Starlex could tell from the dawn light filtering through the muslin hood the Nazeers had placed over her head that they were moving south, on Pendulum Road. Heat rose from the baked ground with each step of the horse she rode, her wrists bound to the saddle's pommel.
There was little air inside the hood. Her lips were chapped from the desert dryness. It had been hours since a flagon of water had been shoved under the hood so she could drink. The horse's slow gait had rocked her in and out of sleep as the caravan of Nazeer's soldiers and citizens traveled throughout the night, but now she was wide awake and frightened.
She guessed the Nazeers were taking her to Nazeera beyond Crytombe Crags.
But for what reason?
Fatigue, hunger, and thirst had mellowed the initial panic she felt when she had been snatched from the shores of Oran, but now her fear rose like the heat from the desert floor. She had expected Scipio to send out an army immediately. Or perhaps her good friend, Flenn Illyminum, would have whipped up some magic storm to aid her escape.
When no intervention appeared, Starlex began to despair. With each clop of her tired mount's reluctant steps on the dry, dusty road, she folded in on herself, waiting only for the small relief provided by a sip of water or a mouthful of bread.
* * *
At the front of the slow-moving caravan, Nargos Nazeer sat astride his chestnut stallion, a mount too tall for his squat figure. He cast his bloodshot eyes toward the red hills jutting high into the morning sky. He had expected an immediate response from Scipio Davadas. Most of the Nazeer guards were stationed in the rear, prepared with sharpened spears to turn and fight. But when no response was forthcoming, the old Nazeer began to feel cagey. He rubbed the red stubble shot with gray on his chin. He had sent a falcon to his city with word that he was bringing a bride back for his eldest son, Dizzo, and that preparation should be made for the wedding and feast.
I'd marry her myself, he thought, turning in his saddle to gaze back at the captured Illymium princess. The skirt of her soiled gown was pushed up nearly to her waist, exposing shapely white legs bouncing on either side of the horse's girth. Blood ran to his groin as he considered it.
No, Dizzo must marry her. But that doesn't mean I can't be the one to sire the next great king!
Through his lustful thoughts, his suspicions grew. Nargos eyed the red hills, looming higher with each bend in the road. The day appeared too quiet, the sky too blue and cloudless. He knew now that rather than send an army, Scipio Davadas had deployed a stealthier tactic.
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We're moving too slow because of all these foolish women and their carriages filled with maids and clothes. I need to get that Illymium bitch within the city walls straight away.
Putting two fingers in his mouth, Nargos let out a long, dry whistle. Four of his guards rode up on either side of his horse, their swords and shields clanking against their studded saddles.
"You," Nargos barked at the group, "take the girl and go ahead. Ride as hard as you can until you reach the city."
"Yes, my lord," the lead guard replied.
"Let her have some water and food first," Nargos said, sliding his eyes back to the red hills. The sun cleared the jagged peaks and radiated down with merciless heat. The only shade provided was a large bird flying overhead, its shadow circling the brigade. "I don't want her dying on the way."
* * *
When Flenn Illyminum had received the news of Starlex's capture, he had retreated to the tower room and immediately sent out Raki for reconnaissance.
Having returned to the tower study, Flenn entered a deep meditative state. Lying on a tufted divan, Glenn traveled with Raki all night along Pendulum Road by means of trans-omniscience sight where his consciousness melded with the great, purple-feathered bird's to the point where he could see what the bird saw and control its flight.
Flenn spotted the caravan of Nazeers making slow progress down the southern fork of Pendulum Road. Raki made several low circles over the Red Hill, while Flenn gazed through the bird's yellow eyes in search of the princess.
When she wasn't there, Flenn flew with Raki farther south until he spotted Starlex, hoodwinked and bound, riding astride a horse flanked by Nazeer warriors. They were running their horses to death as they entered Crytombe Crags.
Flenn used the hot air from the desert to soar Raki high above the rocky peaks and then head north. Flenn gazed down with wonder as they glided over the Great Vulcan, a volcano nearly the height of Oran tower. Raki flew high to avoid the cloud of black smoke pouring from its mouth. When Flenn looked down, they saw a lava pit, bright as the sun, churning within.
Instructing the bird with his mind to fly past it, Flenn, at last, spotted Bonn and Leiffen, leading their mounts along a treacherous path deep within the Crags.
As Flenn adjusted Raki's wings to head east along the red-rimmed coastline, Flenn exited from the trance. His violet eyes popped open, and he was once again in the tower room study, supine on the divan.
Bonn and Leiffen are making good time, Flenn thought, groggy from the magic. But they are up against a powerful adversary. I will do what magic I can to aid in the princess's recovery. But why was she taken?
Flenn had meditated on this question for days, and he still didn't have a satisfying answer. The queen's insistence that it had something to do with reclaiming Mynimium seemed absurd. Scipio Davadas would never sacrifice his claim on the ancient city for the life of his sister-in-law. It had to be for some other reason.
Flenn reached out to the small end table and picked up his pipe. Pressing Mynimium tobacco, spiced with clove, into the pipe, he gazed at the azure sky through the gap in the curtains and opened his mind to all possibilities.
It has something to do with Illym's prophecy and Moranna Nazeer's subsequent disappearance, Flenn thought, taking a pull on the pipe and watching the smoke billow through the temperate air. And what of those screams I heard sounding up from the pulley car shaft in the middle of the night? And the following morning, did I not see Yewen Illymium returning with an empty skiff to the lower canal? When I questioned him, he was evasive. Scared.