It had been nearly two weeks since they had left the Lake of Peace, and for nearly two weeks, Ako found herself thinking about what had happened. She presently lay on the sandy top of the sand dune, her mount sitting and waiting for her patiently. She was scouting behind them and making sure they weren’t being followed, a precaution born out of what had happened at the oasis.

The oasis itself was beautiful. She had been before, but only as a child. She had forgotten how extravagant it was. There were so many trees and so much water. If you stood on one side of the oasis, you couldn’t see the other side of it. Instead, you saw the shimmering blue waters that stretched across the entire horizon. It was peaceful, and Ako had wanted nothing more than to sit and waste the day away watching the water, watching the sun’s rays dance upon the flickering waters.

Instead, she had only been able to spare a few glances at the oasis itself before she found herself following Marek through the community, making sure no one tried to kill him.

Ako smiled at the thought of the Mage. They had met three years ago when she had been at her lowest. He had saved her in an alleyway, using his Dominion Wand to send her assailants flying. He had looked majestic, his brown hair flowing behind him and his eyes glowing with magical power. Most women would have fallen in love immediately with such a capable and powerful man. Instead, she had felt a kinship, as beneath his brave exterior, she saw a soul just as lost and lonely as she was.

That was why Yarran had had her guard up the moment she had seen him. She had wanted to string her bow and shoot him immediately at first sight. A glance at Wyatt and Anton had revealed the same instant distrust on both of their faces, although Anton’s was far more readable as he had openly glowered at the Tribal Leader.

It had not gotten any better, as Yarran had immediately called upon Marek to fulfill his promise of healing one person. He had been brought to an elderly woman lying in the Chief’s own home. She had been tossing and turning, bathed in sweat, and mumbling incoherently. Marek had tentatively placed a hand on the woman, retracting it almost immediately as he reared back.

Yarran then explained that the woman was his grandmother, and that she was dying from a disease that they could not cure. Marek nodded, placing a hand on her forehead once more before drawing his wand and pointing it at the old woman’s forehead. There had been nothing for a long moment, and Ako had found herself holding her breath before a burst of air and light came from the wand tip. It had been a color that Ako had never seen before, a mixture of light blue and the purest white.

As Marek continued to channel, Ako found herself looking at the Kulok chieftain. The man had a strange look on his face. Usually, there would be naked greed, fear, or something in between for men seeing magic from a powerful magical. This time, however, it was something else. Horror. The chieftain had been horrified, and Ako didn’t know why. Hadn’t he wanted Marek to save his grandmother?

The woman had been healed, and Marek had looked as though he’d been run over by a horse. After Marek had bowed, shaken hands, and dealt with many back poundings common amongst her people crowded outside the house, Yarran had pulled Marek aside. Ako had followed, if only to ensure that the man wouldn’t hurt the Mage that she had come to see as a brother in all but blood.

They had spoken quietly, but from the snippets that she had heard, Yarran had been urgently asking about their route after the Lake of Peace. Marek had been reluctant, but in the face of Yarran’s desperate insistence, he had told him where they were going. Upon being told, Yarran initially looked as though he wanted to protest, but he’d let Marek’s chosen destination pass without complaint.

Ako started as a flicker of movement caught her attention. She took Marek’s spyglass and raised it, peering through it.

“Diev damn it,” Ako swore, a shudder of nervousness rolling through her body as she took the Creator’s name in vain. But she had no time to worry. A massive dust cloud had appeared to the southeast, leading back to the Lake of Peace. Yarran had—or at least sent—someone, many someones, to follow them. They were a few hours out, but they were riding hard and fast. She was about an hour from Marek, and if they were a war party, they would hit them before night had fallen.

Ako inched backwards from her place on top of the sand dune. She gritted her teeth as the hot sand found its way everywhere, from her boots to under her shirt, but she kept going. When she was far back enough, she stood in a crouch and whistled to her mount.

“Come!” she shouted. The mount opened an eye and stood languidly, stretching its thin legs before lightly pranced toward her. She mounted it fluidly, hopping onto its back. “Go,” she urged, tapping the camel’s sides with her boots. The mount snorted and began to run.

Ako strung her bow, placing it on her back with the string between her breasts to hold it in place. It was a shortbow, but she could hit a man at two hundred paces. A glance at the camel’s side saw that she had two quivers of arrows, just over twoscore.

I’m coming, Marek, Ako thought. I hope you’re ready.