Warrior (30 page)

Intrigued, the man took it, still holding his pipe. He puffed on the cheroot, then, magnanimously, offered his pipe to Gabriel. With the same casual air, Gabriel took the pipe and placed the stem in his mouth. Such strange masculine courtesies that communicated worlds more than simple words.

“We need fresh mounts,” Gabriel said around the stem. “Food and water. And we need to leave soon. Or we might lose the race.” He breathed out a small cloud of smoke.

The bandit leader smiled, wry. “Ah, I see. We give you those things, and you tell us where to find the treasure.” He took a few more puffs from the cheroot, then took it from his mouth and contemplated the smoldering tobacco. “This is very good. But I think I have a better idea.”

“What’s that?” Thalia couldn’t stop herself from asking.

“My men and I will come with you.”

The horses were freed to find their way home. How ridiculous was it that Thalia envied them? Fed and watered, the animals cantered away without sparing their former riders a single glance. She watched them go, coveting their liberty.

“We’ve exchanged one problem for another,” she said to Gabriel as their baggage was transferred to camels. “Or rather, we now have a whole new problem, in addition to the Heirs.”

“Always something,” he commented. “Made a deal once with some Manipur warlords. Safe passage to Imphal in exchange for a case of Enfield rifles. A damned hard choice, but without them watching our backs, we’d never have made it.”

“But we’ve no rifles or anything else to give this lot.” Thalia indicated the milling group of brigands, who saddled their camels and prepared for a long journey. “Assuming they don’t just slit our throats during the trip, once we get to the temple, they’ll know they’ve been duped. Between the Heirs and these bandits, we’re going to have a hell of a fight on our hands. What?” she asked, as Gabriel grinned at her.

Stepping in close, so that no more than an inch separated them, he said warmly, “I love it when you talk flinty.”

“Skirmish,” Thalia whispered, husky. “Trounce the bastards.”

Under his lowered lids, his pupils dilated, and he slowly licked his lips. Despite the fact that they were standing in a bandits’ encampment, the Heirs close behind them, and every part of her ached with weariness, Thalia wanted him so badly her knees shook. And not only because he was strong and alive and handsome, but because she was fully herself with him, and he didn’t turn away. He embraced it, the whole of her. And wanted her, too.

Now, though, was not the time. Visibly collecting himself, he moved away. “The leader isn’t trusting anyone with the ruby. He keeps it in his coat. I’m no pickpocket, so he’s going to have to keep it for now.”

“What if we made tea in the kettle and gave it to the bandits?” Thalia suggested. “The magic could distract them long enough for us to make an escape.”

A corner of his mouth turned up. “Sounds good. After we give them the tea, you can suggest to them that they just start buggering each other so that the magic can take effect.”

“Perhaps I’ll formulate another plan,” Thalia mumbled, reddening. She had no desire to see a brigand orgy.

His smile faded as he kept a watchful eye on their captors. “We might not be serving them tea, but I’m going to make sure nobody’s filched the kettle,” Gabriel said, then strode off.

Thalia, too, set to work. She ignored the stares of the bandits as she helped pack the camels, and, within the hour, everyone was on the road. Thalia hadn’t much experience riding camels, but she soon grew used to the cantankerous beasts. Weaving their way through the labyrinth of canyons, they emerged into late afternoon, when the setting sun set the cliffs to flames and everything glowed like burning dreams. The sky, too, had caught fire as trails of golden fleece danced around the sun. In this light, Gabriel, riding beside her, his eyes shaded by the brim of his hat, was living myth.

The camels took the terrain better than horses. Rocky, dusty land flew beneath her as she rode. Having something decent to eat and drink had revived her considerably, and she took in the spare landscape with an appreciative eye. Gabriel looked over at her, and they exchanged smiles. It was absurd, but she was actually enjoying herself. It seemed that he was, too. Something must be wrong with them. Or perhaps, Thalia amended, other people were too tame in their needs for happiness.

This was no holiday, however. She, Gabriel, and the steppe tribesmen kept to themselves when it came time to stop for the night. More than once, the tribesmen muttered about the bandit chief possessing the ruby, but Gabriel assured them that he’d find some way to get it back. There was no way to know how long the brigands would be content simply to accompany them to the temple, rather than kill them and try to seize what valuables they could.

They watched as Altan, the bandits’ leader, ordered his men around with the same directness and surety as any military officer.

“If he wasn’t a bloodthirsty thief,” Thalia whispered to Gabriel, “I’d say you two would have a jolly time together.”

“I’ll save my jolly for you, thanks all the same,” he answered.

Over the evening meal, Thalia and Gabriel stayed close together while the bandits laughed and shared arkhi. “We could try to sneak away,” she suggested, “after everyone goes to sleep.”

“Men like these don’t sleep all at once,” Gabriel answered. “They’ll keep watch.”

Thalia noticed that some of the bandits were already asleep, camped a little ways from the communal fire. In a few hours, one of their comrades would wake them to take a later shift. Hell. “What if we got them drunk enough?”

He shook his head. “Even if we could get away, this desert is their home. They’d find us before we had time to wipe our noses.”

“They can’t come with us all the way to the temple,” she protested, but she wasn’t saying anything he had not already considered. Even though they were simply eating a meal at the end of a very long day, his mind was never at rest, always assessing, considering.

“I’ll think of something.”

“No,” Thalia corrected. “We will.”

His smile was private, meant for her alone. “We will, indeed.”

She slept right beside Gabriel that night. He kept his arms wrapped around her, and even though he wasn’t armed, Thalia knew he’d fight hard if anything happened to her during the night. She dreamt of kettles, rubies, and a golden lion, pacing back and forth without tiring.

When they woke the next morning, it was to news that the Heirs had been spotted by a scout a day’s ride behind them. Somehow, their cloaking magic had stopped working, rendering them visible. But this was a small comfort, knowing how close they were. Which was worse? The known threat of the Heirs, or the unknown potential of Altan’s men? If only she, Gabriel, and the tribesmen could elude the bandits, at least one threat could be eliminated. Yet escape seemed impossible, and they were too untrustworthy to try to forge a true alliance.

Opportunity came in a strange guise the following day. One moment, the entire group was riding their camels, the day placid and still. Within minutes, a fierce wind began to scour the dry, rocky plains. Thalia had no idea where it came from. It pulled like claws at their clothing and threatened to topple them from their saddles. She clung to the reins of her camel, ducking her head from the onslaught. Clouds of grit and dust scraped at any exposed skin. Gabriel gave Thalia a kerchief to wrap around her mouth and nose, while he took a spare shirt from his pack and used that to protect the lower half of his face. The brigands were well prepared, having lengths of fabric stuffed into their coats for just such an event.

Through the punishing winds, they continued on, until one of Altan’s men turned and pointed. Everyone turned to look behind them.

“Oh, hell,” Thalia said, but her words were lost in the wind.

A wall of flying sand hurtled toward them, billowing, as tall as a cliff and just as terrifying. Red and impenetrable, it bore toward them with an awful, quiet inevitability. A protean killer that had no body but was all sharp claws and teeth.

“The Heirs?” Gabriel called to her.

“No, just your average deadly sandstorm,” she yelled back. “I don’t think we can outrun it.”

“Do what they’re doing,” he shouted back, pointing to Altan and his men, who were dismounting and making their camels sit. The large beasts folded their legs underneath themselves and tilted down until they were sitting upon the ground. Each camel’s reins were staked to the ground. As if used to such storms, the bandits immediately hunkered in the lea of the camels, pulling their coats close to keep out the racing sand. The animals themselves didn’t seem to mind the sand, viewing it with boredom through their long eyelashes.

The four tribesmen quickly imitated the bandits, sliding off of their camels and finding shelter in the creatures’ bodies. Gabriel did the same, but Thalia could not get her blasted camel to cooperate. She wrestled with the stubborn animal, pulling on the lead ring in its nose to get it to sit, but she did not want to pull too hard and tear the ring right from the tender flesh. So she pushed. The camel bellowed at her, and if the wind had not been gusting so hard, she would have been covered with foamy camel spit. She desperately missed horses.

Glancing between the camel’s humps, Thalia saw that the sandstorm was almost upon them. Cursing, tears torn from her eyes, she shoved and coaxed her mount. No doubt the bandits were having themselves a good laugh at her expense. Meanwhile, she could barely breathe or keep her eyes open.

Then Gabriel was beside her, taking the reins from her. “Sit your bloody arse down or I’ll put a damned bullet in it,” he roared at the camel.

The animal stared at him for a moment, and then placidly sat.

In the next moment, the sandstorm slammed into them. It hit like a million stinging wasps, biting without mercy at any unprotected flesh. Sight was nearly impossible. Even if she had been able to open her eyes fully, only a few feet would have been plainly visible. Everything else was swallowed in the crimson air.

Gabriel started to pull her down next to the camel, but they both stopped moving when an animal bawl rent the air, followed by a human scream. A bandit’s camel, spooked by the storm, had torn itself free from its stake and galloped away into the punishing clouds of sand. But the camel’s rider had tangled in the reins, and now dragged behind the animal as it ran in a panic. Thalia clutched at her throat. If the storm itself didn’t kill the man, then tumbling and pounding across the rocky earth would. Altan and his men half-rose from behind their camels, clearly torn. Saving their comrade meant risking their own lives, or getting hopelessly lost in the disorienting blizzard of dust.

A hard hand shoved on Thalia’s shoulder, pushing her behind the camel. “Don’t move,” Gabriel snarled at her, before he ran off, disappearing into the storm. She did not even have time to say no nor clutch at his sleeve. The sand had taken him.

He was a jelly-brained fool. What the hell compelled him to run into a sandstorm just to save the life of a thieving scoundrel who’d likely stab him in the throat, given the opportunity? He’d done it, just the same. Gabriel had made sure that Thalia was secure—at least some part of his mind was functioning properly—before rushing into what felt like the devil’s breath, hot and brutal and capable of tearing flesh from bone.

Only the flood of water demons from the True Hammer of Thor came close to the torture of pushing through the swirling, howling sand. Gabriel ran, squinting into the red darkness, trying to pick out the terrified man’s screams above the wind. Thank God his hearing was good. There. Faint and growing fainter. Instinct shoved Gabriel along, through the biting void, fighting to stay on his feet, until, yes, the form of the terrified camel came into view. His rider still skidded behind, but what condition the man was in, Gabriel had no way of knowing. Face and back probably cut to shreds by now. And he’d stopped hollering. Not a good sign.

Gabriel threw himself forward, grabbing hold of the camel’s saddle. He dug his heels into the ground and pulled to the side with every ounce of strength he had left. The camel was young, saints be praised, and relatively small, so it stumbled when Gabriel pulled back. He shouted at it, though he hadn’t a single idea what stream of abuse poured out of his mouth, all the while pulling to the side so that the camel moved in a circle. As soon as the animal began to slow, Gabriel pulled his knife from his belt and hacked at the reins tangled around the rider.

The man came free, going limp, at the same time that the camel decided it’d had enough running around. Gabriel wrapped one arm around the man, and was relieved to discover he was unconscious but alive. He looped his other arm around the camel’s neck and tugged the beast down. It staggered, then sat.

Immediately, Gabriel crouched next to the camel, also pulling the insensible man into the shelter of the animal’s body. He tugged the man’s coat up, covering the brigand’s face, before doing the same for himself. And that was how he spent the next who knows how long, tucked into himself like a giant tortoise, as the sandstorm continued to scream and tear.

Gabriel lost track of time, could hear only his own breathing and the roiling sand, as he waited and waited, and continued to wait some more. He hoped like hell that Thalia had been intelligent enough to sit out the storm, unlike his own moronic self. Jesus, if anything happened to her…No, he wouldn’t let himself think about that; otherwise he’d do something even more stupid like dash off into the storm again, trying to find her, and get either lost or buried in the process.