Book I of III: The Swords of the Sultan (48 page)

Even though it was impossible to tell exactly
how far the caravan was from his current location, he happily
observed that he was indeed catching up really fast, though he
needed to steer his stallion a bit more to the southeast.

For most of the night, he pushed her hard
that direction through the desert sands, and it turned out to be a
night without any encounters.

An hour before morning, they came across the
single largest oasis Baltor had ever seen, consisting of hundreds
and hundreds of palm trees, dozens of them filled with coconuts or
bananas. Filling the gaps between the trees was a myriad of other
lush vegetation like berry bushes and tall grasses. And in the
smack middle of it all, a large lagoon.

He believed that this strikingly beautiful
oasis would require dozens of sandstorms back-to-back to cause it
to disappear into oblivion. Yet before he had even arrived, he had
already decided not to stay—only to refill the water canister,
which was now nearly empty, and then leave. After all, oases are
the “saving graces” of the desert for lost travelers, and he didn’t
want any lost traveler to find and steal his prized stallion during
his sleeping hours.

Therefore, after all the refilling had been
complete about ten minutes later, he pushed his horse hard for
another thirty minutes.

Five minutes before sunrise, he halted her,
hopped off the saddle and back onto his feet, pulled her bowl out,
and refilled it with the water container.

Grasha immediately dunked her head into the
bowl, and drank about three-quarters of it before she stopped
drinking and turned her head away from the bowl.

By this time, Baltor had already set down a
very large chunk of hay onto the ground. He next refilled the bowl
back to the top, and while gripping tightly onto one end of her
reins that he had just unsecured from her bridle, he dug himself
back under the sands only seconds before sunrise.

The next night, he discovered with relief and
happiness that his stallion had survived yet again. As she consumed
her dinner and water, he used that time constructively to locate
Brishava’s position, as before.

From the merged images, which happened only
seconds later, he happily discovered that the caravan had not
traveled this day at all, as he easily recognized the small oasis,
though for what reason they did not travel, he did not know.

In fact, the only notable difference with
this mental vision from the last was that the women were standing,
sitting or lying down inside the cage. He also saw that he had
halved the distance on the map!

About five minutes later, once she had
finished drinking yet another bowl of water, he climbed back into
the saddle and pushed her back into a full gallop.

Three in the morning, or so, and still
without a single moon in the sky, he observed a small bonfire to
his southeast, perhaps a mile away. Perhaps the light from this
fire would reveal his lovely wife’s image in real life, so he
greatly hoped.

About ten minutes later, once he and his
horse had begun to draw near the perimeters of the bonfire’s light,
though still protected by the darkness of night, he pulled pack on
her reins, which caused her to stop in her tracks.

It was only then that he carefully looked all
around at the small oasis, which housed this bonfire. This was the
same oasis he had seen twice before, in his mind’s eye.

Besides the dozen-or-so palm trees that
surrounded a very small lagoon in the center, there were dozens and
dozens of parked horses and setup tents, as well as a horse-drawn
wagon that had a covered top.

Lying thirty feet away on the far side of the
bonfire was the cage filled with women—they were all sleeping.
Standing at each corner of the cage was a nomadic guard, each
wielding a sword strapped onto the belt. The rest of the caravan
was obviously sleeping in their tents.

As soon as he spotted the cage, but not yet
his wife, he spurred his horse to a prance directly into the
encampment.

About three seconds later, the nearest of the
four guards looked over, saw the stranger, and loudly called out,
“Halt! Who goes there?”

Several more members of the caravan woke up
out of their sleep, and quickly came out of their tents to find out
what was going on with weapons in hand—so Baltor observed out of
the corners of his eyes. The other three guards united into single
file with the guard who had spoken.

Baltor immediately brought his horse to a
halt, before he said very casually, “Evening—my name is Lord Poleax
from Pavelus. I just, ah, came to this here oasis to replenish my
horse’s thirst, refill my water canteens, and ah leave, if that’s
okay with you.”

“Well, okay, but be quick about it,” the
guard informed.

Most of the members that had come out
appeared to relax their stances, as well the grip upon their
weapons. None returned to their tents.

Meanwhile, Baltor, who made it seem that he
was oblivious to what was going on, innocently hopped off Grasha
and led her by the reins to the nearby pool of water; whereupon,
she immediately began to drink.

Just after he had pulled off the
three-quarters filled water bag, he dunked it under the water.
While it began to fill, he simultaneously began to stretch himself
around into weird contorted positions, all the while yawning.

What he was really doing was scanning out the
area for the worst and biggest threats, and there were about nine
that Baltor counted out so far. Four were equipped with bow and
arrows.

Purposefully, about a minute later, he turned
around until he made it look accidental that he even faced the cage
at all. And after casting an astonished look onto his face, he
turned back to the nearer guard and asked with a point of his
thumb, “What are those in that cage?”

That guard said quite loudly, “None of your
business! I think it’s best you be on your way now, stranger!”

Besides the members who were watching the
spectacle, and had once again tightened the grips on their weapons,
a half dozen more came out to join them, also armed with
weapons.

Despite the fact that he was now mostly
surrounded by the caravan members, he still asked in casual tones,
“Are those women in there?”

The guard yelled at the top of his lungs,
“
Everyone—wake up! Intruder alert!!
”

Within moments, the entire caravan of
fifty-eight was there—all but one was armed.

Even though the caravan members had pretty
much surrounded

Grasha and Baltor, except for the lagoon that
was behind them, he waved his hand down nonchalantly, and replied,
“Relax—I was just curious.”

“Well, you best be on your little way before
you get hurt there, boy,” threatened the guard menacingly.

While pointing his index finger at the guard,
Baltor cried, “Now hold on there just one minute. As I said
earlier, I am a lord from Pave—”

A fat man wearing a wrapped red turban and
matching robes, the only one not armed, stood out from the bunch,
and interrupted, “Nay—ye hold on just one minute. I give the orders
round here, not ye!”

After gesturing around him with both of his
arms, the man in the red turban added, “As ye can see, we ain’t
exactly in Pavelus, are we?”

Several of the caravan members laughed.

Baltor raised his hands up in both a gesture
of peace and surrender, and said, “You’re right, sir. You give the
orders.”

The man shot back, “Me first order be that ye
mosey the hell out of here ‘fore I have to give me second order,
and that be have ye throat cut!”

The rest of the caravan began to laugh
raucously.

Through the laughter, Baltor asked, “Fine,
but can I ask one question first?”

In unison, the group immediately stopped
laughing.

With the snap of his finger, the man snapped
aloud, “One question then ye be gone—one way or the other!”

Seedy chuckling immediately erupted from
several of the members.

Baltor nicely asked, “My question is this:
May I please buy one of those lovely girls from you? After all,
though I’m an extremely rich and powerful lord, I’m currently in
need of some human companionship, and I couldn’t help but notice
that at least one of your fine ladies look good enough to keep me
nice and warm, especially during these cold desert nights!”

“Ye ain’t look like ye no lord nor got no
money,” the man with the red turban glowered skeptically. “Lords
don’t travel around the desert alone.”

“I don’t look like I have money? Oh but I
do!”

That really piqued the red-turbaned man’s
interest. With his right eyebrow fully raised and his left eyebrow
half squinting, he slowly nodded his head while saying, “Show me
what ye’ve got first—then we negotiate.”

“Okay, cool!” Baltor said with excitement, as
he hurriedly pulled off the backpack. After opening it up, taking
the clothes out, and dropping the clothes to the ground, he then
angled the bag so the man could make out the contents of what lay
inside, though the man would have to come quite a bit closer to
Baltor’s position to do so.

The man in the red turban had already taken a
couple of steps closer, as his eyes had spied some glittering
objects within the bag, yet those eyes then caught sight to
Baltor’s very glittery sword!

Simultaneously, the man stopped in his
tracks, crossed his arms defensively, and implanted a very
suspicious look onto his face. Voicing this look, the man asked,
“How do I know ye won’t strike me with ye sword once I draw
near?”

With that, all of the caravan members prepped
their weapons, or aimed their arrows right at Baltor!

“Sir,” Baltor promised, “the only thing I’d
like to do is to buy at least one of them girls off you—that’s all!
If you like, I can holster my sword onto my horse, which is my only
weapon, and we can go talk by the fire? How about that?”

“Fair enough…and I promises that me and me
men won’t lay a single finger on ye, if ye be tellin’ me the truth.
But if ye be wastin’ me time, or tryin’ to trick me, then ye be a
dead man!”

“Fair enough.” Baltor next holstered his
sword onto his horse’s back and then indifferently walked toward
the fire.

Meanwhile, one of the members had already
placed a sinister-looking dagger into the right hand of the
red-turbaned man, who then walked toward the fire himself, about
ten feet ahead of Baltor. As for the caravan members, they
continued to stay encircled around the two the entire time.

Less than a minute later, both arrived at the
fire.

The man with the red turban turned around,
and with his unarmed hand, he extended it out toward Baltor’s
direction.

While extending and drawing his left fingers
into the palm of his hand, he said, “All right. Now, give me the
bag. Don’t ye be worryin’, me lord—I won’t steal it from ye.”

Without pause, Baltor drew to about two feet
away, and handed the man the bag.

As the man began to peer inside the bag,
while shifting it around with his left hand, the other hand
cautiously held the dagger straight out in front of him.

A moment later, his mouth dropped open in
pure astonishment, especially at the size of the large diamond.
With a happy smile on his face, he first looked back up at Baltor,
and then he looked around at all his underlings while declaring
with happiness, “Aye, what fine treasures ye have!”

He looked very happily at Baltor, until they
were eye to eye, and then he added, “Kill—”

The man was about to say “him,” but looked
down in surprise to see that Baltor had just firmly grabbed his
right hand with both of his hands, the very hand wielding the
dagger.

While still firmly holding the man’s hand and
wrist, Baltor expertly twisted both of his own arms around in a big
wide circle, which caused the dagger to stab deep into his fat gut!
All the while, the man was quite shocked that he had been holding
the dagger almost the whole way through.

Even though blood gurgled a moment out of his
mouth before he and the backpack dropped to the ground, the
red-turbaned man did manage to way the last word of “him” before he
died. As for the dagger, that was now firmly in Baltor’s right
hand.

It was actually fortunate for Baltor that the
caravan members had surrounded him, because the archers didn’t want
to kill their own accidentally.

Fourteen fighters, however, stood out from
the rest of the bunch, and formed yet another circle around
Baltor.

He waited in silence, until one huge man
bearing a long sword came in close. He leapt into a roll just off
to that man’s side, and while coming out of the roll, he angled his
dagger outwards, which caused a slice to rip the man open from
abdomen to shoulder—that man collapsed to the ground dead!

Baltor was already in the defensive position,
and waiting.

An even larger man, who was seven feet tall
with a weight of about three hundred pounds of pure muscle, bore a
large double-edged axe, thought he now had the advantage over his
crouching enemy who was facing in the opposite direction.

After the man had begun his charge, he began
to swing his axe downwards with all of his might—so that it would
split Baltor right down the middle into two pieces!

What he didn’t count on, however, was for
Baltor to twist his body ever-so-slight out of the axe’s way, nor
did he think that the axe would suddenly fly out of his powerful
hands, solidly imbedding itself into the ground several feet away
from his position.

Lastly, this man could not have begun to
anticipate that Baltor would simply extend his foot and leg out,
tripping him in mid-stride, and that a split-second later, he
himself would land hard upon his axe and become split down the very
middle of his torso, and die!

Over the course of the next four minutes, a
huge and fierce battle was waged as Baltor took out fighter after
fighter—fourteen more to be exact!