The Ivory Road: A Walk in the Sand

by Siobhan Muir

  “I think you're better off starting a school for all sorts of people, rather than just the rich, but I won't argue. Whatever you want to do is your deal. Which is Ahmad’s horse?”

  “Across from your gray. I’ll get the tack from the stable boys and our gear from the locked boxes.”

  She watched Brandon saunter toward the tack room with the grace and ease of an athlete. He didn’t strike her as a man ready to give up his career of adventure, but she could believe it was a pretty hard life. She shook her head and opened the stall with Ahmad’s black gelding. The horse perked his ears at her and snorted.

  “Right back at you, buddy. I don’t want to leave a comfortable place to sleep, either. Come on.” She moved to clip a lead to his halter when she found several bags of things in the stall with the horse. “Hello, what’s all this?”

  Some looked like the bags she’d seen on Brandon's saddle. Frowning, she led the black into the aisle and secured him in the cross-ties before reentering the stall to look through the bags. Gold and gemstones stuffed one bag until its seams stretched. Another held cups and cutlery encrusted with jewels.

  “Shit.”

  She glanced over the stall doors to see if anyone walked down aisle. Voices came from the tack room, but no one invaded the stable. She hefted two of the bags and skulked into Aristotle’s stall. It wouldn’t do to show the lads Ahmad’s stash. It took her two more trips to get them all before she brought Aristotle out into the aisle beside the black.

  “What are you doing, Iliana?” Aristotle bumped her shoulder with his nose.

  “Getting our gear ready to go. We’re leaving tonight.”

  “Why?”

  She shot a look back down the aisle toward the tack room as the stable staff emerged. “Ahmad turned traitor and we had to kill the men who came for Crowe’s debt. The guards will discover the bodies soon so we gotta get out of here before they nail us for it.”

  “You killed someone?”

  She sucked in a breath through clenched teeth. “Yeah.”

  “I’m impressed, Iliana. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

  “Yeah, me either.”

  The stable hands came for the horses and set to work saddling them, ending the conversation. Iliana stood back at Aristotle’s stall door and watched them, but her mind went over the death cries of the men in the alley. The sound would haunt her for a long time. I don’t want to do that again. But in this world, she might not have much choice, and right now she had no way home.

  Brandon appeared on the other side of his bay and threw down their supply packs, his expression thunderous. His fists clenched at his sides and she fully expected him to throw a punch into the wooden walls around him.

  “What’s wrong?” She leaned close so her voice wouldn’t carry to the grooms.

  “It’s gone.” He scanned the barn as if he could pummel whatever bothered him. “It’s all gone. Sonuvabitch! That bastard took it all and gave it to Reichart before we met them tonight.”

  “Wait, what’s gone?”

  “The desert merchandise. Everything we had with us. Ahmad took it to Reichart.” He let out a stream of words she didn’t understand, but she got the gist. “And I traded in the riding saddle for a pack saddle to carry it. Dammit straight to hell!”

  “Come with me a moment.”

  “What?” His blazing fury slammed into her and she wondered if he’d take a swing at her out of frustration.

  “Just come in here for a second. And for God’s sake, take a breath, Crowe.”

  Iliana dragged him into Aristotle’s stall where she’d stashed the extra saddlebags full of treasure. “Is this what you're looking for?”

  Brandon froze and gaped. “Where did you get these?”

  “They were in Ahmad’s horse’s stall.” She shrugged. “I bet he brought it here to prevent Reichart from knowing exactly how much you had. Looks like we have both his and your shares.”

  He let out a harsh breath and jerked her into his arms in a tight hug. “Thank the gods!”

  She blinked in surprise and froze in his arms. She inhaled the scents of leather, musk, and sweat, and closed her eyes for a brief moment to absorb his strength. I shouldn’t be enjoying this. She resisted the urge to remain in his embrace and cleared her throat.

  “Come on. We better get going. I’ll help you get this stuff packed on Ahmad’s horse so we can get out of here.” She pushed back from him and patted his chest, ignoring the desire to stay right there. There’s something wrong with me.

  “Right. Yes. Good.” He appeared as surprised and flustered as she felt, but he nodded and let her go.

  They waited until the horses were saddled and Iliana suggested Brandon give the guys a tip.

  “A what?” Brandon frowned.

  “A tip. A token of gratitude for their hard work for interrupting their dinners to saddle our mounts.” She raised her eyebrows. “You don’t tip the staff around here?”

  He shook his head, but gave each groom a few coins for their trouble. The men happily went back to the tack room without a backward glance. Iliana and Brandon carried the extra bags and loaded them onto the black gelding as quickly as possible. At last, Brandon threw a canvas tarp over the top of the horse and tied it down to disguise the packs’ contents.

  “Anything left behind?” She looked in the stall.

  “No. I think we have everything. Let’s go.”

  He led the horses out into the courtyard and swung into his saddle. She handed him the lead to the gelding before mounting Aristotle. Her muscles protested being back in the saddle, but getting out of Sandur alive trumped comfort.

  Aristotle grunted and she nodded. “I know, man. I don’t want to keep moving either, but it’s safer if we do.” She patted his neck and followed Brandon’s lead.

  Without a word, they rode for the gate. Exhaustion threatened to close her eyes, but Iliana fought to stay awake as they passed the guards standing before the still open gates. So far the alarm hadn’t been raised and the men stood bored at their posts. They rode through, turning their horses west into the darkness. They’d ridden a few hundred yards when shouts and whistles sounded over the quiet city. She glanced back as the gates closed behind them. Damn, we got out just in time. Brandon shared a look with her and kept riding.

  Chapter Eight: “Coming full circle…”

  Okay, I’m gonna die.

  Iliana sat in the sand with her arms draped over her upraised knees and tried not to whimper. Brandon had given her the hardest beating of her life while teaching her the fine points of sword fighting. At her complaint, he’d fixed her with a hard stare and narrowed his eyes.

  “You think those men in the alley or the Knalish army would back off because you need a breather?”

  She’d resisted sticking her tongue out at him and kept further grievances to herself. He was sexy as hell, but he could be an annoying taskmaster. You’d think he’d let me rest now that we don’t have someone chasing us. They’d made it out of Sandur without incident until they’d arrived at the border fort on the road to Torhaine.

  The Knalish guard had eyed Brandon’s packhorse with suspicious eyes, and demanded to know what his business was leaving Knalland with so many goods. To her surprise, he produced papers verifying him as a businessman from Torhaine returning from a trading trip with his wife in tow.

  She’d sat quietly and tried to keep her hands from fidgeting as her heart thundered in her ears. Brandon somehow convinced them they didn’t need to inspect the packs. She’d wrapped a dark cloak from Ahmad’s things over herself in hopes they wouldn’t look too closely at what she wore. She only started to breathe easy again after the fort fell into the distance behind them.

  She hung her head and let the breeze cool her face under the shade of the oasis where they’d stopped for rest. They’d slept for a whole night after crossing the border and she’d never been so happy to see her sleeping roll.

  “Are you gonna wallow in your self-pity, or get up and try a
gain?”

  She shot a nasty look at Brandon as he extended his hand to her. “Yes, thank you. I might.”

  He snorted and grasped her hand. “Come on. You can’t give up now. You came close to driving me back.”

  “Not close enough.” She shook her head as she ordered her tired body to get up. “You’re just playing with me.”

  “Yes.” He nodded, all humor gone from his expression. “But killing your confidence won’t help you improve. And not improving will kill you.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know.” She hung her head for a moment, gathering her breath before he hauled her to her feet.

  She found her nose flat against a broad, male chest and staggered back. Hard arms with weathered hands grasped her shoulders and steadied her from a fall. Iliana looked up into spectacular green and brown hazel eyes, their focus so intense she damn near lost her breath. A sensuous mouth surrounded by a well-trimmed beard with golden highlights, softened from a hard, taut line.

  Beautiful.

  “Iliana…”

  Brandon’s whisper was the only warning she received before he tilted his head and brushed his lips across hers. She froze for a few heartbeats until his left arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her close. The scents of leather and male musk filled her nose as his tongue traced the seam of her lips, asking for entrance.

  What is he doing? Why am I letting him? The questions faded into the rush of pleasure as she tilted her head and gave in to his request. Brandon moaned a little as his tongue slid between her lips and tangled with hers. She wrapped her left hand in his shirt and held on as he deepened the kiss. He definitely knows how to kiss just as well as the barmaid. But she never let go of her sword.

  A skittish, wary portion of her mind required her grip on the hilt to tighten and she listened even as she enjoyed every moment of Brandon’s attention. Pleasure bloomed in her gut and lower as he pressed his groin against her belly. A hard ridge of flesh rocked over her pelvis and she whimpered as lust exploded through her. I want him.

  Before she could drop her free hand to investigate the hard bulge, Brandon pulled back from their kiss and blinked at her a few times, his expression resembling an owl.

  “I’m sorry, Iliana.”

  She blinked then frowned. “For what?”

  “For kissing you.”

  “Why? You didn’t like it?” She resisted the urge to set her hands on her hips and gripped her sword tighter.

  “What? No, that’s the problem. I liked it too much.” He shifted away from her and surreptitiously adjusted the front of his trousers. Yeah, I saw that, buddy.

  “Why is liking it a problem?”

  “Because I’m supposed to be concentrating on your sword technique, not figuring out ways to press you up against a palm tree and love the living hell out of you.” Brandon closed his eyes and rolled his neck on his shoulders.

  A giddy giggle escaped Iliana’s lips as excitement bloomed in her chest. It had been years since she’d felt the emotion of attraction at this scale, but she tried not to make a big deal out of it. Their paths could diverge at any time and she had no idea about Crowe’s true intentions. Best not to get involved. But oh how she wanted to. Maybe I can.

  “Tell you what. If we make it to somewhere safe and I can have a bath, I’ll give you the chance to show me your loving skills.” She raised her eyebrows in challenge. “That good enough for you?”

  Brandon scanned her, his eyes narrowed as he tried to determine if she meant what she said. Oh, I mean it, big boy. She raised her chin and gestured with her free hand, and Brandon laughed.

  “Damn, you’re a helluva woman, Iliana. It’s a deal.” He grinned and raised his sword. “Now, on your guard.”

  Brandon beat her twice more before he called a halt and they prepared for the final leg to Ros Torach. Despite the hard travel and the grueling sword workouts, happiness settled into her gut. Though talented at acting, this world didn’t value it as much as her own, and having the abilities to take care of herself here warmed her heart.

  “A couple more hours and we should be in Ros Torach. Ready to go?” Brandon swung into his saddle.

  “Maybe. If I can get back on Aristotle.”

  Brandon blinked. “Who?”

  “Aristotle.” Iliana heaved and scrambled into her saddle. “My horse’s name is Aristotle, like the philosopher.”

  “There’s a philosopher named Aristotle?” Crowe urged his bay into motion and Aristotle followed after him.

  “Yeah. Greek man, very famous for his work in physics, biology, metaphysics and logic, among other things.” She raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know about him in this world?”

  “Doesn’t sound familiar.”

  “Uneducated heathens.” Aristotle’s grumble made her bite her lip.

  Iliana thanked her lucky stars Brandon couldn’t hear her gray horse speak. She thumped him with her heels and he subsided.

  “He was pretty wise in my world. A lot of civilization is based on his ideas. So that’s where my horse got his name.” She slapped Aristotle’s neck affectionately. “He’s wise enough to get me safely across the desert.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short, Iliana.”

  “Oh, I’m not. Just giving credit where credit is due.” There’s no way I’d have gotten us across the Karobis.

  They settled into a steady pace to reach the city by early afternoon. She dozed in the rhythm of the constant rocking motion of Aristotle’s strides as she and Brandon rode west. She nodded in the hot sun and let her mind drift over the adventure she’d had. Other than the nearly getting killed bit, it was pretty amazing. And Brandon’s company is better than I expected.

  They crested a high dune and the view ahead opened up to a glittering expanse.

  “Wow.” Blue and gold danced in her sight as the wind shifted direction, bringing the scent of the sea to her parched nose. The breeze cooled her instead of searing with desert heat, and long-winged birds cut across the sky in soaring glides.

  A slim winding river meandered out of the north to encompass a group of buildings set close to the shore. The scene before them sharpened and a great wall came into view. Despite the formidable barrier, the gates remained open to travelers who came on foot. Barges filled the river and great sailing ships bobbed on the swells beyond the city.

  The city had been built on individual islands of the river’s delta, each island fortified with a stone foundation. Bridges connected the heart of the city to the rest which had expanded beyond the river’s confines. The markets and poorer neighborhoods remained on the mainland while the wealthier homes sat on the river islands.

  “Beautiful city, isn’t it?” Brandon’s words broke into Iliana’s awareness as they rode through the gates.

  “Yeah. The bridges between islands remind me of Venice. It’s built on a river delta, too.”

  “Ros Torach means River Delta in Torhainian.” He nodded to a glorious hanging garden cascading off a nearby archway. “They’re known for their lush gardens and perfumes. Something about having flowers all year round because of the river.”

  The people wore clothing of rich cloth and the streets remained clear of garbage, even in the marketplace. The horses sighed as they rode beneath the shade of the trees and gardens lining the cobblestone avenues. The air freshened with scents of spices and flowers as they entered the marketplace. Fruit and vegetable vendors lined the wide streets with colorful awnings over their booths. The language rolled in a set of liquid syllables to Iliana’s ears, but she enjoyed the sounds.

  She kept an eye on her belt pouch and the packs on the black horse as they rode. Her gut told her pickpockets probably infested the crowds and she knew better than to think she’d be immune to their deft hands. She also looked for clothing vendors in hopes of getting a new outfit. With what? You don’t have any currency beyond the thugs’ money. She didn’t know if it’d be accepted here in Torhaine.

  Brandon led them toward the wharves and the scents of sea and brine sharpe
ned. He turned in his saddle and gave her a tired smile.

  “I know of a place to stay that isn’t too expensive. It’s between the marketplace and the wharves, but it’s clean and fairly priced.”

  “Sounds good.” She nodded and gave him a thumbs-up. He snorted and turned back to lead them on.

  “Iliana Rory, you’ve just made it to Ros Torach. What are you going to do now?” Aristotle cocked an ear back toward her.

  “What are you, a Disneyland ad?” She laughed and thumped his neck as she scanned the road head. She lost her smile as her gaze landed on Brandon’s broad back. “Honestly, I hadn’t thought beyond arriving and finding a place to take a bath.”

  “And making love to Brandon.”

  “Oh ho, you were eavesdropping.”

  “Not eavesdropping. I wasn’t far from you when you kissed him.” Aristotle sounded smug.

  Anger kindled and she dug her heels into his sides. “You got a problem with me being interested in sex with another consenting adult, Aristotle? ’Cause I don’t recall needing your permission to make my own pleasurable choices.”

  Aristotle lapsed into silence as they continued through the crowd and she let the anger simmer then dissipate. Male privilege and censorship of female sexuality had been going on for centuries, and getting angry over it equated to crying over spilled milk. She could only correct those around her and require them to treat her as a person. But she wouldn’t apologize for snapping.

  Brandon led them to the wharves and the scream of the sea birds as they soared overhead alleviated some of Iliana’s anger. Aristotle followed the bay like a horse on a tour trail ride. She stifled a snort. She didn’t know exactly what Aristotle was, but he only wore the shape of a horse. I guess it just goes to show you can’t judge a person by their body. Despite his rather noxious views on his right to remark on her sexual choices, she was grateful for his company.

  Brandon turned the bay into the courtyard of an inn at the edge of the marketplace and dismounted. Iliana looked around as she pulled Aristotle up. The courtyard sat empty until the stable boy came out to take the horses.