Rondel whipped around to Shadya’s bedroll. “Where is Shadya?” He felt a bit of panic.
“She took the dumb camel for a walk.”
“Really? Why?”
“Gods if I know,” she snapped. “Let’s not talk about her.”
Rondel frowned. What’s her problem? “Yeah, sure,” he said, trying to keep the peace.
“Good. You’ve been resting for days. It’s been too long since we’ve sparred. You need to start working the kinks out so that you’re ready when we get to Hubul’s Host. We still have no idea what we’re facing and I’m worried.”
“Why didn’t you say something before?”
“I’m saying something now. Draw your sword.”
“We can talk—”
“I’m done talking,” she hissed and rushed forward.
Their weapons clashed. A jolt from the force of the blow raced through Rondel’s body. He was glad he had already relieved himself.
* * *
Days later at a small oasis surrounded by date palms and lilacs, Rondel collapsed beside the fire next to Shadya.
His chest heaved. His body ached all over. He didn’t think he had lost that much endurance or strength in the short time he had been unable to train. Yet, he felt almost as bad as he did when Andrasta first started showing him how to use a sword.
Never has she pushed me so hard.
Distant grunts sounded in the dark as Andrasta continued to drill without him. Intermittently, the swish of her sword cut through the air.
“Are you finally done?” asked Shadya.
“Yes,” said Rondel. His voice sounded muted and hollow. It would settle once his breathing returned to normal.
“I don’t know how you put up with her.”
Rondel tilted his head back. “What do you mean?”
She forced him to sit and began to rub on his shoulders and neck. “She’s so hard on you. Three days straight, morning and night for hours at a time and all the while she cuts you down with her words while beating on you with her sword. Why would you still want to partner with her?”
He winced as she worked a knot. “It’s . . . complicated.”
“No. It’s not. I understand that she saved your life and you two have an agreement. But it’s like she only keeps you around to beat up on you so she can feel better about herself.”
“That’s not true at all.”
“If you say so.”
He turned around slowly as her hands fell away. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s not true.”
“It’s just . . . I wonder if you don’t have feelings for her.”
He put a sweaty arm around her. “Shadya, you know that’s not true. She’s a business partner.” A friend. “Nothing more. How could I have feelings for anyone else when I have you in my life?”
She smiled. “I guess I just needed to hear that. I don’t want to lose you.”
“You won’t, I promise.”
* * *
Andrasta lay awake, staring at a clear night sky littered with stars. A sliver of a moon hung to her right. She took a deep breath, letting her mind go blank. Her lids slowly closed and the twinkling lights above disappeared. Her muscles craved sleep and she felt her body sink into the ground as she relaxed. After four times of trying to go to sleep, it seemed she would finally succeed.
Her breathing slowed.
A small sigh cut through the night to her left. Roused awake by the innocent noise, her lips pressed tight together.
She swore silently.
I should wake them. If I can’t sleep, why should they?
She opened her eyes and sat up. Despite the desire to sleep, she just wasn’t ready. Every time she came close, a small noise from Rondel or Shadya would bring her back. She didn’t know why. They simply slept back-to-back, sighing or breathing with a peaceful contentment that made Andrasta cringe.
The noises were quieter than Rondel’s occasional snores, but it wasn’t the volume that kept her awake, it was the meaning behind them.
Even if I think it’s the dumbest thing Rondel can do, he’s genuinely happy. Why should I stand in his way?
She threw off her blanket and rose. Though she had trained earlier until she nearly puked, she thought a good round of stretching and limbering exercises would do her some good.
She spared one quick glance over her shoulder, watching Shadya drape an arm over Rondel’s side. Enough light shone for her to make out the slight smile that formed on his face.
Maybe its better we cut this off sooner than later.
She left camp and walked around the oasis, passing a couple of date palms that stood on the opposite side of the nearby pool of water. Small shrubs sat intermittently around the pool. The oasis itself rested inside a bowl between hills and was made from packed sand and dirt.
Andrasta scanned the hills, noting several descending trails. The depressions ranged in size and shape, all leading to the pool below. She followed a set of tracks down to where a mother fox and two cubs lapped at the water. Other animals had already come and gone while she had tried to sleep. More would come before the night ended.
Andrasta looked back at the hills, the limbering exercises long forgotten with the new found interest in studying the animal tracks. She spotted the ruts left by the wagon easily enough, the straight depression of wheels on either side of Athar’s prints.
At least once I’m gone I won’t have to worry about that blasted camel.
Andrasta tensed. Something had changed. The night had been quiet when she rose, but the stillness hadn’t been as pronounced as it suddenly felt. Her eyes flitted back to the watering hole. The foxes were no longer there. Moving her gaze up, the last of the cubs skittered quickly over the hill from which they came.
Her hand went to her sword. She lowered herself into a crouch and drew it clear.
The faintest of scuffles sounded behind her, the soft underside of a bare foot touching the ground. She fought her natural instincts to move.
Not yet.
A drop of sweat ran down the back of her neck. She adjusted her grip.
She dropped to her knee, spun and swept out her sword. A blade whistled over head where she once stood. Hers cut through leather and flesh, slowing as it continued into bone.
A shocked gasp sounded as the leg of her attacker fell away just above the knee. Off balance, the man fell. A shadow flickered off to her right. She rolled as a knife thudded into the ground behind her. Her blade came up to deflect another knife sailing in from her left. The clank of metal echoed loudly.
“Rondel! Up!” she yelled.
Two men emerged from the shadows, one from the left, another from the right. Like the first attacker, they were dressed in black. A crescent sliver sat on their upper arms. They each held drawn scimitars.
She glanced down at the first man who had attacked her. Unlike most who’d be grasping at their stump to stop the flow of spurting blood, the man actually tried to swing his blade at her again. Blood loss caught up with him. The scimitar fell from his hands and he went still.
A scream ripped the night.
“Your cry for help was useless,” said one of the men. “Others saw to your friend and the abomination you protect. They’re already dead.”
Her stomach dropped. No. I just left them.
A shout of rage sounded. Swords clashed.
She grinned. “Not yet, they aren’t.”
The two men exchanged confused glances.
She drew her throwing dagger in one quick motion, flinging it at the man on her left. He deflected the throw while diving to the side. She charged, closing the distance faster than the man had anticipated. She slashed down. He parried and countered. The other joined the fight and momentum briefly swung their way.
They pressed and she found herself retreating. The stories Rondel and Shadya had told about the skill of Hubul’s Host seemed to be more accurate than she had thought. Rarely, had she seen such consistent
skill.
She deflected a sweeping cut, swayed aside from another, then jumped back from a thrust to the torso.
She thought of Rondel. And he’s supposed to face men like these alone, while also protecting Shadya? Though she still heard a distant fight by their camp, she knew the two men had been right about her partner’s fate. He’s as good as dead unless I make it there soon.
Andrasta blocked out thoughts of Rondel and narrowed her focus on the flashing silver blades. Her sword clanged against a scimitar from the man to her right. Rather than pull away, she stepped in, and slid her blade down the weapon’s length. As he tried to withdraw, she spun and shouldered into him. The other foe pulled his attack lest he strike his own companion.
Andrasta seized on the confusion, withdrawing her Relian dagger and switched fighting styles. She slashed wildly with her sword. The wide, chaotic strokes acted as the distraction she intended. When her closest opponent took a step back, she stepped in and flicked the dagger at his thigh, near the knee. The man didn’t collapse, but the slicing of muscle and tendon caused him to stumble. She kicked him in the ankle. He fell.
She leaped at the last man. He gripped his sword with two hands. However, the power he gained with the technique slowed him. Andrasta swayed, ducked, then shifted in three quick movements. She turned her blade up and rammed it into the man’s chest. It crunched through ribs. He gasped, choked on a rush of blood, and died.
Spinning quickly, she finished the last opponent.
Safe from her attackers, she listened and heard nothing. Her head swiveled about the area expecting those who had attacked Rondel to emerge.
A raspy, defiant yell cried out. She ran toward it.
* * *
One minute Rondel dreamed things he’d be embarrassed to share with just about anyone, dreams he hoped would come true with Shadya. The next minute the dream ended, interrupted by what he thought had been a shout of his name. An intense burning in his chest that made his skin ache followed.
Despite the deep sleep he had been in moments before, he woke without the grogginess he usually felt. And that was why he didn’t move a muscle.
“Learn to trust your instincts,” he could hear Andrasta say.
He cracked an eye.
Dim red coals smoldered several feet away. Wisps of smoke crawled upward into a clear night sky. Starlight gave him the light he hoped to have from the fire. Looking past the coals, he saw Andrasta missing from her spot.
Yet, there’s a smell of sweat in the air.
A faint scrape of something against the bark of a date palm near their camp reached him. It was low, barely audible.
Thank the gods I still have the ears of a musician.
He reminded himself that he needed to thank Andrasta yet again as he wrapped his fingers around the hilt of his short sword. It lay at his side per her suggestion. He began flexing and relaxing his muscles beneath his clothes in order to work some blood into his still limbs.
Daring to crack his eye-lid wider, he saw a black silhouette appear. The figure wore a silver crescent on the sleeves of his shirt, a mirror image of the moon above. He held a withdrawn scimitar.
A small whimper came from behind, almost like a whisper in his ear. He realized it was Shadya dreaming, oblivious to the danger creeping toward them.
Probably for the best. But how to do this? If I attack too soon, I’ll give up my advantage of surprise. If I wait, someone else could be creeping up from the other side. And if Shadya wakes at any point and screams, it will ruin everything.
A tiny glint from above, just at the corner of his peripheral made his decision. It was too low, too bright to be a star in the sky.
There is another.
He swung up, sword still in it’s sheathe while arcing through the air. A wide-bladed scimitar, twice the size and twice as intimidating as his short sword sailed down at Shadya’s still form. Weapons clashed in an odd clacking sound as Rondel deflected the blow. The scimitar thudded into the ground just inches from Shadya.
He rose to his knees, grabbing her by the arm. Eyes wide and body rigid, he pulled, but it was as if she was frozen in place. Then he was too.
He recognized the tingling sensation crawling across his skin and the pressure all around him.
Sorcery. Which one?
The man whose weapon he had deflected, met his eyes and smiled through a coarse, black beard. “Now you die beside the abomination you protect.”
His sword swept up, but paused as a low, gurgling, growl came from the other side of shrubbery outside the clearing. A man screamed in what sounded like his last breath. The man with the scimitar looked over his shoulder in alarm.
Rondel had control of his body once more.
Andrasta must have killed the sorcerer.
Shadya cried out and scooted backward. The move grabbed the attention of the man before them. Rondel stabbed, but his opponent stepped aside. His eyes flicked behind Rondel.
The other figure!
Rondel dropped as a blade whooshed over his head. He rolled. A sword struck the earth. He rolled again at least a half dozen more times with a stab at the ground crunching behind him. After the sixth roll, he was near the dying fire. He thrust his blade into the embers and flipped them at his opponent. Ashes took to the air.
The man waved his hand wildly, stepping away.
Rondel got to his feet. Shadya shuffled back across the clearing as the second attacker moved toward her. The two cursed violently at each other.
Rondel stepped in her direction but the other man blocked his path, blinking rapidly. Rondel lunged, intent on ending him quickly. However, his opponent managed to parry the attack and counter.
He could have pressed and had me off balance. The man blinked again. But he’s still suffering.
Rondel attacked again with the same result.
He tried a third time with a flurry of cuts and thrusts, but none found their mark. He began to panic about Shadya. He thought of calling out for Andrasta, but became aware of distant sword fighting.
She’s already busy.
A human-like moan rose in volume until it ended in what sounded like a lion roar. Athar came crashing into the open and barreled into the man chasing Shadya. Somehow the awkward beast found an agility Rondel had no idea it possessed, dodging a blow and trampling the swordsman.
“That’s not something you see every day,” he muttered.
Wearing a desperate look, his opponent came at him hard, scimitar dancing in the starlight.
Rondel ducked, weaved, parried, and even came close to praying in order to survive the assault. The man possessed skill he had rarely seen. He wouldn’t be able to survive much longer.
“When you can’t show strength, feign weakness.”
He found hope in another of Andrasta’s sayings. If there was one thing he knew he could do, that was appear weak. He breathed tiredly, lazily deflecting blows and stumbling backward. His opponent attacked harder, sensing victory.
Rondel’s free hand slid behind his back, his shortened fingers awkwardly clutching the hilt of a small dagger. He winced making the movement appear as though he had a cramp.
His attacker lunged, over committing himself. Rondel barely deflected the move as the edge of the scimitar raked across his forearm. He stuck his foot out, tripping the man. His free hand came around holding a dagger which he plunged into the man’s upper back at his spine.
His opponent screamed and fell. Rondel finished him off with a stroke to the back of the neck. Movement sounded from behind. Rondel cursed at the thought of facing more men.
Andrasta emerged into the clearing. She carried a sword dark with blood.
“I could have used your help,” said Rondel.
She glanced at the dead man by his feet. “Seems like you managed.”
“Barely. They were good. Really good.”
Andrasta nodded. “So were the ones that I killed.”
“Ones? Always have to show off, huh?”
Andrasta offe
red a rare grin, a welcome reprieve from her perpetual scowl as of late.
He spun, realizing he hadn’t been able to check on Shadya since the attack. She stood next to Athar, stroking the camel’s long neck, pausing at a patch of missing hair near the beast’s upper chest. She whispered something in the animal’s ears.
He faced Andrasta. “Any idea who these people were?”
“Hubul’s Host,” said Shadya, walking to them, her voice low.
Rondel frowned. “Could there be more waiting?”
Shadya shook her head. “They would have all attacked at once.”
“I’ll not take any chances,” said Andrasta. “You two stay here.”
* * *
Andrasta returned to camp after scouting. She noticed the bodies missing. Rondel had dragged them far away from the watering hole. Seeing there was evidence of a third attacker puzzled her as she had only seen two bodies before.
“There’s no one else in the area,” she announced, scowling as Shadya warded Rondel’s injured arm while they huddled on a blanket.
“Are you sure?” asked Shadya. “They’re very skilled.”
“I’m sure.”
“I only ask because they did manage to sneak up on us—” the woman started.
Andrasta’s scowl deepened. Are you blaming me, whore? “Yes, it seems like some sort of warning wards would have helped.”
Shadya said nothing.
Andrasta continued. “I found where they entered camp, including their mounts a half mile to the east. I tethered them over there,” she pointed. “There are no others.”
Rondel must have felt the tension as he gestured to Andrasta’s side. “You’re wounded.”
“I’m fine.”
“Shadya is almost done, she can—”
“I said I’m fine.”
Rondel narrowed his eyes. “I’ll look at it then when Shadya’s finished with me.”
“I can do it myself.”
“Probably, but I want to look at it.”
Though Andrasta wanted to protest further, the truth was that she didn’t feel like struggling to stitch the thing herself, and the fact that he was adamant about helping made her feel like all was not lost between them.
“All right.” She sat across from them and nodded toward the third trail she noticed earlier. “I only saw two bodies before.”
The City of Pillars Page 13
