Sanctuary

“Commander! An army of nomads approaches!”

Hamaramis was all set to inform them that he, not the Lioness, was in command, but their news drove the words from his lips. Consternation was general and loud. Only the Lioness seemed unfazed.

“How many, and where?” she snapped.

Some ten thousand nomads were approaching from the west, one scout reported. They were no more than six miles away.

Recollecting himself, Hamaramis called for couriers. One he sent to carry the news to the Speaker. Three others were to ride through Khurinost, alerting the people in general.

“What are the people to do then?” Kerian demanded. Her horse began to prance, sensing her agitation. “Follow me, and we’ll stop the nomads before they reach the tents!”

“They may not be hostile,” said Hamaramis, though even he did not believe this. The last time so great a concentration of nomads had assembled in Khur was to aid Salah-Khan against the hordes of Malys. Khurish tribes didn’t congregate in such numbers for any purpose but war.

From the ranks of Hamaramis’s escort emerged Hytanthas Ambrodel. The captain was still bandaged from his encounters with the manticore and sand beast.

“Commander, shall I fetch Eagle Eye?” he said, raising his voice to be heard over the ceaseless bleating of the horns in Khuri-Khan.

“No time for that.” Kerian looked west, from whence ten thousands nomads approached. “Just cut his tether,” she added. “He’ll seek me out.”

He hurried away as she wrenched her horse around. “General Hamaramis, an enemy is near. You can arrest me later. Right now we have a battle to fight.”

She spurred forward, with her loyalists streaming after her. Without being ordered, the elves from the night patrol behind Taranath broke ranks and followed as well. Hamaramis’s two hundred warriors stirred, anxious to join their comrades. Some called for permission to ride after the Lioness.

Hamaramis said, “The Speaker of the Sun and Stars earnestly wishes to avoid war. Those are his orders. I obey my Speaker.”

Turning his horse, Hamaramis started back down the low dune for Khurinost, now alive with alarm. The first two rows of his warriors followed him, but the rest remained rooted where they were, dividing desperate glances between the disappearing Lioness and their valiant old leader. Someone finally snapped reins with a loud crack and bolted after the Lioness. Most others joined in, leaving Taranath, Hamaramis, and a couple dozen or so riders behind.

Dawn’s light washed Taranath’s agonized expression. “I want to go, too,” he whispered.

“So do I.” Hamaramis unbuckled his helmet and pried it off. Barely sunup, and already he was sweating. “But being a soldier means more than lusting for battle. It means you obey the orders of your lawful superiors. If you don’t, you’re no more than a barbarian.”

He replaced his helmet. Proudly, the old warrior returned to his Speaker. With him went fourteen warriors. General Taranath fought his conscience for a few seconds more, then rode off with a handful of others to join the Lioness. For today, he was a barbarian.

* * * * *

From a ridge northwest of the city, Adala scrutinized Khuri-Khan. By the muted light of the cloudy new day, the place was little more than a brown smudge above the desert sands, but it was the first true city she’d ever seen. For days in advance of her arrival she’d sent spies into Khuri-Khan to learn what Sahim-Khan and the laddad were doing. The news they brought was very troubling. The laddad came and went as they pleased, while the Khan’s soldiers had violated the Temple of Torghan and arrested his holy priests. The holy ones were being blamed for an attack upon two laddad, an attack most likely done by thieves or beggars. To the chiefs and warmasters gathered with Adala it sounded as though the foreigners had Sahim-Khan doing their bidding.

“What shall we do, Weyadan?” asked Hagath, chief of the Mikku.

In the still air, the bearded men were sweating profusely. Even lifelong desert-dwellers needed a breeze. Adala gathered the long braid of her hair and pulled it forward over her shoulder. This helped cool her neck only a little.

“I will speak to the khan of the laddad,” she announced.

The men were shocked. What purpose could there be in talking to the foreign invaders?

“Their necks are on the block. If the laddad swear to leave our homeland, I would let them go.”

“What about the massacre of our parents, wives, and children?” cried Bindas.

With her eyebrows and eyelashes singed off, Adala’s face looked stark and fearless. “The guilty will not escape. Their lives are part of our price. If the laddad khan gives over the killers of our people, then his nation may depart in peace, but they must go out from Khur!”

Bindas asked who should go with her to meet the elves. Adala proposed they all go. She felt it would be best for the chiefs and warmasters of the tribes to hear what the foreigners said, and how she answered them.