Erak_s ransom ra-7

by John Flanagan

  As darkness fell, Selethen drew his men in, shortening the perimeter so that half his force could sleep. At least, that was the idea. An hour after nightfall, the quick, darting attacks began.

  There were never more than a dozen Tualaghi involved. But they would rise shrieking from the desert, having crept within stone's throw of the camp. Then they would dash in on the shield wall, killing a man here, losing one of their own there, then withdrawing, carrying their wounded with them. They were nuisance attacks, pure and simple. But they kept the entire Arridi camp alert and watchful throughout the night, preventing them from resting.

  Even though the attacks were feints, each one had to be countered as Halt and the others never knew when a genuine attack in force might come.

  The result was a nervous, sleepless night for the Arridi troops, punctuated by brief moments of violence and sudden terror.

  In the light of dawn, Halt turned bleary, red-rimmed eyes to the ridge line. He could see occasional movement there but nothing that presented him with a worthwhile target. The Arridi had lost four men killed in the first mass attack, and another two succumbed to their wounds overnight. There were several more wounded and most of these needed water – which was now in short supply. Selethen reluctantly told his medical orderlies to reduce the amount of water the wounded were receiving. It was a hard decision. Water was just about the only comfort they had out in the desert.

  He was visiting the wounded when Halt called to him. A white flag was waving over the crest of the ridge.

  'They want to parley,' Halt said.

  ***

  The tall rider Selethen had identified as Yusal Makali rode down the slope, accompanied by a rider carrying the white flag. Selethen, with Halt carrying a similar flag, stepped through the line of Arridi warriors and walked to meet them.

  'Yusal knows I'll respect the flag of truce. Yet he'd ignore it in a moment if it suited him,' Selethen said bitterly. 'I wish I could ask you to simply shoot him as he rides in.'

  Halt shrugged. 'We could do it, of course, but that wouldn't solve the problem that we're trapped and outnumbered. And we might not get another chance to negotiate.'

  They stopped half a dozen metres from the two mounted men. Yusal swung down from the saddle and advanced to meet them.

  He was taller than the average Arridi or Tualaghi, Halt saw, standing a good head above Halt himself and some centimetres taller than Selethen. He wore white, flowing robes and a kheffiyeh. White was a sensible colour in the searing desert heat. But whereas Selethen's robes were all white, Yusal's were trimmed in dark blue. And while the Arridi would wind the ends of the headdress around his face for protection, the Tualaghi left his flowing free. But the lower half of his face was hidden behind a dark blue, mask-like veil. Halt had heard the Arridi refer to their enemies as 'the Veiled Ones, Forgotten of God'. Now he understood the reference.

  Yusal's skin, what could be seen of it above the mask, was dark brown – burnt by years of desert sun and wind. Although the mask covered his lower face, it was obvious that the nose was prominent and curved, like a bird of prey's beak. His eyes were deep-set and hooded, under heavy brows and thick eyebrows. They were deep brown, almost black. They were the only feature Halt could make out yet he knew he would recognise Yusal again if he saw him without the veil. The eyes were cold, black and pitiless. There was no trace of mercy or warmth in them. They were a killer's eyes.

  'So, Wakir Seley el'then,' Yusal said, 'why are you following me?'

  The voice was muffled slightly by the veil. But it was harsh and unfriendly, like the eyes. So much for pleasantries, Halt thought.

  Selethen was equally to the point. 'You killed twenty of my men. And you have a prisoner with you. We want him.'

  Yusal shrugged. The movement was a contemptuous one. 'Come and take him then,' he challenged. There was a moment of silence. Then he added, 'You're in a bad position, Seley el'then. You're surrounded. You're outnumbered and your water's running short.'

  The last. statement was a guess, of course. Yusal had no idea how little water they had and Selethen wasn't about to inform him.

  'We have plenty of water,' he said evenly and again, Yusal shrugged. Selethen's statements meant little to him.

  'If you say so. The fact is, you will run out eventually, while I can send for all the water I need. I can afford to wait while thirst and heat starts to kill your men. You can't.'

  He glanced back up the slope that surrounded them on all sides.

  'You can attack us if you like. But it's uphill and we outnumber you four to one. There's only one way such an attack will end.'

  'We might surprise you,' Halt said and the dark, hooded eyes swung to him, studying him, boring into him. Halt realised the unwavering stare and the silence that accompanied it were intended to unnerve him. He raised one eyebrow in a bored fashion.

  'You're one of the archers, aren't you?' Yusal said. 'But in spite of your marksmanship, once the battle gets to close quarters, numbers will tell.'.

  'You requested this parley, Yasal,' Selethen said. 'Was it merely to tell us how hopeless our position is? Or did you have something worthwhile to say?' He allowed the same tone of contempt that the Tualaghi had used to creep into his words.

  Yusal looked back at him.

  'Surrender,' he said simply and Selethen responded with a short bark of laughter.

  'And have you kill us out of hand?' he asked.

  The Tualaghi leader shook his head. 'You're worth money to me, Selethen. I can ask a large ransom for you. I'd be mad to kill you. And I'm sure there are people who will pay for the foreigners with you as well. I've kept the other Skandian alive for that very reason. Why would I do differently with you?'

  Selethen hesitated. The Tualaghi were motivated by greed above all else and he was inclined to believe Yusal. As he thought about it, the Tualaghi leader voiced the alternative.

  'Or stay here and die of thirst. It's only a matter of time. When you're weaker, we'll have no problem walking in and taking the weapons from your hands. And if you make me wait, I might not be so charitable.'

  He turned away, as if disinterested, no matter which course Selethen might choose. The Wakir took Halt's sleeve and led him a few paces away.

  'This concerns your people as well. What do you say?' he asked in a low voice. Halt looked at the tall figure standing a few metres away, his back to them.

  'Do you believe him?' he asked and Selethen nodded, a fractional movement of his head.

  'A Tualaghi will do anything for money,' he said. 'At least this way we'll have a chance. As he says, if we wait, we'll grow progressively weaker until we have to give in anyway.'

  Halt considered the situation. He and Gilan might break through the Tualaghi lines under cover of darkness. But even that wasn't certain. Expert though they might be at unseen movement, the ground was virtually devoid of cover. And scores of eyes would be on watch. And if they did succeed in getting past the Tualaghi, then what? They'd be on foot, with the nearest help many kilometres away. By the time they reached Mararoc to bring help, Selethen and his men would be dead. Evanlyn, Horace and Svengal too. If they surrendered now, they'd all be in reasonable condition and an opportunity might arise to escape or turn the tables on their captors. Better now than later when they were weakened and half mad from thirst.

  'Very well,' he said. 'Let's discuss terms.'

  Chapter 35

  Will was checking the straps and ties that attached his equipment to Tug's saddle when he heard footsteps crunching the sand behind him. He turned to see Umar approaching, a worried look on his face.

  'There's something you ought to know before you leave,' he said.

  It was four days after the race – a race that was already set to become part of the Bedullin verbal history. In that time, Will and Tug had been feted by the tribe, and fussed over nonstop by Cielema. The cheerful, grinning foreigner and his amazing barrel-bodied horse had become popular figures in the camp. Hassan and Will had become good friend
s too – the young man bore no grudge for being defeated in the race and losing his claim to Tug. The Bedullin were inveterate gamblers, as Will had noticed, but they accepted their losses without complaint.

  The friendship was helped along by the fact that Umar, delighted with the outcome of the race, had presented Hassan with a horse from his own herd – a blood relative of Sandstorm. Hassan was overjoyed and had volunteered to guide Will on his way to Mararoc.

  The mystery of the faltering Northseeker had finally been solved. Asked how he had planned to navigate the trackless desert, Will had shown them the Northseeker and explained the secret of its magnetic properties. To demonstrate, he had brought the blade of his saxe knife close to the needle and showed how it wavered away from the earth's magnetic field. It took only seconds for Umar to see the connection.

  'You rode through the Red Hills?' he said and Will confirmed the fact. 'But they're almost pure iron – huge deposits of iron. Surely that would serve to make your instrument unreliable.'

  As Will realised the truth of the statement, he felt a small sense of relief. In the back of his mind, he had still harboured a vague suspicion that Selethen had given him a false map. On top of that, he felt an unreasonable guilt that he had somehow failed Halt's belief in him. Now that he could see a reason for the mistake – and realised that he couldn't have foreseen it – he could lay those fears to rest.

  While he had been preparing Tug for their departure, a rider had come in from the desert – dusty and dishevelled, riding a tired horse. He had reported straight away to Umar's tent. Will had watched with no particular interest. Doubtless it was some business of concern only to the Bedullin. Now, however, he wasn't so sure.

  He followed Umar to the wide-spread, low tent that he occupied with Cielema. Stooping, he entered and made the required lips-brow-lips greeting gesture. In the past few days, he had become familiar with it.

  The tent was floored with a thick carpet, with soft cushions scattered across it. He selected one and sat cross-legged on it in the tribe's fashion. A Bedullin he hadn't seen before was sitting on another, eating and drinking eagerly as Cielema plied him with fruit and water. He looked up at Will, then glanced curiously at Umar.

  'This is Jamil, one of our scouts,' Umar explained and the Bedullin nodded in greeting. He was in his thirties, Will estimated, although it was hard to tell with the Bedullin men, whose skin was usually brown and heavily lined by the sun.

  'This is the foreigner I told you about. His name is Will.'

  Again Will made the greeting gesture. It seemed appropriate, he thought. Jamil seemed a little surprised that a foreigner should have a grasp of Bedullin etiquette and he responded hastily. Will glanced at Umar, a question on his face. The Aseikh gestured to Jamil to proceed.

  'Tell Will what you have told us.'

  Jamil finished eating an orange, licked the last of the juice off his fingers, and wiped his mouth with a cloth.

  'You were travelling with a group of Arridi soldiers?' he said. It was as much a statement as a question. Will nodded confirmation, his brow furrowing. He sensed, from the man's serious manner, that something had gone wrong.

  'That's right,' he said.

  'And there were other foreigners as well… two of them dressed as you are.' He indicated the mottled brown cloak Will was wearing. Again, Will nodded. The Bedullin scout shook his head in displeasure at the fact and Will's premonition of impending bad news deepened.

  'What's happened to them?' he asked. The Bedullin looked at him a moment, then, thankfully, came straight to the point without any useless attempts to soften the news.

  'They've been captured by the Tualaghi,' he said.

  Will looked quickly at Umar. 'The Tualaghi?' he queried.

  The Aseikh's expression was one of intense distaste.

  'Brigands. Bandits. The Forgotten of God. They're nomads like us but they prey on other travellers and undefended villages. They encircled your friends and captured them. Now they're taking them towards the northern massif, along with Wakir Seley el'then and his surviving men. There was a skirmish,' he added in explanation and Will felt a stab of fear.

  'A skirmish? Were any of the foreigners hurt?'

  Jamil shook his head. 'No. They were taken and chained with the other foreigner. They are captives like him. It seems that – '

  This was all moving too fast for Will. He held up a hand to stop the Bedullin's account.

  'Just a moment! The other foreigner? What other foreigner are you talking about?'

  Jamil nodded apologetically, realising that more explanation was required.

  'The Tualaghi had captured another foreigner. One of the wild men from the north. There was one of them with your group too,' he added.

  Will's head was spinning. There could only be one person he was talking about. But Erak had been in Arridi hands last he had heard.

  'This is crazy,' he said. 'You must mean Erak. But he was being taken to Mararoc with an Arridi caravan. How has he suddenly turned up with these Tualaghi?'

  Jamil shrugged. Umar rubbed his nose thougthfully.

  'Perhaps the Tualaghi attacked the caravan and captured the Northman?' he suggested.

  Will nodded to himself, thinking furiously. If that had been the case, Gilan and Halt would have been able to read the signs of the attack. Then they would have set out after the ambushers, with Selethen and his men in company. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. It didn't matter how it had happened, he realised. The plain fact was that it had happened.

  He was surprised, however, that Halt and Gilan had been so careless as to allow the Tualaghi bandits to get wind of them.

  'Do you have any idea how the Tualaghi learned that my friends were tracking them?' he asked.

  This time, the Bedullin's eyes slid away in shame. He hesitated a moment before he could bring himself to answer.

  'I'm afraid I led them to your friends' camp,' he said. And as Will began to rise angrily from his sitting position, he hastily held out a hand.

  'No! Please! It was unintentional! I had no idea your friends were there. I saw the Tualaghi party in the distance and I went closer to find out more about them. They were a much larger party than usual – at least two hundred, maybe more. After dark, I crept close to their camp to see more clearly. That was when I saw the Northman – they had him chained up in the open.

  'I left before dawn and headed towards here. I must have passed close to your friends' camp without ever seeing them. But a Tualaghi rearguard scout found my tracks and followed them later that morning – and they led him to your friends. They were travelling parallel to the Veiled Ones, several kilometres away. If I hadn't inadvertently crossed their track, the Tualaghi would never have known they were there.'

  'How do you know all this?' Will asked.

  The scout replied unhappily. 'I went back the next day to check further. I had no idea then that my tracks had been discovered. But I saw where the Tualaghi had followed me, saw where they crossed your friends' path and turned to follow them. They must have thought I was part of that group. I'm sorry, Will. I had no idea I was bringing danger to your friends.'

  Will waved the apology aside. It hadn't been Jamil's fault, he realised. It had just been damnable bad luck – Jamil had been the chance, unexpected element that had led to Halt and the others being captured. As Halt had told him so many times, if anything can go wrong, it will.

  'You couldn't have known,' he said. 'Do you have any idea where they might be taking them?' He addressed the question to both Jamil and Umar.

  'I'd say they were heading for the massif,' Jamil said. Will looked to Umar, who explained.

  'It's a huge range of cliffs and hills and mountains to the north-west. There are Arridi villages scattered throughout the hills and the Tualaghi often ride in and impose themselves on the villagers – stealing their crops and killing their livestock. A party of two hundred would have no trouble taking over a village – or even a small town.

  Chances are the
y have one in mind and they'll use it as their headquarters for a month or two. Then, when the herds and food supplies are exhausted, they'll move on.'

  Will reached into his shirt and produced the map Selethen had given him.

  'I've got to go after them! Show me on this,' he demanded. But Umar put his hand over the younger man's to calm him.

  'Slow down, friend Will,' he said. 'Nothing will be gained by rushing off into the desert without a plan. The Tualaghi are dangerous enemies. I need to talk with my council and then we'll see what can be done.'

  Will went to argue but the pressure of Umar's grip increased.

  'Trust me on this, Will. Give me an hour,' he said. Reluctantly, Will relaxed, folding the chart and returning it to its hiding place inside his shirt.

  'Very well,' he said. 'An hour. But then I'm leaving.'

  ***

  Will returned to where Tug waited patiently and loosened the saddle girths so the horse would be more comfortable. Then he sat, his back resting against the bole of a palm tree, his eyes closed, while he tried to make sense of the situation.

  Somehow, he would have to rescue his friends. He knew that much. But how? He was alone and he was unfamiliar with the territory. Against that, his friends were being held by two hundred armed bandits – cruel and merciless men who would cut their throats without hesitation. He was a foreigner. He would stand out among the Arridi villagers, even if he could manage to find the correct village in the first place. He realised that he didn't even know where to pick up the trail left by the Tualaghi. And if his recent attempts at navigation were anything to judge by, he'd probably never find them.

  He must have dozed, affected by the heat of the day. He was woken by the sound of Umar lowering himself to the sand beside him with a faint grunt of exertion.

  'We've talked,' he said simply. Will looked at him. There was no hint of what he and his advisers had decided in his bland expression.

  'Will you let Hassan guide me to where the Tualaghi captured my friends?' he said.