Lady of the Star Wind

by Veronica Scott

  It took three trips to the well before the water detail was accomplished. They ate a sparse dinner around their small campfire and stretched out on mats laid between the cart and the tree. Sandy fell asleep at once, her head pillowed on his shoulder. Mark lay awake, listening to the clamor of the busy oasis—music, people singing and arguing, animals bellowing—reflecting on how different this world was from anywhere in the Sectors where he’d spent much time. The raw energy and the possibilities for change here appealed to him.

  They’d divided the night into watches, and his was the last before dawn. Rothan wanted to be on the road again as early as possible, hoping not to be trapped behind a long caravan. Breakfast was rushed, and then they were on their way. The day was uneventful but nerve-racking, as Maiskhan patrols passed them more than once.

  “Looking for us?” Mark asked as the most recent set of chariots thundered past in a cloud of dust.

  “I doubt it,” Rothan answered.

  “You trust the grave robbers’ village to keep our secret?” Mark glanced at Djed, speaking quietly enough so the archer wouldn’t hear.

  “I do. Betraying our secret reveals their own and destroys their livelihood. They’d never trust Farahna—she’s killed too many of the tomb workers, who are also their extended family members. I think the Maiskhan are tightening their grip on the entire country, patrolling the caravan routes, probably getting ready to assess tolls and taxes once they’re more fully in control of Nakhtiaar.” Eyes narrowed as he considered, Rothan rubbed his chin. “I might go trade some spices for better foodstuffs, try talking to some of the caravan workers in the process at the next oasis tonight, get a sense of how they feel about the Maiskhan, what they’re seeing as they traverse Nakhtiaar.”

  “Good idea, intel is always valuable. Just be careful not to arouse their suspicions by asking too many probing questions while you improve our diet,” Mark said with a grin.

  The oxcart slowed and stopped, Khefer pulling the team to the side of the road, leaving room for caravans or other travelers to safely pass.

  Hand on his blaster, Mark jogged to the front of the cart. “Why are we stopping?”

  Khefer handed the reins to Sallea and climbed from his driver’s seat. “I think the left leader has something wrong with his hoof. His pace is off.”

  “Because the pace is so blistering,” Mark muttered.

  The officer heard the remark. Pausing, he said, “These animals are doing their best for us and deserve our care in return, my lord.”

  “Even if they’re not pulling a chariot.” Rothan’s remark was made in a jovial tone. Breaking into a smile, Khefer nodded and proceeded on his way.

  “What is it with all these references to Khefer and chariots?” Mark asked as he and the other two men took up positions between the cart and the passersby on the road. “Seems like an old joke that I’m not getting.”

  “Khefer is mad for horses and speed, has been since he was a boy,” Rothan said, accepting a cup of water from Tia.

  “He stole a chariot when he was about six,” the queen added, waiting while her husband slaked his thirst. “Managed to drive it quite a way before his father caught up in another chariot and ordered him to halt. No amount of punishment could induce him to say he was sorry.”

  Wiping his mouth on his sleeve, Rothan nodded. “Even as a boy, he was the best judge of horses in my grandfather’s province and won many a race against those who thought themselves his betters because they were older. He refuses to walk anywhere if there’s a chariot and a road.” He waved one hand at the dusty thoroughfare in front of them. “Yet here we are on a road, and he’s driving stolid oxen, of all creatures.”

  “Riding the horse is better,” Sallea said from her perch on the wagon’s bench.

  Mark nodded. “I’m in agreement with her—cavalry is the way of the future.”

  “We’d have a heated debate on the point, my lord, if this was the right time and place,” Khefer said, patting the brown and white ox on the flank as the animal turned its horned head to carefully nuzzle his shoulder. “All set, just a pebble. Shall we continue?”

  “By all means.” Rothan stepped into the road to create an opening for the cart to move into the flow of travelers journeying south. “I want to get to my grandfather’s stronghold in the mountains before the first snow falls.”

  Khefer frowned. “As we’re only in midsummer, sir, I think we can meet that schedule easily.”

  “He’s just casting more aspersions on your oxen,” Sallea said, digging Khefer in the ribs as he climbed to sit beside her and took the reins. “My advice is to prove him wrong.”

  Mark would have preferred to avoid the crowded oases and camp somewhere more private each night. He felt the chances of discovery were unnecessarily high, but when he raised the issue to Rothan, the king made it clear they had no choice. “The only water along the caravan routes is at these stops. We can’t carry enough for ourselves and the oxen to camp anywhere else. Eventually, we’ll be leaving the track and setting off to the west, toward the mountains and home. Few journey there, as my grandfather’s province is quite self-sufficient, not much trade to be done.”

  Mark eyed his friend. “But?”

  “There are rumored to be bandits among those who traverse the main roads here. They might find a party like ours enticing prey, with our women and our spices. We’ll have to be doubly vigilant the first few days we travel the more isolated track.”

  Mark kept the conversation firmly in mind as they continued on their way south. He didn’t notice anyone tailing them or paying undue attention, not even in the caravans they passed or the ones that overtook them during the trek. Their group inevitably made some acquaintances among the people traveling in their direction, women they’d stand in line with at every well and a few caravan workers. Sandy provided medical care here and there, under protest from Mark, who worried about revealing their secret. She went heavily veiled, with him standing guard, limiting herself to remedies that were effective but wouldn’t seem too miraculous. She kept the mirror concealed in its pouch at her belt at all times.

  He was glad to see the landscape becoming greener and more welcoming as the days passed on the trek farther south. Finally, the day came that Rothan, Khefer, and Djed conferred before directing the oxcart off the main road and onto a smaller track that led west toward the foothills and the imposing, snow-capped mountain range beyond.

  After an hour or so of walking, Sandy pushed her hood back, revealing her blond hair and pale skin. Running her hand through her hair, she sighed with a happy smile. “No more need for concealment. I’m so tired of this set of clothing. Maybe we can even take a bath somewhere.”

  “There will be small lakes and streams,” Tia promised from where she lay on the cart. The queen was having a rough time with her pregnancy and rarely left the cart to walk. “Cold water from the mountains but fit for bathing.” She stretched. “Once we reach our home, there will be hot baths and clean clothes again.”

  “And beds, in bedrooms,” Sandy said, giving Mark a wink.

  He felt his cheeks growing a bit flushed, but could he help it if he chafed at the lack of opportunities to deepen the physical relationship with his beloved? The time to stroll and talk without interruption was a rare gift after so many years apart, but fueled the fire of his passion for Sandy.

  Rothan nodded. “All the comforts of my grandfather’s palace will be welcome.”

  “How much longer till we arrive?” Mark said.

  “Several weeks,” was Khefer’s discouraging answer.

  They camped beside a small stream, and for once there was no need to haul water anywhere, nor to collect fodder for the oxen, who contentedly grazed in the lush grassland around the campsite. Djed took his bow and arrow to hunt, returning with some kind of small antelope, which he dressed and roasted over the fire, seasoned with their finest purloined spices. The evening felt like a celebration. Even Lakht seemed content, perched on a large tree branch, dining
on entrails Djed had set aside for him.

  Rothan raised his mug of wine. “A toast to exceptional comrades!”

  Mark drank and even proposed a toast of his own, but he couldn’t relax. Unease pricked at him, as if they were being watched. With a murmured apology to Sandy, he slipped away from the fire, speaking to Khefer, who stood guard, and then prowling through the nearby grassland and rock outcroppings, but he found no evidence of pursuit. When he eventually returned to the circle, she gave him a quizzical glance, eyebrows raised, but he shook his head. Leaning on his shoulder, she gazed at the night sky.

  “Tresa is on the ascendant now,” she said, pointing at the reddish moon beginning to peek above the horizon. “She was the most unpleasant of the sisters.”

  He wrapped her cloak more securely around her shoulders as a breeze sprang up. “Are you concerned?”

  “I don’t like her ruling the sky over me,” Sandy admitted. “Any of the other moons and I’m fine, but I feel like Tresa brings bad luck.” She shivered. “This is the safest part of the journey, right? So what harm can her influence do?”

  Mark smiled, but in the back of his mind he remembered Rothan’s warning that if brigands were going to attack, it would be in the first day or two after leaving the safety of the caravan route.

  “The Moon Sisters aren’t as powerful as the mirror,” Tia said from her position on the other side. “And Tresa is the weakest of them.”

  “Which would be more comforting if I could make the damn mirror work,” Sandy whispered in Mark’s ear.

  “We’ve got our blasters.”

  But the night passed uneventfully, as did the second day of travel. Mark continued to feel uneasy, doubling back more than once to check the trail behind them, without finding anything untoward. He still went to sleep with his blaster close at hand.

  Close to dawn, he woke to Sallea’s hand over his mouth. “Lakht has seen men circling, coming to attack,” she whispered, releasing him.

  “How many?” He turned to rouse Sandy as carefully as Sallea had wakened him.

  “Twenty. Rothan thinks several gangs may have banded together, as we’re such a rich target.”

  Sword in hand, she moved away.

  Mark and Sandy crept after her, joining their fellow travelers behind the wagon, which Khefer had parked in a small grove of trees the night before.

  “Plan?” Mark asked Rothan.

  “Too many for us to attack them. I’m thinking we take the high ground, place the women there.” Rothan pointed at the trees above them.

  Bow slung over his back, Djed was already climbing nimbly to find a perch from which he could shoot.

  Mark nodded. “Good plan. I’m going to try to outflank them, take out a few before the battle begins. Keep Sandy safe.”

  He kissed her, then slunk through the trees into the tall grass beyond, moving slowly. Pausing at the small creek, he smeared his face with mud so he would be less visible, and then set out to track the enemy. He drew one knife as he went. The blaster would be too noisy, alerting the bandits to the fact that their attack was no longer a surprise. Mark grinned. Aerial surveillance—Lakht, in this case—was always a soldier’s secret advantage. He found the last man on the loose circle of enemies around their campsite, crept up from behind, and silently slashed the thug’s throat. Moving on, he managed to kill two more before their leader gave some unseen signal, and the remaining bandits moved from their hiding spots, brandishing weapons, yelling curses, and charged the wagon.

  Drawing his blaster, Mark saw several of Djed’s arrows hit their targets while he himself was picking picked off five more men in quick succession. Then the battle became too close, hand to hand, as the ten surviving attackers launched themselves at Rothan, Khefer, and Sallea. Lakht came screaming from the sky to tangle with a man trying to assault Sallea from the side. Mark sprinted into the thick of the fray, stabbing and slashing as he went, reducing the odds against the defenders. With relief, he realized Sandy and Tia had climbed or been boosted into the safety of a tree, where Sandy now used her civilian blaster to kill a man attempting to reach them.

  Djed fired a few more arrows before dropping to the ground, tackling one of several opponents concentrating on Rothan.

  Mark stabbed another in the back, his blow glancing off a sturdy leather vest and slicing the man’s sword arm. The assailant spun, sword flashing in the pearly predawn light, as he sought to kill Mark. Catching the blade with the reinforced, curved guard of his knife and diverting the thrust, Mark fired his blaster with the other hand. The man crumpled to the dirt. Mark was grabbed unexpectedly from behind, and his reflexes kicked in. He stabbed upward into the attacker’s chest, threw him to the ground, kicking him savagely as he attempted to rise, and finished him with a short burst from the blaster.

  Taking in huge breaths, he retrieved his knife and wheeled, ready to take on any remaining bandits, but his companions had finished off the rest. Lakht went screaming triumphantly into the sky in a show of acrobatic aerodynamics. Mark surveyed the other men and Sallea. “Everyone okay? Anyone hurt?”

  Sandy dropped from the tree, landing lightly on her feet. “Let me get my bag, and I can treat any injuries.”

  Concerned, he moved to her side. “Are you sure you’re okay? I saw you shoot that guy. Well done, by the way.”

  She leaned on him for a moment. “I was defending Tia. And myself. I can live with what I did.”

  He wasn’t entirely convinced, but realizing how many adventures and dire situations she’d been through on this journey, he understood she’d become more hardened, to a degree, than she’d been on Freemarket. As she rummaged through their belongings on the cart, he looked at Rothan. “What do you want us to do with the bodies?”

  Holding a rag to his bleeding arm, the king spat, “We leave them where they fell, for the scavengers and the demons. Scum like these men deserve nothing better.”

  Sandy’s eyes were wide, but she withheld comment as she went to work cleaning and bandaging the deep slash on Rothan’s sword arm.

  Mark was fine with the decision, but concerned over something else. “I’m going to backtrack, make sure there aren’t any more following our trail.”

  “I’ll send Lakht to fly cover for you,” Sallea said as she and Djed helped the queen to descend from the tree.

  “Thanks, I appreciate the reinforcements. That’s some ally you’ve got.” Mark shielded his eyes with one hand, gazing into the sky where Lakht wheeled effortlessly.

  “We’ll be moving out as soon as Khefer gets the oxen harnessed,” Rothan said. “We can eat journeycake and dried meat strips as we hike today.”

  “No problem. I’ll catch up.” With one more glance at Sandy to reassure himself she was holding up, he jogged to the east, swerving under cover in the grasslands as he reconnoitered.

  Finding no one else following their trail, Mark rejoined the group a few hours later. The road was beginning to climb into the foothills, so the going was harder. The oxen showed no distress, but Sallea mentioned having a headache, and Tia was short of breath.

  “We’re at a higher altitude,” Sandy said. “Fortunately, we’re going so slowly our bodies will have time to adjust.”

  “My grandfather’s capital sits on a plateau high in the mountains,” Rothan told her.

  “Those of you who grew up there have an advantage, but the rest of us should be fine after a day or so.” She squeezed Mark’s hand. “The human body is very adaptable.”

  “Do you think Tresa is done with us?” he asked, smiling to show he was teasing.

  Sandy frowned, not answering his grin. “She has a few turns left in the night sky. And we have days of journeying ahead.” Lifting the pouch containing the mirror, she said, “If I ever figure out how to tap into the power of this, even Tresa will give us a wide berth and be tame.”

  Two days later, as they toiled up a steep grade, the bad luck of Tresa reached out for them again. Part of the roadway crumbled under the wagon. With a sharp cra
ck that echoed through the mountain pass, the right wheel broke, and the wagon lurched toward the precipice. Luckily, Sandy and Tia had been hiking, not riding, as a few of the bags of spices went hurtling into the void. Khefer maintained an iron grip on Sallea at his side to prevent her from falling while he urged the oxen to drag the cart a few more feet to a wider spot in the road.

  “Hold the cart, quickly,” he yelled.

  Mark, Rothan, and Djed hastened to grab at the wagon’s side, pulling it upright again, although it tilted a bit on the broken wheel. Face white, lip bleeding a little where she’d bitten it, Sallea climbed across Khefer and jumped to the ground, steadied by Mark. She spun on her heel to watch Khefer dismount from the driver’s seat.

  Breathing hard, the group stood staring at the wagon. Tia sank onto a convenient rock. “What do we do now?”

  Sandy shook her head. “I don’t want you walking any more than you already have, if we can help it.” She shot a glance at Rothan. “She’s in enough physical distress as it is with the pregnancy and the altitude.”

  “Can we repair the wheel?” Mark asked.

  Giving the reins to Sallea, Khefer gestured at Djed, and the two men edged carefully along the right side of the wagon to examine the spoked wooden hoop. “I think we can probably do a temporary fix, using wood from the cart itself to reinforce the cracked spokes, get where we’re going,” Khefer said.

  As he finished speaking, the right rear ox gave a gusty sigh and collapsed onto the road in a heap. Sallea and Khefer both ran to the animal, the latter running his hand over the ox’s heaving flank while Sallea rubbed its forehead and spoke in a soothing tone. Lowing softly, the ox flicked its ears.

  Khefer looked at Sandy. “Can you help, my lady?”

  “I’m not an animal doctor,” Sandy said, moving to kneel in the dust beside the stricken creature. “But I’ll see what I can do.”