Shifting Sand

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Clan members looked on curiously as the group on horseback sped past. A few gave out cries of encouragement. Children tried to race alongside them—safely to the side of the path, not in any real danger. Cassian raised his hand in acknowledgment as he left the straw huts behind.

Out in the desert proper the heat only gained intensity as it climbed past its midday peak. Cassian cursed himself for not grabbing a head scarf.

“Here, Master.”

Cassian looked at Yashiv, holding out a long strip of fabric. Cassian accepted it, pressing his lips into a thin line. The ghost of a smile played around the bodyguard’s mouth before he wrapped a bronze cloth over his own face. Cassian settled the indigo scarf over his hair, then tucked it around his neck. It left only his eyes uncovered. Luckily, that let him hide his own grin.

They followed along the semi-worn path that led from camp, every eye scanning the desert for signs of danger. It wouldn’t be unheard of for the king to set this up as a trap. It’d happened before, at great loss of life for both sides. That had been during the times of Cassian’s grandfather, Hadrian. He had died during that raid—leaving his wife, Orsolya, to manage the clan until Alim had taken over. Cassian had listened in awe to stories of his grandmother, the most ruthless leader the clan ever had.

It’d been awhile since Cassian rode, so his backside developed an ache early into the escapade. His eyes narrowed in pain the farther they got from camp. I’m growing soft, he thought. Father would be ashamed. Of course, all of this was Yashiv’s fault for his overindulgence. Cassian needed to stop letting the guard pamper him. Yet, the thought of stopping Yashiv’s attention made Cassian’s heart sink. He didn’t want to be treated like a child, but it was nice to know the guard worried.

He was so intent on his inner thoughts he didn’t notice when the other warriors stopped. Feray galloped past them a few steps before he realized his mistake and drew her up short. She whinnied in protest of the harsh movement and he patted her neck to calm her. Yashiv wasn’t the only one looking at him with open concern.

Cassian cleared his throat. “I’ll take the lead from here,” he said to cover his blunder. He was lucky they couldn’t see the hint of red that darkened his cheeks. “Perla, take four with you south and loop wide. Jabir, you go to the east. I’ll take the rest from the northwest. Move!”

They all did as commanded, sand flying up from the hooves of the animals as they left the path. The terrain would be precarious, which was why he sent the more experienced soldiers to do it. Cassian and his group would continue on the smoother road. He got Feray moving again, at a slow pace since it would take longer for the others to get into position. His warriors made a circle, enclosing him and Yashiv in the center.

Yashiv raised a questioning eyebrow, the only part of the other man’s face Cassian could see due to the bronze cloth.

“Am I the Master of this clan or not?” Cassian said, making his voice brisk, as if that were a reasonable explanation. As if Yashiv couldn’t read volumes in the tone. As if the guard didn’t know nearly every thought that crossed Cassian’s mind.

Gaius save me, Cassian though with a sigh. They already acted like a married couple.

The band of warriors left to him—six in total—followed his direction. The worn paths could sometimes disappear from the wind and sandstorms that frequented this area. They had to pick their way carefully when the path vanished suddenly. It took them several minutes to find it again. It was important to keep to the path since that was the only way the caravan would travel. They needed to meet it head on in order to be successful.

An hour later, they crested a rise and saw the stretch of wagons below.

“Sweet Gala,” Cassian said, observing a scene of utter chaos. The wagons were being attacked from all sides. Two canvas covered carriages for passengers were on fire.

“It’s the Orvokki Clan,” Yashiv said, open disgust in his voice. His fist clenched tighter on the horse’s reins, turning his knuckles white.

“They’re far outside their territory,” Valencia added. She shifted her scarf to the side so she could spit on the ground.

“s**t and sand,” Zaire cursed. His single eye narrowed as he gazed on the commotion below. “What would they be doing here?”

Cassian had to struggle to contain his fury. These people were in his land. “Must be something worth this insult. We can’t let this stand. If they think they can come into our territory, whatever the reason…” He left the rest unsaid. They all knew how it would tarnish their reputation.

Yashiv met Cassian’s eye. “Master, we can’t wait for Perla and Jabir. We have to act now.”

Cassian nodded. “There’s more of them, but they’re distracted by the loot and passengers. We can surprise them.”

They kicked their mounts into motion, racing down the path toward the mayhem. Yashiv stuck close to Cassian’s side, protective as always. Well, they needed every person to attack if they hoped to beat the trespassing Orvokki Clan, so Yashiv was going to have to accept that.

They approached the chaos, Cassian pulling down his scarf with his right hand while keeping a tight grip on the reins with his left. At the edge of the first wagon, Cassian pulled Feray to a stop, jumping from her back the moment she stilled. Around him, his warriors did the same. Yashiv fell in beside Cassian, a look passing between his guard and the other fighters. They rushed off, eager to join the battle; Yashiv stayed even with Cassian, his sword and knife in his hands. The clang of metal on metal echoed through the air, and the screams got louder and more numerous.

“Please stay close,” Yashiv said.

Cassian nodded and drew his own weapons. It had been some time since he participated in a raid. Usually, the clan stole without bloodshed. They resorted to it if necessary, but avoided it as much as possible. Because of this, Cassian’s battle experience was limited. His heart clenched in his chest and stomach rolled. He was glad he skipped the midday meal.

Before he even had time to prepare, they were on the Orvokki warriors.

Yashiv’s blade sank into the back of an unsuspecting man trying to force his way onto one of the wagons. The man didn’t have time to scream. The corpse fell to the ground, sliding off the steel of Yashiv’s sword. Blood dripped from his long blade and pooled atop the sand at his feet. What the trespasser was reaching for became visible: a wooden chest with brass locks and hinges. They’d check on that later, once the threat was dealt with. Cassian and Yashiv moved on.

The next wagon was on fire; the scent of burning wood and canvas thick in the air. Cassian stuck his head inside and saw three dead bodies—women, dressed in fine silks and gold jewelry. Odd that the raiders wouldn’t take the women’s rings and necklaces before setting the wagon on fire. The other loot must be worth so much that finger rings were insignificant.

“Move on,” Cassian said, pulling away from the wagon before he inhaled too much smoke.

At the next wagon, Jef and Abarrane—brother and sister—stood back to back and fought off three attackers. Yashiv rushed to join in. Cassian hesitated for only a moment before he followed.

Yashiv’s large body made the attacking Orvokki members pause for a moment. But the bloodlust was too great, or maybe it was the wealth this caravan promised. His knife swinging in graceful arcs, Yashiv met the other warriors, adding his strength to Jef and Abarrane.

Cassian was just about to lunge when a noise behind him made him spin around by instinct. He almost acted before he could take in the scene. Luckily, his hand stayed as his eyes focused on a woman advancing toward him. Then he saw the knife embedded in the woman’s stomach. Blood stained the blue silk dress she wore, turning the surrounding area a sharp violet.

She stumbled forward, tugging at the hilt, trying to remove it from her flesh.

“Don’t pull it,” Cassian said. He sheathed his sword and held up his hands to the woman.

She didn’t look up at him, and didn’t heed his advice.

Cassian took a step forward, but Yashiv gripped his forearm. Angrily, Cassian tugged free from the guard’s hold and went to the woman. Once he reached her, she succeeded in pulling the blade free. She let out a loud cry, then collapsed to the ground. The knife fell from her fingers to the sand beside her.

Knowing Yashiv watched his back, Cassian quickly knelt beside the woman and put his fingers to her neck. No pulse. She was already dead. He stood, knowing there was nothing he could do.

What had happened here? Why were these women dead?

“Master!” Yashiv’s shriek hit Cassian’s ears like a clap of thunder.

Knowing his guard would not yell unless necessary, Cassian took his eyes off the body and scanned his surroundings. A tiny figure advanced on him from the side of one of the wagons, moving fast. Cassian reacted without thought, removing his sword from its scabbard and holding it out in front of him. The attacker stopped a hair’s breadth away from the tip of the curved blade.

It was a child, no higher than Cassian’s waist, and clutching a knife in his hand. His short-cropped hair was disarrayed and he wore clothing far too big. His attire did not match the fine ladies that accompanied this caravan. Perhaps he was part of the Orvokki raiding party.

The boy took a step backward, then another. His grip on his knife was tight, turning his knuckles white. Then, he glanced to the side and spied the woman dead at Cassian’s feet.

“Mama!” the child screamed, the knife dropping from his grip as he raced to the woman. “You killed her!” The child threw himself atop the corpse, his face already smeared with tears. He put his head upon her bloodied chest.

Yashiv placed a hand on Cassian’s shoulder, looking at the child and his mother. “Are you hurt?” he asked in a near whisper.

Cassian shook his head.

“Master,” called another voice. Cassian glanced over and saw Perla riding her horse toward them. She leapt from the back of the animal and loped through the uneven sand. “Are you injured?” She put her fingers on his arms, running over his skin.

He drew away. “No, Perla. I’m fine.”

“Why didn’t you wait for us?”

It was Yashiv who answered. “The Orvokki were already here, trying to take what was ours.”

“The Orvokki?” she asked, her eyes widening. “They wouldn’t dare.”

The child made a loud sob, drawing their attention.

“Who is this?” Perla asked.

“No idea,” Cassian answered.

The boy raised his head and glared. “You killed my mama!” he shrieked. He got back to his feet and picked up his knife. It trembled in his hands.

“Listen,” Cassian began, but the child rushed forward.

Yashiv and Perla both stepped in front of Cassian to apprehend the child. Yashiv plucked the knife from his hands like he was picking it off the ground, and Perla grabbed his fingers. He struggled against Perla’s grip as she brought him in front of Cassian. Perla deposited him onto the ground where he curled up into a ball.

“He’s seen your face, Master,” Perla said, the sadness in her voice giving away her meaning.

“No!” Cassian barked.

“He’s likely seven or eight, too old to take in,” Yashiv said reluctantly. As an adopted member of the clan, those words had to be hard for him to utter.

“No!” Cassian repeated. “I will not murder a child.”

“Yes, you will,” said the little boy. He looked up through teary eyes. “You are a murderer.”

Cassian sighed. “Perla, go see what can be salvaged. I’ll take the boy.”

The child drew his head up indignantly. “I’m not a boy! I’m a girl.”

Cassian’s eyes flew wide. He looked down at the child, taking a better look. She had short hair, cut close to the head, baggy pants, and a too big tunic. This was not the way to dress a girl. Unless…

“Who was your mother, little one?”

“Lady Dabria Bazzi,” she answered with a sniffle.

“Why did she dress you like that?”

The child looked at her clothes. “Mama said it was necessary.”

“Where were you going?”

“King Ammon Renatus’ palace in Sufarra.”

“Why?”

“I’m to be a bride for Prince Manoel.”

Cassian met Yashiv’s eyes. This child was far too young to be a bride. But why the disguise? When Cassian had been about her age, his father had often taken him to the city dressed as a girl. It was a common tactic to hide an identity. It showed that she was someone important.

“What’s your name?” he asked, bending on one knee to look her in the eyes. They were a soft green, uncommon around these parts.

“Wen.”

Cassian reached out a hand and she flinched away from it. He held it steadily in front of her. “Lady Wen, my name is Cassian Eanraig. I would like for you to accompany me back to my home, where we can get you something to eat and drink. You can have a bath. We’ll find out where you came from and sort out where you need to go.”

The child glared. “I don’t trust you. You’re an awful, evil man.”

He smirked. “If I was evil, I would let my warriors kill you right now. Instead, I’m offering you a chance. Which would you rather?”

The girl bit at her lower lip, working it between her teeth. Hesitantly, she reached out and accepted Cassian’s hand.