“I was unaware that you were here Captain,” Kosai said through his gritted teeth.
“I have been here since sun down. I take it that you’re gaining feeling back in your shoulder; that’s good. I told the nurses to hold off on applying any pain blockers to your wound Kosai. Do you know why?”
“No sir.”
“You need to know how damaged you are. I don’t want you to push yourself. The doctors fear that you may never gain full mobility in that arm again.” The Captain stood and lit a glass lantern with a sulfur match. It was an older invention by the School of Chemistry and Alchemy, though it was not a very profitable item.
The room erupted with golden light. The Captain turned a dial on the lantern to reduce the intensity of the light. Blood percolated through most of the bandages on Kosai’s shoulder and began to ooze onto his skin.
“I don’t understand why I have to be strapped to this table. That’s the worst part of it.” As Kosai spoke, the Captain opened the cabinet and pulled out a new bandage, wrap, and a bottle filled with brown liquid. He walked over to the table and undid the leather straps around Kosai’s forehead and chest.
“It’s to keep you still so you don’t hut yourself too much. You have a strong spirit Kosai, but you should be grateful that you aren’t dead. You are fragile right now. A simple fall could push back your recovery for weeks, if not months. That is something we cannot risk.” The Captain removed the bandages. Kosai cringed, swore and clenched his hands into a fist as the bandages rubbed against the open flesh. “The wound looks a lot better than it did the other day.”
“Still feels fresh,” Kosai said as the Captain began to apply the new bandage. Kosai cringed and moaned again as the sting of the brown liquid shot into his shoulder. The burning sensation sent tingling pricks down his arm, causing him to flex. The Captain wrapped his shoulder and secured the bandage before placing the leather strap back over his chest.
“I visited with the doctors today,” the Captain said. “The medicine has helped slow the infection, but it will still take more time to heal. Had you been another day out, you would have died.” Kosai winced and groaned as wave of hot searing pain grew in his shoulder. The Captain ran to the cabinet and took a cloth. He tore it in half, rolled up one of the halves and held it in front of Kosai’s mouth.
“Bite, it helps,” he said. Kosai took the cloth and clenched until the pain passed. The Captain took the cloth and laid it on the counter. “There are things you can learn from this experience Kosai. When you are healed and back to your usual self, there is an assignment awaiting you.”
“Another caravan escort already?” Kosai asked with the cloth in his mourth. A memory of the hooded figure flashed in his mind and he blinked hard, removing the image. The Captain smiled and shook his head. He placed his hand infront of Kosai’s mouth and Kosai spat out the cloth.
“I will let you know what it is tomorrow when I return from a caravan escort.”
“But you haven’t done that in years! Isn’t that beneath you sir?”
“It is critical that I go. If anything, it will strengthen the Guard’s morale and help the drivers feel at ease. There are also a few things I want to look into. Kosai, it’s late. Sleep well. I will see you tomorrow.”
“Yes sir,” Kosai said. The Captain blew out the lantern. The door opened and closed and Kosai was left to himself, strapped to a bed.
Another assignment already? Kosai thought. He had been placed on patrol duty from time to time, but his main assignments consisted of escorting caravans and hunting down aggressive nomadic tribes. And what can I learn from this?
He stared up at the ceiling. The darkness reminded him of the dark figure that attacked him. He closed his eyes to shut out the figure, and then opened them again, embracing the memory. The pain in his leg surged again, but he used that to help him remember; to help him see the dark figure. With every heartbeat, throbs of pain pulsed in his back, reminding him of the club, the vial and the peering amber eyes of the dark figure.
CHAPTER 4
The next morning, as the sun was beginning to rise, another government caravan was preparing to head north. The caravan was to follow a similar route as the one Kosai took when he was attacked. When the Captain walked out of the Barracks towards the caravan, the suon were tethered to their wagons and the caravan drivers were double checking their cargo.
One of his lieutenants by the name of Tavely, finished his discussion with the lead caravan driver and turned to the Captain, stood at attention and saluted. A spear was lashed to a steel round shield which he carried on his back. The emblem of Tessír was engraved on the shining metal. Tavely was a short, thin man who always carried a clipboard. His mental ability for strategy, organization and efficiency earned him the rank of lieutenant.
“What is the report?” the Captain asked, returning the salute.
“The caravan is prepared and ready. A few of the guards are on edge about the route and the caravan drivers are uneasy,” Tavely said. The Captain looked over his left shoulder, passed the open city gate and into the desert.
“They have a good reason to be on edge,” the Captain said softly, thinking of his conversation with the Seer. The routes were being compromised and there would be an attack on the caravan, the Captain was sure of it. But that wasn’t the reason he was accompanying the caravan. “I am aiding on this escort. Let the lead caravan driver know, as well as the other guards. Don’t make the announcement too formal. We are not riding out to battle.”
“Yes sir,” Lieutenant Tavely said. He saluted and turned back to the caravan. The Captain looked over his other seven guards that stood around the caravan. Sweat poured down from beneath their helms. Their swords were sheathed, but each held a spear with a point as broad as a hand in one hand, and carried their shields in the other. The spear points glistened above the guards in the too hot morning.
“Lieutenant,” the Captain called. The lieutenant hustled over and stood at attention. “Why are the guards carrying spears?”
“Ah, yes sir. It was in the orders. Six guards with spear and sword were to escort this caravan. There was no word given however on you coming along.”
The Captain stared at the ground for a moment and then walked away from the Caravan. Tavely followed close by.
“If word got out that we are carrying sword and spear, and you were to attack the caravan, what would you do?” the Captain asked.
“I would do so by arrows and wait for the caravan to pass by when they were at a disadvantage,” Tavely said, “especially if the caravan was pinned against a dune, there would be minimal chance of escape. Archers, arrows and bows are costly, not including the years and resources it takes to train a group to be proficient. If archers were to attack, they are certain to be of some skill. Will that be all sir?” Lieutenant Tavely stood at attention.
“No. Hand over your spear,” the Captain commanded. Tavely did so. The Captain took the spear and pointed it at another guard. He recognized the guard as one that graduated a few years ago. “Raemon, toss me your spear.” The guard did so and the Captain caught it in his free hand and tucked both spears under his arm. “Caravan driver, have you any rope?” The driver nodded. “Bring me the longest cord you have.”
The caravan driver looked at him curiously, shrugged and then disappeared into the wagon. After a moment he reappeared with a cord of rope that was wrapped loosely around his shoulder. He climbed down from the wagon and handed the rope over. It was heavy in the Captain’s hand and he grunted softly as he packed it onto his shoulder. He tied each end to one of his spears.
He looked at the gate and its open cement doors. A three foot tall sand dune was next to the gate. The Captain stuck one spear in the ground and took two steps towards the sand dune. He leaned back, holding the spear in a throwing position and then threw it. The spear spun in the air and raced towards the dune, landing halfway up the mound. The crater that was formed was quickly filled with sand from above
. The Captain grinned and looked to another soldier who was carrying a spear.
“Guard, your spear please,” the Captain called. The soldier nodded and tossed his spear to the Captain. He embedded it next to the other spear and rope at a forty-five degree angle towards him. He then pulled the other spear with the rope tied to it out of the ground and launched it at the sand dune with a little more effort than the first. The rope hissed around the wooden shaft of the embedded spear. The spear in the dune came free, pulling with it a spray of sand. While the launched spear came closer to its target, the spear that came free clicked and bounced on the ground. As the launched spear hit the middle of the sand dune, the top of the dune came free and slid over the spear. He tugged on the rope and pulled the spear free and at the same time, wrapped the cord around his arm until the spear was again in his hand. After grabbing the other two spears, he handed them over to the Caravan driver.
“Keep these close to you,” he whispered. “I think I may need them again.” The caravan driver disappeared into his wagon. Then the Captain called for the Tavely.
“Do you have a map of our route this morning?” The lieutenant took out a sheet of parchment from his clipboard and laid it on top of the stack of papers.
“Our route will be taking us past the Red Dunes and then out into the valley,” the lieutenant said, tracing the map with his finger. “From what the driver says, the winds should be moving south by southeast, creating a type of curved wall of sand in these areas. Those will be on our west side with a possible sandstorm growing to the east. It should pass just next to us.”
The Captain looked over the map and pointed at the dunes the caravan was to pass.
“This spot here would be perfect for an ambush,” the Captain said. “The nomads could hide among the shadows in the dunes, sending a single scout to hail them when the caravan passed by. The nomads would have the high ground while the caravan was pinned against a sandstorm.”
“Captain, I might add that the guards are also fearful of the storm. Considering what happened to Kosai.”
“That is part of why I am coming” the Captain said softly. “These men need their courage refilled.” The lead caravan driver stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly. He then swung his hand above his head and whipped the reigns. The lizards grunted and hissed as they slowly pulled the wagons into motion.
The heat was dry and draining. Sweat crusted in the necklines and armpits of each uniform, making each movement burn and scratch. The suon grunted and hissed as they pulled their heavy loads. Each half hour, the caravan stopped to drink. The journey was slow. The guards marched with a practiced discipline, even though salt and metal rubbed against their skin. The irritation of sand, salt, sweat and heat grew on the Captain as well with a feverish annoyance.
The caravan slowed and stopped for a water break as they passed the first dune of hundreds, each sixty feet tall or more. It would be many hours left before the caravan was clear of danger.
The Captain was the last to receive water before the caravan started again. He looked back often, watching the horizon melt behind him as the caravan followed the curved trail around the edge of the endless dunes. Dune after dune passed by on the left side and the wind from the open desert continued to push wave after wave of drying heat.
Sweat flooded the Captain’s face and then quickly hardened around his lips and at the corners of his eyes. A small ripple of sand slid down the side of a dune. The Captain turned sharply, looking at the top of the massive mountain of sand.
“Hold!” the Captain shouted as he raised a fist into the air. The caravan stopped and the lead caravan driver disappeared into the wagon. After a moment, he reappeared with the three spears and rope. He rushed down from the wagon and handed them to the Captain.
“Thank you driver,” the Captain said. “Pull the front half of the caravan forward a ways, and have the back half move back the same distance.”
The lead caravan driver nodded and whistled a tune, waving both hands in the air, seeming to instruct the drivers of the Captain’s orders. The Captain followed the lead wagon until it stopped.
“Driver, now would be a good time to hide,” the Captain said softly.
“I must release my beasts first. If we survive, they will return,” the driver said. The Captain nodded and the driver whistled another tune, more high pitched than the last. The drivers jumped down from their wagon and released the lizards from their harnesses. After the suon roamed off into the open desert a ways, the drivers went into their wagons. A large black bird crested above the dune and began to circle above the caravan. The Captain shielded his eyes looked up at it.
“Clever,” the Captain whispered. “Shields up!” At the command, the guards took their round metal shields from their backs and held them so that the top of the shield came to the bottom of their eyes. The seven guards and Lieutenant Tavely crouched next to a wagon, looking up at the dune. “Driver, do you have a bow in that wagon?” the Captain asked. There was some rustling and jumbling and it sounded like goods were falling from their shelves. The lead driver reappeared with a sling and bag of smooth flat stones.
“This was all that I have. We are not permitted to carry any serious weapon.”
The Captain sighed and set the spears on the ground next to him. He took the sling and loaded a stone. He swung the sling around his head three times and then launched the projectile. The small stone flew into the air. The bird circled into the path of the stone, and then there was an explosion of feathers. The bird plummeted to the ground three wagons back from the lead caravan driver. One of the guards rushed up to what was left of the bird.
“Covered beak with collar on left talon; trained bird,” the guard said. The Captain nodded and looked over at the sand dune. He squatted down and picked up his three spears without moving his eyes from the dune. He then walked to the gap in the caravan and stood looking at the dune.
A figure appeared on the top of the dune. Black robes wrapped around his body and legs, and he had a black hood, though his face was not hidden. It was a narrow and long face, with eyes closer together than most. His cheek bones were prominent and could be seen clearly from the bottom of the dune. It was a nomad.
The Captain stabbed the untied spear into the ground behind him and did the same with another spear in front of him. Another nomad appeared on top of the dune, holding a bow with a knocked arrow, dressed in a similar black garb. The Captain held his spear with the coiled rope behind him. The first nomad waved his arm towards the caravan. More nomads appeared, covering the entire crest of the large dune which spread the width of the gap in the caravan. Each nomad that appeared carried a bow and quiver of arrows.
The Captain took a couple steps forward and held his spear in throwing position. Then he sprinted towards the dune. The nomads knocked their arrows. The Captain threw his spear up at the nomads. It spiraled through the air and landed halfway up the dune, and embedded deeply into the sand. The lead nomad reached above his head and pointed a finger at the sky, and then pointed in an arcing motion, towards the Captain. There was an audible chuckle from the desert dwellers as the arrows spiraled through the air, towards the Captain and the rest of the caravan.
The guard moved back towards the caravan lifted their shields to defend against the falling projectiles. The Captain ran backwards and looked up at the sky. He sidestepped and dodged as the first volley of arrows fell. As soon as his hand touched the wooden shaft of the second spear, the first volley ended. He grasped the spear tightly, yanked it from the ground, and charged towards the dune a second time. He roared like thunder. The spear spun through the air.
The first spear came free, leaving a small crater in the dune, and flung back towards the Captain. The rope hissed around the anchored spear and the second spear arched up and fell in the same spot as the first. Half of the spear stuck out of the dune. The Captain caught the first spear his left hand. The nomads drew back their bows, taking aim at the two clu
sters of wagons a second time.
The Captain took another step forwards and launched the spear back at the sand dune. The spear spiraled again through the air. The other flew out of the dune, taking with it a spray of sand. The nomads released their arrows. The guards tucked themselves against the wagons and held their shields up to deflect the projectiles. The arrows pelted the wooden wagons and steel shields like streaks of black hail.
As the Captain ran backwards to the wagons, the crater in the dune filled with sand, and the portion above the crater split like a hard boiled egg. The collapse grew and moved to the top of the dune. The nomads flailed about as the sand gave way beneath them. They rolled down the dune, being tossed and turned in the sand until they slid to a stop at the base of the dune. Twenty nomads stood slowly as they coughed up coarse sand granules. All had lost their bows and soon realized that their arrows were missing. Half of the group weakly drew short sabers from underneath their robes, as if the blades were made of lead. The others remained half buried in sand.
Six of the seven guards surrounded the group of nomads while the seventh leaned up against a wagon with an arrow jutting out of his shoulder. One of the caravan drivers and Tavely were tending to him.
“Nomads, here we stand before you,” the Captain said. “You are weak and fewer in number. My men will slay you easily. You may take your leave, or stay and die.”
A nomad who was half buried in the sand was pulled free by his tribesmanand stood. He looked around at the others and shook his head. Each sheathed their short sabers and began to pull the other nomads free from the sand. He took a step towards the Captain.
It was the same nomad that first appeared at the top of the dune. Sand covered his clothes, caked his face and the corners of his eyes, causing them to go red. He had a tattoo on the left side of his neck that looked like two black snakes coiling around each other.
“We are no different than you Captain,” the nomad said in a deep, even voice. “The cities take our people as slaves. You mine our hills, cut our trees, steal our resources and still your people starve. Yet we thrive here in the desert. How is it then Captain, that we can live?”
Emblems of Power Page 7