Realms of Shadow - Lizz Baldwin [128]
The tall man recovered first and lunged after the beast. He had not gone five steps before a third thunder blast, much louder than the previous two, electrified the air around them and hurled them facedown in the sand. Their robes whistled and snapped with the impact.
The shorter was the first on his feet this time. Through the whirling sands of the storm, he could see a black mass a few yards from where he lay. Smoke rose from it and was whipped back by the wind, which also carried to his nostrils the sickening smell of burnt camel meat. The saddle and other accoutrements that had been on the creature had been hurled aside by the lightning strike.
As if the storm had expended its last ammunition with this disaster, the wind dropped and the sand settled around them in a fine rain then ceased. The howls and shrieks of the sandstorm wandered to the west, passed over the next dune, and faded from their ears.
Both men walked forward on unsteady feet to view the remains of their mount. The taller glared at the shorter.
"I told you we should have stopped."
The other shrugged. "If we had, we'd be lying there, cooked to a turn. You don't suppose that lighting was hurled by chance?"
"What do you mean?"
Instead of answering, the merchant was probing amid the supplies that had been scattered around the carcass. The taller man-whose face the desert sun now revealed as scarred and pitted, worn by weather, age, and drink- glared at him and repeated the question.
"What do you mean by that, Avarilous?"
"I mean, my dear Garmansder, that we're dealing with people who would think no more of killing you than of stepping on a spider. You'd do extremely well to keep that in mind. You'll probably live longer if you do."
Avarilous's eyes flickered from side to side, and his fingers, laced across his fat belly, wore a complicated gesture.
Garmansder's eyes widened, then he glared at the merchant and raised his voice. "I know precisely what I'm dealing with: a twisted little serpent who can't tell the truth without his forked tongue falling out of his mouth. I should never have agreed to travel with you, even for the gold you're paying. You'll regret it."
From the sash around his waist, he had drawn a scimitar and brought back his arm for a blow. There was a sudden crack of a whip, and the blade flew from his hand to land sticking in the desert sand twenty feet from where he stood. Garmansder cursed volubly and spun around.
Behind him, in a dark line, stood a band of Bedine. Their black robes flapped in the wind, but apart from that they were motionless as statues. One, clad in a robe of red, was clearly the leader, standing a bit forward of the others. In his upraised hand was the whip with which he had disarmed Garmansder.
Avarilous cautiously raised one hand, palm outward.
"Peace be upon your* tents, my friends. I stand in your service. My friend and I have lost our camel and had despaired of finding our way when you…"
His voice trailed off as the Bedine moved around them, surrounding them and efficiently disarming them. From Garmansder's robe, the tribesmen pulled a pair of ugly looking daggers. From the merchant, they took three throwing stars and a slender blade that had been strapped to one of his stout legs. All this was done in unnerving silence. The travelers' hands were bound tightly behind them, and they were linked together by a short rope. One of the Bedine took the end of the rope and gave it a sharp jerk.
At a gesture from the red-robed leader, the party started forward in the direction Avarilous and Garmansder had been travelling. They mounted the next dune and saw a herd of camels, standing quietly, chewing their cud. Two or three Bedine stood near them, guarding the pack. Without a word, they mounted and rode on.
* * * * *
Like most Bedine settlements, the travelers did not really see this one until they were upon it. The dun-colored tents blended with the endless sands and revealed their presence only by a soft flapping in the wind. A few faces peered from the tents to