The Elfmaid's Curse (The Elfmaid Trilogy Book 1) (20 page)

            Danica squinted hard at the indicated points through the glare, surprised how easily they spotted them. She trusted a nomad's ability to spot these types of obstacles. Their lives depended on it every day. To blunder onto your enemy out here was death. Mopping at her sweat-drenched face with a grimy sleeve, she whole heartedly wished for once they would use their sharp eyes to locate some shade to wait out the heat of the day or at least give her a little better water ration.

            "North it is," Dett said and led the way.

            They rode back down the hill and stayed in the low ground between the rolling hills. The hills here were higher and rocky. The thick grasses had played out the previous day. The sparse grass was a rougher variety. There were no creeks or rivers here either. They would get their water now by sneaking into the rare oasis late at night. They were now in the desert, and pushing deeper into Taag territory.

            It was six days into their journey. Every bone in her body felt like it was jarred out of place, and her rear end was even worse off. Danica had almost forgotten what it felt like for her knees to meet.

            Despite the grueling trek and searing desert heat, the Jordani didn't seem affected at all. If anyone in the world could be said to be born to the saddle, it was the nomads. She knew they had to be suffering far worse than her in their armor and leathers, but were just too proud and arrogant to let her see it. Even after all this time they looked upon her as the enemy and wouldn't drop their guards around her. She didn't know if she should admire them, feel sorry for them, or silently enjoy their discomfort.

            While they rode, the men pulled out their short, powerful composite bows and loosened the bindings holding their arrows in the saddle quivers tucked under their right legs. Then they loosened the sabers in the saddle sheaths. They didn't want to fight, but they certainly wouldn't be caught unprepared.

            This was the second encampment they had spotted since entering the Taag graze. Due to the sparse graze, Taag clans tended to split up into smaller family groups and maintained smaller herds than steppe nomads. That also put less of a demand on the available water supply, but the clan family groups still stayed close for mutual protection.

            Locating a deep dry wash bearing northeast, they took advantage of the cover it would provide. As they rode down the wadi, Danica noticed that Dett only watched forward, Jost watched their flanks, and Raf guarded the rear. She watched them. It would be helpful to know their tactics in the future. They rarely revealed them to outsiders.

            Glancing at her mount uneasily, "Master?"

            Jost glanced back, raising one eyebrow in question.

            "My mount is really feeling the strain," she said, patting the mare's sweat-soaked neck. "She can't handle this nonstop riding, not in this heat."

            "When we're safely away from the Taag, then we'll let her rest," he said. "It's too dangerous here to — "

            Whooping men and thundering hooves to their right flank brought them all to a startled halt. Five Taag warriors shot out from over the rise, heading straight at them. Before anyone on either side could react, the Taag broadsided the Jordani with their horses.

            Raf's horse and the packhorse were bowled over, with only one of the Taag mounts falling. Danica reached for her nonexistent sword, before cursing her luck. But then she noticed that the Taag warriors seemed just as surprised as them.

            The Taag were all young warriors, not much older than Raf and Jost. They were dusky-skinned, with black eyes and hair. Their blue on white kaffiyehs and white cotton djellabas billowed in the wind as they stared at the strangers. Their lamellar armor and weapons could be glimpsed through openings in their loose outer garments. Their kaffiyehs were pulled across their mouths, as was the way of the desert folks. For one tense moment, no one moved.

            "Kill them!" one of the Taag cried, jerking his scimitar out.

            Dett and Jost suddenly remembered their bows and sent two of the Taag to the Gods. The Taag that had cried out took a swing at Danica's head. She ducked under it, kicking her mount frantically to escape. Twisting her mount around, she plowed over the Taag from the felled horse. He was just about to skewer Raf, struggling to disentangle himself from his thrashing horse.

            Raf leapt to his feet and ran the moaning warrior through. Then he ran into the battle, screaming a Jordani battle cry. Dett and Jost were desperately fending off the two remaining Taag warriors. She could tell it was a close contest, with the enraged Taag attacking with heavy scimitars, and the Jordani using their bows to parry the blows. The bows were quickly being reduced to kindling.

            Suddenly realizing that if the Jordani lost she would become a Taag slave, Danica charged back into the battle. Better to be cut down than return to life as a desert nomad's slave.

            "Bandu!" she cried, aiming her mount at the closest Taag warrior.

            As she charged in, Danica prepared to leap out of the saddle at the warrior. Her old mare was neither war-trained, nor in any condition to participate in a fight. The Taag turned and swung his heavy scimitar just as she arrived. It bit deep into her horse's neck. With a scream, the mortally wounded mare reared back on its haunches, then fell over. Danica rolled out of the saddle, then stared in horror at the dying mare.

            The Taag warrior was now attacking Raf, who was still afoot. She picked up a fist-sized rock and threw it at his head. It struck the Taag warrior on the shoulder. He gave her a sharp looked, but kept up his attack on Raf. The other Taag warrior was still engaging the other two Jordani.

            Running up behind the mounted Taag, Danica grabbed his horse's tail and kicked it low in the rear. It was a stallion. Its reaction was loud and violent.

            Rearing up, it threw the Taag off. He landed on Danica. She wrapped her arms and legs tightly around him as she lay under him, praying Raf would follow and kill him before he turned on her, but the screaming, kicking horse was breaking up the fight and keeping the others away.

            When the Taag recovered his wits and began to struggle in her grasp, she realized he was too strong to hold down for long. Releasing him, she snatched his belt knife and scrambled away. He quickly followed.

            When the horse broke up the fight, it gave Dett time to draw his saber. He attacked the lone Taag warrior still ahorse, with Jost and Raf following suit. The Taag was quickly cut down.

            "Give it up!" Danica cried. "You're the last one."

            "You die first," the Taag growled, both hands tightly gripping his gory scimitar. His djellaha was bloody and in shreds. The loose outer garment was also caught on his right spur, further hindering his efforts. "And your soul will serve me for all eternity in Tarhun's realm!"

            He began his death chant as he attacked. It was a prayer to Tarhun, asking the God of Storms to accept his soul and damn his enemies' souls to an eternity of slavery under him.

            She blocked his clumsy thrust with the long knife, silently berating him for the misuse of a curved blade. Scimitars were not thrusting weapons. Used properly, he could easily smash through her defense. Fearing he would come to his senses soon, and before he could recover from his deflected thrust, she stepped in and whipped her blade across the right side of his face. The knife left a bloody track from nose to ear before catching on the edge of his kaffiyeh, ripping the cotton headdress off his head. He reacted with first shock, then insane rage. To have his face, his mouth, exposed like that was a grave insult. His attack was without thought, so she found it easier to defend against. Indeed, she mostly just had to step out of the way.

            Spotting the three Jordani running towards them, "Ah ha, now you die!"

            When he glanced back, Danica darted inside his guard. Before he could react, she thrust the knife into his belly, forcing the keen blade between two steel lames, and ripped it straight down to his groin, severing the laces holding the armor together and disemboweling him at the same time.

            Stepping back as he fell, she glanced around. All the Taag were dead. She and the three Jordani appeared to have survived without serious injury. Apparently none of the horses had run off. One of the Taag horses was badly injured, screaming and flopping on the ground. Their pack horse was laying relatively still, his breathing labored and blood flowing out his mouth and nostrils. Her mare was dead nearby. Raf's horse had apparently recovered, none the worse for his fall.

            "Drop the knife, slave," Dett said.

            Danica looked at them in shock. They were approaching with weapons ready. And after she'd helped them. Indeed, it was her assistance that turned the tide of the battle.

            "But I'm on your side," she said.

            "Perhaps," he said, eyes narrowing. "Drop the blade."

            "Gods, you are something else," she said, face screwed up in rage. "I save your lives, and all you can think of is recapturing me. I would never treat anyone that way."

            They said nothing, easing in closer.

            She couldn't possibly take them all on. Or escape. Or make it to Samulla unscathed if she did. She had thought... hoped...they would release her now. It would have been the honorable thing to do.

            "Gods! Take your stupid blade," she cried, hurling it at their feet.

            Raf spun her around and quickly bound her wrists.
More indignities?

            "What's the meaning of this?" She pulled helplessly at the tight leather binding.

            "Your mount is dead," he said, pushing her roughly toward one of the captured Taag horses Jost was holding steady. "We can't trust you on anything better than that old mare, so..."

            "Honorless dogs," she growled low.

            After tying Danica into the saddle, they quickly rounded up all the uninjured mounts, both Jordani and Taag. The wounded animals were put out of their misery. They didn't even take the time to collect their trade goods, just grabbing the food and water. In no time she was being led away by Raf.

            Danica continued to mutter sullenly about Clan Jordani's complete lack of honor, but just loud enough for only her captors to hear. She gave them some of her best put-downs and insults, but they ignored her, intent on keeping up their watch for more Taag.

* * * * *

            Topping the rise, they stopped to look at the city before them. It lay atop and around the highest hill in the valley. From a distance, it looked like the buildings steadily grew taller towards its center. It was the two young warriors' first time to a real city. Both Dett and Danica had been to Samulla several times in their lives.

            From their perspective, Samulla was a great whitewashed mass of stone and mud brick buildings, soaring temples with multicolored domes and spires, and glittering palaces and government buildings. Everywhere tall towers and spires stabbed the sky high above the city. The gold, silver, and whitewashed onion domes sprinkled around the city were dazzling in the desert sun, but paled in comparison to the brilliantly tiled domes of the temples in every color of the rainbow. The Sultan's palace crowned the highest point in the city. It was a sprawling pink stone structure, said to be the most luxurious palace of all the Qakara Desert. The forbidding walls surrounding the city were thirty feet high with massive round towers. It was all breathtakingly beautiful, even for someone used to cities. To the nomads, it was awe-inspiring. A symbol of raw power.

            They could see the sun glittering brightly off the polished steel helmets and spearheads of the soldiers guarding the walls and gates. And then they spotted the other soldiers camped around the city. Samulla was at war.

            "Are they under siege?" Raf asked, shading his eyes with one hand.

            "Hardly." Danica snorted and turned away from his sharp look knowing it would only go to stoke the warrior's anger and frustration with her.

            Since they had started keeping her bound day and night, she took every opportunity to belittle them. At one point they had gagged her. She had promised to keep quiet so the gag could be removed, but it didn't matter now, as she would be sold shortly.

            Eyeing her narrowly, Dett said, "The gates are open. That has to be the Samullan Army, back from some campaign against the Hau."

            Danica said, eyes glinting evilly, "And maybe flooding the market with armies of newly captured slaves." Seeing their consternation, she laughed with delight. It didn't improve their attitude towards her in the least. "My curse poisons you still."

            "I have my doubts about any curse," Raf said. "I say we find someone and let him have her for an hour or two. If nothing happens, then we can pass her around for a while before selling her."

            Danica was startled. That possibility hadn't occurred to her. Of course, the Jordani never realized that Raf had taken her that first night, and hadn't suffered from any curse. She, of course, hadn't brought it up, either.

           
Gods, no! Not now. Not after all I've gone through.

            She already had a plan worked out on how to trick them into selling her to a seedy brothel or tavern with little resources for security. Her freedom was all but assured.

            "Look at her fear," Raf said, gloating. "She knows nothing will happen to anyone using her."

            "Is that true? You're not cursed?" Dett said, menace in every word. "Speak!"

            "If you only knew," she said bitterly.

            "What does that mean?" he asked.

            Taking a deep breath first, "I am indeed cursed. A curse too terrible for you to even comprehend."