Jiron turns to face his partner who is now ready with sword and shield. The man thrusts with his sword, Jiron able to deflect it easily to the side. He tries to counterstrike with his other knife but it’s knocked aside by the man’s shield.
They circle each other for a second then the man strikes out with an overhand blow that Jiron has to sidestep to avoid. As the sword swings past him, Jiron strikes out with one of his knives and scores a cut along the man’s sword arm.
Angered, the man advances rapidly and begins attacking him with a flurry of blows that Jiron easily avoids or deflects aside. He continues to defend against the man’s attack, waiting for his chance. Patience is often a knife fighter’s best friend.
Suddenly, the opening presents itself and he strikes out at the man’s sword arm. The man cries out as his sword drops to the ground after Jiron’s knife severs the tendons in his arm. He pushes Jiron back with his shield as he cradles his arm, trying to stop the blood from pumping out.
Jiron goes on the offensive and after a quick series of blows which the man cannot defend against with just a shield, he sinks to the ground, eyes vacant as death takes him. Jiron wipes his knives on the man’s tunic before returning them to their sheaths. Gathering the horses, he mounts one and takes the reins of the other as he rides back to where he left James. It takes a minute to locate the exact spot where he left him, but a hushed call from James leads him there.
He gets down from his horse to help James into the saddle. No sooner is James in the saddle then the hoof beats of a patrol is heard coming their way. Jiron takes a piece of rope and quickly secures him to the saddle, all the while listening to the patrol coming closer and closer. Finished with securing James, he quickly mounts and they wait in silence as the patrol passes by in the dark. He then leads them out into the desert, away from the city. Behind them, the sound of patrol begins to recede in the distance as they move further away. Once the sound of the patrol can no longer be heard, Jiron brings the two horses to a gallop as they begin to cover the miles quickly. After traveling for some time, he hears James holler, “Stop!”
He brings the horses to a halt and then looks back to see James untying himself. Slipping off the horse, James doubles up and begins to retch into the dirt. Once his stomach is again under control, he stands back up and leans against his horse for support.
“You okay?” Jiron asks.
“Better,” he assures him, his speech only slightly affected.
“What happened to you?” Jiron asks, dismounting and coming over to him.
“Not really sure,” he replies. “I remember you leaving and then things get kind of fuzzy after that. I remember being carried over your shoulder through town, or at least parts of it. But nothing really clear until a short time ago when I came to on the horse.”
Jiron relates to James the events from when he returned to the camp and found him being loaded onto the wagon until now. “They must’ve done something to you,” he states.
“I agree,” he says. “Probably a drug of some kind.”
“Think so?” Jiron asks.
“It would make sense,” he replies. “A mage who’s drugged wouldn’t be able to focus clearly and do magic. Actually, it was quite effective.” Holding his head, he looks to Jiron.
“I would say so,” he agrees. “Can you do magic now?”
James concentrates, or tries to anyway and then shakes his head. “Not even if my life depended on it,” he tells him. “Just have to wait until the effects wear off.”
“Think they will?” Jiron asks.
“Don’t know why they wouldn’t,” he says and then suddenly begins to panic as he grabs his shirt. “The medallion!” he cries out. “They took the medallion!”
Jiron reaches into the pouch hanging on his belt and removes the medallion, handing it back to James. “I grabbed it while I was getting you out of there,” he tells him.
Sighing with relief, he takes it and places it once more around his neck. “Thank you,” he says gratefully to Jiron.
“Thought you might want it when I saw it lying there,” he says, grinning. “But we need to get going, if you think you can ride.” He holds up the rope used to secure him to the saddle and asks, “Should I tie you to the saddle or can you make it on your own?”
“I think I’ll be okay for now,” James assures him. As he tries to get back in the saddle, he has a little difficulty with his coordination and balance. With a little help from Jiron he makes it up onto the horse. Once in the saddle, he’s able to maintain his balance well enough despite continual spells of dizziness. With an eye on James, Jiron mounts up and they continue on into the desert.
The next morning when James wakes up, all effects of the drug have worn off. His head is clear and he once again is able to maintain his balance. While they prepare to ride, James realizes that his belt and slugs are gone.
“What’s wrong?” Jiron asks him.
“My belt with the slugs is missing,” he explains. “They must have taken it when they captured me.”
Jiron takes the pouch off his belt and tosses it over to him, “Look in there.” When James catches it and opens it up he continues, “I think all your stuff is in there. I quickly scraped everything off the table where they had placed your things.”
James pulls out his belt and finds only five slugs remaining. He puts it back on and then looks through the pouch again. He pulls out a vial containing a clear liquid. Holding it up, he takes a close look at it as he says, “This might be the drug they used.” He hands it over to Jiron who examines it.
“Didn’t realize I had taken it,” he tells him as he hands it back.
“It may come in useful,” James says as he places it back in his pouch. Yes, it may just come in useful.
Before they mount, James pulls out his mirror and again finds Miko in the dark, picking away at the stone wall. “At least he’s still alive,” he says to Jiron.
“That’s something, for sure,” he replies.
James takes out the piece of cloth and casts his directional spell. It moves to indicate Miko lies off to the southwest, a little more west than south. “He’s that way,” he says to Jiron, pointing to the southwest before putting the cloth away.
Jiron sits for a second on his horse, contemplating how to say this, “You know, the noose is tightening. By now, soldiers are going to be swarming this entire area looking for us. And it’s not just soldiers in the hunt, but mages too.”
“What are you saying?” he asks him. “That we should give up? Leave him to his fate?” Shaking his head, he says, “No, I could never do that. If you feel you can’t continue, I’ll understand, but I need to try, or die doing it.”
“It may well be impossible to reach him,” he continues. “It may not be possible for us to even escape the Empire.”
“Maybe not,” agrees James, “but I’ve got to try.”
“Don’t worry about me abandoning you here,” Jiron assures him, “I won’t. I just wanted you to understand that things are getting more complicated.”
“I know,” he says. “I understand, we just need to be more alert and careful.”
Jiron turns his horse to the southwest and asks, “Ready to go?”
Nodding, he says, “Yes.”
As they ride, Jiron gets a notion and asks James, “Can your mirror locate enemies in the area? If we had that information, maybe we could avoid them and make better time.”
“Possibly,” he replies as he digs out his mirror. Handing his reins to Jiron, he concentrates as he stares into the mirror. The image blurs and then he sees a bird’s eye view of them riding along. Expanding the view, he widens the scope to be able to see more of the surrounding desert than just themselves.
He’s able to scroll the image for some distance in any direction. The further he scrolls the image away from their position, the greater the amount of magic needed to maintain the spell. He’s also always able to come back and center the view on them with just a thought. “Yeah,” he t
ells him, “I think I can manage that.”
“Good,” says Jiron. “Anyone in the vicinity?”
James scrolls the image and then shakes his head, saying, “No, there doesn’t appear to be anyone ahead. Off to the north is a sizeable force but they’re not coming our way.”
“How far are we away from the coast?” he asks.
James tries scrolling the image, but fails to pick up the coast before the power drain becomes too severe. “I don’t know,” he replies. “I’m not able to see that far.”
“Oh well, at least we know we’re okay for awhile,” he says, relieved. “Just check it often so we’ll know when to detour.”
“Alright,” agrees James. He checks the area one last time and when he finds no one ahead, replaces the mirror back into his shaving kit.
They ride for several hours, James checking periodically for hostiles with his mirror. The second time he checked, he found a dozen riders coming their way and they had to swing to the south to avoid detection. Continuing to detour around pockets of hostiles, they wind their way closer to the coast.
When night begins to fall, they stop for a short meal. All they have with them is what the riders had with them when Jiron appropriated their horses, which isn’t much. “Think we should continue through the night?” Jiron asks him.
“I think the horses will be okay,” he replies. “Besides, we’re less likely to be discovered in the dark of night.”
“I was hoping you’d say that,” he tells him as he finishes his meal and mounts. James mounts as well and they continue their way toward the ocean.
Once night has fallen, the mirror becomes useless as everything is black. Now they have to depend on their senses to detect anyone approaching. A half moon rises later in the evening, giving them some light to see by. Sometime around midnight, they cross the main road going north and south. A short time after that, they begin to see the moon being reflected off of a body of water in the distance. The smell of salt in the air tells them they’ve reached the ocean’s shore.
When they reach the shore, they pause a moment as Jiron asks, “Now where?”
Taking out his cloth, James again casts his directional spell and the cloth stiffens up and points out along the coast, almost due south. “Further south, it looks like,” he tells Jiron as he puts away his cloth.
“Guess we follow the shoreline,” he says to James.
Nodding in the dark, James replies, “That would seem to be the plan.”
They follow the shoreline for another hour or two before running across what looks to be an old abandoned shack set up along the beach. It looks the worse for wear but it could hide them while they get a little sleep, they’re both becoming quite tired. Jiron dismounts and goes up to the shack to look inside. He signals James to come on over when he finds it empty.
There’s barely enough room inside for them and the horses, but leaving them outside would tell anyone passing by that someone’s here. Bringing them in with them, they close the door and alternate between sleeping and keeping watch through the rest of the night.
The morning sun coming through the cracks of the shack awakens James. He sits up abruptly when he fails to see Jiron. His horse is here, but he’s not.
Going to the door, he looks out and sees him outside walking along the shore, head down looking at the sand. Coming out, he asks, “What are you doing?”
Jiron holds up a conch shell and says, “I found this over by the water, incredible isn’t it?”
Smiling, James replies, “Yeah, that’s something alright.”
With a last look around the sandy beach, Jiron joins James as he walks back to the shack. Once back inside, he puts the conch shell into one of his bags. “Going to give it to Tersa when we make it back,” he explains.
“I’m sure she’ll like it,” he says.
They bring the horses out and mount, James checks the mirror before they leave and finds no enemy soldiers in the immediate vicinity or further to the south. He keeps the mirror out so he can check it periodically as they make their way along the shoreline.
After traveling for over an hour, James asks, “You got any water?”
Jiron shakes his head and says, “No, I used up the last of it this morning.”
“We’re going to need to find some soon, or we’re not going to last long under this sun,” he tells him.
“I know, my horse really could use some too,” he says. “Can you find a source close by?”
“Maybe,” he replies as he again gets out his mirror. After concentrating on water, the mirror opens up on a great expanse of water, “Think I may have found something.” He expands the view and the edge of the water comes in and he sees two men on horseback riding along beside it. His excitement ends when he realizes that it’s Jiron and him that he’s seeing and that the body of water is the ocean.
Frustrated, he begins concentrating on ‘fresh’, drinking water. The image blurs and then focuses in on a small pool with several palm trees around the edge. “Got it!” he exclaims.
“Where?” asks Jiron.
Adjusting the view and scrolling the image, he determines it to be several miles off to the southeast.
“Anyone around?” he asks.
“Several people,” he replies, “but no soldiers. They look to be just travelers stopping to get water.”
Jiron nods his head, “We’ll have to chance it.” He turns his horse to the southeast and they soon cross the main road. One lone traveler sees them crossing but doesn’t seem to be paying much attention to them.
As they ride, Jiron says, “That’s a handy thing, your mirror.”
“Yeah,” replies James. “The more I use it, the easier it is to find what I want.”
“Can you use anything?” he asks. “I mean, like a pool of water or something?”
“I would think so,” replies James. “It would be the same principle, so yeah, I could.”
About that time they begin to see palm trees coming into view on the horizon. They slow their approach when they see a dozen or so people around the water. “Must be a caravan of some sort,” guesses James when he notices several wagons pulled up around the oasis. A road stretches in the distance on the other side of the oasis, going east to west.
“Looks like it,” Jiron agrees. “Let’s be careful, get in and out quickly.”
“I’m with you on that,” states James.
They approach the oasis, making a beeline straight for the water. When the others see them coming, they watch, but don’t say anything.
Upon smelling the water, their horses quicken their pace, eager to reach the pool. While their horses begin drinking, they get down and fill their water bottles. Glancing over to the others who share the oasis with them, they notice that they’ve huddled together and are talking amongst themselves, occasionally peering over to them.
James also notices that a couple of the caravan guards have gone over to a wagon and are beginning to get out crossbows. “Jiron!” James cries out. “Time to leave!”
Jiron looks over and sees the guards preparing their crossbows and leaps into the saddle, James mounts quickly as well. As the guards are winding their crossbows, they turn their horses and head out of the oasis as fast as their horses will carry them. They turn to follow the road westward.
“Wonder what that was all about?” Jiron asks once they’ve put some distance between themselves and the oasis.
“Rumors must be circulating about us by now, I would imagine,” James replies. “Two men, of obvious northern stock ride in out of the desert,” he continues. “I’d be cautious too, maybe even be looking for a reward for taking us down.”
Jiron laughs.
“What’s so funny?” he asks.
“After all we’ve been through,” he says, grinning, “escaping first Azzac and then Al-Kur. The thought of us being brought down by a bunch of caravan guards, it just seems funny.”
“I suppose,” replies James, not seeing the humor in it. He pulls out t
he mirror and checks for hostiles in the area, “Jiron, we got two approaching groups. A squad on foot to the northeast who’re moving due south and a dozen riders on the road ahead of us, coming our way.”
“To the south?” he asks.
James quickly checks and replies, “Doesn’t look like anyone’s in that direction.”
Without hesitation, Jiron turns toward the south with James following suit. Kicking their horses into a gallop, they race off the road, hoping to remain unnoticed by the approaching horsemen.
James is sure they’ll be seen, the amount of dust they’re kicking up must be visible by the riders. Checking the mirror, he sees them continuing down the road toward the oasis, and the caravan there. They don’t seem to see or care about the dust their horses are throwing into the air.
“They’ll find out about us when they reach the oasis!” he hollers to Jiron.
“Then let’s put as much distance between us as we can before they return.” Jiron replies. They continue to gallop for a ways before bringing their speed down to a trot, saving their horses’ strength for later.
Checking his mirror once more, James sees the riders have already reached the oasis and are there watering their horses, the people from the caravan are gathered around the riders, talking with them. As they ride, he continues watching the horsemen and then with dread, watches as they leave the oasis and begin moving to follow them, fast.
“They’ve left the oasis,” he announces. When Jiron looks to him, he says, “And they’re galloping our way.”
“How far behind us are they?” he asks.
“It’s hard to tell with this,” he says, holding up the mirror. “But I wouldn’t think much more than an hour.”
“Great,” Jiron says.
They make quick time, alternating between galloping and trotting to keep the horses strength up as best they can. Jiron looks over to James who is checking the mirror again and asks, “Well?”
“They’re still behind us, though they’re not gaining very fast,” he replies. “To the south is another road, or rather a continuation of the coast road we followed previously. There doesn’t appear to be any soldiers on it, just regular travelers.”
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