by Troy Denning
Sa’ar raised an eyebrow, then nodded to Lander. “See that she stays out of the way.” The sheikh went to his camel. As he mounted, he pointed at Kadumi. “Why don’t you lead the way, fearless one?”
“Isn’t he a little young?” Lander objected.
The sheikh frowned at the Harper. “Did you not hear me earlier? This boy killed three men tonight.”
Kadumi paused to cast a self-righteous glance at the Harper, then turned to lead the way toward the canyon. Lander and Ruha waited for the end of the column with the sheikh before they fell into line. A few minutes later, the line switched to single file and rode into a narrow, dark ravine. The Harper rode behind the sheikh, and behind Lander came only Ruha.
Three feet to either side of the riders, the canyon walls rose high into the starry sky. On the ledges and shelves of the cliffs, heaps of yellow sand reflected the pale light of the crescent moon, making the rock itself seem all the more dark and foreboding. The floor of the canyon, too, was covered with a thick layer of sand.
Lander felt the footing grow softer beneath his mount’s feet, and the camel began to lunge as if going downhill. Ahead, the dark silhouettes of the war party were descending down the narrow chute two abreast, the shoulders of their mounts almost brushing the rock walls. Already, Kadumi had disappeared around a dark corner.
Though the tight quarters made Lander nervous, he knew that they worked to the Bedine’s advantage in this instance. It would be impossible to attack more than four abreast. Under such circumstances, the Zhentarim’s numerical superiority would do them little good. On the other hand, the Bedine could hardly mount a charge, and it would be an easy matter for the asabis to defend themselves. The Harper found himself searching the canyon rim, hoping to glimpse the warriors Sa’ar had assigned to attack from above. He saw nothing but the jagged silhouettes of rocks and, directly overhead, thousands of brightly twinkling stars.
Less than ten minutes into the canyon, a shrill amarat trilled from up ahead.
“That was Kadumi!” Ruha gasped.
“Don’t worry,” Sa’ar reassured her. “He’s as good a scout as I’ve seen in many a year. He’ll be fine.”
A murmur of excitement ran up the length of the column. The sheikh’s warriors pressed forward, nocking arrows in their bows. Lander could not see what was happening at the front of the line, for it was out of sight around a sharp bend.
An amarat with deep, rich tones called from the canyon, its sound muffled and softened by distance and the snakelike rift.
“Utaiba!” Sa’ar exclaimed, smiling. He fished his own massive amarat out of his djebira and hung it around his neck, ready to call off the attack from above when the time came.
A moment later, Lander and his companions rounded the corner. Because of the path’s steep slope, Lander could see over Sa’ar’s men for quite a distance. Fifty yards ahead the ravine, still descending at a steep angle, bulged out to a width of eighty feet. The bulge continued for a distance of a hundred yards, then the canyon once again narrowed to a width through which only two men could ride abreast.
Sa’ar’s warriors were crammed into the canyon in twos and threes. The front ranks, still led by Kadumi’s youthful form, had stopped and were firing their bows. The rear ranks had also stopped and drawn their bows. By slightly elevating their aim, many of these riders were using the advantage of the steep slope to lob arrows over the heads of their fellows.
The target of both groups was a throng of asabis, crowded into the bulge so thickly that they could hardly move. Under the direction of a Zhentarim officer, two dozen of the mercenaries had turned around to meet the attack from the rear, but most of the reptiles remained unaware of the peril. Their attention was directed at the far end of the bulge, where Lander could just see the silhouettes of a second group of Bedine warriors blocking the way deeper into the canyon.
The sheikh pointed at the Bedine obstructing the far end of the bulge. “My allies, the Raz’hadi,” he explained. “The asabis and their masters are trapped between us.”
As Sa’ar suggested, the Bedine were in excellent tactical position, but Lander felt far from confident. “I don’t like this,” he said. “The enemy is smart enough to have a rearguard.”
The sheikh chuckled and pointed back up the canyon. “It is gone. We chased it away!”
“Perhaps,” Lander allowed. Even if they had realized the Mahwa were coming to attack, the Zhentarim would never have believed that the force protecting the canyon mouth could be driven away. Still, he suspected that the enemy would spring a surprise or two of its own before the battle ended. “I hope we can take advantage of our good fortune.”
No sooner had he spoken than a flight of arrows whooshed down from the canyon rim. The Harper looked up and, two hundred feet above, he saw the dark forms of seventy-five men loosing another round into the bulge. Pained moans and confused growls rolled from the crowded ranks of the asabis. The Mahwa in the canyon gave a boastful cheer and added a volley of their own to the attack.
“The invaders are caught between the lions and the leopards,” Sa’ar bragged. “Not one shall escape!”
As the sheikh spoke, a hooded silhouette in the rear ranks of the asabi turned toward them. It pointed a finger at the forward ranks of the Mahwa.
“The wizard!” Lander yelled, pointing at the hooded figure. “Shoot him before—”
A tremendous clap filled the canyon, and Lander closed his eyes just before everything went white. The battle fell momentarily silent. By the time Lander opened his eyes again, the air already smelled of scorched camel hair and seared human flesh. The first eighty feet of the Mahwa ranks had been decimated. Dozens of camels and men lay on the canyon floor, some with tiny fires smoldering where the lightning bolt had hit them. Those who had not fallen, including the warriors in the rear ranks, were frantically rubbing their eyes, trying to recover their night vision.
At the edge of the bulge, Lander saw the stunned silhouette of a boy struggle to his feet, scimitar in hand. His knees looked weak and he seemed confused. Yet the boy—who could only be Kadumi—managed to stand, which was more than many of the men around him could do.
Beyond Kadumi, the hooded figure that had cast the spell was yelling at the asabis and waving them back toward the ranks of the Mahwa. Lander turned to Ruha and, to his relief, saw that she had also had the sense to shield her eyes. Pointing at the enemy wizard, he said, “That man must die!”
Ruha hesitated, glancing at Sa’ar and the other Bedine. In the same instant, the asabis began showering the Mahwa with crossbow bolts. Sa’ar’s men screamed in panic and confusion. The few who had begun to recover their sight returned the fire, and another volley of arrows hissed down into the bulge from the canyon rim.
“Do something or the Mahwa are lost!” Lander snapped.
“Give me sand,” the widow said, holding out her hand.
The Harper moved his camel a step closer to the canyon wall, then scraped a handful off a ledge and passed it to Ruha. When he looked back to the battle, the enemy sorcerer seemed to be facing the Mahwa again, though it was difficult to tell in the darkness. Lander feared he was preparing to cast another spell.
“Now, Ruha!”
Even as he spoke, he heard the widow whisper her incantation. The silhouette of a great cat appeared behind the enemy wizard, leaping in the Zhentarim’s direction. As it enclosed the man in its front paws, a terrified scream pierced the din of the battle. The cat dragged the man to the ground, and they disappeared into the mass of shadows cluttering the bulge. A moment later, there was a flurry of waving swords, and the cat’s defiant yowls implied that it was taking a few more Zhentarim with it.
Unfortunately the wizard’s death did not take the fight out of the asabis. Dropping their crossbows and drawing short swords, several hundred turned and charged the Mahwa. Lander saw Kadumi and a handful of other warriors brace to meet the charge, each carrying a scimitar in one hand and a jambiya in another.
“Fill the g
ap!” Sa’ar shouted, waving his rear ranks forward.
The column started down the canyon, moving too slowly for Lander’s tastes, but there was little he could do to urge it on. He pressed his camel as hard as he could, but in the tight quarters his mount could work its way past no more than the sheikh’s camel and a handful of other beasts.
At the edge of the bulge, the asabis rolled over Kadumi and the others. Lander saw the youth fall and disappear into the press. Drawing his scimitar and dagger, the Harper slipped off his camel.
“What are you doing?” Ruha called.
Surprised that the widow had managed to stay with him, Lander paused to say, “Kadumi’s in trouble.”
Ruha shocked him by drawing her own dagger and slipping from her mount’s back. “Given the way he’s been treating you, I’m surprised you care.”
On foot, the pair found it much easier to work their way forward. Although they could no longer see what was happening ahead, they slipped past the camels without trouble. As they moved, Lander could tell by the rhythm of volleys that the warriors on the canyon rim were keeping up a steady stream of fire, but the Mahwa in the canyon had put away their bows and drawn their scimitars.
Ahead of him, steel began to ring on steel, and the Harper knew the battle had turned desperate for both sides. If the sheikh’s men could prevent the invaders from breaking out of the bulge, the archers on the canyon rim would decimate them. If not, the asabis would cut them off and both the Mahwa and the Raz’hadi would be lost.
Twenty yards from where Kadumi had fallen, Lander found himself in the thick of the melee. As he stepped past a camel, a short blade came whistling toward his head. His body reacted automatically, pivoting at the waist to avoid the blow. Lander brought his scimitar down on the scaly arm wielding the short sword, then turned and thrust his dagger into the attacker’s abdomen. Only then did he have an opportunity to look at the reptile, which was staring at him with astonished, slit-pupiled eyes.
After that, the battle became a maelstrom of whirling blades and chiming swords. Lander advanced steadily, using the sword to block and the jambiya to kill, sometimes reversing his pattern and parrying with the dagger then slicing off an arm or leg with the curved blade of his scimitar. He dimly realized that a knot of Mahwa warriors had dismounted and were following his lead, pressing forward in a bloody hand-to-hand combat.
The Harper was also aware that Ruha trailed close behind him, for every now and then her dagger flashed into view. They made a good team, for her quick hand and alert eye were always ready to parry a thrust from his blind side or force an unseen attacker to hesitate long enough for the Harper to finish him off.
At last they reached the place where Kadumi had fallen. No more asabis stepped in to attack and, instead, began retreating into the bulge. A chorus of throaty cheers went up from the warriors behind Lander, and arrows began to sail over their heads as the Mahwa in the rear ranks resumed their attack.
“We forced them back!” Ruha said, her breath coming in labored gasps after the exertion of the battle.
“So it seems,” Lander said.
On the far side of the bulge, a series of amarat horns sounded, which the Harper hoped meant that the battle was also going well there. Without giving the matter any more thought, he sheathed his sword and, keeping his dagger handy, started to turn bodies over.
Lander found Kadumi not far from where he remembered seeing the boy fall. From what he could see in the dim light, the youth had suffered a nasty blow to the head and several minor gashes, but all of his limbs were still attached and he was breathing.
“Is he going to live?” Ruha asked.
“Maybe,” Lander answered. He sheathed his dagger, then picked the boy up. “But only if we get him out of here before the asabis charge again.”
The deep tones of Sa’ar’s amarat sounded from the rear of the Mahwa column. Instantly an eerie silence fell over the battlefield as the warriors on the canyon rim ceased their rain of arrows. A great cheer sounded from the far side of the bulge. Lander turned just in time to see a column of trotting camels come into sight, moving as fast as they could up the steep sands. The asabis were scattering toward the walls, leaving an open path up the center of the canyon.
“The Raz’hadi have broken through!” Ruha cried.
As the column of camels approached, the Harper did not know what to say. He could not imagine that the asabis, still nearly a thousand strong, had given up the battle and decided to let the Raz’hadi flee. Yet, that was exactly what it appeared had happened.
Lander watched for a few moments more before he realized what the mercenaries were doing. As the Raz’hadi approached the middle of the bulge, the asabis began climbing the canyon walls, scurrying up the cliffs just as if they had been running along the ground. Within seconds, they were streaming along the rock walls toward the mouth of the canyon.
“They’re going to cut us off!” the Harper said.
A concerned murmur rustled through the knot of warriors near Lander. The asabis were moving fast enough to overtake the camels, and trying to shoot so many before they passed would be hopeless.
Sheathing her weapons, Ruha said, “I can stop them.”
Without another word, the widow picked up two handfuls of sand and raised them high over her head. The warriors who had joined Lander in repulsing the asabi charge regarded her with suspicious expressions, but Ruha ignored them. She closed her eyes and recited her incantation, then began to hum in a steady, mournful note.
A soft hiss filled the canyon. By the light of the silver-white moon, Lander could see the sand piled on the ledges and shelves of the cliffs running down the rocks like the waterfalls of Archendale. Cursing and crying out in their guttural language, the asabis began dropping from the cliff-sides in tens and twenties.
The warriors began backing up the canyon, their eyes wide with disbelief and trepidation. Only one dared to say anything, and then a single word: “Witch!”
Twelve
In At’ar’s early radiance, the rocky minarets outside the Mouth of the Abyss showed the hue of dried blood. The spires cast long, midnight-colored stripes over the tawny hollow, plunging the first battlefield of the previous night into an eerie contrast of murky shadow and fervid color. A pall of silvery smoke hung over the campfires Sa’ar’s rearguard had kept burning all night, and the ghostly silhouettes of men and camels were just now taking on a more earthly form.
The Zhentarim had not returned during the night, and the asabis were still in the canyon. After Ruha’s spell had knocked the reptilian mercenaries from the cliff walls, the Raz’hadi and Mahwa had fled the chasm together. Only a handful of warriors from each tribe had been required to stay behind to keep the enemy from escaping.
With her brother-in-law and the Harper, Ruha sat in the middle of a circle formed by the sheikhs of the two victorious tribes and twenty of their blood-spattered warriors. Kadumi wore a bandage around his head, and the minor gashes on his arms and legs were still oozing a little blood. If Lander had not poured one of his healing potions down the boy’s throat earlier, Ruha doubted that the youth would even be conscious.
Despite last night’s triumph, a somber mood hung over the gathering. Sa’ar was conversing solemnly with his Raz’hadi counterpart, Sheikh Utaiba, regarding what should be done about Ruha and her companions. The warriors of both tribes sat without speaking, their eyes cast on the ground to avoid looking at the trio under discussion.
Ruha knew as well as the warriors did that when the sheikhs’ finished their discussion, she would be banished from the Raz’hadi and the Mahwa. Last night, dozens of warriors had witnessed her use a spell to knock the asabis from the canyon walls. Though her action had saved the two tribes, when it came to magic, Bedine tradition was universally clear. Witches and sorcerers were to be outcasts.
The only question in Ruha’s mind was whether or not Lander and Kadumi would be exiled with her. After all, her brother-in-law had been at the head of the column when it
rode into the canyon, and the Harper had spearheaded the countercharge against the asabis. The widow thought that simple gratitude would dictate that their association with her be overlooked. For Kadumi’s sake, she hoped the sheikhs would agree—though it might mean that she would be separated from the Harper, at least until he was ready to return to Sembia.
Sa’ar cleared his throat, indicating that he and Utaiba were ready to announce their decision. “Last night, our warriors killed five hundred Zhentarim and five hundred of their asabis,” the sheikh began, wisely preceding what everyone knew would be a difficult decision with a positive statement.
Utaiba, a wiry man with a graying beard and piercing black eyes, nodded. “It was a great victory for our tribes, Sa’ar. Your warriors fought splendidly, and we Raz’hadi have reason to be glad they did.”
The warriors remained silent, a formality Lander did not observe. “The Mahwa and the Raz’hadi fought like lions,” he said, pausing to smile at the assembly of warriors. After allowing the warriors an opportunity to accept his praise, he continued, “Yet the Zhentarim still outnumber your warriors by ten-to-one.”
“This is true,” agreed Sa’ar, frowning at being drawn into a conversation when he had intended only to announce his decision. “But we lost less than two hundred warriors between both our tribes. It shall not be long before the odds are more to our liking.”
Lander shook his head. “Sheikh, you know that I wish it were so, but I must speak my heart in this matter. Last night you caught the Zhentarim unprepared. They will be ready for you the next time, and they will have magic.”
“What are you saying?” demanded Utaiba, squinting at Lander from beneath his coarse eyebrows. “Should we give them the run of the desert and stay out of the way? Is that what you would have us do?”
“No,” Lander answered calmly, turning his one good eye to meet the sheikh’s hard gaze. “I want you to drive them out of Anauroch. If you do not, more Zhentarim will follow these. Soon the sands will be crawling with black burnooses, and there will be no place left to graze your camels or fill your waterskins.”