the nearest of the guards.
The guard looked skeptically at his peers. Pirneon stepped quickly to his face. Sunlight began to glare behind him, adding to the unspoken menace he presented. “Don’t forget your place,” he warned through clenched teeth. “I act in the Caliph’s name. Question me, and you question him.”
The guard blanched and motioned his peers away, leaving Pirneon and Habrim alone.
“Impressive, but it won’t last long,” Habrim said without looking up.
Pirneon crouched down and offered his canteen.
“Thank you.”
He nodded in reply. “You knew we were coming. Didn’t you?”
The elder Satrap smiled thinly. “The desert holds many secrets.”
“As in a line of scouts running the dunes unseen?” Pirneon asked with an arched eyebrow.
“We are at war, Vengeance Knight. Would you leave your camp undefended?”
The question was double edged. Pirneon now had no doubt that Habrim had meant to surrender long before the raiders arrived. But why? He’d seen his share of intrigue and politics getting involved in wars but often managed to avoid them. Generals needed to be on the battlefield, not mired in pointless plots. Here the desert ways were differed. Rulers and military leaders were expected to have their hands in every aspect of war.
“Why would you let us march into your camp and kill your men? You could have had us all before we crested the final dune.”
“Deception is sometimes necessary in the grand scheme of war,” Habrim replied before drinking deeply.
Pirneon felt he was closer to the answer that would unravel the mystery but was still missing the final few pieces. He’d come across others who had thought that, by surrendering, their people would be spared, and they’d all genuinely done so for the good of the people. Habrim was different; that much was obvious. He surely wanted to save his tribe, but some other agenda propelled him forward.
War had been going on for almost a year before Pirneon arrived. Adonmeia threatened to raze the desert with his ambition. The notion sent shock waves across the desert as war spread. War. The word suddenly felt wrong. Pirneon glanced to Habrim with unveiled eyes. The Satrap wasn’t planning on surrendering. He wanted to become a martyr and raise his people.
“This is all part of your plan,” he whispered cautiously.
Habrim remained silent for a moment. “Tell me, knight: what did you think when you first came into the desert? That the war was a simple feud between rival tribes? That Adonmeia wanted to end it and bring about lasting peace? We have been at war for more than ten years, not the one you mistakenly believe.”
“But why? War isn’t good for any culture,” Pirneon argued, not knowing what else to say about the revelation. His words were hollow, for was he not from famed Gaimos? A military society that eventually caused their own downfall? Pirneon suddenly viewed the Jebel Desert as a very dangerous place.
“There comes a point when one no longer questions. Actions are all that remain if the future is to come. The tribes of the desert have been mocked and laughed at by those who dwell beyond our borders for a very long time. You know this, Knight. The stiff wind blows change.”
“How many?” Pirneon asked, his mind racing. A slight breeze wafted through his almost silver hair.
Habrim smiled again. “More than you could guess. Adonmeia is in for quite the surprise.”
He said nothing more. The conversation was finished. Leaving his canteen, Pirneon stormed off. He’d discovered just enough to make the immediate future terrifying. Habrim’s words troubled him to no end. He ignored his raiders as he marched past. They were now more of an enemy than Habrim ever was. Visions of huge armies of men running parallel to his current position were almost enough to make him send out scouts. How much time did he truly have left?
If Habrim intended to sacrifice himself in order to unify the tribes, time was running
The guard looked skeptically at his peers. Pirneon stepped quickly to his face. Sunlight began to glare behind him, adding to the unspoken menace he presented. “Don’t forget your place,” he warned through clenched teeth. “I act in the Caliph’s name. Question me, and you question him.”
The guard blanched and motioned his peers away, leaving Pirneon and Habrim alone.
“Impressive, but it won’t last long,” Habrim said without looking up.
Pirneon crouched down and offered his canteen.
“Thank you.”
He nodded in reply. “You knew we were coming. Didn’t you?”
The elder Satrap smiled thinly. “The desert holds many secrets.”
“As in a line of scouts running the dunes unseen?” Pirneon asked with an arched eyebrow.
“We are at war, Vengeance Knight. Would you leave your camp undefended?”
The question was double edged. Pirneon now had no doubt that Habrim had meant to surrender long before the raiders arrived. But why? He’d seen his share of intrigue and politics getting involved in wars but often managed to avoid them. Generals needed to be on the battlefield, not mired in pointless plots. Here the desert ways were differed. Rulers and military leaders were expected to have their hands in every aspect of war.
“Why would you let us march into your camp and kill your men? You could have had us all before we crested the final dune.”
“Deception is sometimes necessary in the grand scheme of war,” Habrim replied before drinking deeply.
Pirneon felt he was closer to the answer that would unravel the mystery but was still missing the final few pieces. He’d come across others who had thought that, by surrendering, their people would be spared, and they’d all genuinely done so for the good of the people. Habrim was different; that much was obvious. He surely wanted to save his tribe, but some other agenda propelled him forward.
War had been going on for almost a year before Pirneon arrived. Adonmeia threatened to raze the desert with his ambition. The notion sent shock waves across the desert as war spread. War. The word suddenly felt wrong. Pirneon glanced to Habrim with unveiled eyes. The Satrap wasn’t planning on surrendering. He wanted to become a martyr and raise his people.
“This is all part of your plan,” he whispered cautiously.
Habrim remained silent for a moment. “Tell me, knight: what did you think when you first came into the desert? That the war was a simple feud between rival tribes? That Adonmeia wanted to end it and bring about lasting peace? We have been at war for more than ten years, not the one you mistakenly believe.”
“But why? War isn’t good for any culture,” Pirneon argued, not knowing what else to say about the revelation. His words were hollow, for was he not from famed Gaimos? A military society that eventually caused their own downfall? Pirneon suddenly viewed the Jebel Desert as a very dangerous place.
“There comes a point when one no longer questions. Actions are all that remain if the future is to come. The tribes of the desert have been mocked and laughed at by those who dwell beyond our borders for a very long time. You know this, Knight. The stiff wind blows change.”
“How many?” Pirneon asked, his mind racing. A slight breeze wafted through his almost silver hair.
Habrim smiled again. “More than you could guess. Adonmeia is in for quite the surprise.”
He said nothing more. The conversation was finished. Leaving his canteen, Pirneon stormed off. He’d discovered just enough to make the immediate future terrifying. Habrim’s words troubled him to no end. He ignored his raiders as he marched past. They were now more of an enemy than Habrim ever was. Visions of huge armies of men running parallel to his current position were almost enough to make him send out scouts. How much time did he truly have left?
If Habrim intended to sacrifice himself in order to unify the tribes, time was running
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