Laria
They arrived at the next oasis an hour before dusk. Judging from the crumbling mud-brick ruins, it had once been a thriving settlement, where caravans had rested and merchants had traded exotic wares. Laria even recognized the remnants of an old slave auction block, like many she had been sold at before. But the oasis was now abandoned, the pool of water in its center reduced to little more than a large puddle. Still, it was enough for Laria to bathe.
“We must be cautious,” Roderick urged. “The last time I was at an oasis like this, an undine nymph nearly killed me.”
Laria’s eyes widened. “You actually saw one of the fey?”
“Yes, and I have little doubt that she is watching us now.”
“Then should we move on?”
“No. If we do not water here, we will certainly die of thirst in the desert. It will be no worse if we incur her wrath.”
“But does that mean I should stay out of the water?”
He shrugged indifferently. “Do as you will. If the undine nymph will let us fill our waterskins, she probably won’t mind if you bathe.”
It had been so long since Laria had bathed that even the muddy waters looked tempting. Besides, it was an opportunity to please her new master. So as he led the thirsty camel to the pool’s edge, she shed her clothes and waded into the pool. To her surprise, he turned away.
“Why do you avert your eyes, Master Roderick?”
“Because you are naked.”
Laria’s heart sank. This was not the reaction she had hoped from him.
“Does my body displease you?”
“No,” he said quickly, his gaze still turned away from her. “On the contrary, I find your beauty to be mesmerizing.”
“Then why do you look away?”
“To grant you some privacy.”
Laria cocked her head curiously. “What is ‘privacy’?”
Roderick paused, as if taken aback by her question. But he quickly regained his composure and explained.
“Privacy is the freedom to have a space that is only for you. It matters a lot to people who are free.”
Laria gave a small nod, though the idea seemed very strange—almost silly, in fact. She had been a slave almost since her birth, and was used to men’s lusty stares. She hesitated, wondering if Roderick found her nakedness offensive, but though he averted his eyes, he otherwise didn’t seem to mind.
She cupped the warm water with her hands and poured it over her. The thick layers of grime and sweat seemed to melt away, leaving her feeling wonderfully clean. After splashing the water all over herself and rubbing her skin down with her hands, she dipped her head in the pool and began to wash her dusty, matted hair.
Roderick finished filling their waterskins and sat in the shade of a scrubby tree. She glanced over her shoulder and smiled as their eyes met, though he quickly looked away.
“Laria, where are you from?”
“I don’t know, Master Roderick. My parents sold me into slavery when I was just a child, and I’ve never known any other way of life.”
He frowned. “How could any parent do such a thing?”
“It was during the plague years, Master Roderick. I suppose it was either sell me or starve.”
“Ah.” He shifted uncomfortably, and Laria, sensing his uneasiness, quickly changed the subject.
“What about yourself, Master Roderick? What brings you out to the desert?”
“I seek the lost city of Xulthar. The evil power that dwells within those walls has cursed my family and caused the downfall of my house. I am determined to find the source of that evil and defeat it if I can.”
“I have heard about Xulthar. They say it was once a place of fabulous wealth. But why do you seek it alone?”
“I didn’t,” he told her. “Two of my soldiering friends accompanied me out to the desert, but they cared little for honor—only for the treasure itself. But when the journey grew too hard for them, they abandoned me.”
“I’m very sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t be. Deep down, I suppose I never expected them to come with me all of the way. No one who finds the lost city of Xulthar ever returns to the civilized world alive.”
Laria’s eyes widened. “No one?”
“Aye. It is a cursed place, and I have little hope of succeeding. But if I somehow manage to defeat the dark evil that has cursed its fabulous riches, I will use them to restore my family’s house.”
“How did your family fall?”
A dark expression fell across his face. “Ever since the end of the plague years, the cursed coin of Xulthar has circulated throughout the land. For the cruel and the wicked, the coin seems to multiply, while just and honorable men can hardly set any aside. My father spoke openly of this, and for that crime he was falsely accused of practicing dark magic, and sent into exile.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” Laria said sympathetically, though she found his story difficult to understand. As a slave, she had never owned anything of herself, and found money to be a baffling subject.
“My father’s only crime was to speak the truth that no one wanted to hear,” Roderick said grimly. “There is no honor or justice in this world.”
“I think the slaver was taking me to Xulthar as well,” Laria said, hoping to distract him from his dark and brooding thoughts.
“Is that so?” Roderick asked, suddenly interested.
“Yes,” Laria told him. “Yesterday, he was mumbling and cursing to himself about it—something about the pay not being worth the journey.”
“Why was he taking you to Xulthar? The city has lain in ruins for more than a century.”
His earnestness took Laria aback. She didn’t know how to answer.
“I am sorry, Master Roderick. I’m just a slave, and don’t know very much about these sorts of things.”
“Never mind,” Roderick said gruffly. “I’ll be your guide, at least until the next town.”
Laria felt a twinge of disappointment that Roderick only thought of himself as her guide. She knew that if she failed to please him, he was likely to sell her to the first man who offered him any coin—or worse, leave her to fend for herself. She had to do everything in her power to convince him to keep her.
She had hoped to accomplish that by pleasing him with her body, but since that strategy clearly wasn’t going to work, she climbed out of the pool and donned her linen robe, not bothering to dry herself first. The sun would soon see to that. Hopefully, her clothes would set him at ease, and if the wetness made them cling to her skin, so much the better. Perhaps the key with men like her new master was to suggest more than she showed.
Roderick relaxed considerably once she was clothed. She walked over to his side and sat in the shade near his feet.
“Do you wish me to bathe you, Master?”
“No,” he said quickly. “I’ll stay here.”
“Are you sure? Not even your feet? Surely, they must be sore after walking for so—”
“My feet require no washing,” he said curtly. “Not by you, at least.”
“Why not, Master Roderick? Aren’t I your slave?”
“No, Laria. You are not a slave anymore. You are free.”
His words struck fear into Laria’s heart. Of all the things he could have told her, this was by far the worst.
“But Master Roderick, I don’t know how to live as a free person.”
“Then start by choosing your own path.”
“What does that mean?” she asked hesitantly.
“It means that you no longer have to answer to anyone but yourself,” Roderick told her. “You may act for yourself now. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
Laria looked down at her bare, calloused feet. She had to admit, it would have been nice to be able to refuse the slaver. But a life of freedom was most certainly not what she wanted for herself. After all, what was the point of freedom if it made you into a beggar?
“But what if I want to please you, Master Roderick? What if I want to be your slave?”
He frowned and shook his head. “I cannot be your master, Laria. The very thought of owning another person is detestable to me.”
Laria stared at Roderick with confusion and a little awe. She had never met a man like him before. He was unlike all of her previous masters, except perhaps the first: kind and gentle, though his heart seemed encased in a hardened shell. And she had to admit, it was refreshing that he was capable of holding his lusts in check, unlike some of her previous masters.
“But I am happy as a slave,” she told him. “It gives me purpose and meaning to serve a good master. Without that, I am nothing.”
“That isn’t true, Laria. A man is defined by his thoughts and his deeds. That is as true for you as it is for me.”
Laria hugged her knees against her chest, feeling more than a little lost. How could she fend for herself in a world so full of danger and uncertainty? She could not understand how any man could refuse to be her master. Why was Roderick so adamant about this freedom, this thing that only brought her confusion and fear?
“Please, Master Roderick. I don’t know how to be free.”
“Then I will teach you.”
“But—”
“Enough,” he said brusquely, rising to his feet. “We should not linger in this place any longer than we have to. Let’s be going.”
Laria bit her lip and nodded. The hot desert air had already dried her clothes, even in the shade, and it would not be long before her hair was dry as well. She rose to her feet and ran her fingers through it for a comb.
As she walked along the edge of the pool, her eyes suddenly caught a silvery glint beneath the surface. She waded out and reached into the sun-warm water to scoop it up. It was a silver locket, its surface engraved with intricate floral designs.
“What’s this?” she asked, showing it to Roderick. His eyes widened immediately in surprise.
“I gave that locket to the nymph!” he exclaimed. “It was my payment for freeing my friends. But how did it get here? I have never been to this oasis in my life.”
“I don’t know, Master Roderick,” Laria said softly. She was just as baffled as him.
“The undine nymph’s powers must extend here, too,” he mused aloud. “Perhaps this is one of her tricks. Keep it, Laria. You found it. It’s yours.”
Laria stared at him in disbelief. She had never owned anything before, much less a piece of silver jewelry. What would she do with it? Besides, it clearly held more value for him than it did for her.
“I think I should give it back,” she said, offering it back to him with trembling fingers.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He hesitated for a moment, then took the proffered locket from her hands. “If that is what you wish,” he mumbled, slipping it around his neck.
Without another word, she followed Roderick to the camel. “Let us go,” Roderick said curtly as he mounted the beast. Laria climbed up behind him, and together they set out across the burning desert sands.
Roderick
The desert stretched from the foothills of the Kevonas to the southern reaches of the Arabuli Basin and the westernmost shores of the Vilayan Sea. Once, these lands had been green and lush, or so the legends claimed. But so many empires had since risen, fallen, and faded into myth that the barren wastes now seemed as immutable and unrelenting as the burning sun itself. On the edges of the Arabuli basin, men still strove to eke out a meager existence, laboring to make the land bloom once more, but the plague years had wiped out nearly a century of work, and deserts had steadily reclaimed their own.
Still, the wastes were not entirely void of inhabitants, so long as the caravans crossed the wastes. They did so mainly to avoid the deadly pirates of the Vilayan and the punishing tolls of the southern principalities. Wherever they went, oasis towns sprung up to serve them, with mud-brick walls for protection from the bandits who followed in the caravans’ wake.
It was to one of these walled towns that Roderick now brought the rescued slave girl. He did not wish to return the way he had come, so he led them several days’ journey to the southeast, where a short range of age-weathered mountains offered some sparse grazing. The land was not fruitful enough to support anything more than the occasional walled town, but it did offer some respite from the desolate wastes of the deep desert.
“Have you been to this place before, Master Roderick?” Laria asked as they approached the town gates.
“Nay,” Roderick admitted. “But I’ve been to enough like them.”
The tired plodding of their camel’s hooves clopped monotonously on the dusty ground. “Forgive me, Master Roderick, but what do you intend to do here?”
“I’m not your master,” Roderick gruffly replied. “And as for what I intend, that depends on what we find. With luck, we’ll find you some work soon enough.”
He glanced over his shoulder, only to see her face fall.
“But I don’t want to leave you,” she said with pleading eyes. “Besides, I have a bad feeling about this place. Something tells me that we shouldn’t stop here.”
“Nonsense,” Roderick muttered. “There’s nothing amiss about this quiet town.”
“I don’t know, Master. I’ve never had a feeling like this that turned out to be wrong.”
He sighed and stopped the camel to dismount. After taking the beast of burden by the reins, he looked up at her and held her melancholy gaze.
“You cannot come with me to Xulthar, Laria. It’s far too dangerous.”
“But—”
“You are not a slave anymore. You must learn to take charge of your own life.”
Laria’s eyes filled with tears. “I know that you think that life as a slave is miserable,” she told him, “and perhaps until you became my master, it was. But you are a good man, and I would be happy to serve as your slave.”
Roderick shook his head in frustration and disbelief. He could not understand why Laria rejected her own freedom so adamantly.
“Look here, Laria,” he said sternly. “You are not a dog, or a dumb beast of burden. You are a person, with thoughts and feelings of your own, and the power to take control of your own destiny.”
“How can you expect me to do that, when all I’ve ever known is life as a slave?”
Roderick’s expression softened. “I know that a life of slavery is all you have ever known. But you must not think of it as your only opportunity for happiness.”
“What if it is?”
“It is not,” he said firmly.
Laria paused. “For a lord of a noble house, perhaps that is true. But for one such as myself, with no wealth or family, this world is dangerous and cruel.”
“Then we will find someplace safe where you can start over,” Roderick told her. “A place such as this town. Don’t worry—I will not simply abandon you here. I’ll stay as long as it takes for you to settle down.”
“You will?” she asked.
“Yes,” Roderick reluctantly promised. He had hoped to leave her at the next tavern and continue on his quest, but clearly he could expect her to establish herself in this place. No—he would help her to secure employment, or perhaps an apprenticeship with the town weaver or midwife. It would take more time to do so than he would have liked, but time was not something he had in short supply, and he hated the thought of her falling back into slavery.
“We’ll find you an apprenticeship,” he said, walking the camel by the reins. “After you’ve learned some useful skills, you’ll have no trouble making a new life for yourself in your place.”
“Perhaps,” Laria said dubiously. “For your sake, Master Roderick, I will try. But I have seen what money can do to people, and I fear—”
“Don’t be afraid,” he said, cutting her off.
They traveled the rest of the way to the town’s main gate in silence. The ramparts of the rough stone walls were empty, but a guard stood beside the heavy iron doors, which hung open. The guard on duty rose from his bench as they approached.
“Ho there!” he called out to them. “Who goes?”
“We seek a place to rest and spend the night,” Roderick answered.
The guard squinted at him skeptically. The sun was just beginning to crest the horizon off by the western wastes, and soon it would be dark. Night always fell swiftly in the desert.
“And what business do you have here?”
“We are travelers from a distant land,” Roderick told him. “My companion is looking to settle down in these parts. As for myself, I am a seasoned warrior looking to hire out my sword.”
That last part wasn’t exactly true, but if Roderick was to spend some time in this place, he would have to employ himself somehow. Besides, he sensed that if he told the guard of his quest for the lost city of Xulthar, it would raise more questions than he cared to answer.
The guard squinted at Laria in the rapidly dimming light before turning to Roderick again. “Ask at the tavern,” he said brusquely. “It’s down the main street, fifty paces from the wall. There’s a trough by the gate where you can tie and water your camel.”
“Thank you,” said Roderick, following the guard through the gate. After tying the thirsty camel, he helped Laria to dismount.
“I still have a bad feeling about this place,” she told him as she glanced warily at the mud-brick houses and dusty alleys. The town’s main thoroughfare was unpaved, and the windows were all shuttered against the coming night.
“You’ll be safe with me,” Roderick reassured her. “Come, let us find this tavern.”
Laria
The tavern was a seedy establishment, filled with rough-looking men who eyed Laria lustily. They reminded her of some of her worst masters. The smell of stale beer and greasy food hung heavy in the air, and the sound of raucous laughter made her wish she was anywhere else. If the rest of the town was anything like this tavern, then her premonitions were likely correct and they’d made a mistake by stopping here.
She tugged on Roderick’s sleeve, trying to pull him aside so they could discuss the matter in private, but he ignored her and walked up to the barkeep on the far side of the room.
“Good evening,” he said genially. “We are looking for a room for the night. And perhaps, if possible, a job for my companion.”
No! Laria wanted to scream. Can’t you see how dangerous this place is for me? She would be like a sheep in the midst of wolves.
The barkeep gave them both a once-over, then nodded. “Aye, friends. We have a room for you. As for a job,” he glanced at Laria with a suggestive smirk, “I’m sure we can find something for her to do.”
Laria recoiled from his gaze, glancing at Roderick to gauge his reaction. But he seemed totally oblivious to the subtext beneath the barkeep’s words.
“We will take the room. And perhaps a meal as well.”
“That’ll be one silver and three coppers.”
Roderick reached for the pouch of money at his belt, then frowned and cursed slightly under his breath. Laria had seen him fill it with the coins the slaver had been carrying, but now it seemed almost empty. He withdrew his hand and opened it to reveal a single silver coin.
“We’ll take the room, anyway,” he muttered darkly. “But hold the meal for now.”
The barkeep smoothly pocketed the coin in his food-stained apron. “Down the hall, third door to your left.” From a large ring of keys on his belt, he procured one and handed it to Roderick.
The room was about what she expected: an old rug on the hard dirt floor, a crudely fashioned table with two wooden stools for chairs, a single, tightly-shuttered window, and a large, foul-smelling mattress with stained sheets. Laria had never been forced to play the harlot (thank the fates), but from stories she’d heard from those who plied the trade, it was clear that this room was frequented by women of their profession. Laria had little doubt that if Roderick left her here, she would ultimately be forced to join them. How could he be so oblivious to such things?
“It was a mistake to come here,” she told him boldly as he shut the door. “This town isn’t safe for me, Master Roderick, and I don’t think it’s safe for you either.”
“Aye,” he said softly. “I’m beginning to believe you are right.”
She brightened a little at his answer. Perhaps he wasn’t as oblivious as she’d thought.
“What must we do?” she asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.
He grunted and unstrapped his belt, laying it on the table with his sword and scabbard. “I’ve already paid for the room, so we might as well stay here for the night. We’ll leave in the morning and find another town.”
His answer stunned her. If coming to this place was a mistake, then why didn’t they leave right now? True, the hills were almost certainly harboring bandits, but the town seemed no less dangerous, and the solitary desert was only a short hour’s ride away. Then she remembered Roderick’s coin pouch, and how distraught he had seemed upon finding it nearly empty. But how could he let money be his master, especially if he was supposed to be free? What was the point of freedom if it meant being a slave to one’s money?
“Please, Master Roderick,” she urged him. “You’re not going to bring back that silver by spending the night in this place.”
Roderick turned his back to her and mumbled something inaudible as he began to unstrap his armor. Perhaps she had pushed him too far.
“Forgive me, Master. I spoke too—”
“For the hundredth time, I am not your master!” he growled moodily. “The entire purpose of bringing you here was to help you to be free.”
She frowned. “But didn’t you tell me that I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to?”
“Yes,” he conceded.
“Well, I’ve already told you that I don’t want to leave you. So even if you will not have me to be your slave, the least you can do is allow me to go with you to Xulthar.”
“Not so loud!” he hissed, glancing over his shoulder. “We can’t risk letting these ruffians overhear.”
Does that mean I’m coming with you? she thought but did not ask. No sense in pressing her luck just yet. Even if he only saw her as a traveling companion, that was better than before.
Just at that moment, a knock came at the door to their room. Laria and Roderick looked at each other, her in confusion, him in alarm. Had she made a mistake by mentioning the name of Xulthar?
“Who is it?” Roderick asked, hastily redoing the straps of his armor.
“My name is Jamal,” came the voice from the hall. “I’m a merchant of sorts, and the richest man in this town. I have come to make you a proposition.”
Instantly, Laria disliked the man. She shook her head at Roderick, but he motioned for her to stay quiet as he opened the door.
“What sort of proposition?” he asked.
Jamal casually stepped past him into the room. He was a tall, spindly man, with a dark red cape and a thick, black goatee. His deeply set eyes scanned the room before resting inexorably upon her.
“So this is your ‘traveling companion.’ I hear from the barkeep that you are looking for some, ah, employment for this girl.”
His words sent an uncomfortable chill down Laria’s spine. She’d seen his type before: there was always at least one of them at the slave auctions, scrutinizing her carefully with his cold, calculating eyes. While most men regarded her as little more than livestock, his type saw her as meat to be slaughtered. She had no idea what he intended for her, but she knew it could not be good.
In desperation, she looked to Roderick, whose hand moved reflexively for his sword. It was not on his waist, though; he had left it lying on the table.
The man turned smoothly to face him, though if he had noticed the gesture, he made no sign of it. He was dangerously difficult to read.
“Here is my proposition,” he said, reaching for his bulging money pouch. “I am more than willing to take her off of your hands, and can compensate you generously for the privilege.”
Roderick frowned. “You mean, you want to buy her? As a slave?”
Jamal paused, as if measuring Roderick’s reaction. “I see you are a plain-speaking man of action,” he answered at length. “I like that. It is something I can respect.”
“You haven’t answered my question.”
“Very well. To put it plainly, yes, that is what I propose.”
For an instant, Laria feared that Roderick would take the trade. Thankfully, he did not disappoint her. His lips curled back in a snarl, and he quickly stepped between her and Jamal.
“She’s not for sale,” he growled.
Jamal raised an eyebrow. “You are a solitary traveler in a strange country, with a conspicuously empty purse. Without any money, you will not make it far in the caravan towns of these parts. Or perhaps you would try your luck in the deep desert, from which few men ever return?”
Roderick drew himself up to his full height and glared at the man. “She’s not for sale,” he repeated, his voice dangerously low.
“That’s a pity,” Jamal replied. “It would not be wise of you to reject my offer, as you may not get another one after I leave this room.”
Roderick clenched his fists in a manner that made Laria worry he would do something even more unwise than rejecting Jamal’s offer.
“You are not welcome here,” he said through gritted teeth. “Leave now before I do something we will both regret.”
“It seems you already have,” said Jamal, narrowing his gaze. Then, with one last bone-chilling glance at Laria, he turned and left the room.
As soon as he was gone, Roderick shut the door. “Are you all right?” he asked her.
Laria nodded, releasing a long breath as the tension melted out of her. “Thank you, Master Roderick, for protecting me from that man. I have a feeling that he would have made for a terrifying master.”
“Your days of having any master are over,” Roderick said gruffly as he helped her to her feet. “Come, let us leave this town. It clearly isn’t safe for either of us anymore.”
Roderick
Roderick and Laria crept quietly out into the hall and turned away from the main room, seeking some other way out to the street. Fortunately, a back door by the kitchen led to an alley behind the tavern. Roderick paused only long enough to make sure no one had seen them escape.
Outside, the sun had already set and the stars were starting to shine through the purple light of dusk, leaving the streets and alleys shrouded in darkness. No torches had been lit yet, if indeed any of the lowlife scum of this town bothered with such civilized amenities. Roderick should have known that nothing good could come from these greedy caravan towns. He could see now that he’d been a fool to try and leave Laria in a place such as this.
He kept a tight grip on his sword hilt as they hurried toward the wall. Thankfully, the town was small enough that it was impossible to get lost, though if it were much bigger, these dangerous alleys and darkened streets would have made for a veritable maze.
The walls were in sight when three cloaked figures emerged from the shadows ahead of them. Laria gasped and shrank closer to Roderick as he unsheathed his sword.
“Ho there,” Roderick called, his voice carrying a hint of menace. “What do you want?”
“We have business with you,” one of them said in a gravelly voice. He gestured toward Laria with a gauntleted hand. “Give us the girl and you can go on your way.”
“Nay,” said Roderick, placing himself between her and them. “She is under my protection. I will not let you take her!”
The first man laughed as the other two drew swords and daggers. “You certainly are brave, but we cannot simply allow you to leave—not after how you defied our employer.”
Roderick struck first, lunging at the man who was their leader. He drew his blade with impressive speed, parrying the blow while his comrades countered Roderick’s attack. They all were clearly skilled fighters, and with three against one, Roderick was dangerously outmatched.
Laria screamed as one of the cloaked figures grabbed her from behind, dropping his dagger to do so. She struggled valiantly against her captor’s grip, kicking his feet and biting his gloved hand. She was too weak to have much of an effect, though her struggles made it impossible for the man to carry her off.
But Roderick soon saw that that was not their aim. They only wanted to prevent Laria from escaping before they had finished him. Even in the dusky shadows, he could see the bloodlust in their eyes, and could feel that their blows were calculated to kill.
I did not come this far to die in this accursed den of desert thieves, Roderick thought as he barely managed to parry a ferocious attack. The riposte sent his would-be murderer stumbling backward, but the other man renewed his attack, forcing Roderick to turn.
They were trying to circle around him, one to the left, the other to the right. Roderick had to step quickly to keep them from doing so. If he were facing only one of them, his broadsword could easily shatter their narrow and flimsy blades, but against two, speed made them formidable. As soon as one of them managed to get behind his back, they would surely make grisly work of him.
“Roderick!” Laria shouted, her eyes wide with terror. The henchman who held her tightened his grip.
“Let her go!” Roderick bellowed. The leader of the thugs lowered his sword and laughed.
“You want us to release her? Very well. Surrender, and we will let her go free. You will make a fine galley slave on the Vilayan Sea.”
“I thought we were to make an example of him,” the third man said. With the lull in the fighting, Roderick saw that the man’s brow was dripping with sweat. He must have been doing better against these thugs than he had thought.
“And so we shall,” sneered the leader. “What will it be? Make your choice!”
Roderick braced himself, his muscles ready to explode into action. Suddenly, he remembered how the slaver in the desert had been distracted before his death. He smiled and stabbed his sword into the dirt of the unpaved street.
“There,” said the leader, relaxing his guard. “Wise decision. If only you had—”
“Use your magic, Laria!” Roderick shouted as he tossed her the claw talisman. Her captor was momentarily distracted, and she used that moment to break free.
Catching the talisman in her outstretched hands, she lifted it into the air and began to chant. The henchman hesitated, uncertain whether to grab her again or to fall back. The other two froze as well, their eyes fixated on the talisman as if it were the key to their doom.
And in a sense, it was—just not in the way they expected.
Roderick seized the opportunity and charged at the leader, snatching his sword and swinging it with all his strength. The man crossed blades in an effort to stop the strike, but he was caught off guard, and fear of Laria’s non-existent magic made him slow and clumsy. Roderick’s sword easily broke his flimsy defense, slicing open his chest and spilling his guts onto the ground.
The other man lunged, but Roderick parried the strike and sent a devastating riposte that slashed his arm. He screamed in agony and dropped his sword. “Yield!” he shouted, falling to his knees.
Roderick spun to face the last remaining henchman, who found himself at a severe disadvantage. Whatever Jamal paid his men, it wasn’t enough to keep this one in the fight. He turned and fled down the darkened alley, abandoning his comrades.
With rage still burning in his heart and adrenaline still coursing through his veins, Roderick now turned to the wounded man who knelt quivering on the rough, uneven ground. It would be so easy to slit his throat. The gods knew that he deserved it, and in an unruly town like this one, Roderick did not think he would be missed.
But that was not Roderick’s way.
“Get out of here,” he said, knocking the man to the ground with the flat of his blade. The would-be murderer scurried hastily into the shadows.
Laria looked in horror at the man that Roderick had slain. His corpse lay prone in his own gore, and his blood was seeping rapidly into the thirsty ground. But when she turned and looked at Roderick, her face bore much the same expression as it had when he’d slain the slaver.
“You saved me again,” she said, her voice full of gratitude.
He took the claw talisman from her hand. “You fared well enough for yourself, Laria. Was that a real spell you chanted, or gibberish?”
“Gibberish,” she told him. “I might not be strong, but I can think fast on my feet.”
“Aye, that you can. Now we’d best get out of this place before Jamal learns that we’ve slain his men. Come.”
He hastily wiped his blade on the shirt of the dead man before sheathing it, then took Laria by the hand. They followed the wall to the watering trough where their camel still waited. Thankfully, no one had stolen it yet.
“Master Roderick,” Laria asked him as he helped her mount the beast. “We make a good team, don’t we?”
He grunted noncommittally as he mounted the camel with her. The guard on duty made no move to stop them, and within a few moments they were free of the town, riding out into the darkness of a moonless desert night.
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