The crossbows. If they could take one of the side canyons and gain the tactical advantage of high ground, establishing a position where they could shoot down on their pursuers as they passed below, that might work. But they had to do it soon, while the warriors were still far enough behind.
“Just running is a losing strategy!” Garza yelled.
Ahead the main canyon narrowed once again, but to the right a twisting wadi seemed to form a path up and out, to a low saddle above the main canyon. It was just the setup Gideon was looking for. If they could get up there with their crossbows, they might be in time to fire down on Mugdol and his riders as they passed—and with total impunity, as the height was too great for thrown spears.
“On the right!” he called over his shoulder. “We’re going up!”
Neither objected. As they galloped into the side-wadi, Gideon was forced to slow down so his camel could negotiate a bed strewn with rocks. He gave the camel its head and it picked its way through the boulder field. Now the wash mounted a narrow ravine, and the animals stumbled upward, heaving with exertion, between walls of stone. Soon they came to a tumble of boulders with very little room to pass.
“It’s too hard on the camels,” said Imogen. “We need to get off and walk.”
They slid out of the saddles and led the animals by their halters through the tricky terrain. Up and up they went, until the wadi petered out in the depression Gideon had seen from below. He turned his camel sharply to the right and they came out on the ridgetop overlooking the canyon. It was an excellent setup for an ambush. He could hear the cries of the warriors growing louder as they galloped down the canyon.
“Tie up the camels,” he said, grabbing his crossbow. “We’ll fire on my signal.”
They wrapped the halter ropes around boulders and scrambled up the edge of the precipice to where it beetled over the canyon. The unholy din of the warriors grew still louder.
“When they come in sight,” said Gideon, “don’t aim for the men. Shoot their camels. They make a bigger target.”
“Fuck that,” said Garza. “First chance, I’m killing Blackbeard.”
Gideon’s reply was cut off by a swell of sound from below. He stared into the moonlight-drenched canyon and saw the first rider tearing around the bend—Blackbeard—followed by the others, robes flying.
Gideon notched a bolt, then cocked it. The others did the same. Their quivers stood beside them, each with a dozen bolts ready to go.
The group thundered down the canyon. Gideon took aim at the camel directly behind Blackbeard, tracked it, and waited for it to come into range.
“Fire!” Three crossbows snapped and the bronze-tipped darts shot downward.
With a bellowing screech, two camels went down, their riders flung off, robes gyrating. There was a moment of confusion, with the others reining in their camels, pulling spears out of scabbards and casting about. Mugdol, who was unhurt, wheeled about and cried out a command, pointing up toward their perch. Meanwhile, Gideon and the others had cocked their crossbows and nocked fresh darts. Gideon aimed at Mugdol’s camel and fired, the other two quickly following.
“Keep firing!” he cried.
With another roared command, Blackbeard signaled for his warriors to ride past and get out of the line of fire. The riders whipped their camels forward and headed down the wash, angling toward the wadi that led up to their ambush place, abandoning the riders whose animals had been wounded.
“They’re coming up after us,” said Imogen.
“Fire again!”
Firing a third round into the rear guard of warriors, they managed to bring down another camel, but then the horde had gone past and there was no chance to fire a fourth.
“Time to run again,” muttered Garza.
Slinging the crossbows and quivers over their shoulders, they jumped back on their camels and whacked them into motion. With more roaring and grumbling, the camels rose.
“Which way?” Imogen called.
“West. Along the top of the ridge.”
As they accelerated to a gallop, Gideon could hear the clatter and shriek of their pursuers charging up the steep wadi. Soon their robed forms emerged at the top and the cries redoubled. With Blackbeard still in the lead, they charged along the ridge in furious pursuit.
“Where are we going?” Imogen yelled as they flew along.
“Who the hell knows?” Gideon yelled back.
41
THEIR CAMELS GALLOPED at terrifying speed, gravel flying in every direction from the leathery pads of their feet. Looking ahead, Gideon could see that the ridge ran forward in a straight downhill line. On either side were deep canyons, parallel ridges, and then still more canyons, all pitched at a descending angle. Far ahead, many miles away, the foothills smoothed out to a moonlit plain that seemed to stretch forever.
Glancing back, he saw Mugdol gaining, spear in one hand and reins in the other, with the rest of the warriors coming up behind. They were only about four hundred yards away now. Gideon redoubled his efforts, urging his camel forward.
“Faster!” Imogen cried. “We’ve got to go faster!”
But Garza had fallen behind again, struggling to drag the packed camel along with him.
Gideon reined back a little. “Manuel, go past me. I’ll whip that sluggish thing’s ass for you.”
“Promises, promises.”
Imogen and Garza rode past, and as they did so Gideon glanced behind again to see how quickly Blackbeard was catching up. He was startled to find that their pursuers appeared to have vanished.
“Where’d they go?” asked Imogen.
Gideon held up a hand for silence.
They halted. And now, in the quiet, they could make out the low thunder of galloping somewhere in the canyons below—apparently coming from both sides.
“They’ve divided,” said Imogen as she strained to listen. “They’re outrunning us—on either side—to cut us off in a pincer movement.”
“Then we’ve got to do something unexpected,” said Garza. “Like turn around.”
“We’re not going back,” Gideon said.
“No, we’re not. We turn around, go back up the ridge a ways, then drop down into a side canyon. Then we climb up one of these adjacent ridges and head westward again.”
“It’s a smart plan,” said Imogen.
“Hell,” said Gideon. “Fine.”
They turned their camels and headed back up the ridge, Imogen riding ahead. This time they proceeded more slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible. After about a quarter of a mile they came to a slope leading into the right-hand canyon that, again, was too steep to ride down. The animals were exhausted anyway, their sides heaving, but they negotiated the rocky slope without further protests. The three soon reached the sandy bottom of the wadi, remounted, and went forward at a trot. Another quarter mile down the canyon, a slope on the right appeared to offer a way up the adjacent ridge. They turned out of the wash and climbed yet again, the camels struggling to find their footing. Halfway up, with their mounts blowing and grumbling, Gideon heard the telltale thud of camel pads somewhere below, echoing up the canyons.
He held up his hand. “Listen!”
The sound, surprisingly, was coming from ahead of them. Somehow, Mugdol had managed to cut off their escape route and was now coming back. Even as they listened, a silvery cloud of dust, illuminated in the bright moonlight, swept up from a nearby ridgeline, carried by the breeze. They were about to be cut off.
“Back!” Gideon cried. “Back into the canyon!”