Lady of the Star Wind (10 page)

“From what you’ve translated for me so far, it could take us deep into trouble. I guess I’m not as eager to leave this refuge as you are.” Sandy dusted off her turquoise silk skirt, pausing to examine a couple of small rips and stains. “But what you say makes sense. If we’re going to be on this planet for the rest of our lives, we can’t hide from the people who live here. And I don’t think we can be neutral either, do you?”

“Rothan said the Star Wind always showed favor to the side he’s on. These people are so sure you’re this legendary Lady returned to them. They view it as a positive omen, which is a point in our favor.”

“I’d hate to disappoint them.” Her laugh sounded forced, which Mark decided to ignore, pleased not to have to argue with her further about leaving the oasis.

There was a hail from the direction of the dwelling. Djed beckoned, while Rothan stood in the doorframe, leaning on Tia.

Mark waved a hand at the others. “Your patient’s ambulatory whether you like it or not. Shall we go back?”

“Please remember this isn’t another mission you’re on,” Sandy said. “This is the rest of our lives you’re talking about.” She walked past him without another word.

Over breakfast, the discussion dealt with strategy. Rothan expressed his gratitude for Mark’s plans to accompany them to the Lost City.

“You’ve a house there as well,” he informed Sandy. “The Lady of the Star Wind attended the court of King Khunarum from time to time, or so it says in the oldest scrolls.”

Amused disbelief seemed to be Sandy’s reaction as this was translated. “I’m inheriting things right and left, aren’t I? Excellent news, I suppose, to have yet another place of our own on this planet. I may be reduced to one dress, but at least I have real estate.”

Mark picked bones from the fish on his plate. “I hope the Traveler keys work there.”

Eyebrows raised high in disbelief, she said, “Surely whatever kind of a dwelling or building they’re talking about must have fallen down a long time ago. You said this city we’re going to was abandoned over three thousand of their years ago.”

Mark waved his hand at the oasis beyond the patio where they sat. “This place must be the same age or much older, and it’s all functioning, once you found the keys. Why should the dwelling in the city be any different? I’ve seen Ancient Observer installations guesstimated at over a million standard years old, humming away, doing whatever AO technology does. In no way does this place resemble an AO installation, but similar idea. I’d like to get my hands on some high tech, even the alien kind. My blaster’s only going to last so long. The civilian popgun I took off Kliin’s merc will be exhausted even sooner. Your medical supplies are limited. Maybe at the house in the city, the Travelers left the pots and pans behind, unlike here.”

“And the weapons and the medicines?”
 

“Right. A man can dream, can’t he?”

After breakfast, Mark led the soldiers to the garage to check on the horses. While the men were busy with their tasks, he and Rothan strolled across the pass to examine the chariots.

Rothan tipped one to the upright position. “We can’t all fit into two chariots, my friend.”

Mark helped him with the second. “You probably noticed I rustled a few of the Maiskhan horses. The animals appear to be a sturdy breed. Sandy and I’ll ride them.”

Frowning, Rothan tried out the unfamiliar syllables. “Rustle? Ride?”

“Rustle as in steal. And ride as in on the horse, rather than standing in a bouncing chariot being pulled by a team of them. You’ll see,” Mark said, full of confidence in the bright morning and happy to be facing action. “These horses aren’t used to riders, but we can manage.”

Rothan knelt to examine the axle on the nearest chariot, running his hand over the wheel’s spokes. “What Tia told me about you pursuing the Maiskhan on the bare back of a horse is nothing short of miraculous. Can you teach us? Or is it magic?”

“Riding’s an acquired skill, nothing magical. But I think for now we should concentrate on getting to the Lost City the best way possible, which means using the chariots. No time to teach all of you to ride. Later. Cavalry is a definite advance in military strategy. It might come in handy if we find ourselves battling Farahna and her allies. Be a surprise she won’t be expecting.”

Moving to inspect the second chariot’s harness, Rothan glanced at Mark over his shoulder. “You know of other such strategic advances?”

“Yes, but not all of them will be of any use to you in the middle of a desert. I promise to share whatever will work here, word of an officer.”

Mark and the soldiers carried out a burial detail after breakfast. Before making the short return trip inside, he lingered alone for a few moments and buried his black key in an unobtrusive spot he knew he could find again, beside a variegated outcropping. If he and Sandy ever needed to seek sanctuary in the oasis, he wanted a key where he could find it, in case Sandy’s key got lost during the expedition.

Departure took place after the noon hour, Sandy flashing the lavender crystal key at the garage portal. The door slammed closed faster than the human eye could follow. She stood staring at the barren flank of the mountain for a long moment, no sign left of the entry to the Traveler oasis.

Mark helped her mount on the least skittish of the horses, then got onto the animal he’d chosen for himself. Riding was a favorite pastime of the nobles on Throne, so she was at home on horseback, even without a saddle. Rothan watched all this with a critical eye, leaning on the rim of his chariot, Djed at the reins, holding the eager team in place. Tia stood braced against the opposite side of the basket. The second chariot, carrying the three remaining archers, waited slightly to the rear. Mark had the two other Maiskhan horses on long lead, burdened with makeshift packs constructed from cloaks taken from the dead enemy soldiers. The bags carried the items he’d salvaged from the wreckage of the third chariot, as well as from the Maiskhan. Full canteens of water from the oasis and as much fruit as the men had been able to pick from the low branches supplemented the original supplies.

“The fodder you provided has given them new life.” Djed smiled at his eager team of horses. “The Oasis of the Travelers has magical powers, as the legends told.”

“There’ll be one full moon tonight, Amrell the beauteous. She’s said to favor travelers. We can continue until Amrell begins to set, and thus make up some of the time we lost after skirmishing with the Maiskhan.” Rothan provided his assessment as his chariot took the lead, moving to the west, deeper into the mountain pass.

“I don’t like the appearance of the sky, my lord,” the chief archer called out as the chariots and riders proceeded. “There could be trouble.”

Mark glanced at the clear, flawless blue bowl of the sky. Maybe a few wispy clouds far, far out on the horizon. “What kind of trouble?”

“Sandstorm, my lord.” Apparently detecting skepticism on Mark’s face, the archer provided details. “Bad weather comes from the east with scant warning. To be caught in a storm is certain death. But perhaps the winds will batter themselves into oblivion against the mountains.”

“Or we’ll be far enough into the Empty Lands to escape the full fury,” Rothan said. “The gods and omens have favored us so far, my friends. Let’s not divine new catastrophe in a few clouds.”

Mark could tell Djed remained unconvinced, as he and the other archers exchanged glances but said nothing further on the topic.

Another concern was bothering Mark more than issues of chancy weather. “What about the Maiskhan? Do you think they’ll persist in following you?”

Rothan shook his head. “Doubtless, the enemy believes you were a demon from the underworld. You took Tia from them. I’ve been told by my men that you slaughtered many of the enemy with invisible arrows. Also, the Maiskhan believed me dead and saw our other casualties lying on the sands, so their leader will report a largely successful outcome to Farahna. Even she wouldn’t expect soldiers to pursue a demon to the underworld in an attempt to secure Tia for her.” He paused for a moment to kiss his lady on the cheek as she blushed. “No one travels in this desert without desperate cause. Paid mercenaries aren’t loyal enough to proceed into the Empty Lands when they can convince themselves of our removal from the playing board.”

“Would you look at that?” Cresting the final rise, Mark rode away from the foot of the towering mountains. He whistled and reined in his horse, stunned by the vista. Ahead on all sides stretched hundreds of square miles of scrub brush and golden sands, baking in the sunlight. Towering dunes marched to the horizon. There were no signs of life.

“This area is well named the Empty Lands,” Tia said.

“We’re following the ancient trade road.” Rothan took a drink from one of the waterskins before passing it to Mark. “The route runs straight and true through the desert to the city we seek. There’ll be an oasis about one day’s travel from here.”

“And there’ll be water?”

Taking the waterskin back and raising it to his lips, Rothan answered seriously, “The gods must continue to favor us if we’re to succeed. Not too late for you and the Lady to change your minds, go home to your oasis.”

Mark heard the challenge hidden in the mild offer. “We’ve made our choice. We ride with you, wherever the decision takes us.”

The day grew even more scorching. Under Sandy’s eagle eye, constantly evaluating his recovery from the head wound, Rothan didn’t push the horses too hard. Scrubby brush dotted the terrain, with small dunes here and there. The genuinely immense dunes lay ahead of them, shimmering golden in the sunlight. Distances were deceiving in the desert.
 

“This path we’re on does resemble a road,” Sandy said as her horse trotted beside the lead chariot.

Mark translated the remark.

“Yes, we’re following the main caravan route dating to when the city of Khunarum was inhabited. For many hundreds of years, the traders brought goods inland from the coast over this road and other items back to the coast to sell. The Empty Lands were much more fertile and friendly to life eons ago,” Rothan said.
 

“So no one lives out here at all? No nomads?”
 

Rothan shook his head. “The people of Khunarum either fled or died when the city was destroyed.”

“But why didn’t the survivors take this scepter and crown with them, if they’re such important symbols?” Mark found this the most puzzling aspect of the legends he’d been told.

Rothan frowned. “The ancient tales aren’t clear about how the city met its doom, nor about what happened on the final day.”

“The civilization ended all in one day?” He supposed a cataclysmic event would expain the loss of even the most significant relics.

“So the old scrolls say. There were floods and the earth shook for moments on end. Buildings collapsed or were washed out to sea. Chaos reigned. The temple where the crown and scepter were housed sat in the hardest-hit area of the city.”

“Maybe no priests survived to bring the items to safety,” Tia said.

Mark frowned, guiding his horse past a large rock formation jutting from the hard-packed dirt. “But you think you can find these things three thousand years later and get to Nakhtiaar in time to save your prince?”

“We must.” Rothan was as stubborn as he’d been the night before in the oasis. “Our land can’t be ruled by a person not fit to sit on the throne. We won’t submit to the Maiskhan overlords, nor honor their bloodthirsty gods, as Farahna wishes to do. Hutenen must retake the throne, proclaim his status as king, and put affairs into order and balance.”

Mark was happy to see the pitiful little oasis ahead as the sun moved steadily toward the horizon. A handful of scrubby trees surrounded a small, brackish pond. The horses drank eagerly, but the humans were more reluctant. Djed got a fire going, and the group huddled around it, eating the rations brought from the Oasis of the Travelers.

Rothan neatly refolded the maps he’d been studying while he ate. “Tomorrow’s journey includes a loop around a lake where we can refill our canteens again. There’s nothing else before we reach the city on the coast.”

“No sandstorm today,” Mark reminded Djed.

The archer shook his head. “The clouds are mares’ tails, and the moons have red rings. Tomorrow may be a day of demon weather, my lord.”

“Too bad you don’t control the weather, Lady of the Star Wind,” Mark teased Sandy.

“I hardly feel in control of anything at the moment.” She walked away from him to sit with Tia.

Mark let her go without comment, watching her chat with Tia in broken Nakhtiaar, trying out a few linguistic tidbits she’d picked up during the day, both women laughing. Sandy’s attitude puzzled him, chafed at his nerves. She was polite to him, friendly, but nothing more. There was a reserve, some emotional barrier. Did she harbor resentment because he hadn’t wanted to remain in the oasis? But if so, why hadn’t she said something else? He reviewed their discussion, satisfied he’d made a compelling case for journeying with Rothan. She’d said yes, after all.
 

Rothan joined the women, apparently teasing Tia about something, and all three laughed. Rubbing his chin, Mark considered for the first time the fact Sandy didn’t have to stay with him now that they’d joined other people. She was perfectly free to choose another man. And he was free to bed other women. They had no agreement to remain together, a state of affairs made painfully explicit after the discussion in the oasis.