The Ivory Road: A Walk in the Sand

The adventure of Ivory’s lifetime might just be the death of her…

When it comes to make believe, A-list actress Ivory is a professional. But when a desert hike takes her across a dimensional rift, her real-life self, Iliana Rory, must separate fantasy from reality. The man she swears is the costar in her next movie might share the same surname and appearance, but there are no sets in this Mr. Crowe’s world, no props, and no director to yell “cut” before blood is spilled.
With a fortune in stolen treasure and the forces of the Knalish army hot on their trail, Brandon Crowe and his partner, Ahmad, must cross a desert neither of them knows well. Mistaken for their guide, Iliana seizes any chance to stay ahead of the army and survive in this new world.
Adventure straight out of a Hollywood blockbuster might be on Iliana’s bucket-list, but she never dreamed there’d be the real possibility of death when the end credits roll.
A Walk in the Sand
is the first story in the four part serial recounting Iliana’s journey along the Ivory Road.

A WALK IN THE SAND

Book 1 in The Ivory Road Serial

Copyright
© 2015
Siobhan Muir

ISBN 9781310022012

Published by
Three Lakes Books
at Smashwords

Cover Photo:
Luis Louro 
| 
Dreamstime.com
Delstudio
|
Dreamstime.com

Cover Design: H.L. Carey

eBooks are
not
transferable. They cannot be sold, shared, or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except for brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

First Electronic Print, February 2015

Dedicated to Joe Burke, who walked through more alien worlds with me than I can count.

Writing a book is never really a one-person job, even if it starts out that way. Great thanks go to Silver James who made sure she believed the characters would do and say thing things I’d written. Thanks to Natascha Jaffa for the overuse of certain words. And great thanks to Emily Yenawine for strengthening the beginning and chopping off my dangling participles. Without these folks, this story wouldn’t be up to par.

Chapter One
: “Uh-oh, I don’t think we’re in New Mexico anymore...”

Iliana Rory stopped, dropped her pack off her shoulders into the snowy sand at her feet, and stretched her shoulders under the brilliant blue New Mexico sky. She tipped her head back and closed her eyes as the breeze teased the sweat on her back.
Damn, it’s hot. L.A. is never this hot.

When she’d planned this retreat from the crazy life of a Hollywood A-listed actress, she hadn’t thought it’d be this hot. She wiped her face with her bandana and shoved it back into the pocket of her shorts with a sigh.

She scanned the horizon, looking for a place to settle in the shade, but the only relief from the blazing sunlight belonged to the shadows in the lee of the dunes. The wind stiffened and kicked up some of the sand near the toes of her boots. She pushed her sunglasses up onto her head and covered her eyes with her hands as the sand grains pelted her skin in a hard tattoo.

She stepped to the side as the wind blew her off balance and coughed in the hot, stiff wind. When it blew itself out, she shook her head and opened her eyes.

Something’s not right.

Iliana stared out at the sand dunes baking in the midday sun, concerned she might be hallucinating.
Maybe a solo-hiking trip wasn’t the smartest idea
. The sands had changed color, not just shifted in the light, but turned a rich gold as if someone had baked them too long in the oven.
Did the wind blow my glasses down onto my eyes?

She patted her head for the glasses then the hip pockets of her shorts. No pockets, no shorts. She dropped her gaze. A black surcoat embroidered with silver thread covered her body, secured to her waist with a black silk sash. She clapped her hands to her chest, searching for her pack straps, but only encountered more embroidered coat.

What the hell?

Her hand banged on the hilt of a sword hanging from a thick black leather belt around her waist. She froze.
What the—?
She drew the sword carefully out of its scabbard, the light from the blazing sun etching the blade. It stretched as long as her arm from shoulder to fingertips in a gently curved line with scrolling runes carved into the metal. Worn leather wrapped the hilt and chips marked the straight guard. The question was how did she get it?

A low rumble across the sandy wastes caught her attention. She squinted against the glare and focused on a growing plume of dust. People on horseback raced toward her over the dunes, dressed in the same clothing style as her own costume. They whipped their horses into a full gallop even though it was the hottest part of the day.

“Oh, shit.”

None of the riders looked particularly friendly and their path would take them right over the top of her. Unless she got out of the way.
There’s an idea
.

Iliana spun and tripped over something at her feet. She landed hard in an undignified heap next to the large object on the ground. She scanned the yielding lump and her stomach sank. A body lay staring at the sky, the lower face covered in black silk.

“Oh, my God!” She scrambled to her knees and bent over him, feeling for a pulse or a puff of air from his mouth. Nothing. He had darker skin than she, though he wore similar clothes. His sword lay on the ground next to him and blood stained the sand beneath him with a deep red splash. She jerked to her feet and backed away.

My sword was clean, right? I didn’t kill him, right?

Whatever had happened to the man, nothing could change it now. She swung her gaze around, searching for a place to hide. She didn’t want to end up with the same fate when the approaching riders arrived.

Where the heck am I gonna hide in the frickin’ desert?

Green foliage caught her gaze and she snorted. Of course, an oasis. No wonder the riders were headed this way. Hopefully it would be large enough to hide her and they’d move on.
Yeah, and while I’m dreaming, can I have a cup of reality with my magic unicorn?

She took off running for the trees, her gut tight and her heart thundering. Tall palm trees covered her in their shade as she crashed through the underbrush. The sounds of a stream filtered through the crackling fronds and she damn near stumbled into a pond full of clear water. At the far side of it stood a dappled gray Arabian horse, resting in the shade with one hind foot cocked as it waited for its master to return.

Could she take the horse and ride away from here?
Sure, and go where?
She had no idea where she was or how far the next watering hole was from here. Hell, she didn’t even know if she could speak the local language. If the people meant her no harm, whatever chased them would probably not be to her liking. She grimaced and wrapped the silk mask over her face as she edged around the tree into the deep shadow to wait.

A few moments later, the sounds of horses and men filtered into the quiet of the oasis and the riders pulled their horses up beside the pool. Everyone dismounted and filled canteens and water skins. One of the men strode around to the gray horse, his gaze sweeping the trees as he called out someone’s name. The rich baritone of his voice soothed her ears and reminded her of someone, but she couldn’t remember who. He stood shorter than the others in his party, but carried an air of command with him.

“She’s not here, Crowe.” A taller man with odd tattoos below his eyes scowled through his beard. “This was a wild goose chase.”

“There’s her horse, Ahmad.” Crowe waved at the gray horse, his gaze still searching the trees. “She has to be here. She’s always here.”

At least I can understand them.

“How can you be certain?” Ahmad pointed out reasonably. “That horse could belong to the poor fool lying out there dead. If she was here before, she probably saw us coming. What makes you think she’d stay and wait for you? She’s a woman. They’re ever-changing and less trustworthy than a cobra. We have the entire Knalish army bearing down on us. What makes you think she’d stay to greet them?”

“Because she said she’d wait for us and show us the way across the sands to the west.” He paused to shout through the trees. “Kyra!” Crowe strode around the pool to stand directly in front Iliana’s hiding spot. “We need her to lead us. Without her, it doesn’t matter if the army catches us. She’s the only one who knows this path outside the Knalish.” He swung his gaze around the oasis. “Kyra!”

“Look, Crowe, we are running out of time.” Ahmad stoppered his water skin and slung it over his saddle. “We have to keep moving.”

“And where would you have us go, Ahmad?” Crowe turned his back to Iliana. “Kyra is the only one who knows this part of the desert. Without her, we’re just another set of bones in the sand.”

Ahmad remained unruffled. “Where did you meet this woman, and why would you believe she could show you the way? As I said, women are treacherous.”

“I met her here. She lives out here somewhere, and knows it better than anyone.”

Ahmad’s scowl deepened. “No one lives out here, Crowe. She lied.” He tipped his head. “Or was it some other reason you believe her? Did she warm your staff?”

Crowe paused two feet from Iliana’s hiding place and his hands tightened into fists. His expression hardened. She didn’t dare breathe. One more step and Crowe would have her, but if she moved, he’d see her. She held her breath and waited for the moment she could sneak farther into the ferns.

“I was dying from exposure, you idiot.” Crowe growled as he rounded on Ahmad. “She saved my life. She said if I ever needed her help again, just to come here and call her name.”

Iliana crawled slowly through the brush, hoping the breeze would disguise her movements. If she could get to the horse, she might be able to get away. She still hadn’t figured out where she’d go, but away from these men and their pursuers would be helpful.

“You were dying.” Ahmad crossed his arms over his chest. “How do you know she wasn’t just a hallucination?”

“Because I'm still alive, and there’s her horse. Couldn’t patch myself up, now, could I?”

Crowe paused, cocking his head and Iliana froze. He scanned the space where she’d been crouching with a sharp look.

Please don’t see me. Please don’t see me.

She resisted the urge to close her eyes as she hunkered down under a ground palm.
God, I hope there are no scorpions using this as a home.
The man named Crowe crouched and met her eyes, a frown creasing his brows.

“Kyra? Is that you?”

Iliana supposed it was too late to do the Jedi mind trick—
this is not the woman you’re looking for
—but she definitely didn’t own the name he called. She shook her head and he grimaced.

“Please, Kyra, we need your help. My colleagues won’t do you harm.”

She snorted, but short of running straight out—
going where, exactly?
—she was caught. She drew herself up to her full height of five feet eight inches and faced Crowe, her hand near her sword. She hoped he wouldn’t push her to try to use it. While she’d taken fencing lessons, this guy looked like he had practical fighting knowledge. The cloth of his shirt stretched taut around his biceps and shoulders.
Yeah, he could drop-kick me into next week.

When Crowe saw her defensive posture, he backed up a few feet and raised his hands. His creamy surcoat gaped above the tan sash, showing a dark brown undershirt that match his pants. The well-worn sword and daggers hanging at his waist didn’t reassure her.

“Kyra, it’s me, Brandon Crowe. Please come out.” He backed up another step. “I realize it’s been two years, but I’m the man you saved when I came to the Karobis Desert in search of the Treasure Vault.”

She swallowed hard and shot a look at Ahmad and the others. No one said anything for a few moments as she debated what to do. She’d never seen this man or been in this desert before in her life.

“It’s all right, Kyra.”

“Hurry it up, Crowe. There’s an army coming, remember?”

Crowe swore under his breath, but kept his hands out where she could see them. Iliana took a deep breath. She could face anything. While she should’ve been in White Sands National Monument heading for her next campsite, the moment required her to be present here.
And it’s all about presence.
That sounded good when she was safe in her life as a Hollywood actress, but not here. She’d starred in many movies and while some had been odd, this counted as weirder.
I’m an actress, not a desert nomad.

She swallowed hard and stepped into the open, keeping her back to one of the palm trunks. The men around them stirred, but no one made any sudden moves. She counted at least twenty men with an equal number of packhorses under the trees.
Where the hell have I ended up?
Maybe she’d gotten to Australia where she was scheduled to film her next movie and couldn’t remember the flight. She scanned the people in the shade of the palms and threw that idea out.
None of these guys look Australian.

“Kyra?” The man named Crowe coaxed her to speak.

She returned her gaze to him, taking in his desert costume and his gravelly voice.
He sounds familiar, almost Aussie.
What were the odds her upcoming costar Taggart Crowe was playing an elaborate trick on her before filming started?

She could adopt the part of the outback woman, complete with Australian accent. Would it make sense out here in this desert?
Does any of this make sense?
Brandon Crowe thought he knew her, so if she turned out to be someone else, he really couldn’t fault her. She decided against the accent, but she would play Kyra for now.

“I don't think I am the one you're looking for.” She met Crowe’s gaze.

“Who else would be all the way out here in this oasis?” He took a few steps closer to her, but stopped when she tightened her hold on her sword. “Easy, Kyra. I mean you no harm, but the Knalish Army is hot on our trail. I need you to show us the way across the desert to the west.”

Yeah, like that’s gonna happen.

“From where do you think you know me? I don't recognize you or your voice. I don't even know your name.”

He blinked in surprise over the cloth across his face. “It's me, Brandon Crowe. I was here two years ago looking for the Treasure Vault. You found me dying out in the sands and brought me to this oasis.”

“Show me your face.” She didn’t think it would help, but it would buy her some time.

He nodded and quickly unwrapped the midnight blue scarf from around his face until it hung down his back. She started and gaped. Sad hazel eyes looked out over a short rounded nose and thin lips. He had a goatee that flowed up his jaw to form a beard. Fury at his games rose in her chest.
What the fuck is this guy playing at?
Taggart Crowe, her fellow actor and male lead, stood before her with a confident smile.