The raiders seemed to have reached a conclusion. They faced the travelers again, the elf at their center, flanked by three humans, a halfling, and a goliath, doubtless brought up from the ranks in case Ruhm tried anything. They were a hard-looking lot, showing the scars of many a struggle, their faces grim. Aric was glad they weren’t fighting, but suspected that had only been postponed by Myrana’s action. And possibly not for long.
“Very well,” the elf said. “We’ll take the girl at her word. For now. Girl, you’ll lead us to this place, where we can set an ambush for your family’s caravan.”
“And you’ll leave me and my friends alone and unharmed, until you get what you can from the caravan,” Myrana insisted. “If even one of us is mistreated in any way, then you’ll have to kill us all, because I will never breathe a word of that location.”
The elf looked disappointed. Perhaps he’d hoped only to spare Myrana. “You’ll have to give up your weapons, of course.”
“And be utterly defenseless against whatever horrors the desert springs upon us? Nonsense. You already know we have no illusions that we could beat all of you in combat, else we would be fighting now, not talking. But we give up nothing—no water, no food, no weapons. Then, when you’ve attacked the caravan and stolen your fill, you let us go.”
“Let you go? Ha!” the halfling said. Standing fully erect, she might barely reached the elf’s waist. But she stood with back and shoulders hunched, a slender javelin in her hands, so she only seemed as tall as his thighs. She was thin, seemingly young, but as battle-worn as the others. She wore a vest and loincloth of some sort of pale, almost yellow skin, and sandals against the heat of the desert sands. Her brown hair was knotted once at the back of her head, and otherwise untamed—in that sense, it matched her attitude.
The elf shot her a glare. “Of course we’ll let you go, once we have those riches,” he assured them. Aric had seen five-year-old children who were more proficient liars.
“Very well,” Myrana said. “Then we have a deal.”
“A deal,” the elf echoed. He turned to face the rest of the band. “Nobody’s to lay a hand on these,” he called. “To save their own miserable hides, they’re helping us to ambush a wealthy caravan.”
This news was met with some cheers but much grumbling, several members of the band seemingly more interested in murder today than riches tomorrow. But the elf and those he had consulted ran things, apparently, and general agreement was voiced by all.
Then they were off again, the travelers still on foot, herded along at a rapid trot by mounted raiders. Aric wasn’t sure this was any improvement over a quick, bloody death in battle—keeping pace with the raiders seemed sure to kill them anyway.
2
As night fell, the raiders stopped and made camp. They built fires, over which they cooked erdlu eggs. The aroma made Aric’s mouth water and his stomach growl. He still had a little of Amoni’s lirr, dry and flavorless compared to the erdlu smell, and diminishing stores of water to wash it down. The raiders drank ale and wine, screamed with laughter at jokes they told one another, sang songs.
The raiders allowed them a fire, in the middle of camp where there were raiders on every side, preventing any escape. When it appeared that none of them were paying close attention to the captives, Aric tore off a chunk of lirr with his teeth. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Myrana,” he said as he chewed. “They’ve no intention of letting us go alive, even after the ambush.”
“I know that, Aric. Just as I know that if we’d tried to stand and fight, we’d all be food for the carrion-eaters tonight, and they would have what little we own.” She drank from her water skin. “Besides, I would not betray my own house to such as these. The place I’ll take them is well off House Ligurto’s trading route.”
“Then they’ll kill us for certain!”
“They’ll kill us either way,” Sellis said. He had accepted Myrana’s plan, but grudgingly.
“True enough. I know this won’t keep us alive forever,” Myrana admitted. “I just hope it works long enough to find a way to escape.”
“Looks hard,” Ruhm said.
“Impossible, or close to it,” Amoni added.
“For now, yes. Over the next few days, perhaps they’ll relax their guard,” Myrana said. “Every day we live is one more chance for us. Dying today would have meant no chances. I’m sorry I didn’t have time to discuss it with you before I spoke up, but I honestly just thought of it at that moment.”
“And saved us all,” Aric said. “Thank you, Myrana. Now that I understand what you had in mind, I think you made the right decision.”
“Let’s hope,” Ruhm said gloomily.
“Apparently that’s all we’ve got left to us,” Sellis said. “Hope, and empty stomachs. Tomorrow, Myrana, you’ll have to remind them that not mistreating us requires giving us food and water, else we’re not likely to live long enough to reach the ambush spot.”
“I’ll work on it,” Myrana promised.
Aric ate the last of his lirr, staring into the fire, turning every now and then to let it warm the side of him facing the night’s cold.
3
She found a chance to bring it up the next day, on the trail. She was near the front of the procession, riding a borrowed erdlu. She had been loaned it so that she could keep up with the leaders of the long line of raiders, since she was supposed to be directing them to a spot only she knew. The elf from the day before, whose name was Ceadrin, jogged beside her. He had a certain roguish charm, and he had been true to his word, so far, keeping other raiders who might have been disinclined to honor his deal from laying hands on her or the others.
“Either my friends and I must be allowed to hunt our own game,” she said, “or you’ll have to feed us.”
“Was that part of our bargain, girl? Somehow I disremember that.”
“It’s part and parcel. If you let us starve, that’s mistreating us. The deal was no mistreatment.”
Ceadrin regarded her—approvingly, she thought, although she wasn’t the least bit interested in his opinion of her. His eyes had a light orange cast to them. “You drive a hard bargain.”
“It’s in my blood.”
“And yet you’re willing to betray that blood?”
“Family ties aren’t always the strongest bonds,” she said, hoping that was vague enough to get by. If she needed to, she could make up an argument, but she hoped it didn’t come to that. “As you must know, since I see a scattering of other elves among your band, but not an entire tribe’s worth.”
Ceadrin shrugged. “You’re right. I was of the Starspeeder clan, but there were … difficulties, let’s say. You wouldn’t want to hear more than that.”
“I’m sure you’re right.”
“There are more of my clan, back at the fort. But not many, I grant you.”
“What fort is that?”
He waved a hand behind him, encompassing the whole lot of raiders. “Oh, we’re just one raiding party,” he explained. We’ve a fort, once called Dunnat. There we’ve three times this number. Almost too many, really. Although we go raiding in smaller bands, it’s still a lot to share with. And I’ve never been fond of sharing.”
“Well, you’ll be a hero when you return with the goods you’ve stolen from House Ligurto,” Myrana told him. She allowed herself a slight grin, then pretended to try to hide it. “And I’ll have achieved a small measure of vengeance, myself. It should work out well for us both.”
“You—what’s your name, girl? Myrana?”
“That’s right.”
“You might just have the spirit of a raider. Perhaps when this is done …”
“Then I’ll want to be on my way with my friends. Aric, the half-elf, he’s from Gulg, and longs to return there. The others and I vowed to accompany him that far, and I mean to keep that promise.”
“Gulg?” the elf asked. “I’d never have guessed it.”
“It’s been a long voyage, Ceadrin. We’ve all made s
ome changes, or had them forced upon us. There was a day you’d have looked at him and known exactly where he was from, but that was ages ago.”
“And you, Myrana? Where’s home to you?”
She indicated the desert before them. No harm in telling the truth on this score. “Anyplace there’s a tent pitched and a blanket to go over me. And a bargain to be struck—the lot of a trader’s life. All I know are the stars and moons and the shifting sands.”
“Pity you’re so determined to honor that vow,” Ceadrin said. “There’s much about you that makes you fit to join our group. I think I’d like that a great deal, in fact.”
“Even though I’d be one more to share with?”
“Even though.”
“Well, my word is not given lightly,” she said. Never mind that she had been lying to Ceadrin since they’d met. It was a simple matter of survival. And he was lying to her, too, which made it easier. “But we’ll see what the next days bring, won’t we?”
“We will, at that,” Ceadrin said. “I suppose we will indeed see.”
4
That night, they had erdlu eggs and wine, along with the raiders. Their guard was no more lax than it had been the first night, but they seemed to be growing more accustomed to the captives, and in addition to including them in their meal, the raiders engaged them in conversation.
For two more days they journeyed with Myrana riding most of the time. Given her damaged leg, Aric was thankful for this, but the others had to hurry to keep up with the raiders.
Finally, they reached a spot that indeed seemed ideal for an ambush. Two tall ridges formed a wide canyon that converged at one end to a narrow pass through which perhaps six or seven mounted people could ride abreast. The hills on either were covered in large rocks and scrubby plants that would offer both cover and weapons. The gap wasn’t tight enough to make travelers anxious, but it was so slim that raiders could flank them from both sides and easily cut them down from above.
“Why would your family’s caravan pass through here?” Ceadrin asked Myrana when she showed them the place. “It’s far from the main trading routes.”
“Which is exactly why,” Myrana said. “The main trading routes are where most of your kind would look for them. And they’re where our competitors also travel—sometimes competing caravans are more dangerous than the most bloodthirsty raiders. You also won’t find a faster route between Urik and Nibenay.”
“Interesting,” Ceadrin said. “When will they be here?”
Myrana looked to the sky, as if it could provide the answer she sought. “Two days, perhaps. Maybe three, depending on how hard the craftsmen of Urik are dealing. But when they come, they’ll have plenty of rich obsidian in their wagons: weapons, carvings, jewelry, and raw stone. Plus, of course, whatever they acquired in Draj and Raam, and a certain amount of gold.”
“That sounds fine,” Ceadrin said.
“So let’s kill ‘em now!” the halfling female they’d met before said. “We’re here, we know when the caravan comes.”
“There’ll be no killing,” Ceadrin countered.
“No killing?” the halfling echoed, her disappointment clear. “But—”
Ceadrin raised a hand, to silence her and the other raiders who had already chimed in on her side. “No,” he said. “We don’t know what’ll happen when the caravan arrives. This looks like a good place for a successful ambush. We’ll be on both sides of them, with elevation on our side and boulders we can tumble down upon them. But it’s possible that a hostage will come in handy, as well, and for that we’ll need the girl.”
“Kill the others, then! All they are now is more mouths to feed!”
Ceadrin looked as if he were giving the idea some consideration.
“Kill them, and I kill myself,” Myrana warned. “Then there’s no hostage. But let us live, and I know I can help in one other way.”
“How?” the raiders’ lone goliath asked.
“If I show myself, as they’re reaching the narrowest part of the pass, they’ll stop. Then you can make your attack, and even if they try to run, it’ll be from a dead halt. You’ll have a much easier time of it if I’m here. And cooperating.”
“She makes sense,” Ceadrin said. He turned toward Myrana and her friends and lowered his voice. “You always make sense, Myrana. It causes me to be suspicious of you. If I find that you’ve deceived us in any way, you’ll wish you had died that first day. I’ll let my friends kill yours, slowly, while you watch. And your own demise will be excruciatingly slow and painful. I promise you that.” He grinned at her, his orange eyes boring into her. “And like you, I take my promises seriously.”
5
Two days passed. The raiders and their captives waited in separate groups, high on the twin ridges overlooking the pass. Aric, Amoni and Myrana had been kept with Ceadrin’s group, while Ruhm and Sellis had been made to climb the opposite slope with a group commanded by the halfling. Aric was still working out the hierarchy of the raiders, but he gathered it had much to do with an individual’s ruthlessness and skill in battle. The halfling, for all her diminutive size, appeared tough, with no sense of fear or mercy.
Three raiders had taken the mounts and wagons to a point outside the hills to wait out of sight from the caravan regardless of which approach it took.
On the third morning, Aric woke up to find that most of the raiders had taken up their positions on the hillside. Myrana was nearby, sitting on the skins she slept under. Amoni stood close to her, staring into the southeast. They couldn’t escape from here, but none of the raiders paid them any attention. Their gazes were fixed, instead, on something that might have been a cloud of dust in the far distance. “How long do you think we have, Myrana?” Aric asked. “Sooner or later, they’ll figure out that the House Ligurto caravan isn’t coming through here after all.”
“They will,” Myrana agreed. “What I didn’t tell you is that this pass is indeed used for transit—just not by us.” She nodded her head toward the smudge on the horizon. “I’m not sure who that is coming this way, but it’s not House Ligurto.”
“Someone’s really going to be ambushed?” Amoni asked.
“So it would appear,” Myrana said. “And we’d better be ready to take advantage of it, because I doubt we’ll get another chance.”
“I wish we could tell Sellis and Ruhm.”
“Sellis will figure it out. I don’t know Ruhm well, but I expect he will, too.”
“You’re probably right,” Aric agreed. “I just hope we decide to take advantage of it in the same way.”
“Me too,” Amoni said. “And I hope our captors don’t figure out that’s not a House Ligurto caravan until it’s too late. Because they are going to be very, very angry when they do.”
They watched the approaching party, more than just a plume of dust at this point, but not yet discernible. Aric’s fingers rested lightly on the hilt of his sword, tapping against it. His left foot was twitching.
“Can you be still?” Myrana asked him.
“I’m anxious,” he admitted. “Since we were captured, we’ve been living under the threat of imminent death, any time they tired of us. But now … now death is more imminent than ever. Even I can tell that group isn’t a caravan. They’re moving too fast. Once the raiders figure that out, they’ve no reason to let us go on living.”
“I have a feeling that once they figure that out, they’re going to be a little busy,” Myrana said. “Those are thri-kreen.”
“You can see that far?”
“Far enough to make that out. Nothing else moves quite like thri-kreen.”
She was right, Aric realized. He remembered seeing individual thri-kreen in Nibenay—not often, as their insectlike race was drawn to be part of their birth clutch, and failing that to join any other pack available—and their odd build, taller than all but the tallest elves, with powerful legs and four arms and sand-colored carapaces sweeping behind them like cloaks, gave their gaits a unique and noteworthy strangeness
. Their heads seemed oddly unbalanced on slender necks, and their antennae were constantly in motion as well.
More notable still was the sight when two or more walked down the street together. While each thri-kreen individual looked awkward, each step an unlikely series of jerky motions, in combination they moved exactly the same. Whether there were two or six, the largest group Aric had observed for any length of time, their motions matched exactly, as if there were only one mind operating all six bodies, all six sets of arms and legs.
“I’ve never seen them in combat,” he said. “But I know what you mean.”
“That’s them, all right,” Amoni said. The sun was still climbing into the sky. Sunlight gleamed off Amoni’s copper skin from the knees up, and below that her legs were shaded. “In combat it’s not quite the same, because they’re fierce fighters and they’ll take any advantage.”
Aric had an idea. He rose and stood next to Amoni. The raiders on the far hill were still completely in the shade, but he was, like Amoni, half lit by the sun. Soon enough the raiders would tell them to sit, because they would give away the ambush if they were seen.
So he slipped his sword a few inches out of its scabbard, facing into the sun and tilting it slightly. Sunlight winked from the steel blade. He directed that wink toward the southeast, toward the oncoming thri-kreen.
“What are you up to now?” Myrana asked.
“I’m letting them know someone’s up here. Stand between me and the other slope, Myrana, so they don’t see.”
Myrana hurried to do as he bade her. In her position, Amoni was already partially blocking him. “Clever,” she said.
“It’s my turn, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know about that. But this is an excellent time for it.”
The compliment made him beam almost as much as the sun flashing off his blade was.
He couldn’t keep it up for long, he knew. If he wasn’t careful one of the raiders on his side of the hill would see what he was doing, and then the three of them would likely be slain before the thri-kreen even made it this far. He had no way of knowing if the insectlike humanoids had spotted him, but he knew if he’d been in their place, looking toward where the canyon funneled down, he would have seen such a sign.
City Under the Sand: A Dark Sun Novel (Dungeons & Dragons: Dark Sun) Page 24
