Page 22 of Blood of the Sands

The horse master nodded. “I can prepare a poultice to cleanse her wounds. I’ll add something for the pain and swelling as well.”

I stayed with Alza until he returned, taking the bowl of greenish paste from his hands. He hovered as if he had planned to apply it himself.

“She’s rather particular,” I offered by way of explanation.

With that, he nodded and scurried away.

“Thank you,” I offered to his retreating back, and he froze as if he hadn’t expected my gratitude. Then he retreated to the far side of the enclosure where the other horses gathered.

By the time Alza’s wounds had been tended to my satisfaction, the sun was dipping below the horizon. I grabbed my packs, resting on the ground near the fence, and headed off to pitch my tent at the edges of the encampment. My small structure, the bare minimum needed for privacy when traveling, looked meager compared to the larger tents of families and riders—those tents had been erected for an encampment that would be in place for weeks if not months near a water source before picking up and moving to follow the game they hunted.

As I finished driving the spikes to support my shelter into the ground, the fluttering of wings caught my attention. The falcon had flown off when I entered the encampment, and I suspected it would find a new master among the clan it had once camped with. Instead, he settled near me now, looking at me expectantly. I exhaled heavily through my nose.

Before I could tell the animal that I had no food for him, and he would have to hunt for himself, shrieking split the air. I dropped the folded canvas bundled in my arms, leaving my tent half erected as I dashed toward the noise.

I found the source of the commotion easily enough. A young woman lay on the ground, bleeding out of a deep gash in her leg. A man crouched over her, long, curved dagger drawn as his eyes flickered between the injured woman and the darkness beyond the edge of the encampment.

Others had come running as well, and now a shouting mass of confusion surrounded them.

“What attacked her?” someone shouted. “Is it caracals? Red wolves?”

The man shook his head, eyes narrowed as if trying to pick out a shape in the night that had fallen around us. I looked in the direction he stared.

“It was so fast. I didn’t see it. It looked like…a skeleton.”

The voices scoffed in unison at his admission.

“You sneak off with a woman to steal a kiss, and it turns your head so bad you can’t recognize a beast.”

“Attacked by a skeleton?”

I would have been ready to join them in their disbelief if it hadn’t been for the image of glowing purple eyes set in a too-long feline body. Just the day before I had been attacked by a creature of legend. Who knew what prowled the sands at night?

Turning and scanning the crowd, I found a man holding a torch. I snatched it out of his hand before he could protest. He opened his mouth to argue, but upon seeing my mask, his snapped it shut.

“I’ll find what attacked her,” I volunteered. The assembled crowd quieted, mocking derision turning to hushed whispers as I drew my saber. With a blade in one hand and a torch in the other, I marched out into the sands.

My boots sunk into the soft powder as I trudged, holding my light aloft. Either it would help me get a good look at my quarry, or it would scare off any lingering predators. It was odd that a caracal or a red wolf would attack an encampment, but if hunting grew difficult for the clans, then it would for other predators as well.

A muffled scuffle behind me drew my attention, and I whirled around, pointing the light in the direction of the noise. I was greeting by only blank sand. Still, the sensation of something skirting just around my pool of light persisted.

I continued further away from the encampment, assuming most animals would be scared away by the large group of people now gathered at the edge. Even in times of duress, a predator would prefer to pick off one or two individuals lingering on the outskirts.

By now, I could no longer hear the speculation of the clansmen I had left behind. Another scratching noise grabbed my attention, and I spun in a circle, trying in vain to catch sight of my prey. Seeing nothing, I stilled, slowing even my own breathing to catch any sound of it in the darkness. All that greeted me was the distinct scent of the desert after rain.

I tensed the moment before it was upon me. It wasn’t enough, knocking the torch out of my hand as I used the momentum of my fall to roll out of its grasp. With the light from the flame low and scattered, I couldn’t get a good look at the creature as I sprang to my feet. As I thrust my saber out in front of me, creating a barrier between me and my attacker, I got the vague sense of too many limbs and a clattering of bones.

The flickering fire only gave me the vague impression of a writhing mass before it charged once more. Waiting until the last possible second, I side stepped, turning as I did to strike out at its side. My blade connected with a thump, and a disembodied limb fell to the ground. For a moment of stomach-clenching horror, it registered as an emaciated human arm before I was distracted by another claw-like appendage swiping at my face.

The metal of my mask deflected the blow, although it screeched across the metal at a pitch that made my teeth ache. I parried the next blow, a kick from what looked like the skeletal foreleg of a horse.

The next series of blows came too fast to follow, faster than would be possible with two appendages, or even four. Still, the shape of the creature eluded me. As I backed up, unable to block or parry every strike, I tripped over a snakelike tail thrust behind my ankles.

I toppled to the ground, wind rushing from my lungs. I didn’t have time to catch my breath before rolling to the side to avoid being trampled by the charging creature. As it changed course, I turned this way and that, avoiding the stomping of too many feet, one landed on my hand, knocking my saber away.

Weaponless, I cast around for my sword, but the creature drove me away from where I had dropped it. In the darkness, I couldn’t spot it to make my way back to it. Instead, my gaze caught on the torch, still burning fitfully in the sands a few arms’ lengths away from me. I rolled onto my stomach and pushed to my elbows, pulling myself toward it as fast as I could. I dodged quickly to the left as a whistle by my ear warned me of an incoming attack but kept my eye on my goal.

Right before I could reach the torch, a heavy weight landed between my shoulder blades. My forehead hit the ground as I was pinned down. I thrust my arm out in the direction of the torch as the force shoved me down. The wooden handle just scraped my fingertips.