Читать книгу Aelethia's Hope - Leandra Martin - Страница 8

Najwa and six of his men guided Alek and his party through the desert and across the dunes. The sun still beat down on their heads, and the glare from the sun on sand did nothing but make his eyes swim with spots. The heat was unbearable, but the Isamarian tribe, called the Badu, Alek had learned, had given them more adequate clothing for the trek. The pants and tunic they wore were light and airy; the singlets they wore underneath were made from a material Alek had never seen. It breathed, and what air was present in the dusty terrain seeped through, cooling the skin and keeping them dry. Their water bladders had been refilled, and the women had put in some kind of oil that Alek’s men were assured would keep them hydrated longer.

Najwa told them that the trek into Salador would be a day and a half’s ride, but entering the city would be difficult. The guards on the border of the city were trained well, and weren’t cooperative with outsiders, especially when the chancellor was in residence. Najwa assured the party that he would get them inside the city walls, but it was up to them to gain entrance into the Council Headquarters.

He also warned them that they may run into another tribe of nomads, enemies of the Badu tribe, and much more barbaric. He admitted that the stories the easterners told around their dinner table about the barbarian warriors in the west that killed for fun and ate the flesh of their enemies, had probably come about by the tribes they were on the look out for now. The Badu and this tribe, the Qismah tribe, were not related, and they had a feud that went back for centuries.

Alek was not at all pleased by this news, hoping that all he had heard about this strange people were unfounded. Now he knew there was some truth to it after all. Najwa had just waited until now to say so. He was wary, his eyes roaming across the vast expanse of sand, looking for any signs of men on the horizons. He had cloth wrapped around his head, covering his mouth, a necessity, he was told, to keep the heat from baking his scalp and lips. The men had left their mail at the Badu encampment, being assured by Tallyn that it would be safe without it. Alek had relented, only at the constant urging of his guide. He didn’t feel at all secure in this decision but didn’t want to offend the nomadic tribe who had allowed them night’s rest and hearty food. The mail was heavy and extremely uncomfortable in the heat, and he was glad to be rid of it, but the knowledge that they could run into trouble caused the warrior sense in him to become rigid and a bit skittish.

Winds swept through the dunes, rippling the sands into intricate patterns, and the grit that was not able to get into his mouth was collecting at the corners of his eyes. He wiped them periodically, but to no avail. The grit remained all the same. He was irritable. He had gone from raw cold to unrelenting scorching heat within a week, and his body admonished him profusely.

He glanced over at his guide and his six men, who were scantily clad, long braided hair flowing down their backs. They sat on their mounts straight and sure and didn’t even squint a little in the glaring sunshine. He supposed living in these conditions day in and day out, one would become immune to the blazing heat and glaring sun. It was amazing to him to witness another race in their own environment and admitted that the humans on the eastern side of the kingdom could learn a thing or two from other races. How naïve and arrogant they were to see themselves as superior and talk up the oddity of others like it was truth. He sighed. He himself had misjudged them. This tribe, even as rough and uncivilized as they were, could very well have the upper hand on intelligence and survival. He wasn’t sure the enemy tribe would be so accommodating or polite, but he thanked the gods for allowing his party to run into the right group, and not the tribe that they were keeping watch for now. Yesterday could have been their last.

They traveled on into the day with no hint of another soul anywhere in sight. He was beginning to think this trip would be uneventful, but his evaluation of that assessment was about to be proven false. They could see a dark spot appearing on the horizon. The heat from the sand made a hazy shimmer and the shape was ghostly, but as they continued on, the spot started to become more defined. On the horizon, traveling toward them at considerable speed, came a group of Isamarian nomads, riding the same jaza creatures their guides rode on. They were running toward them, and Alek started to sweat underneath his head wrap, and not from the heat. He felt exposed out here on the open desert plain, nothing to hide behind, nowhere to run. And the fact that his mail was sitting in a pile at the Badu encampment didn’t help his nerves at all. Najwa tried to convince them to leave their weapons, but Alek, even at the urging of Tallyn, refused to give in to that idea. It was bad enough that they were unprotected by mail; he would not give up his defense as well. He did not draw his sword and motioned for his men to keep still too, but he was ready for what might come.

Najwa was not stopping. He continued forward at the same pace, not wanting to give the enemy any reason to feel threatened. In the span of about twenty minutes, Alek could see the riders clearly. They were riding on jazas just as Alek had suspected, but this group of men were more ragged and mean looking. There were twenty men in the group and they finally closed the gap, the leader pulling up to stand face to face with his rival tribesman.

Najwa said nothing. He halted his steed, the rest of the party doing the same. The enemy leader looked over the group, and a small sneer appeared on his face, almost like a snarl. He looked back at Najwa and spat on the ground before him. Najwa said nothing and made no attempts to move; he simply stared at his rival.

The Qismah leader spoke first. “Tabu nawa bu ta agne.”

Najwa responded in his tongue. “Betu gemma unbatu.”

The enemy tribesman laughed. It was a horrible guttural sound that reminded Alek of a rabid wolvin. He leaned over very subtly and whispered to Tallyn. “Do you understand what they’re saying?”

“The Qismah leader asked what gives us the right to step into his boundaries. Najwa has answered him by explaining our mission.”

“The Qismah don’t seem too easily swayed. I doubt they care where we’re going, only that we’re on his turf.”

“True, but Najwa will get through even if we have to fight our way.”

“I’m not too keen on that, Tallyn. You persuaded me against my better judgment to give up our protection. I don’t want this to get messy.”

“I understand you’re concern; however, Najwa made a promise to get us into the city, and he will do that no matter the cost. They may seem uncivilized, but they are honorable.”

The Qismah leader was larger than Najwa. In fact, in scanning the whole group, they were all larger than the Badu tribesman by at least a head in height and more in girth. He hadn’t seen men this large in ages. They were easily six-nine, standing on the ground, and they had chests the width of horses. They were clothed similarly to the Badu, except they carried an extra weapon, and it looked far worse than what the Badu carried. They were curved swords, with serrated blades, and they had a barbed hook on the end. Not only would it fillet you, but de-bone you as well. Alek swallowed. He didn’t think they’d be a good match against them. There were twenty of the enemy and only thirteen of them, and his men had no mail. Alek rubbed a hand across his eyes, trying again to remove the grit. They stung and felt dry. He refocused his attention.

The leader was getting agitated. Alek could see his muscles tensing and the line at his jaw tightening. His mount was starting to get agitated as well. It was shifting its weight from foot to foot and was snorting. Alek caught a whiff of it’s foul breath carried to him on the dry desert wind.

Najwa was speaking now, and within a few moments, Alek saw the men behind the Qismah leader draw weapons at once. Alek pulled his and motioned for his men to do the same. No one made any moves yet, but Alek was adept enough at sensing tension, and he knew it wouldn’t last. The Qismah were getting mad.

In an instant, all hell broke loose. The Qismahs all had their weapons drawn, and they were squatting in their saddles. The beasts were snorting and pawing the ground, waiting for the signal to attack. Najwa pulled his spear from underneath his mount, and his men followed suit. Alek looked over his shoulder. His men were at the ready. Tallyn readied his bow, and the other elf, Cai, had his sword unsheathed. The leader of the Qismah screeched at the top of his lungs, and the jazas lunged. Alek pulled his horse to the left just before the tribesman swung down with his horrible weapon. The men were scrambling for more solid ground, but the soft sand under the hooves of the horses made moving quickly impossible. They would have to rely on strength to overtake the enemy. Tallyn had managed to take out three of the nomads with his bow, and Cai another two with his quick sword work. The jazas were sturdier on the sand, their webbed feet worked like presses, packing the sand down in order to stay upright. Alek decided that the horses were going to hinder his fighting and slid off his mount to the uneven dunes below. He hissed at the horse, and it bolted away from the scene. A quick glance over his shoulder told him his men had the same idea and were scattering as best they could from the jazas coming at them head-on. Once Alek had a comfortable and solid stance in the dune, he wielded his sword over his head as a rushing jaza and rider headed right for him. As the jaza bowed it’s head as it passed, Alek swung his sword arm up, brought it down with lightening speed and force, severing the jazas head from its torso. The creature went down, its green blood spilling out onto the hot sand, steam rising into the arid air. The rider flipped off the back and landed hard onto the ground, curved sword raised menacingly over his head. Alek was ready. The man swung the sword in a curved arc in front of him, intending to fillet Alek open, but he was fast and as the sword missed by only inches; he swung around and sliced the Qismah across the back. He thudded to the ground in mid stride, face sliding across the hot sand.

Alek took in a breath, sweat pouring down his face and into his eyes. He pulled the cloth from around his head, the loose material hindering his sight, and wiped the beads of moisture from his face. He turned around as another jaza was coming at him. He jumped to the left just as the creature passed, sliding into the sand on his knees. He stayed in stride and got up quickly, turning around to meet the man head-on. He took two steps forward when an arrow flew by his head and landed in the chest of a warrior who had been de-horsed and was coming at him from behind. He didn’t have time to thank Cai for having his back because the warrior was almost on top of him. He slid across the sand on one knee and jabbed upward into the chest of the jaza, slicing it open from groin to chin. The beast wailed and thudded to the ground, blood spattering for several feet in all directions. The man was trapped under the beast who had fallen over, and Alek didn’t miss a beat. He turned on a toe and brought his sword down into the man’s throat, cutting his jugular.

Blood dripped into the sand everywhere he looked, and his hands were sticky from the blood baking on his skin in the heat. He wiped his head again with the back of his hand, and ran toward another group of warriors grappling with more tribal men. The two elves were still alive, and three of his four men. There were still six Badu tribesmen including Najwa. The enemy was down to only five now. He headed in the direction of the fray and did a quick survey of the battle scene. The bodies were strewn all over the sand, and the heat was already baking the flesh of the dead into bloated masses. The blood was thick, and the heat of the hot sun was creating such a horrid stench that Alek gagged back bile.

He ran toward the group of warriors grappling with the Qismah and their mounts. He raced over the dunes, feet sinking with every step, causing the muscles in his calves to ache with strain. He approached a Qismah still mounted on the back of his jaza and took a wide swing with his sword, cutting into the creatures hind quarter and loosening a chunk from its hide. Blood oozed from the wound, and the beast screamed in pain, but it wasn’t enough to stall its retreat. The rider, noticing its mount quivering, turned to see Alek swinging down again to slice him down the back. The Qismah warrior was too fast, his mount still too agile on the sand to allow the downward motion of Alek’s sword to penetrate his skin. It barely worked, only leaving a small thin scratch across the man’s back. The Qismah smiled derisively and charged Alek. Alek scrambled backwards and sunk in a sand dune up to his ankle and went down, leaving him squinting into the glare of the sun. The warrior was closing in on him, but all Alek could see was a blurred outline, the sun making a halo around his body. The warrior dismounted from the jaza without losing a stride and swung down and sideways. Alek was able to roll over, but not all the way out of the Qismah’s reach or in time. The curved blade sliced him at the shoulder blade on his weapon arm. Even had he been wearing mail, the spot the warrior got him would have been unprotected fully where the arm and chest pieces connected. Blood started to run down his side, and he now couldn’t move his arm. He cradled it across his chest and grabbed his sword with the other hand. He crawled a few feet then stood slowly, weak from the pain of the severed tendon and dazed from the extreme heat. The Qismah had noticed over his shoulder that Alek was not down for good and started back in his direction once again. Alek planted his feet as sturdy as he could in the uneven soft terrain and prepared himself for the force of the blow he knew was coming. The warrior raced across the sand, the jaza running smooth and graceful, and Alek assumed his fighting stance. From the corner of his eye he saw a blurry figure headed toward him from the left, but he did not take the chance to take his eyes from the approaching mass to see whether the side attack was enemy or ally. He’d just have to have faith that he wouldn’t fend off one just to be struck down by another. The frontal assault came, and Alek whipped around his good shoulder striking with a force so brutal, he severed the man’s head from his chest and went halfway through the beast as well. He turned toward the side attack and was relieved to see it was one of Najwa’s men headed in to help. The man looked at Alek and then at the dead warrior, his mount still quivering, and smiled. Alek could tell that the man was impressed with Alek’s warrior spirit and strength. Alek nodded his thanks and followed the man back to the others, who were dealing with the last standing Qismah. Alek dragged his sword beside him, which made a thin trail in the sand, keeping him balanced and preventing him from teetering.

The carnage in the desert was considerable, and he was certainly glad it was over. When he reached the rest of his party, only then did he feel it permissible to sink to his knees in the sand from pain and exhaustion. He dropped his sword to the sand and covered his shoulder with his good hand. He bowed his head, trying to get back a steady heartbeat and full lungs of air. He calmed his racing heart, and when it was back to a normal rhythm, he lifted his hand from his shoulder and assessed his wound. He knew the tendon had been severed because he could no longer move his arm in any motion that required his shoulder muscles. The blood was still flowing, and the heat, already making his clothes cling to him, made the blood thick and sticky. He covered the wound again.

Alek noticed for the first time that the sand was burning his legs, but he didn’t have the strength to stand up again, so he just let them burn. Najwa and Tallyn approached him and knelt down in front of him. Alek looked up at them. Tallyn pulled his hand away from his wound. He surveyed the damage and nodded to Najwa.

“We need to find a place to settle in for the night. The wounded men can do no more today.”

Alek was concerned. “How many others are wounded?”

“Raanan has a broken wrist, and Raine has a considerable slash on his left side. We have stanched the bleeding, but he may have internal damage. We need to tend to the wounded, then get to the capital as quickly as we can. They will need medical attention.”

“I thought elves had healing powers.”

“Cai is putting together some medicinal salves with what we have brought, and it will stop the bleeding and keep an infection from setting in, but the sooner we get you both to a physician the better. I will not go back to Eston without you. Elf or no elf, His Majesty would be very put out if I allowed you to perish.”

Alek smiled wearily at that but was more worried about his men than himself. “Take care of the men. I’ll be alright.”

“Your shoulder tendon has been severed. You will not be able to move it for weeks. The sooner we get a physician to look at you, the better chance you will have of getting better quicker. I will apply the salve and wrap it as best I can, but you need attention that Cai and I are not skilled enough to give.” He looked at Najwa. “Unless there is a tribe near here that has a medicine man.”

“No. No more tribes til city. Last of the enemy near here lying in sand. No more trouble we have tonight.”

“Very well.” Alek was too tired to argue anymore.

They helped him to his feet and carried him back to his horse, which had been rounded up by the men who were not severely wounded. One of the men approached with a cloth and a water bladder and poured cool water over the wound to wash it. After it was as clean as it would get, free of sand and grit, Cai came forward with an awful smelling salve and proceeded to rub it on his wound. Alek inhaled a ragged breath as the pain from the injury flared under the salve and the elf’s touch. He swooned a bit; the man with the water bladder held it to his lips telling him to drink. Alek took a long pull, letting the cool water dribble down his chin. He was getting weak and woozy now and too much water would only give him a stomach ache on top of everything else. He took another small sip, sloshing it around his mouth to at least fight off the dryness.

After Cai had finished rubbing the salve thickly, he wrapped up the shoulder and arm as tightly as possible so that there was minimal movement. They lifted him into his saddle. Alek wrapped the reins tightly around his good hand so that he could remain upright in his saddle. He was still very light headed and bleary eyed. His hands had been washed as best as they could but bits of sand still clung to the dried crustiness that the little bit of water couldn’t penetrate. They didn’t want to use too much for cleaning; they still had a way to go to shelter.

Someone retrieved his sword from where it lay and slid it into the scabbard at his side. He hadn’t even realized he had dropped it. Everyone mounted their horses and rode slowly across the sandy expanse, following Najwa to whatever shelter he could find.

There was a small ridge of rocky hills about a mile up, and there was some grass along the inside seam of them, with a small spring in which to more thoroughly clean the wounds and to water the horses and refill the bladders. There was some shade, and they could make a small fire and be hidden from any lingering enemies or scavengers that might see the smoke in the open. It took them an hour and a half to reach the place Najwa talked about, and the sun was just starting to sink into the horizon. Just like the other nights in the desert, the cooler temperatures came when the sun disappeared, and they had to use the thin blankets they had with them and the small fire to keep warm. The wounded were huddled together closer for added warmth as the able bodies made camp and food. By the time Alek was finished with his meager meal, the sun had set completely, and the darkness engulfed them on the open plain. The stars were so bright in the enveloping darkness, and he was grateful to have them watching over him.

His body was tired and weak, his wound was taking its toll, and he started to become extremely drowsy. By the time the men had the food cleared away and the supplies packed again, Alek was falling asleep. He laid his head back against his saddle, which he was using as a pillow, and pulled the blanket further up to his chin. He shifted a few times to get comfortable, but his body didn’t seem to care; it was done for the day. He was asleep within ten minutes, and he slept hard, thinking only of Dain on the other side of the world and the war that would soon consume him. He wasn’t concerned with Dain’s maturity now. He knew that the old Dain was gone for good, and the new king had finally emerged. He hoped that he would survive this war if only to show the people of Azlyn that they had a king to be proud of, a king for a lifetime of service to them. He wanted Dain’s people to be proud, and if he survived this war and won, he knew it would be time for him to retire. Dain wouldn’t need him to look after his soul anymore; he’d have Melenthia by his side. Alek could finally feel confident that Dain would be okay. He also thought of Melenthia and the terrible burden she would endure. He hoped she would prevail and make Dain the man that he was destined to always be, a king married to a worthy queen, happily ever after.