The Outworlder (16 page)

Jared and Rafe turned and stalked out of the
hall, Sahara on their heels. Once out in the courtyard, she caught
hold of their arms and pulled them to a halt.

“Wait!” she said.

They turned to face her, and for a moment,
the plashing fountain was the only sound in the place.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured awkwardly, a
confused frown between her brows. “I didn’t ask for this, you
know.”

“No, you didn’t,” Rafe said flatly. “But
there it is.”

“You didn’t refuse it, either,” added
Jared.

For an instant, she gaped at them. “Well,
what the hell was I supposed to do?” she demanded, her temper
flaring. “Tell him no? I remember a morning not so long ago, Jared,
when I told him no and you tried to school me in civility. When
your lord gives you an order, is it your place to refuse him?”

“Arnauld is our lord, not yours,” Jared
reminded her. “I remember a morning not so long ago when you
refused him your allegiance altogether.”

Sahara stared at them, squelching the hurt in
her soul under the heel of her irritation. “Well, like it or not,
I’m now your commanding officer. And any further discussion on the
subject will be considered insubordination. Is that clear?”

They worked hard in the weeks following the
incident with the scout, but although Sahara busied the men with
preparations for a sudden strike, she couldn’t escape the
forebodings that grew steadily stronger as the days passed and no
attack came.

At last, after waiting for a retributive
strike from the Dragon-Lords for two months, Arnauld asked her for
her report on the army and its readiness.

“They’re ready,” Sahara told him. “We’re just
waiting for the strike to come.”

“Then my mind is made up,” Arnauld said. “I
won’t feel like a prisoner in my own city—I refuse to have men
standing at arms without a conflict to engage their bloody
thoughts. So we are going to attack the Dragon-Lords first. If they
won’t come out to meet us, then we will drive them out.”

“But my lord—” Sahara began, but Arnauld held
up a hand.

“All that remains for you, commander, is to
choose the day of the attack.”

Sahara swallowed her objections, bowed, and
left the hall.

That night, she asked Jared and Rafe to meet
at the tavern.

“So what do you think?” she asked, after
rapidly recounting her conversation with Arnauld. “When should we
strike?”

“Never, if you ask me,” Jared said, shaking
his dark head. “I don’t like this, Sahara. The object of our
mission to take out that scout was to provoke the Dragon-Lords to
come out and meet us on our ground, not for us to charge in and
meet them on their ground. That has led us nowhere but to massacre
in the past, and I don’t understand why Arnauld is doing this
again. It has failed every time it’s been tried! What could
possibly be turning him in this direction?”

“I just think he’s desperate and scared,”
said Rafe, glancing around and speaking in a low voice. “He’s
probably afraid the Dragon-Lords are massing a force too great for
us to handle, and that if we don’t strike now, we’ll lose any
chance of victory at all. And, as Sahara mentioned, having an army
of men with violence in their minds and in their hearts just
standing around with nothing to do is an evil thing for civil
order.”

“But look, civil order aside for a moment,”
said Sahara, “the problem is that they’re calling our bluff. We
can’t know what they’re doing—we can only guess at it. And if we
miscalculate, then Jared’s right. We’ll be slaughtered.”

Rafe swore under his breath. “Damn, I hate to
admit it, but isn’t this exactly what Lord Horatio was afraid of?
Better we had never risked our lives on that stupid idea of
mine!”

“Why do you think the Dragon-Lords have done
nothing, Sahara?” Jared asked suddenly. “Why haven’t they
acted?”

Sahara shrugged. “Maybe they have more
patience than we do. And maybe they know it.”

“They don’t have to act,” Rafe agreed.
“They’re not the ones who are struggling under a tyrannical regime.
They’re not the ones who want their freedom. They can sit on us
forever. Maybe the scout wasn’t enough to provoke them.”

“So what do we do?” Sahara asked. “I can’t
very well tell Arnauld that we aren’t going to do as he says.”

“No, you can’t.” Jared frowned at his drink,
sunk in thought. “But I have an idea. Perhaps we can delay the
inevitable. Let me talk to Childir. If anyone can convince Arnauld
to wait, it’ll be him.”

“That sounds like our best chance to stall
for time,” Sahara said with a sigh. “But once the day is set, we
have to go forward, no matter what.” She met Jared’s gaze. “Can I
count on you to see this through with me?”

“I gave my word I would support you,” he
said. “And I will. No matter what.”

*****

Three weeks later, Sahara stood in the
observatory room on the top floor of the manor’s western wing. She
stared out the windows at the desert spreading to the horizon.
Though a strange excitement and a wild hope for success roiled in
her stomach, Sahara was far from happy.

Today was the day Childir had picked for the
attack—a day marked with favorable omens, he’d said. But it wasn’t
enough to satisfy Jared…and they’d already had one argument that
morning, and she was afraid it wouldn’t be their last that day.

With a heavy sigh, she bent to tie her heavy
sand-colored boots. As she straightened, she checked to make sure
that her gear was stowed in the deep pockets of her mottled,
sand-colored pants. Satisfied that everything was in place, she
slipped her shoulder scabbard over her head and adjusted the
strap.

She’d issued everyone a handgun with a full
magazine and one spare, with strict instructions to use them only
in the most dire situation. She’d inspected their arsenal just
yesterday, and she knew how short on ammunition they were. Even
what she’d given was probably more than they could afford, but if
they lost this fight, it wouldn’t matter anyway.

A slight noise behind her startled her and
she turned. Jared stood in the doorway.

“Jared!” she cried in surprise.

“I want you to hear me out, Sahara.”

“I’m done hearing you out! You said Childir
had blessed this day,” she said. She had a wan hope that reminding
him of this fact again might sway him. It didn’t.

“You know these seers, Sahara.” He shook his
dark head, a scowl knotting his high brows. “One truth, twenty
lies.”

“Then why in hell did you go to him in the
first place, Jared?” she demanded. “Why did you give me the date?
And if you don’t believe a seer, then who will you believe?”

“Something about this doesn’t feel right,
Sahara,” he said. “I can’t explain it…it just doesn’t feel—“

“If it didn’t feel right three weeks ago, we
should have just gotten this over with! Instead, we’ve been
standing around with itching hands and bloody thoughts, waiting for
your precious wise man’s day of days.” She swore fiercely. “You
gave me your word, Jared,” she said. “You gave me your word you
would support me.”

Jared was silent for a moment, his frown
deepening. “One truth, twenty lies,” he murmured.

He sounded like he was on the edge of a
revelation, but Sahara didn’t care. She was too angry with him to
let him contemplate the mysteries of prophesy.

“You know, has it ever occurred to you that
maybe we make our own destiny?” she persisted. “That holding too
strongly to prophecies of destruction might actually make them come
true?”

“You’re a funny one to talk about prophecies.
Aren’t you the one following a seer’s advice now?”

“I don’t give a damn about him or his
advice,” Sahara retorted. “The only reason we went to him was to
stall this day…to try to convince Arnauld to wait, and to give the
Dragon-Lords more time to launch an assault against us. But you
promised me, Jared! You promised. And now you’re going back on your
word.”

“I won’t go back on my word. I’d just hoped
it wouldn’t come to this.”

Sahara sighed in frustration and crossed her
arms over her chest. “Yeah, that’s what you said.” She walked
toward the wall of windows, watching the heat begin to shimmer on
the sands. She clenched and unclenched her hands, a sick feeling
beginning to roil in her stomach.

“I have to lead these men today into a battle
that will almost certainly be a massacre, Jared,” she said quietly.
“I have to believe…I have to believe that we are in the right. That
our cause is just, and that we have a chance to succeed. I have to
believe it because I have to make them believe it.”

“I don’t envy your position, Sahara,” he
said.

“I’m not asking you to envy me.” She turned
away from the window and faced him. “I’m asking you to believe in
me.”

Jared measured her steadily. If, deep down,
she had hoped for an overwhelming show of support, she realized in
a moment that he wasn’t about to give it. There was no emotion in
his face, nothing in his eyes but a piercing stillness. Sahara was
still not fully used to the strange beauty of those eyes.

Sahara swore softly and pulled on her
fingerless gloves, giving the process far more attention than it
needed. She wished he would speak. When he finally shrugged his
shoulders and turned his gaze away from her to stare out the
window, she realized that she’d been holding her breath.

“It’s not doubt in you or the men or the
cause that makes me hesitate, Sahara,” he said heavily. “It’s just
common sense. I’ve lived under the iron fist of the Dragon-Lords my
entire life. You know my family history. You know what the
Dragon-Lords have cost me.”

“I know,” she murmured. “And you know what
they have cost me.”

“And for all that sacrifice, for all that
bloodshed, we have had no success. We won not even the tiniest
skirmish—there was nothing to give us enough hope to try their
strength again. And their power is greater now than it ever was
when I was a boy.”

“What’s your point, Jared?” Sahara said.
“What is it you want me to do? It isn’t my decision to make.
Whether I like it or not, this is happening.”

“You’re going to lead them,” he said. “You
will lead our people back down this barren road, a road with but
one destination.”

“Freedom,” she said sharply.

“Death.”

Jared’s voice rang out over hers, and his
eyes once again rested on her face. This time, something sparked
within them, something that was at once a challenge and a plea.
Sahara’s anger at his insubordination engulfed and drowned any
second guesses she had entertained about Arnauld’s orders.

“Are you questioning my motives now?” she
asked. “I’ve lived under oppression all my life too, Jared. And I
did what I had to do to survive.”

“Yes, that’s true. And whatever it was landed
you on a prison ship.”

“You’ve been telling me for months that you
wanted me to use my second lease on life. That I needed to find my
purpose.” She opened her arms and stood tall. “Well? Here I am. I’m
a freedom fighter, Jared. That’s who I am. That’s who I’ve always
been. And today, I’ll do everything I can to give your people the
chance to have what they want so badly.”

Jared stepped close to her, so close that his
breath stirred her eyelashes. Taking her chin in his gloved hand,
he forced her to look him in the eyes. “Do you actually believe
what you’re saying to me?” he whispered. “Or do you just feel you
need to say it out of some sense of loyalty to Arnauld?”

Sahara’s gaze wavered under the intensity of
his stare. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jared,” she
murmured.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.
This was never the plan. They were supposed to come to us,
remember? Engaging them on their own turf—again—is suicide. We both
know that. Rafe knows that. Sahara, if you follow these orders, you
are just giving these people the chance to die quickly.”

Sahara stood for a moment without moving, her
emotions battling within her. Her gut told her that Jared was
right, but she was trapped. Trapped like a wild animal. Her eyes
flashed at him and she snapped her chin out of his fingers, rage
pulsing through her veins and quivering in her stomach.

“You talk like a coward,” she hissed. “Maybe
I was wrong, letting a minstrel have command of a battalion.”

She regretted it the moment the words escaped
her lips, but she said nothing more as she pushed past him and
stalked away down the hall. She couldn’t admit to him that she was
wrong. Not at that moment, at least.

She shrugged it off, stuffed her hair inside
her battle helmet, and fastened the strap. She would show him.

She would make him believe.

*****

Explosions from the Dragon-Lords’ artillery
mounted along the ridge rippled the sands around them, shattering
her lines even as she formed them for the charge. Shells whistled
overhead as Albadir’s few cannons returned fire, trying to give her
the chance to get her men safely underneath the range of the
enemy’s guns.

She led her men at a run through the rain of
fire to the foot of the cliffs that surrounded the Dragon-Lords’
fortress. As they reached the rocks, the men hunched under the
meager protection they offered. Sahara had to decide what to do
next. They were all waiting for her to issue her next set of
orders.

But she was struggling for clarity. Jared had
been right after all, it seemed, and she fought hard against the
surge of hurt pride and an overwhelming sense of failure.

It’s not my fault!
she told herself.
How could they have been ready for us? How did they know we were
coming?

Crushing panic and chaos closed in around
her. For a moment, she felt like she couldn’t breathe. When she saw
Jared emerge from the clouds of smoke that swirled around them, the
iron bands around her chest suddenly loosed, and she gulped air,
sand, and smoke all at once.