"Watch!"
The big man took a deep breath and with a shout he hacked down at Ella’s body. Ella didn’t want to die. She tried to move.
"Salute!" there was a shout in the distance.
The curved sword stopped mid-swing. The big man looked up.
Her eyes closed, Ella uncertainly opened them when she heard a strange noise, a rolling sound of thunder, like many men running on the sand.
Four men were coming towards them. They were dressed in the same dark billowing clothing and high boots as the first two. Three of the newcomers had beards and unruly hair. One was beardless and wore a circlet that held back his shoulder length black hair. He appeared to be the leader.
Ella’s eyes opened wide. The men were astride strange animals — four legged creatures with wide nostrils and elegantly arched necks. The steeds were a range of colours, from mottled white to an almost complete black. The sun shone from their coats, they snorted as they pounded through the sand. They were graced with a sense of nobility. Man belonged with this creature.
They were the most beautiful animals Ella had ever seen.
The slim man put his hand on the big man’s arm and called out to one of the newcomers. "Salute, Jehral! What news?"
The four men reined in their mounts. "We rode down some of the armoured men in green. It was like they almost wanted to be killed. Not much sport."
"What of the men in white?"
"Long gone. The same goes for that strange monster. Whatever it was, we heard no more of its cries. Where are your horses? What do you here?"
Ella prayed, perhaps this leader would save her.
"We hobbled them a short way away, the blood was making them restless. Rashine here was just showing me his swordsmanship."
Jehral laughed, "This should be good. Continue."
The big man harrumphed and lifted his arms above his head again. Ella closed her eyes, willing it to be over quickly. She thought it was sad to be ending it here, like this, in the middle of the desert. No one would ever know what had come of her.
Rashine grunted as the sword swung down. It hit the green silk robe of the High Enchantress’s dress and bounced off like it had smashed into stone. Sparks sprayed in all directions. A noise like the crack of a whip resounded through the hills. Rashine howled in pain, nursing his wrist.
"Interesting," said Jehral. "It is a strange garment she wears. Who are you, woman?" he addressed Ella.
"I… I am…" Ella thought furiously. How could she convince them to spare her life?
"No matter, Rashine remove the garment and we will give it to the Prince as a gift. I will wager your sword will be sharp enough then."
Ella slowly rose to a standing position. It took all her courage. She looked Jehral in the eye, and summoned her most commanding voice, "I am High Enchantress Evora Guinestor, Loremistress of Altura. I demand you release me, lest the might of Altura fall against you and your people."
Jehral simply looked at her in interest. "High Enchantress? Interesting. The Prince may have use for you."
Rashine growled, "But..."
Jehral held up his hand, "No, Rashine. We will see what the Prince has to say about this one."
He reached out a hand. Not knowing what to do, Ella took it. With an iron grip he swung her up behind him onto the back of the horse. The animal snorted and stirred, but Jehral patted the horse’s neck, calming it.
From her new height, Ella could see the gruesome scene that had once been the soldiers of Altura. She saw a bladesinger, his neck sliced open and a horrified expression on his face. The body of Evora Guinestor couldn’t be seen; the templars had lived up to their promise of giving her body to the Petryans.
Ella apologised silently for using the woman’s name. She vowed to get revenge on those who had wreaked such terrible carnage on her people.
As the strange men rode away from Petrya and into the emptiness of the desert, Ella took stock of herself. She carried her shoulder bag still, she had the Lexicon. She had her scrill, and her vial of essence.
But for how long?
~
AS they rode, Ella realised how the High Enchantress had managed to keep much of her composure in the stifling desert heat — there was some property of the runes on her robe that greatly tempered the scorching sun. Even so, it was with pain and thirst that she bumped along on the horse behind the silent desert warrior.
A few hours into their journey, he handed her a water bottle. She drank greedily, then handed the bottle back to him. He shook the bottle and chuckled, shaking his head. Taking a tiny sip, he returned it to his saddlebags.
Ella decided she needed to act with strength and determination to pass herself off as the High Enchantress. She straightened her back and finally found the rhythm of the horse’s motion, raising and lowering her hips with its body. Jehral grunted an acknowledgement; she thought it might have been approval.