by Siobhan Muir
“I assure you, I’m not playing any sort of game.” Anger deepened his voice to a gravelly roar. “I came here looking for you, Kyra, because I need you to lead us across the western edge of the Karobis desert to escape the Knalish Army. You told me two years ago you’d help me when I needed it, and I can only assume that’s why you’re here.”
“Oh, for God’s sake.” Iliana quickly unwound her silk scarf to bare her face. “Look at me. Have you ever seen this face in person? We have never met before now. I’d remember promising you something, and other than working on this film with you, I have promised nothing.”
Crowe’s fists clenched. “Kyra—”
“Iliana.”
He waved a hand in dismissal. “Whatever, are you going to lead us or not?”
“Crowe, let’s go,” Ahmad called as he swung into the saddle, making her costar turn around. “The scouts say the army is less than an hour behind us and closing fast. If we are going to get out of here, it has to be now.”
Iliana took advantage of Crowe’s distraction to jog to the gray horse and pull its reins free. She’d be damned before she stuck around for whatever he claimed was coming.
“Bloody hell, woman.” Crowe advanced on her and she turned to face him with one hand on her sword. She suspected she wouldn’t have a chance against a man who’d recently filmed a gladiator movie. But she’d make him regret grabbing her. “Have you no honor? You said you’d help if I needed it. We need it now.”
“You're not going to stop playing, are you, Mr. Crowe?” Iliana shook her head. “Fine. Play your little game, but I’m done. I don't need this and I'm outta here.” She swung onto the gray horse and settled her weight in the stirrup-less saddle. She turned the animal’s head toward a gap in the trees and urged the horse into a trot.
“By all the Gods!” he shouted in frustration at her back.
“I told you women were faithless.”
Ahmad’s voice made her fury burn brighter, but she’d dealt with trolls in Hollywood. This guy was only a run-of-the-mill heckler. The gray horse lengthened its strides as they passed the edge of the oasis, and she did her best to ignore the corpse, still lying in the glaring sun. If it really is a dead body and not a dummy.
She stopped the horse and tried to decide which way to go. All directions looked pretty much the same. Well done, now you’re out here alone with no idea which direction is west. At least she now had a horse. Iliana glanced down to the sand below to try to determine which way their shadow pointed. She frowned. Had she gotten here in the morning or afternoon?
“I don’t think he’s accustomed to being spoken to like that.”
She froze and looked around. No one stood near her. She sat alone on the horse.
The horse huffed an indignant sigh and turned his head to eye her.
Iliana swallowed hard. “Did you say something?”
“Yes, I said, I don't think he’s accustomed to being spoken to like that.”
The voice echoed in her ears, but the horse’s lips had remained still. That’s it. I’ve gotten sunstroke. “I’m going crazy.”
“That remains to be seen, but we’re still having this conversation anyway.” The gray snorted and tossed his head.
“Is this some sort of cosmic joke? Horses can’t talk.” She snapped her mouth shut and shook her head. “And now I’m arguing with an animal.”
“Only because you can’t seem to accept I can speak, and well enough for you to understand, young lady.”
Iliana scrubbed her hands over her face. “No, no, no. This isn’t possible. There is no magic in the world except what Hollywood conjures. I must be dreaming this. I’m on a solo hike in New Mexico, minding my own business. This is just a dream from sunstroke…” She glanced around uncertainly. “Except the sand is golden and Taggart Crowe has shown up.”
“The man you left behind is named Brandon Crowe and you’re in the Karobis Desert, which is in the country of Knalland.” The horse stretched a leg forward and rubbed the side of his muzzle against his knee. “The continent on which this desert stretches is called Absentia.”
“Are you part of the script, too? When did this become a fantasy story?”
The horse snorted. “What makes you think you’re in your desert? Have you seen any equipment from your home world? Have you seen any people beyond Crowe’s raiders?”
Her stomach sank, but she rallied gamely. “And I suppose the planet has a completely different name as well?”
“Actually, in this world the planet is called Earth.”
“No. No way. I so don’t need this right now.” She pinched her thigh, but the world around didn’t change. “I know I didn't do the best in school, but I did pay attention a little. There’s no such thing as other worlds. That’s a science fiction thing. And talking horses are straight out of fantasy novels. I must have lost my mind.”
“Not in the least.” The horse sounded amused as he carried her toward the top of a dune. “I think you just need to expand your perspective. ‘There is more to heaven and earth than is dreamt of in your philosophy,’ Iliana.”
She snorted. “Did you just quote Shakespeare to me?”
“The Bard is famous in all the worlds I know because he understood there are different universes and dimensions.” The horse grunted as the dune steepened. “This one is different enough to allow for talking horses, but similar enough to keep the same planet name.”
“A different dimension.” Iliana rubbed her face again. “Come on, where are we, the Twilight Zone? This only happens in stories, but reality is quite different. First of all, how did I get here? And who is Kyra? Why does Crowe think I'm her?”
“You must have been in the right place at the right time when the dimensions shifted.”
“Shifted.”
“Yes. When they shift, they rub against each other a little like sandpaper, and can wear a hole in each other. At least enough to let beings sift through.” The horse nodded his head as he climbed. “As for Kyra, do you recall the body we passed earlier?”
“Yeah.” She swallowed against the cold feeling in her stomach. “Why?”
“That was the person Crowe talked about.”
“But the body looked male. It was a dead guy, right?”
“Yes, his name was Kyram Tortenson.”
“Then why did Crowe say he was looking for a woman if that was Kyra?”
“Because Kyram never pronounced the “M” on the end of his name, never grew a beard, and had effeminate airs. He also never corrected Crowe.”
“Did you talk to Kyram, too? I mean, I assume you were his horse.”
“You know what’s said about assumptions.”
Iliana resisted the urge to slam her heels into the horse’s side. “Did you talk to him or not?”
“No.”
“So why are you talking to me?”
“You’re prettier?”
She groaned and secured the veil across her mouth and nose when the wind came up. They crested the dune and paused, taking in the vista of unending sand. Damn. How the heck am I going to get home?
“So the dead guy you didn’t talk to, how did he die?”
“I suspect he bled out if the blood stain in the sand is any indication.” The horse flattened his ears for a moment.
“Great, so he sprung a leak?”
The horses snorted. “I assume you gave it to him.”
She shivered. “What are you talking about? I’ve never killed anyone in my life and my sword is clean. I checked. Why would you think I killed him?”
“You can't just show up in a new dimension without displacing someone else, and you can’t come to a new dimension unless the current version of you does not exist.” The horse turned its head to eye her again. “Hmm, if it wasn’t you, then the person who killed Kyram traded places with you. I believe he killed Kyram to keep Crowe from making it across the desert before the army could catch him. The person who traded places with you must have been a Knalish assassin.”
She tried to feel the truth in her gut as she stared across the dunes marching off into the pale horizon. Iliana's eyes caught sight of something off in the distance ahead of them. A huge dust cloud rose from the sands into the clear blue sky, larger than the one Crowe and his raiders had made.
“Uh, horse, what is that?” she asked slowly.
“I suspect it’s the approaching army.”
Her gut sank again. “That's an army? Dear God, it must be huge.”
“It’s rumored to be something around thirty thousand strong.”
“Shit. Really?” She debated the likelihood the army would pass them by. “They’re coming straight at us.”
“I believe they are chasing Crowe and his merry band of thieves.”
“Thieves? Terrific.” She hurriedly turned the horse around and nudged him into a gallop back the way they’d come. “Is there some name I can call you other than ‘horse’? I have a feeling we might be working together for a while and I would really like to avoid ambiguities.”
“You may call me Aristotle.” He bounded down the dune like a jackrabbit. Not a comfortable ride, but she held on as well as she could.
“As in…the Greek…philosopher? How very…egotistical…of you.” Each landing robbed her of her breath.
“What do you plan on doing when you get back to the oasis?” he asked in response. “Will you stand and fight the army?”
“Do I look like I can take on an army?” She shook her head as Aristotle hit the swale between dunes. “Don’t answer that. I don't know what I'm going to do. I don't even know what I'm doing here.”
“You could always lead the others across the desert to the west,” Aristotle suggested.
“And how am I supposed to do that when I don't know the way?”
“You could always trust your horse. I know the way across and all the water holes.”
Iliana scoffed. “When were you planning on telling me you knew the way?”
“As soon as you asked me about it.”
Despite her frustration with the animal, she laughed. “Of course, the obvious. Just as obvious as a talking horse.” She shrugged, throwing common sense to the wind. “All right, let's lead them across the desert and save our own asses.”
The oasis appeared in front of them, but there did not appear to be anyone there. All the horses and men had disappeared. Even the body she’d seen was gone.
Aristotle slid to a skidding stop and Iliana scanned the trees with dread. What if they had already left her behind to deal with the army? The practical part of her mind reminded her they’d come to the oasis seeking her help to cross. They must be hiding.
“Crowe!” She stood up as she shouted at the trees. “Brandon Crowe!”
Soon a familiar figure materialized out of the shadows and stood beneath the palms with his hands on his hips.
“What are you doing back, woman?” He looked ready to throw a knife at her.
“I'm here to save your ass.” Iliana urged Aristotle forward. “The army is close and it just so happens I do know the way across the desert. You wanna come, that’s fine with me, but I suggest you fill your canteens and get on your horses now.”
She rode past him into the trees and stopped at the edge of the pool, unhooking the water skin she’d found on the saddle. She dismounted and soaked the bag in the pool. Crowe watched her a moment, his stance still angry and resistant. She ignored him and filled the second skin.
Men. So stubborn.
After a few more moments, he snarled something incoherent and barked orders to the others. She sealed the second bag as the pool became crowded with men. She stored the bag and swung up into Aristotle’s saddle.
“How much time do we have, Aristotle?” She whispered the words to keep the others from overhearing.
“Ten minutes to be away safely before the army sees us.”
“Shit.” She grasped the reins. “Which way do we go?”
Before Aristotle could turn his head, Crowe caught the reins and held him fast. “Where are you going?”
“Is that some sort of trick question?” Iliana shot him a withering look. “West, young man, I'm headed west.”
“Not without us, you’re not.” His hand tightened on the reins.
“Not one half hour ago you were willing to trust me. What changed?”
“You left us here to rot,” he stated matter-of-factly. She couldn’t argue with that. “I might actually ask you the same question, Kyra. In two years, what changed?”
She sighed. “Listen to me, Mr. Crowe, I'm not Kyra. In fact, the person you think Kyra was doesn't exist. Kyra was a man, the dead man you found on the sands out there.” She pointed back toward the advancing army. “The name Kyra was short for Kyram and he was the one who was supposed to lead you across the desert. But an assassin got here first and killed him before I arrived.”
“How do you know this?”
“I saw the evidence of it just as much as you did.”
“Where is this assassin you speak of? If he did this thing, he’d be here.” Crowe paused and his eyes narrowed. “Unless you killed the dead man. That must be why you were hiding. You’re the assassin.”
Iliana gave a short laugh. “No way. I can barely kill the spiders that come into my house. I don’t have the inclination to kill a man. I hid because I’d just discovered Kyram dead out there and you came riding in like the Huns. What was I supposed to do? Wave and greet you? You’d probably accuse me of killing Kyram. Oh wait, you have.”
“You're lying,” he stated angrily.
She groaned and shook her head. “I don't know why I'm trying to explain this to you, but we’re out of time. So, if you're coming, fill up your water bags and get on your horse. We have a long way to go before the end of the day.”
They stood staring at each other for a several heartbeats before he scowled and released the reins. She nodded to him and moved Aristotle out of the way of the other men trying to get back to their mounts. Crowe watched her closely before he grabbed his own horse and swung into the saddle. She waited for them without moving, her gut churning with anxiousness. Come on, get it together. We gotta go.
Everyone had enough water after a few minutes and mounted up. Iliana nodded when Ahmad joined her and Crowe. Neither man had a friendly look on their faces.
“Ready?”
“Yes. Which way, woman?” Crowe asked.
“The name’s Iliana.”
He grunted and gestured with one hand toward the desert.
She sighed and shook her head. “Follow me.” She urged Aristotle into a ground eating trot west from the oasis.
Chapter Three: “Go west, young man…”
After three days in the saddle, Iliana was sure of three things. Her ass would be forever sore, walking straight would be a challenge, and the men she traveled with would never trust her. They barely spoke to her other than to get bearings for the next oasis, and no one would share water with her. Thank God I have my own water skins…or Kyram did.
To get a greater lead on the army pursuing them, they slept in the saddle and she only stayed there because of the rope anchoring her to her horse. Aristotle kept going despite the grueling march and she secretly marveled at his stamina. Not that she told him. The talking horse had a larger ego than most of the Hollywood producers she’d met.
By the time they reached the oasis at the end of their third straight day, Iliana damn near cried in gratitude when Ahmad said they could stop for the night. Oh, thank you, God. The other men with them tumbled gratefully from their saddles and all the horses lay down under the shade of the palm trees. Her legs almost fol
ded up under her as she landed in the sand.
“Jeez, I’m not sure I could ride another mile.” She leaned her forehead against the saddle.
“At least you didn’t have to walk it.” Aristotle flicked an ear at her.
“I don’t think I feel any better than you having ridden it.” She glanced over her shoulder. “This oasis looks bigger than the others.”
“It is. Biggest one before a real town.” Aristotle dropped his head toward the water hole. “We should be safe for this one night, but to stay ahead of the Knalish, we’ll have to leave early.”
She groaned as she loosened Aristotle’s girth before she pulled his bridle off. “Great.”
She turned him loose before digging around in her saddlebags for food. Exhaustion set in as she nibbled on some dried meat and fruit. She let her mind wander and chewed, her thoughts blessedly blank for the first time in days. Too damn tired to think.
She roused enough to dig out one of the dry cakes made from oats and honey, and some grain for Aristotle. She stared dully at her sleeping mat, but decided the sand would be soft enough given her fatigue.
Despite her exhaustion, she shot a look over at Ahmad and the other men traveling with Brandon Crowe. A little warning voice chimed in the back of her head to keep an eye on Ahmad. His remarks about women in the oasis didn’t bode well. Taking a firm grip on her sword, she leaned back against her packs and closed her eyes. Just resting them a little.
Iliana woke some time later, the sky full of clouds obscuring most of the stars and a chill wind ruffling the fronds of the trees. She looked around as she sat up. Her honey cake had fallen into the sand and swarmed with ants. She grimaced and tossed it away before she grabbed some more dried meat. Aristotle dozed on three feet and the rest of the men snored at various volumes around the oasis.
She wanted to walk out to the top of the nearest dune to the west, but something in her gut warned her to clean up her gear first. She felt bad packing everything back onto Aristotle and sliding on his bridle, but she had no idea how quickly they’d have to leave.
“Time to go already?” Aristotle opened one sleepy eye.
