Heart of the Dessert 2

“Father, Lumki is dangerous.”

Taimus’ eyes strayed to the unsightly bruise on Aysa’s throat. “I know. I am watching him. But perhaps I should watch him more closely." His fingers reached out and gently brushed across the bruise. “He might have killed you.”

Aysa shook her head in rueful dismay. “I had not realized how much he truly hated me. I had always shaken it off as a childhood jealously and anger.”

“He was born unsatisfied, always wanting more,” Taimus said softly. “He was born in the same time of the year as Prathim.” As he spoke his older brother’s name, his eyes took on a cold glint. “I was so sure that I could nurture my son away from evil, from hatred. But it grows daily within him, especially after his time as a hostage.”

“He will never acknowledge me as a queen.”

“I know.”

“To protect myself, this country, I need to do something about him.”

Taimus’ mouth curved downward sadly. “Yes. He has built up quite a crowd of supporters among the nobles. We have not had a ruling queen in over one hundred years, my great-grandmother.”

“For whom you named me after,” Aysa reminded him proudly.

“Yes. You will be great one day, just like her.” Then he sighed, laying a hand over his heart. “But I do not know how I will be able to fight a war on two fronts, one from within my own walls, and one from without.”

Aysa laid a hand on his arm. “I know you will prevail. We have had generations and generations of war, and we have always prevailed, we have always managed to come out standing tall and proud.” She leaned up and kissed his cheek.

“Thank you, my daughter. Gods willing, we will be victorious. Until then,” and he pulled a dagger free from his belt, “carry this with you at all times.”

Aysa solemnly accepted it, her reflection clear on the blade. It was cold to her touch, and as she tucked it into her sash, the feeling of cold stayed with her.

___________________________


After the mock duel, Aysa gave her brother a wide berth, and he her. She made sure she was never alone and never unarmed. Though Lumki was stupid, he was not weak. Aysa also had her own spy, her friend Gysa whom Lumki had taken an interest in along with many others. She was a bold and sensual woman who, despite her sensuality, never compromised herself. She was highborn enough that men would never trifle with her without her permission, and if they did dare cross that line, they would not live to see another day. Her elder brother, Danses, was quite protective of his beautiful younger sister, and he would kill any man who harmed her.

“Lumki is angry,” Gysa said as the two young women walked together in the palace gardens. “He is abusing his women more than usual. He beat his poor servant boy. And when a servant entered his chambers the other day without knocking, he was so enraged that he threw the tray of goods at the poor young man and hit him. Everyone is afraid of him.”

“There must be something more behind his anger besides his hatred for me,” Aya said, speaking more to herself. “He is completely out of control. My father has no time to spare for his idiot son."

“Do you think Lumki would dare move against you with the war as a distraction?”

“He is rash enough to try anything desperate," Aysa said, frowning. "He has always been out to prove himself a man. He would never rebel against my father, for he does not have enough supporters. The general feeling towards him is loathing and disapproval.”

Gysa idly reached up and plucked a blossom from a tree. “I would not underestimate him so. My brother thinks he may have plenty of supporters, and not all of them nobles. He is not the kind to settle for nothing. Danses believes he is causing trouble amongst the lower classes, trying to take advantage of anyone's dislike for you.”

“Where has Danses been lately?” Aysa asked casually, turning away to pick off dead petals of a flower.

Galaisi eyed her friend knowingly and chuckled. “He has been to the south to see to the training of his soldiers, as he does every year. He likes to know that everything is being properly drilled into them and that they do not think the life of a soldier is too easy.”

“He should not be gone so long,” Aysa said, frowning. Her hands ripped the dead petals apart. “What with my father preparing for war, he needs every man’s intelligence and input. And he highly respects Danses’ opinion.”

Now Gysa grinned openly. “I am sure you have a high respect for things other than Danses’ opinion,” she said shrewdly.

“Perhaps.” Aysa tried not to smile.

“Oh come now, you have been sweet on him for years, and everyone knows it!” Gysa playfully flicked some water at the princess from a spouting fountain. “And you two do make a handsome couple.”

Still Aysa shrugged, her face inscrutable. “I have to be sensible about these things. I cannot let my heart rule my head. If I ever marry, it will be a marriage of state.”

“Who’s saying anything about the heart? I know as well as any woman the pleasure in fun!”

“Gysa!” Aysa half gasped, half laughed. “I am sure I do not know what you’re talking about.”

“But I’m sure my brother does,” the other girl teased.

At the mention of “brother” Aysa suddenly became solemn again. Her own brother took her thoughts away from pleasant things. He was a thorn in her side. And she knew, deep down in her heart, that one day, she would have to do something about him. One day she must kill him, or he will kill her first.

___________________________


The ship dipped and rocked with the waves, and sea salt sprayed up on the sides. Javius stood with his feet firmly planted. Behind him, he could hear the grunts and oaths of his soldiers exercising. He had insisted on it, for he would not have his men go soft.

The captains had informed him that they would reach Sirabia in a month's time, mayhap more. It was a long, arduous journey that would take patience and skill to complete successfully. At Javius’ command were four hundred ships, half of them holding one hundred and fifty men each. The other half carried horses and supplies enough for a few months. All the rest they needed would be supplied by the Maleecians.

Javius did not intend to fail. He would return home to Hilgoth a hero, and a new king. His entire future was depending on this venture. If he failed, his life would be forfeit.

___________________________


The next month and a half passed by too quickly for the Sirabians. The great lords had rushed to their lands to call their soldiers to them, to bring supplies to the white city, and to prepare to fight for their country. Weapons were sharpened, the walls were fortified and strengened, the people armed and trained.

For the Hilgoths, the month and a half passed very slowly. Nothing but blue ocean before and behind them, nothing but endless training, coping with sea sickness, and the constant knowledge that uncertainty lay before them in the shape of a white hot desert before they would even reach their allies And after that, more desert waited between them and the white city. They had all heard of the magical tales of Aldubar, the jewels, the beautiful women. But they had also heard of the overbearing heat during the day and the unbearable cold during the night. They had heard of many men dying of thirst, of their skin burning off their bodies, of men going blind from the excruciatingly bright sun. It was not with eagerness that they looked into the horizon and half with hope that they would never see the shores of Sirabia.

And in the palace, Aysa was constantly training and honing her skills. When she was not training, she aided in whatever way she could, by rolling bandages, storing healing herbs, cutting arrows or string for bows, sharpening blades. She also welcomed the returning lords, organizing the men and continuing to train. She wanted to do anything to avoid being idle. If she was idle for one moment, fear would overtake her. And if she were busy, she would stay out of Lumki's way. He was becoming more and more hostile towards her. He would disappear for days at a time, not helping in preparations.

One afternoon, it was a surprisingly slow one. Aysa had been turned away at several places where she'd offered her help. But everyone insisted that, for the day, they were caught up with their chores and that she rest or pray to the gods. Instead, she went to the stables to groom her horse. She pulled him out of his stall and put him in cross ties in the aisle. The exercise of grooming him calmed Aysa, let her muscles relax, her breathing slow down, and her mind rest on nothing but the task before her.

Firenze had been given to her for her sixteenth birthday, and she had been honored to receive him, for he was a true war horse. A war horse symbolized that Aysa had become a warrior in her father's army. He was hot tempered and high spirited, but adamantly loyal and surprisingly gentle toward his mistress. And he was the most beautiful piece of horseflesh she had ever seen; he stood at eighteen hands, a fiery roan color, black silken mane falling over his neck and a black tail swishing behind him. Firenze was one of her most prized possessions, for a good horse could make the difference between life and death.

Suddenly she heard footsteps. She stopped the circular motions of her brush and hovered her hand over the dagger at her belt. But when she saw who approached, her hand dropped and a smile came to her face.

"Danses," she said warmly, "I did not know you had returned!"

He smiled and bowed, though never taking his eyes off of her. "I returned this morning, saw that my men were settled, then took a much needed bath. Upon my mother's insistence, of course."

Aysa's breath caught at his smile. His dark hair was cut short against his head to reveal a strong jawline, a long nose, two twinkling dark eyes, and thin lips that were often pulled to the side in a half smile. As a young girl, she had been in awe of Danses, a young god on earth. He had teased her when she'd still braided her hair, tugging it as he would Gisa's. As Aysa had grown older, she'd seen that he was not a man without faults. His intelligence and wit often made him impatient with others who were slower to see his ideas or ways of thinking. He temper was short, and his good looks made him arrogant. But he also had a sense of humor, could admit when he was in the wrong, and was quick to apologize for his tempers.

As he continued to look at her boldly with his cocky smile, she suddenly felt irritated. She well knew his reputation, and it irked her to think that she was just another helpless young woman in love with him. He always knew when a woman loved him and was confident that any woman would fall into his arms without another thought. Well, she was not just any woman. She was her father's heir and could control herself and her emotions.

"I bring to you five thousand of my best men," Danses continued as he picked up a brush and began brushing at Aysa's side. "Javius Imal will have to have the gods riding next to him if he hopes to win our city over."

"Everyone says he is different," Aysa said slowly as she resumed her own brushing, very aware of Danses' body next to hers. He seemed to exude energy and hope. "My father's men say that he has a chance of crossing the desert, of making it to our walls."

"But our walls are strong, our soldiers stronger, and our hearts the strongest," Danses said fiercely.

She nodded. "We are in the hands of the gods. We must pray. And continue training." A small smile escaped her lips as she glanced up at him.

He met her gaze. "But we never stop training. As a wise general once said, when you stop training, the enemy is training harder." He had stopped brushing and covered Aysa's hand with his. "Aysa, I want you to know that I will die to protect this country, and to protect you."

Her breath caught at the intensity of his eyes, of his voice. His hand was warm and strong over hers. "I know you will," she said, struggling to control her voice. She forced what she hoped was a normal smile. "But I hope it will not come to that."

Danses chuckled. "I hope not either." He had removed his hand and continued brushing. "There are still many things I wish to do in this life."

Suddenly they heard footsteps and someone shouting. Aysa and Danses looked out of the stall to see Aldorn running in their direction.

"Aysa!" Aldorn was breathing heavily. "You must come quickly! Messengers are coming in. They sent a rider ahead to warn us."

"The Hilgoths cannot be here yet!" Aysa cried. "Our spies would have warned us."

Adorn was shaking his head. "No, they are not here. Yet. But come, you must here it for yourself." He suddenly noted Danses at Aysa's side, and a hint of a grin escaped his tense face. "Danses, I saw your men. They look strong and ready."

Danses nodded. "Yes, I would not tolerate anything less. But what news is so urgent?"

The rider was a slim boy, no older than fifteen. He was so exhausted he could barely speak as he gulped down fresh water and food. He was pale and dirty, his body trembling, and surrounded by the most powerful men and women of Sirabia.

Taimus waited patiently while his Mathum paced back and forth. Even Lumki was in attendance, looking angry and impatient as well. But they did not have to wait long. The boy pushed his half-eaten food away and made to stand, but Neya shook her head and allowed him to remain sitting.

"What is your name, my son," Neya said gently.

"Raf," he said, his voice scratchy, his tongue heavy with fatigue. "I was told to not spare my horse." An impish smile suddenly crossed his downturned lips. "My horse is the fastest, and I am the best rider. My lords will arrive by tomorrow morning but felt that you should know as soon as you could." He hesitated, as if reluctant to continue.

"Well?" Mathum snapped. "What is it?"

The boy quelled under Mathum's glare, but Taimus shot the other man a look, then turned back to the boy. "Please, go on."

"The Hilgoths will not be alone," Raf said quickly. "My lord Rakna has seen it. The Maleecians intend to ally themselves with the Hilgoths."

For a moment, there was nothing but stunned silence. And then an eruption of curses filled the air, and already men offered new strategies and plans of attack. Taimus held his hand up for silence, still looking at the boy.

"The Maleecians are preparing for the northerners' arrival. Some are encamped by the shores where the northerners will arrive. The capital city is gathering its army, supplies are being brought in from all corners, extra horses, clothes, food, everything."

Taimus did not speak for a few moments, his eyes narrowed. "Well, this changes everything," he said at last. "The young Hilgoth is even more clever than I had thought."

"I knew that Maleecian son of a whore could not be trusted!" Mathum exploded. "All his talk of desiring peace between our people, talks of trade, all lies." Mathum cursed violently.

"We should not wait for them to come to us," Aldorn said, his voice hard and his eyes glinting. "We should meet them before allowing them to even allow one filthy toe onto our lands."

Maleece had long been a thorn in Sirabia's side, always one to muddy waters when trouble was stirring. During the bloody civil war that had ensued between Taimus and Prathim, Maleecian king, Aknal Gamud had spoken sweet poison into Prathim's ear, promising him thousands of men, supplies, and shelter should he need it. In return, Prathim had promised his daughter to Aknal's son, Bensir, which would leave Bensir king once Prathim died. That had been the most bitter betrayal to Taimus.

And now Aknal had found the ultimate ally to bring down his most hated enemy.

Taimus' mouth was set in a thin line. Raf shifted uncomfortably. "Thank you, Raf," Taimus said as he rested a hand on the boy's shoulder. "You do your lords and your country a great service today."

Raf suddenly beamed. "Of course, my lord. I was proud to be chosen to ride on ahead. Hishad thought he would be chosen because he's older, but he's heavier than I am and his horse is not as fast."

"That is exactly what we will need to meet the Hilgoths and Maleecians," Taimus said gravely. "Lightness and speed. We shall want lightning attacks, quick and hard. With the Maleecians, the Hilgoths will most certainly split their men and approach the city in several directions. We shall meet them and weaken their defenses as well as their spirits. We shall show them how we wage wars."

Aysa was suddenly smiling. The northerners were used to their "civilized" battles, two armies facing each other across a field. There were not many fields in Sirabia, and anyone with common sense could see that this was the most wasteful sort of battles. No one could survive under the hot Sirabian sun in such a battle, charging across a desert. No, the most efficient way to strike was guerilla tactics, hit and runs, until the defenses were so weakened that an all-out attack with the full strength of an army could easily swoop in and destroy the enemy lines.

Aldorn saw her smile and chuckled. "Feeling daring, cousin?" he asked knowingly.

"Not daring," she said. "Eager."