The scout stopped suddenly, his boots just above Sahara’s head. Jared was the only one with a clear shot at him now—Rafe was too far in front of him to see the target.
Everything seemed to happen at once.
Jared fired his crossbow. The scout reeled backward with a screech, his sword flaring in the sunlight as it fell to the sand. As the scout struggled to regain his balance, Sahara saw Jared’s bolt protruding from just below his left shoulder. The mail had kept it from fully penetrating, and Sahara knew it wasn’t a fatal wound.
Like some awful animal of prey, she launched herself at the scout and caught him around the waist, hurtling with him down the other side of the dunes.
She heard frantic shouts behind her and felt a dull pain as the scout’s gauntleted hand smashed into the side of her face. But then her dagger was out, and the next moment it was buried in the scout’s chest up to the hilt. They stopped sliding, the sand settled, and Sahara rose and staggered back against the side of the dune.
Jared and Rafe were slip-sliding down the sand behind her. Rafe skidded to a stop next to the scout’s lifeless body, and Jared fell to his knees next to Sahara.
“You all right?” he gasped. “Sahara! Are you all right?”
His voice sounded far away, and Sahara blinked at him vaguely. “I-I think I’m fine,” she stammered. She put a hand to her head and dragged off the veil.
“Good God! Let me look at that!” He leaned toward her, turning her face to the side. “How did that happen?”
“He hit me on the way down, I think.” Sahara touched the spot gingerly. “Is it very bad?”
“Could be worse, I suppose,” Jared answered with a wry smile.
Sahara jerked her head toward the scout. “How are we going to get him all the way back to the city? Drag him?”
“No,” Rafe said, rising and joining them. “I say we take the head and the sword and leave the body.”
Sahara’s nose wrinkled as she stared across the sand at the masked and hooded face. An effigy even in life, it was utterly chilling in death.
“Can’t we just strip the armor?” she said in a pale voice.
Jared nodded curtly. “I agree with Sahara. Strip the armor and take the sword. That should be proof enough.”
Rafe looked from one to the other, and then said, “Whatever you say. I just hope that will be convincing enough.”
He unbuckled the sword belt and tossed it aside. As he started unbuckling the clasps under the scout’s right arm, Jared headed back up the dune for the sword. Sahara joined Rafe, knelt on the scout’s chest, and pulled out her dagger. A gush of dark blood and a foul stench followed the steel.
“That was a brave thing to do,” Rafe remarked. His eyes rested on her face for a moment and he smiled. “This might have gone a different way if you hadn’t gotten the jump on him.”
Sahara met his eyes for a moment and felt that he understood. With a curt nod, she dropped her gaze and began cleaning her blade in the sand.
“What will we do with the body?” she asked.
“Leave it here,” Rafe suggested. “That way the message will be sure to get to the Dragon-Lords.” He groaned with the effort as he dragged the mail coat off the body. “This is going to be fun to carry,” he remarked dryly.
Jared made his way back down the dune with the sword and took the scabbard Rafe held out to him. As he slipped the blade into the sheath, he glanced up at the sun.
“Let’s take what we need and get out of here. We don’t have much time before the harbingers are out.”
*****
When they re-entered the city the next afternoon, they headed straight to the council-hall. Sahara opened the heavy wooden doors and stood aside for Jared and Rafe to enter. Rafe dropped the armor on the table and Jared laid the sword on top of the pile.
“My lords,” Jared said to the assembly, “it’s done.”
Everyone rose and stared at the trophies.
“What happened?” asked Arnauld. “What can you tell us?”
“We had success, as you see,” Rafe answered. “We left the body on the dunes for the next scout to discover, and we have brought you his armor and his sword.”
“Sahara slew him,” Jared added. “My bolt was not enough for a fatal wound. She risked her life and sprang on him…she finished him with her dagger.”
Everyone turned to stare at Sahara, and she wished Jared had kept the bit about her near-suicidal attack to himself.
“And that’s where that mark has come from, I presume?” Arnauld asked, gesturing to her face.
Sahara’s hand slowly traveled to her bruised cheekbone. “Yes, my lord,” she answered.
There was silence in the hall for a moment, and then Arnauld looked away from her and around the table. “So, gentlemen, the die has been cast.”
“And now what do we do?” Marcus asked. “Sit around and wait for their retribution?”
“I don’t think so,” Jared said. “We aren’t ready to fight them yet. We need to prepare in earnest for battle, if and when it comes to us.”
“I agree with Jared,” Rafe seconded. “And there’s no time to lose.”
Arnauld nodded slowly. “Let it be as you say.” He looked at Sahara. “And I want Sahara to supervise all preparations and training. She will lead our armies if it comes to a fight.”
Jared and Rafe both started in surprise.
“Her?” Rafe cried, unable to keep the shock out of his voice. “But, my lord…” He fumbled for words for a moment and then concluded lamely, “She’s an outworlder!”
“My lord,” Jared said at the same moment, “isn’t this a hasty decision?”
Sahara said nothing, her eyes fixed on the heap of trophies on the table. Part of her was leaping in exultation. She had her validation at last—finally, after everything, they believed she could do what she said she could do. But something about this didn’t feel right, and the worm of dread coiled itself in her gut.
Arnauld glanced from Rafe to Jared and then back. “You question my choice? You yourselves just told us all who made this mission a success! You told us who had the courage to engage the enemy in hand-to-hand combat and the skill to emerge victorious. No, my lords, my decision stands. I appoint Sahara Acwellan to lead our army and direct its preparations. Look to your houses, my lords, and ready your people. We have no time to delay.”
Jared and Rafe turned and stalked out of the hall, Sahara on their heels. Once out in the courtyard, she caught hold of their arms and pulled them to a halt.
“Wait!” she said.
They turned to face her, and for a moment, the plashing fountain was the only sound in the place.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured awkwardly, a confused frown between her brows. “I didn’t ask for this, you know.”
“No, you didn’t,” Rafe said flatly. “But there it is.”
“You didn’t refuse it, either,” added Jared.
For an instant, she gaped at them. “Well, what the hell was I supposed to do?” she demanded, her temper flaring. “Tell him no? I remember a morning not so long ago, Jared, when I told him no and you tried to school me in civility. When your lord gives you an order, is it your place to refuse him?”
“Arnauld is our lord, not yours,” Jared reminded her. “I remember a morning not so long ago when you refused him your allegiance altogether.”
Sahara stared at them, squelching the hurt in her soul under the heel of her irritation. “Well, like it or not, I’m now your commanding officer. And any further discussion on the subject will be considered insubordination. Is that clear?”
Chapter13
They worked hard in the weeks following the incident with the scout, but although Sahara busied the men with preparations for a sudden strike, she couldn’t escape the forebodings that grew steadily stronger as the days passed and no attack came.
At last, after waiting for a retributive strike from the Dragon-Lords for two months, Arnauld asked her for her report on the army and i
ts readiness.
“They’re ready,” Sahara told him. “We’re just waiting for the strike to come.”
“Then my mind is made up,” Arnauld said. “I won’t feel like a prisoner in my own city—I refuse to have men standing at arms without a conflict to engage their bloody thoughts. So we are going to attack the Dragon-Lords first. If they won’t come out to meet us, then we will drive them out.”
“But my lord—” Sahara began, but Arnauld held up a hand.
“All that remains for you, commander, is to choose the day of the attack.”
Sahara swallowed her objections, bowed, and left the hall.
That night, she asked Jared and Rafe to meet at the tavern.
“So what do you think?” she asked, after rapidly recounting her conversation with Arnauld. “When should we strike?”
“Never, if you ask me,” Jared said, shaking his dark head. “I don’t like this, Sahara. The object of our mission to take out that scout was to provoke the Dragon-Lords to come out and meet us on our ground, not for us to charge in and meet them on their ground. That has led us nowhere but to massacre in the past, and I don’t understand why Arnauld is doing this again. It has failed every time it’s been tried! What could possibly be turning him in this direction?”
“I just think he’s desperate and scared,” said Rafe, glancing around and speaking in a low voice. “He’s probably afraid the Dragon-Lords are massing a force too great for us to handle, and that if we don’t strike now, we’ll lose any chance of victory at all. And, as Sahara mentioned, having an army of men with violence in their minds and in their hearts just standing around with nothing to do is an evil thing for civil order.”
“But look, civil order aside for a moment,” said Sahara, “the problem is that they’re calling our bluff. We can’t know what they’re doing—we can only guess at it. And if we miscalculate, then Jared’s right. We’ll be slaughtered.”
Rafe swore under his breath. “Damn, I hate to admit it, but isn’t this exactly what Lord Horatio was afraid of? Better we had never risked our lives on that stupid idea of mine!”
“Why do you think the Dragon-Lords have done nothing, Sahara?” Jared asked suddenly. “Why haven’t they acted?”
Sahara shrugged. “Maybe they have more patience than we do. And maybe they know it.”
“They don’t have to act,” Rafe agreed. “They’re not the ones who are struggling under a tyrannical regime. They’re not the ones who want their freedom. They can sit on us forever. Maybe the scout wasn’t enough to provoke them.”
“So what do we do?” Sahara asked. “I can’t very well tell Arnauld that we aren’t going to do as he says.”
“No, you can’t.” Jared frowned at his drink, sunk in thought. “But I have an idea. Perhaps we can delay the inevitable. Let me talk to Childir. If anyone can convince Arnauld to wait, it’ll be him.”
“That sounds like our best chance to stall for time,” Sahara said with a sigh. “But once the day is set, we have to go forward, no matter what.” She met Jared’s gaze. “Can I count on you to see this through with me?”
“I gave my word I would support you,” he said. “And I will. No matter what.”
*****
Three weeks later, Sahara stood in the observatory room on the top floor of the manor’s western wing. She stared out the windows at the desert spreading to the horizon. Though a strange excitement and a wild hope for success roiled in her stomach, Sahara was far from happy.
Today was the day Childir had picked for the attack—a day marked with favorable omens, he’d said. But it wasn’t enough to satisfy Jared…and they’d already had one argument that morning, and she was afraid it wouldn’t be their last that day.
With a heavy sigh, she bent to tie her heavy sand-colored boots. As she straightened, she checked to make sure that her gear was stowed in the deep pockets of her mottled, sand-colored pants. Satisfied that everything was in place, she slipped her shoulder scabbard over her head and adjusted the strap.
She’d issued everyone a handgun with a full magazine and one spare, with strict instructions to use them only in the most dire situation. She’d inspected their arsenal just yesterday, and she knew how short on ammunition they were. Even what she’d given was probably more than they could afford, but if they lost this fight, it wouldn’t matter anyway.
A slight noise behind her startled her and she turned. Jared stood in the doorway.
“Jared!” she cried in surprise.
“I want you to hear me out, Sahara.”
“I’m done hearing you out! You said Childir had blessed this day,” she said. She had a wan hope that reminding him of this fact again might sway him. It didn’t.
“You know these seers, Sahara.” He shook his dark head, a scowl knotting his high brows. “One truth, twenty lies.”
“Then why in hell did you go to him in the first place, Jared?” she demanded. “Why did you give me the date? And if you don’t believe a seer, then who will you believe?”
“Something about this doesn’t feel right, Sahara,” he said. “I can’t explain it…it just doesn’t feel—“
“If it didn’t feel right three weeks ago, we should have just gotten this over with! Instead, we’ve been standing around with itching hands and bloody thoughts, waiting for your precious wise man’s day of days.” She swore fiercely. “You gave me your word, Jared,” she said. “You gave me your word you would support me.”
Jared was silent for a moment, his frown deepening. “One truth, twenty lies,” he murmured.
He sounded like he was on the edge of a revelation, but Sahara didn’t care. She was too angry with him to let him contemplate the mysteries of prophesy.
“You know, has it ever occurred to you that maybe we make our own destiny?” she persisted. “That holding too strongly to prophecies of destruction might actually make them come true?”
“You’re a funny one to talk about prophecies. Aren’t you the one following a seer’s advice now?”
“I don’t give a damn about him or his advice,” Sahara retorted. “The only reason we went to him was to stall this day…to try to convince Arnauld to wait, and to give the Dragon-Lords more time to launch an assault against us. But you promised me, Jared! You promised. And now you’re going back on your word.”
“I won’t go back on my word. I’d just hoped it wouldn’t come to this.”
Sahara sighed in frustration and crossed her arms over her chest. “Yeah, that’s what you said.” She walked toward the wall of windows, watching the heat begin to shimmer on the sands. She clenched and unclenched her hands, a sick feeling beginning to roil in her stomach.
“I have to lead these men today into a battle that will almost certainly be a massacre, Jared,” she said quietly. “I have to believe…I have to believe that we are in the right. That our cause is just, and that we have a chance to succeed. I have to believe it because I have to make them believe it.”
“I don’t envy your position, Sahara,” he said.
“I’m not asking you to envy me.” She turned away from the window and faced him. “I’m asking you to believe in me.”
Jared measured her steadily. If, deep down, she had hoped for an overwhelming show of support, she realized in a moment that he wasn’t about to give it. There was no emotion in his face, nothing in his eyes but a piercing stillness. Sahara was still not fully used to the strange beauty of those eyes.
Sahara swore softly and pulled on her fingerless gloves, giving the process far more attention than it needed. She wished he would speak. When he finally shrugged his shoulders and turned his gaze away from her to stare out the window, she realized that she’d been holding her breath.
“It’s not doubt in you or the men or the cause that makes me hesitate, Sahara,” he said heavily. “It’s just common sense. I’ve lived under the iron fist of the Dragon-Lords my entire life. You know my family history. You know what the Dragon-Lords have cost me.”
“I k
now,” she murmured. “And you know what they have cost me.”
“And for all that sacrifice, for all that bloodshed, we have had no success. We won not even the tiniest skirmish—there was nothing to give us enough hope to try their strength again. And their power is greater now than it ever was when I was a boy.”
“What’s your point, Jared?” Sahara said. “What is it you want me to do? It isn’t my decision to make. Whether I like it or not, this is happening.”
“You’re going to lead them,” he said. “You will lead our people back down this barren road, a road with but one destination.”
“Freedom,” she said sharply.
“Death.”
Jared’s voice rang out over hers, and his eyes once again rested on her face. This time, something sparked within them, something that was at once a challenge and a plea. Sahara’s anger at his insubordination engulfed and drowned any second guesses she had entertained about Arnauld’s orders.
“Are you questioning my motives now?” she asked. “I’ve lived under oppression all my life too, Jared. And I did what I had to do to survive.”
“Yes, that’s true. And whatever it was landed you on a prison ship.”
“You’ve been telling me for months that you wanted me to use my second lease on life. That I needed to find my purpose.” She opened her arms and stood tall. “Well? Here I am. I’m a freedom fighter, Jared. That’s who I am. That’s who I’ve always been. And today, I’ll do everything I can to give your people the chance to have what they want so badly.”
Jared stepped close to her, so close that his breath stirred her eyelashes. Taking her chin in his gloved hand, he forced her to look him in the eyes. “Do you actually believe what you’re saying to me?” he whispered. “Or do you just feel you need to say it out of some sense of loyalty to Arnauld?”
Sahara’s gaze wavered under the intensity of his stare. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jared,” she murmured.
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