'But he's no longer your horse. He's mine.' He looked to Umar again. 'Have you not explained the law, Aseikh?'
Umar shifted uncomfortably. 'I have. But the stranger is a foreigner. In his land, the law is different.'
Hassan considered this information, then shrugged. 'Then I'm glad we're not in his land. Because I like this little horse.' He hesitated, seeing the unhappy expression on Umar's face. Cielema was beside him, he noticed. She was very stiff-backed and angry looking too.
'Aseikh Umar,' he said, 'do you wish me to return my horse to the stranger?'
Umar hesitated for a long moment. He knew that the young man held him in the highest regard. He idolised him, in fact. If Umar were to say that he did wish him to return the horse, Hassan would do so, out of respect for his Aseikh. And that was what stopped Umar from asking him to do so. He knew it would be using his influence unfairly. The horse was Hassan's, and Hassan was not from a wealthy family. It could be years before he could afford another horse.
'I won't ask you to do that,' he said finally, folding his arms across his chest. Cielema looked angrily at him but said nothing.
Hassan looked back to Will. 'I'm sorry,' he said. He turned away to continue with his grooming.
'I'll pay you for him!' Will said abruptly.
Hassan stopped grooming and looked back at him, 'You have gold?' he asked.
Will shook his head. 'I'll get it. I give you my word.'
Hassan smiled again. He was a polite young man and had no wish to be discourteous but the stranger simply didn't understand how things were done.
'I can't buy anything with words,' he said. He wished the stranger would stop being so pushy. But now that he was here, Hassan thought he might well find out something that had been bothering him about Last Light of Day.
'Can this horse be ridden?' he asked curiously. Every time he had tried to gain the saddle, the little grey had bucked him off. He was a mass of bruises.
Will nodded. 'I can ride him.'
Hassan led Tug forward and handed the bridle to Will. He wanted to see if it were possible.
'Show me,' he said. He watched as Will put a foot in the stirrup and swung easily into the saddle. Hassan waited a few seconds. Usually, about now, the little horse would explode into a leaping, twisting, bucking devil. But he stood calmly, ears pricked.
Sitting astride Tug, Will had a momentary urge to set him to a gallop and simply ride off. As if sensing it, the Bedullin tribesmen tightened the circle around him and the moment was lost. Besides, he thought, he had no idea where he was, no chart and his Northseeker was back by Umar's tent. Umar made an unmistakable gesture with his thumb and Will reluctantly dismounted. He put the bridle back into Hassan's waiting hand.
'So there is a secret to riding him,' Hassan said. 'You will have to tell me.'
He smiled, wishing the stranger would simply accept the inevitable. But he saw the refusal in the younger man's angry expression.
'You'll never ride him,' Will said.
Hassan shrugged. He looked inquiringly to Umar, wishing he would step in and end this unpleasantness. 'I'll find a way,' he said confidently. He was an excellent rider and horse handler, after all. He sensed that Will had come to a decision.
'If you won't let me pay you for him, I'll fight you for him,' Will said tersely. Hassan actually stepped back a pace, appalled at the lack of courtesy and basic good manners. This time Umar did step in, as a buzz ran round the watching crowd.
'There'll be no fighting!' he snapped. He glared at Will. 'What did you have in mind — to stand off fifty paces and kill him with that bow of yours before he comes in reach? That's not fighting. That's murder!'
Will dropped his eyes. Umar was right. But he was torn with anxiety over the loss of his horse. To find him again and then lose him like this was unbearable. Something Cielema had said was moving round in his mind, just out of reach of conscious thought. There was a way, he thought, if he could only ...
'Besides, if I can't ride him, I'll use him as a pack pony. He's sturdy enough,' Hassan was saying.
That was the final straw. The idea that Tug, his intelligent, affectionate, wonderful Tug, would see out his days as a beast of burden was too much for Will to bear. Then Cielema's earlier statement came into clear focus and he knew there was one desperate way out of this.
'I'll race you for him,' he challenged. 'I'll race Tug against the best horse and rider you have in the camp.'
Now there was a definite buzz of interest among the crowd. Umar's head snapped up at the challenge. As his wife had said, no Bedullin man could resist a wager. And besides, this would resolve the unpleasant predicament that had come about.
'What terms?' Umar asked. Will thought quickly, then took a deep breath and commited himself.
'If I win, I get Tug back. If your man wins, I'll tell Hassan the secret to riding him. And I'll give up all claim to him.'
Umar looked around the watching circle of faces. He could see a light of interest and expectation in every eye. This was the sort of challenge that set Bedullin blood racing. Already, side wagers were being negotiated among the onlookers. He looked back at Will, saw the defiant look on the young man's face as he staked everything on one throw of the dice.
'Hassan?' he asked and the young Bedullin nodded eagerly.
'As long as I'm the rider,' he said. 'And you let me ride your horse Sandstorm.'
Umar nodded. Hassan was a brilliant rider and Umar's palomino stallion Sandstorm was far and away the best horse in the tribe.
'Done,' he said.
* * *
Chapter 32
* * *
'You never saw who it was?' Halt asked as Gilan made his report. The young Ranger shook his head. 'It may not have been a person at all. It could have been a small animal.'
'But you don't think so?' Halt asked. This time Gilan hesitated before he answered.
'No, I don't,' he said finally. 'I would have gone closer to examine the ground but I didn't know if he'd gone or was still in the area — or if he had friends with him. If some kind of ruckus had started, it would have given everything away to the Tualaghi. I thought it was better to come back here and report.'
'Yes. Yes, you were right,' Halt said, frowning over the news. He looked at Selethen. 'Any idea who might be keeping an eye on the Tualaghi?' he asked.
The Wakir shrugged. He'd been considering the question since Gilan had first reported.
'There could be a Bedullin party somewhere in the area. They come and go as they please. If so, it would make sense for them to keep an eye on the enemy.'
'Would they be likely to attack them?' Halt asked. This time the Wakir was more definite in his answer.
'I wouldn't think so. They don't usually go looking for trouble and a party of two hundred Tualaghi is a lot to take on ... '
'I was thinking the same thing myself,' Halt interposed.
Selethen nodded gravely. 'Quite so. But if they were Bedullin watching, odds are they would simply move away and give the Tualaghi as wide a berth as possible.'
'Do you think he saw you?' Halt asked.
Gilan shook his head. 'I'm sure he didn't. I only saw him because he moved suddenly.'
There was no need for Halt to ask Gilan if he'd moved. He knew his former student would never make such a fundamental mistake.
'You covered your tracks coming back, of course?'
'Of course,' Gilan replied. 'Don't worry, Halt, I left no sign that I'd been there.'
Halt came to a decision. 'All right. We can catch a few hours' sleep. We'll push on as usual when it gets a little closer to dawn. See if you can get some rest, people.'
Selethen and the Araluans turned and headed for their respective tents. They all knew the value of getting as much rest as the situation allowed.
***
Unfortunately, while Gilan had left no tracks, the unknown observer had not been so careful, or so skilled. And by the worst possible chance, the path he took when he left the Tualaghi camp
site led within a quarter of a kilometre of the camp where the Arridi troops had spent the night.
An hour after Selethen had led the party on their way, Tualaghi scouts, following the tracks discovered near their camp, chanced across those left by the mixed Araluan-Arridi group. They followed them carefully until the Arridi troops came in sight. Then, taking a wide curve to keep from being seen themselves, they hurried back to their own leaders to report that an armed party was travelling on a parallel course to their own.
After a quick consultation, half of the Tualaghi split off and dropped back behind the others, then travelled southwest until they too cut across the trail of Selethen's troops.
They picked up the pace at that point and began moving closer to the unsuspecting Arridi. Halt and Gilan, expecting that if any trouble came it would be from the north-east, had no idea that one hundred mounted warriors were closing in on them from the south. Nor were they aware that the lead party of Tualaghi had begun to move faster, and to angle slowly across their path.
The hunters had become the hunted.
***
They stopped in the middle of the day, as was their custom. It was this fact that gave the Tualaghi leaders their final opportunity to spring the trap they had spent the day preparing.
After the main heat of the day had passed, and before they continued on their way, the Araluans were discussing ideas for a possible rescue operation. Under cover of darkness, either of the two Rangers would be able to make his way into the camp unseen by the Tualaghi. The problem arose when it came to getting Erak out unseen.
'That's why they keep him out in the open, of course,' Evanlyn said. 'If he escapes, anyone looking in that direction can see that he's gone.'
'Plus you'll need a way to cut him loose from those camels,' Horace put in.
'Maybe only one,' Svengal suggested. 'If you could cut the chains to one, he could ride the other one out of the camp.'
'Be just a little obvious,' Gilan said. 'The combination of a Skandian and a camel isn't exactly hard to notice — and the last thing we want is a running fight with two hundred Tualaghi.'
Halt sat to one side, quietly listening as his friends put up suggestions then rejected them. Most of these thoughts he'd already examined. But there was always the chance that a stray remark might trigger the eventual solution to their problem. Not so far, however, he thought ruefully. For the moment, the best they could hope to do was continue as they were. If they could reach the wells before the Tualaghi, they might be able to arrange something — exactly what, he had no idea. But long experience had taught him that if you waited long enough, sooner or later an unexpected opportunity might arise.
'You're quiet, Halt,' Horace said, turning to where the grey-bearded Ranger sat. 'Do you have any ... ?' His voice trailed away to silence as his eyes lifted from Halt to the ridge behind him, some hundred and fifty metres away.
'Good God,' he said, in a more urgent tone of voice, 'where did they come from?'
The others followed his gaze. They had camped in a large, saucer-shaped depression, concealed from the sight of any Tualaghi stragglers. But the problem with concealing yourself from sight is that others can be concealed as well. Selethen had pickets out, of course, beyond the ridge line. But later, they would see the bodies of those men lying where the Tualaghi skirmishers had killed them.
For the moment, their attention was fixed upon the line of armed horsemen that had just materialised over the ridge, spreading out in a semi-circle across their intended line of march.
Halt swore softly and turned quickly to look behind them. As he had feared, another line of horsemen stood at the top of that ridge. They were trapped between the two parties — each of which was at least one hundred strong. By now, others had seen the enemy as well and the Arridi troops were running and shouting, pointing to the two lines of horsemen who had them trapped. Selethen's voice rose above the others and the moment of panic passed as he began to form his men into a defensive circle, with their horses inside it. The four Araluans and Svengal quickly gathered their weapons and moved to join the Arridi leader.
Selethen cursed bitterly. Only the night before, he had boasted about the Tualaghi's overconfidence — now he had fallen into the same trap. The desert raiders were wily and unpredictable. He should always have assumed that they might get wind of the fact that someone was trailing them. That they had done so through an immense stroke of luck was unknown to him. Even if he had known it, it wouldn't have changed things. A good leader should plan for bad luck.
As Halt and the others joined him, he nodded briefly.
There was no point in recriminations, he knew. Now all they could do was create the best defence they could. 'You're fighting them on foot?' Halt asked.
The Arridi nodded. 'No point in mounting and trying to charge them. We're too badly outnumbered.'
'And you'd be charging uphill,' Horace remarked. 'All the advantage would lie with them. Let them come to us.'
Selethen looked at him, a little surprised. For one so young, Horace had sized up the tactical situation quickly. Most of Selethen's young troopers would have chosen to charge the enemy, he knew. Horace saw the look, guessed at the thought behind it and shrugged. He'd had good teachers. He unsheathed his sword now, the blade hissing out of the scabbard.
Svengal was looking around the ring of Arridi warriors. They had their shields locked together and each man was armed with one of the slender lances they usually used from horseback. In addition, each one wore a curved sabre for close quarters work.
'Shield wall,' he said approvingly. 'Good work.'
It was a standard Skandian battle tactic and he felt instantly at home. He swung his massive battleaxe experimentally, the huge, heavy blade making a thick swooshing sound as it passed through the air. For now, he'd stand back. But the minute a gap appeared in the wall, he'd fill it. Any Tualaghi warrior planning on breaking through would have an ugly surprise waiting for him.
Horace looked at him and read his thoughts. 'I'll join you,' he said quietly, moving to stand shoulder to shoulder with the bear-like northerner. Svengal grinned at him.
'With us two, we could probably send the rest of these boys home,' he said.
Gilan and Halt also stood side by side, but in the centre of the ring formed by the shield wall. Evanlyn looked at them, her heart thudding nervously in her chest. They all seemed so calm. She was sure her hands were trembling. For a moment, she thought of getting her sling from where it was concealed, but she realised that the two Rangers' longbows would provide more than adequate long distance firepower. Instead, she accepted a spare shield from Selethen and eased her sabre in and out of its scabbard. No need to draw it yet, she thought. She swallowed nervously.
Halt saw her and called softly.
'Evanlyn, come here with us.' As she moved to stand beside the Rangers, he gestured to the ridge at their back. 'Gilan and I are going to concentrate our fire to the front. Keep an eye on the Tualaghi behind us. When they're within fifty metres, let us know and we'll switch.'
'Yes, Halt,' she said. Her mouth was dry and she didn't trust herself to say more.
Gilan grinned at her. 'Make sure we hear you,' he said. 'There'll be plenty of yelling going on.'
He was so relaxed and unworried, she thought. His casual manner helped to ease the butterflies that were swarming in her stomach.
Selethen approached them now. 'They'll try the easy way first,' he said. 'An all-out charge to see if they can break our position.'
'Might not turn out to be as easy as they think,' Gilan replied, testing the draw on his bow. Selethen regarded him for a moment. Soon, he thought, he would see just how well these two cloaked foreigners could shoot. He had the feeling that he wasn't going to be disappointed.
'Can I suggest you put four men with Svengal and Horace?' Halt said. 'Use them as a reserve for any place the line is broken.'
'Good idea,' Selethen replied. They might be outnumbered four to one but he suspected the Tualaghi
were about to get a bloody nose. He called four names and the men he had selected dropped out of the shield wall and hurried back to where he stood. The others closed up the gaps where they had been as Svengal gave the four their orders.
'Just tell them to give me a little elbow room,' Svengal said. He was grinning, Evanlyn noticed. Finally, after the heat and the sand and the sore riding muscles, Svengal was about to do something he really enjoyed. She found herself smiling at the thought.
Halt noticed her lips twitching slightly. Good girl, he thought.
They heard the jingle of harness before any movement was perceptible. Then the two lines of horsemen began to move forward.
'Here they come,' Horace said quietly.
* * *
Chapter 33
* * *
'This is where we turn to head back,' Will told Tug. A tall pole had been hammered into the ground to mark the spot. The little horse studied the marker with interest.
Will turned and looked back towards the oasis. It was now out of sight, hidden by the undulating ground, but he knew it was four kilometres distant. Four kilometres out, four back. Eight in all. He had tried for twelve, then ten. Finally, he had to settle for an eight-kilometre race course. He hoped it would be far enough for Tug's stamina and staying power to assert itself over Sandstorm. It would be a close thing, he knew.
The Arridi horse was definitely faster over a short distance. For the first kilometre or two, he would leave Tug behind. But then the Ranger horse would start to reel him in as the Arridi stallion began to slow and Tug maintained his speed.
'We'll win it on the back leg,' Will told Tug. He had decided to walk the horse over the course to familiarise him with it, and to give them both a chance to spot any hidden holes or unevenness that might bring them down.
Tug shook his head and whinnied softly, At times like this, Will was never totally sure that the horse was just responding to the sound of his master's voice. It often seemed that he understood every word Will said to him and was agreeing or disagreeing.
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