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 forwards a few paces, and have the back half move back the same distance, enough to leave a gap for my men in-between.”
The lead caravan driver nodded and whistled a tune, wavi
ng 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, higher 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, 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 clusters 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 hardboiled 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 tribesman and 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?”
“You rob our caravans and you siege our cities! My men fight you in the day and night and you ask me how you live?” the Captain asked. His face reddened with anger. The nomad laughed softly.
“The truth of the capital’s doings has not been revealed to you. Search inside your own walls. As mighty as the Capital is, why do people starve? Start there and you will find the true criminals. Until you find them, we will continue to hunt you and your caravans.” The nomad turned to walk back into the dunes with the others.
“Nomad!” the Captain called. The nomad stopped and turned. “Who told you we would be here?” The nomad shook his head.
“Look inside your own walls,” the Nomad said. He continued to walk with the others. The guards held their spears and shields steady until the group disappeared behind the collapsed dune. One of the guards approached the Captain.
“Why did we let them go sir?” the guard asked.
“We could have killed all of them, but I would still be without information and you all would be weakened.” The Captain turned and looked over the flat desert. “About how far are we from the place where Kosai was attacked?”
“Not far sir, maybe a half hour,” the guard replied. The Captain nodded, picked up the spears that were buried in the sand and walked over to the lead wagon.
“Driver, the threat has passed. How soon can we be moving again?”
“Soon Captain,” the driver said. He turned back to the open desert, stuck his two small fingers in his mouth and whistled. The Captain covered his ears as the driver blew the note. Without stopping, he raised the pitch of his whistle a full octave and held it there for a time. As the whistle ended, the sound seemed to carry on the wind and out into the desert.
On the horizon, the suon came lumbering back together. Their long black tongues flicked the air as sand slid down their scales. As the
y came close to the trail, each broke off from the group and lined up in front of their wagons. The drivers attached the harnesses and waited for the lead caravan driver’s signal. The lead driver looked back and whistled as he spun his finger above his head. The drivers whipped the reigns and slowly, the caravan continued into the desert.
The Captain stood in one place and watched as each of his guards marched by him with the wagons. The last guard to walk by was Raemon, the one who was injured by an arrow in the upper left part of his chest. The driver that had tended to him seemed to have treated the wound with some skill and care. The bandages were tight and neat, with only a spot of blood leaking through the bandage.
“Guard,” the Captain called. The guard stopped, turned towards the Captain and stood at attention. “Are you in much pain?”
“As much as to be expected sir,” Raemon said. “The arrow was lodged in the joint. I’ll be fine.” The Captain walked up to him and placed his hand on his injured shoulder. The guard cringed slightly, obviously fighting to withhold a growl of pain.
“The pain is good for you, it will make you stronger. Learn from this. You have taken an arrow, which I assume is your first.” Raemon nodded.
“The pain immobilized me. It was terrible.”
“Now you know what it feels like. The arrow is only wood and steel. If you can learn to fight through that pain, there will never be another arrow that can stop you. Tell me guard, how did that arrow hit you?”
“I was backing up towards the wagon and I turned to see where it was. I must have lowered my shield slightly when the arrow struck me. Usually I would use the end of my spear to gauge distance to a wall, but you had requested it from me so I resorted to my arm.”
“That was your mistake, turning away from your enemy. Can you carry a spear?” The Captain handed him his spear. The guard took the spear and fell into a guard position; crouched, shield up so that the rim of the shield was at eye level and the spear in the left hand, pointed outward and resting slightly on the shield.
“Attack position!” the Captain ordered.
The soldier shot up from a crouch and opened his shield slightly to the right. He shifted his spear to an overhand position, as if to throw, his arm began to shake and the spear fell from his hand. He tucked his arm close to his chest, crouched and covered his upper body with the shield just in time to block the blow. The Captain kicked the shield and the young guard groaned. “Good. You recovered quickly, but you are of no use for this trip. I will take you back to Noiknaer after I see the place where Kosai was attacked.” The guard picked up the spear and stood up straight.
The Captain followed the tracks that the wagons made and marched towards the front of the caravan. Raemon stayed at the back of the group. When the Captain reached the lead wagon, the driver looked down at him curiously.
“How is your student Captain?” the lead driver asked.
“He is well. One of your drivers is talented as a healer.”
“It is part of our curriculum. Healing the wounds of our guardsmen is one of the most important skills a caravan can have. Our lives are only as long as yours.”
There was another stop for water shortly after the attack, during which the wagons were looked over. There were a few split boards and holes where the guards took cover, but the wagons themselves could easily be fixed, if the structural integrity wasn’t compromised. After the damage was recorded, the caravan continued.
After twenty minutes, the caravan passed the last dune and entered the open desert. The lead driver pointed off to the east.
“About a hundred yards in that direction was where Kosai was attacked Captain.” The Captain stared out into the desert. “Not far beyond that was the sandstorm. You will be leaving us now I take it.”
“Yes. I also wanted to see what information I could get out of the nomads. You will be in good hands. The guard that was injured will be useless to you. He cannot hold a spear properly. I will be escorting him back.”
“And if there is another attack Captain?”
“Is there another portion of this journey that would easily facilitate an ambush?” The driver pulled a folded piece of paper out from his suit. He unfolded it and examined the route.
“No. We will be able to see them coming long before they see us,” the driver said. “But what if we are followed? And why are we given so few guards?”
“I want those answers as well. Travel well,” the Captain said.
“Travel well,” the driver replied. He set the reigns down for a moment and disappeared into the wagon. When he returned, he had a sling and a flask of water. He handed them over to the Captain. “For your return journey,” he said.
“Thank you.”
The Captain stepped off the trail and waited until the second wagon passed by and called for his lieutenant.
“Yes sir,” the lieutenant said.
“I am placing you in charge of this caravan. I will be taking Raemon back to Noiknaer.”
“Yes sir,” the lieutenant said with a salute before continuing with his wagon. The Captain waited until the last wagon passed by and called for Raemon. He walked up to the Captain, grimacing with a hand on his shoulder.
“What are you expecting to find out there?”
“Answers,” the Captain said shortly. He turned away from the trail and walked out in the direction the lead driver had pointed. Raemon walked a short distance behind him.
After the Captain had walked out about a hundred yards, he stopped and looked around. The desert lay out before them and the caravan evaporated in the distance. The windblown sand brushed against their faces. The Captain frowned and shook his head. Raemon walked up next to him.
“Captain, do you see that?” Raemon said, pointing ahead of them. The Captain looked where the guard was pointing and saw a small reflection of light.
“Yes, I do see it. Good eyes,” the Captain said, patting his student on the back. Hurriedly, he walked over to the glistening object. As they came closer to it, the Captain recognized it. It was one of Kosai’s swords. The curved blade with a red tint was stabbed in the ground. Black sand dripped from the blade like coagulated blood, forming a pool of black dirt around the sword. The Captain pulled the sword from the ground and looked over the blade. As the sand fell off the blade, it left behind a thin, black stain that stretched the entire length of the blade edge. There were a few nicks in the blade and two sections that were dull. He held the sword out in front of him, the tip pointed at the horizon, and rotated the sword, checking to see if the blade had bent or warped. Seeing no other defects, he placed it into his belt.
Cautiously, the Captain bent over and set his hand on the ground, feeling the tan colored sand that surrounded the black sand. He touched the black sand, but immediately pulled his hand away, shook it and groaned.
“That burned,” he said surprised. “The normal, tan colored sand is hot to the touch, but this black sand felt like needles.”
“I have never seen sand like that before,” Raemon said. The Captain nodded and opened the pouch that the caravan driver had given him. He put the rocks in his pocket, turned the bag inside out and scooped a handful of black sand with the bag. He snarled slightly as excess sand rolled off onto his hand. It left thin black trails of sticky fluid. He quickly wiped his hand on his pants. The black stuff turned into black sand and fell to the ground, red burn marks appearing where the sand had once been.
“What do you think it is?” Raemon said, looking at the sand. “And how was the sword placed like that? It’s almost like someone wanted us to find it.”
“Not sure,” the Captain responded as he tied the pouch to his belt. “But I intend to find out. It seems that this trip has opened more questions than answers. Quick now, let’s be back to Noiknaer before sun down.”
“Yes sir,” the guard said.
CHAPTER 5
The Silver Sheen Chronicle - Emblems of Power Page 5