It was chaos all around me, with the horses stamping through the water and their riders either firing more of the bolas at the Daza from what looked like modified crossbows or charging ahead towards Inyene’s guards. A good number of the guards had decided that this was not the place where they wanted to die, and were instead fleeing back across the savannah, mostly in the direction of the camp.
“To the bank!” I shouted, hoping that any of my fellow slaves could hear me as I took large, lunging steps to the grasses and reeds—
“Ach!” Something heavy hit me in the back of the legs, and suddenly I was going down in the mud. I rolled, just in time to scream as a horse jumped clear over me to land with a schloop in the patches of buffalo-trampled ooze amidst patches of grass. I tried to get up, but my legs were held fast by a curl of the rope-and-iron-bearing bolas.
“Dammit!” I hissed, wishing that I still had the Lady Artifex’s dagger as I reached down to start unlooping it.
“They’re not fighting us!” One of the mounted raiders shouted, but I had no idea amongst the screams and cries whether he was referring to us Daza or the guards.
“I’ve got her!” another mounted raider said—and it was the one behind me, attempting to maneuver his horse around in the heavy mud. I looked up to see that he was pointing at me. I growled in frustration as my hands tore at the bolas against my ankles faster, realizing not only were these raiders after the map—but they wanted the woman who had it…
I pulled the last curl of rope away and rolled, just as the riders’ boots hit the mud on one side of me.
“Little Sister!” Ymmen shouted in my mind, and through my bond I caught a brief impression of his own battle, roaring as he landed on the savannah dirt, scattering the hyenas in front of him as several more were darting around his bulk, hoping to get the easy meat of Abioye while he was occupied—
Save Abioye! I threw my plea at him, as I rolled through the mud again, until my knees and a hand hit the higher, more solid ground. The raider appeared to be having some difficulty extricating himself from the mire, and so I used my advantage to jump to my feet.
From my vantage point, I could see that the mounted raiders had engaged in battle with Inyene’s guards. Sabers versus cudgels or spears. A number of bodies were already lying on the ground, but I didn’t think that Inyene’s guards had much hope of holding out. Already, some of the faster-moving horses had darted around and ahead of Inyene’s guard to run down those who were fleeing into the plains. I didn’t fancy their chances much, either.
I have to save the map, I thought, one hand clutching at where it was secured under my belt, and behind my tunic. If these raiders got it—whomever they were—then I wouldn’t have any more chances left to free my people and stop Inyene. Abioye had been right about his sister; she would just send out another team, and another, and another. But I would never be on another of them, I had no doubt. My sister is relentless. She doesn’t like failure, Abioye had said.
Still… I couldn’t make myself turn and run. I might even be able to make it back to the camp, as I knew how to hide in the long grasses and cover my tracks.
My eyes found Elid and the others, most struggling to the shore and looking around with panic and terror on their faces, I knew that I couldn’t leave them.
“Little Sister—run! Save your skin, to fight another dawn!” Ymmen raged in my mind, his frustration, his fear plain. He must already have known what my answer would be.
“I have to try,” I said, picking my target—one of the raider’s horses, now riderless. I skidded down the rise, jumping from solid patch of ground to another until I drew close. All about me were shouts and mayhem. Water sprayed from the river where either the riders were trying to capture the Daza or the Daza were trying to fight back with nothing but their fists and nails.
I whistled low at the horse, not sure if it would even respond—but its ears pricked in my direction. Good. It wasn’t wise to startle a creature that you wanted to help you. “C’mere, boy…” I said softly and firmly, holding out my hand as I kept up a fast pace to its side.
It was a western Three Kingdom horse, I saw. That meant that it was larger, with a broader chest and head than the rangier wild cobs that we had out here on the Plains. It was a little skittish, raising and lowering its forelegs in the mud—but I could also see that these beasts had a more stolid temperament than the Plains horses. It flared its nostrils at my hand as I sidled to its side—putting its bulk between me and the whooping raiders, before vaulting onto its back.
“Woah, easy…” The horse skittered a few slow, mud-drenched steps, but I was in luck—it must have been trained as a warhorse and appeared to welcome the command from my legs as I leaned forward. If only it didn’t wear this stupid, uncomfortable saddle! I thought, picking up the reins and gee’ing the steed forward.
Directly in front of me was one of the raiders on foot, bending down to tie the ankles of one of the Daza. “H’yargh!” I shouted, urging my new steed into as fast a trot as it could go on the bank that was quickly turning into a mud bath.
“Agh!” The raider stumbled back from my awkward charge, as I wheeled the horse around, pushing with my heels to get it to jump forward a few steps, and again. The raider on foot clearly didn’t want to be the one to get a face full of horseshoes and ran.
“Wait, I’ll help you!” I said, looking over my shoulder at the terrified Daza on the ground behind me. Apparently, this small act of kindness cost me everything, as I saw my Daza countryman’s eyes widen in panic as he looked up at me.
But he wasn’t looking at me, he was looking behind me—
Rough hands grabbed me and pulled me backwards, where I hit the floor headfirst with a very heavy, and very painful thump.
“I got her!” a man’s voice shouted, as all the colors of the high Plains sky faded to gray, and then to black.
Chapter 7
Nol Baggar
Ugh… Sensation started to return to my limbs, and I immediately wished that it hadn’t. My body ached, and my head hurt as if someone had dropped the entire Masaka mountain on it. How badly was I injured? I thought anxiously as I blinked and tried opening my eyes.
Only to realize that I couldn’t see anything. Have I gone blind? How bad was the wound on my head!? I panicked, attempting to scream and pull my hands to my face—to find that I could only mumble, and that my wrists were bound uncomfortably tight.
It was then that I realized that this blindness wasn’t the result of my head injury—or, if the blow atop my head was causing me problems, then it wasn’t causing the fact that my wrists and ankles were bound, and that I was blindfolded and gagged. I could smell and taste the slightly earthy scent of some type of heavy canvas against my mouth and nose, making it difficult to breathe as deeply as I wanted to. But alongside that scent were moments of something else, something sweeter, almost lemony. Plain-Sweet! I thought. It was a tall, common grass whose fluffy flower heads could be used to treat wounds. I was still on the Plains, I knew. I appeared to be lying down, or bent double, and I was moving—was I being carried on someone’s shoulder?
“She’s waking up, sir,” a loud voice muttered beside me, and then I realized that I had been slung over the back of a horse and bound as if I was nothing more than a captured kill.