He glanced round. He could see the younger of the three Rangers making a note on a small sheet of parchment. He was staring intently at a hill in the distance with a distinctive hooked shape to its peak. He decided there was little he could do to stop this activity.
He realised Halt was asking another question.
'You mentioned the Tualaghi,' the Ranger said. He nodded meaningfully at the protective screen around them. 'I'd heard you had them pretty well under control.'
Selethen shook his head in exasperation. 'Nobody can keep those devils under control for too long. What do you know of them?'
Halt shrugged. 'They're raiders. Bandits. Assassins,' he said.
Selethen nodded grimly. 'All of that and worse. We call them the Forgotten of God, the Blue-Veiled Riders. They despise the true religion. They worship devils and demons and they're committed to murder and robbery and pillage. The trouble is, they know the desert like the back of their hands and they can strike and fade away before we have a chance to retaliate. They have no honour and no sense of pity. If you are not one of them, you are not human. Your life is worthless.'
'But you did manage to defeat them at one stage?' Halt prompted.
'Yes. We formed an alliance with the Bedullin.' Selethen saw the question forming on the other man's lips and went on to explain. 'They're a desert nomad tribe. Warriors. Independent and very proud. But they're honourable people. They know the desert nearly as well as the Tualaghi and they joined with us in a temporary alliance to bring them to heel.'
'Pity you couldn't make it permanent,' Halt said.
Selethen looked at him. 'Indeed. But as I say, the Bedullin are proud and independent. They're like hawks. You can use them to hunt for you for a while. But they're always really hunting for themselves. Perhaps it's time I approached them again to put the Tualaghi back in their place.'
Halt noticed that the Wakir was looking more and more often to the southern horizon. He followed the man's gaze and could see a thin dark line there.
'Trouble?' he said. Selethen flashed him a reassuring grin.
'Maybe. But at least the Tualaghi won't worry us. They move in groups of no more than ten. Fifty warriors would be too big a force for them to attack.'
'Quite so,' Halt murmured. 'Yet a wise man should always expect trouble, didn't you say?' Unconsciously, his 'hand touched the string of the massive longbow slung across his shoulders. Selethen noticed the action. He glanced at the southern horizon again. The dark line had thickened noticeably. And it seemed closer. His hand went to the silver whistle inside his shirt.
'I think I'll call the outriders in a little closer,' he said. 'Invisibility could become a problem before too long.'
Svengal had urged his sturdy horse up alongside them. He gestured to the approaching storm.
'Seen that?' he asked, and Selethen nodded. 'When we get hit by one of them at sea, it's full of wind and water and rain so thick you can't breathe. What's in that one?'
'Sand,' Selethen told them. 'Lots and lots of sand.'
Chapter 20
There was a new urgency in Selethen's manner as the outriders closed in, in response to his signal. He looked around the foreigners, ensuring they were all wearing the kheffiyehs he had given them when they set out from Al Shabah. These were desert headdresses – essentially a simple square of cotton, folded into a triangle, then draped over the head so that elongated tails hung down either side and at the back, providing protection from the sun. They were held in place by a twisted coil of camel hair rope.
Now he quickly showed them how the elongated tails could be pulled across the face then quickly twisted over each other to cover the nose and mouth of the wearer. It was a simple but effective form of head protection in the desert.
'You'll need them,' he said. 'Once the sand wall hits us, you'll be unable to breathe without them.'
Will glanced to the south. The thin dark line he had noticed a few minutes ago was now a thick band that spread from one side of the horizon to the other. In fact, he realised, the horizon seemed to have moved closer. He glanced north to confirm the fact. The sandstorm was blotting out the horizon to the south. It was a dirty brown colour at the base, almost black. And now he could see it as it towered thousands of metres into the air, blocking out the sky. The storm itself was rapidly becoming the boundary of their world.
Selethen stood in his stirrups, looking for any available shelter.
'There.' he called. 'There's a shallow wadi. The bank will give us a little protection.'
He urged his horse towards the wadi, a dry gully that jut through the hard rocky ground. The walls were barely three metres in height but they would offer some protection, at least. They hurried to follow him. He halted a few metres short of the edge to allow them to pass by.
'My god,' said Horace, 'look at how fast it's moving!'
They looked up. The dirty brown wall of swirling sand now completely blocked their sight to the south. There was nothing but the storm and now they could see how quickly it was advancing on them. It was moving like the wind, Will thought. Then he realised, it was the wind.
He glanced up and caught Evanlyn's eyes on him. They exchanged a worried look and he knew they were both thinking of the same thing – the massive storm that had swept down on them when they were prisoners on Wolfwind years before. He tried to grin reassuringly at her but at that moment the first breath of the storm struck them – unbelievably hot and fetid and laden with flying, invisible grains of sand.
Tug plunged nervously as the sand whipped his face and flanks. Will kept a firm hand on the reins. Usually, Tug only needed him to hold them lightly but in these conditions, he knew, his horse would respond better to the sense of control that a firm pressure on the bit would impart to him.
'Take it easy, boy,' he said. 'It's just sand.'
The wind was now a living presence around them, keening horribly. And the light was dying. Will was startled to find that Evanlyn, less than five metres away, was now a shadowy, indistinct form in the dimness. The others were no clearer.
Selethen rode in among them and they pressed closer to him to hear him, horses tossing and whinnying nervously. He unwound the protective kheffiyeh from his mouth and shouted his instructions.
'Ride down into the wadi. Dismount and turn your horses' tails to the wind. Try to cover their heads with your cloaks if you can. Then we'll… '
Whatever he was going to add was lost in a giant fit of coughing as he drew in a mouthful of fine flying sand. He doubled over, pulling his headdress across his face again and waving them towards the wadi.
Halt led the way. Will's sense of panic rose as he realised that his mentor would be out of sight in a few metres if he didn't hurry to follow him. He was conscious of other blurred figures close to him as Gilan, Horace, Evanlyn and Svengal all followed suit. Further away there were vague forms moving in the storm and he realised these were the Arridi troops moving to the shelter.
The dim shadow that was Halt and Abelard seemed to sink into the ground and he realised that they must have reached the rim of the wadi. Tug, seeing them disappear, became nervous, sensing that the ground before him was unsafe. He whinnied shrilly and baulked, resisting Will's efforts to urge him forward. The wind was screaming around them, terrifying in its intensity and power, disorienting the little horse. Never before had Tug refused Will's command but now he stood his ground. The wind prevented his hearing the reassuring tones of his trusted master's voice and he sensed danger somewhere ahead. He had seen Halt and Abelard disappear and he was trained to protect his master in situations like this. He braced his legs and stood fast, head down into the screaming, flaying wind.