall Shalia's screams, but her mind skipped around Maheem's last moments.
For about an hour Zuleika had been hopeful those beni Howetait bastards had decided not to follow them, but she'd seen their figures silhouetted against the setting sun last night, and she was sure they were still back there. Probably closing fast and preparing a morning ambush as the sun came up today.
The lean Naridic woman checked the scimitar at her belt. Hamman was in no shape to fight, and Shalia had never held a sword in her life, but Zuleika had served two tours in the Sultan's army and could hold her own. Not that it would make any difference against the four or five beni Howetait warriors she knew where getting ready to sweep down on their little band.
She would not suffer the fate Shalia had. Those bastards would have to kill her.
The sun was rising straight ahead. The ridges of the river valley to either side of the shone with lurid radiance. Zuleika began a prayer to Mullah but halted half-way through, frowning. Her keen eyes caught a set of figures upon the northern ridge, four standing figures that even at this distance were clearly not beni Howetait warriors.
Before she could consider that mystery, sudden uluations erupted all around their little party as the beni Howetait came rushing up behind them. Shalia screamed as Zuleika wheeled her mount and charged their attackers. She plowed through their midst, swinging wildly and howling as her blade connected solidly against one rider's midsection. Her exultation dropped away as she felt hot wetness against her arm and knew she'd been hit as well. She tried to turn her gallo but her left arm fell senseless and all she could do was turn in her seat, swearing as she watched the savage desert madmen descend on her family.
Hamman revived enough to lash the boys' gallo, and the startled beast lunged forward, passing he and Shalia just as the raiders arrived.
It took a second. Not even a heartbeat.
Hamman threw up an arm. A sabre flashed, cutting straight through. Another and Zuleika's brother-in-law convulsed, toppling from his saddle in a spray of blood and organs. Shalia shrieked as a hand grabbed her hair and yanked her from her mount.
And then the children began screaming.
Zuleika screamed as well and kicked her beast, urging it into the fray, unable to stand aside, when a series of gunshots rang out over the screams and triumphant yells. Zuleika looked up from her mad charge and saw to her astonishment a group of total strangers come running down the hillside to the slaughter. She reached the melee and screamed, waving her scimitar and riding for the one still dragging her little sister. A heavy blow caught her in the side, but Zuleika lashed out, nearly decapitating one of the warriors as she fell from her saddle. She could hear her own blood splashing onto the sand.
Shalia fell to the ground not far away, limp and with her head twisted unnaturally. Zuleika managed a moment of clarity to ask God to forgive her for being happy that her poor sister had suffered rather than she, and then darkness took her.
*****
"Now what? God, what a mess."
"This one's still alive. Get the skull, hurry."
"God. God. How can people do this to each other? They were children."
"The skull, Arrafin. Now."
"Yes, yes. Here. God."
Nevid squatted on a flat rock by the creek, watching blood swirl past in the clear water. His young face reflected back at him, set with tension and repressed emotion. He couldn't look back. He just stared at the blood of children floating past.
He was nineteen years old. He'd negotiated difficult contracts all across Saijadan. He'd witnessed duels and slaughter before. This was no worse.
He closed his eyes. A hand came down on his shoulder.
Of course it was Elena. Her dark eyes shone in the surface of the creek, rich with sympathy.
"Take this comfort, Nevid. We got them. We got all of them."
Nevid stood up, stepping away.
"We should have kept one alive. For questions. We don't know who they were, where they were from."
From behind him a quiet voice with a Naridic accent answered.
"They are from the Crimson Host. An army raised to fight the Kishaks."
He turned to find a striking Naridic woman, the lone survivor of the battle, sitting amidst slain bodies, with Etienne kneeling beside her.
Arrafin, packing the marble skull back into her bag, frowned.
"But you people aren't Kishaks."
"True. I guess there aren't any Kishaks around, so they have to kill somebody."
"But you're Naridic. You're the same people."
The woman's smile, when she turned it on Arrafin, was somehow the most horrible thing Nevid had seen all day.
"I guess I should have pointed that out to them. My fault."
"That's not what I -- "
Etienne stepped in to cut off Arrafin.
"That's enough, Arrafin. Let her rest."
He led the shattered woman towards the creek. She followed without words. Nevid cleared his throat as they approached.
"Where is the nearest town?"
"Tallal. It's a few days' ride. That way. Through the Crimson Host."
She smiled again at Arrafin.
"No doubt once you explain how we're all together there won't be any trouble."