The rider that approached sat astride a large and powerful roan stallion, a mount far from the smaller horses that the rest of the light cavalry rode. He bore no weapons either, but wore robes of crimson and purple, his dark hair and beard oiled and braided. A rotund man, he did not sit easily upon the horse he rode either, being bounced around even at a simple pace. Gold flashed upon his fingers and at his neck and ears, from jewellery set with carnelians, malachite and lapis lazuli.
“I see you have yet to learn to ride well, Vanas,” Ishkinil noted as the rider arrived before them.
The big man shrugged unapologetically. “I have been too busy for it to take up my time. And you, it seems, are still intent on causing trouble.”
Ishkinil responded with a faint, wry smile. “It happens. What brings you here? Did you run out of wealth to acquire out east?”
“Hardly. I raised a band of men to escort trade caravans as they traversed the wilds of the world. There are always those who seek to prey upon them and so there is good money to be made. I have become modestly comfortable as a result.”
“So I see,” Ishkinil noted dryly.
“One such journey brought us to Arin Avech, where the tyrant hired us on to help escort his army, to act as scouts and outriders. I had thought he merely wished to fight another tyrant, so I was most distressed to here that it was against my good, dear friend Ishkinil he turned his army. When he wanted cavalry to press forward to secure the water hole here I took my opportunity. Here I am not, to offer my services to you.”
“I do not think we can match what the tyrants offer as pay.”
“You wound me deeply,” Vanas responded, but his eyes shone with mirth.
Alongside Ishkinil, Shurasur cleared his throat. “You trust this man?” he asked. “A traitor once could do so again.”
“We have been through much,” Vanas said. “She killed me once and I hold no grudges.”
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“He has his faults,” Ishkinil said, “Namely his love of money and pleasure, but I trust him. Two hundred more cavalry are greatly to be welcomed.”
“Two hundred and fifty three, actually,” Vanas stated. “Come, we have a camp set up already. Let us retire there and talk.”
“I want details of the composition of Ash-Negasu's army,” Ishkinil told him. “Its status and quality and where they are.”
“Of course, of course,” Vanas replied, taking out a perfumed silk cloth to dab at his brow. “This is hardly the place to do so though.”
Ishkinil motioned for him to head on, pushing her horse into a walk again, headed for the watering hole ahead. Behind, the column of asshuri started forward again and Vanas fell in alongside Ishkinil and Shurasur. “They are far away?” Ishkinil asked.
“The main body is perhaps a day and a half away; a day if they march hard.”
“The main body?”
“We were not the only cavalry they had. There were asshuri, such as you had, two hundred strong, and perhaps three hundred more light cavalry like my men that scouted the way for the main host. Some rode much of the way here with us before turning back.”
“I see,” mused Ishkinil. She turned to Shurasur. “I want outriders scouting at all times. I don't want any surprises waiting.”
The man nodded. “We are getting too close to the enemy to let our guard down.”
They drew near to the watering hole, where the road split, a place of greenery amongst the waste. Tall trees grew around it, ones with broad branches and smaller shrubs flourished beneath them. Some bore bright flowers while other carried ripening fruits. Birds flashed around among the trees.
The road broke away to either side of the watering hole, while a path lead through the trees to the pool. Vanas' men waited in and around the trees, a mixed group of men as was befitting mercenaries, though mostly from eastern parts, and outfitted as such, with wicker shields and spears.
Vanas led the way in among the trees, and there, out of the glare of the sun, it became cooler, with the trees tall around them. The watering hole was large, constantly fed by an underground spring. Around it had been set up a small camp of simple awnings of striped colours, of whites and blues, hosted up on poles to provide some shelter. Horses were tethered nearby and a few men were at work, preparing meals, tending to horses or mending gear.
“Welcome to our humble camp,” Vanas said. “It is not up to my normal standards, but we have been pressed for time.”
“I am sure we will manage,” Ishkinil replied dryly. Her asshuri filed in behind her, dismounting from their horses, setting aside helmets and weapons, leading their horses to the watering hole to drink.
Barely had they started to get themselves settled in when one of her scouts came thundering down to the watering hole. “Riders approaching,” he announced.
“Cavalry from Ash-Negasu's army?” Shurasur asked.
The man shook his head. “No, they come from the north-west. These are Uthash's men, and there are many of them.”