Isbibarra raised his cane and smashed it into the raider boy’s knee, knocking him to the ground. The cane shattered, leaving the blind man holding a broken handle. The bearded raider was quick to respond, grasping Isbibarra and swinging his spear around. Isbibarra raised the broken cane through the spear. As he did so, the top of the spear went flying in the other direction. Isbibarra’s broken cane continued past the bearded man’s head, cutting straight through the raider’s beard and through his neck, sending his decapitated head backward.
“Shit!” Gizzal spat. Isbibarra was still holding a piece of wood. It was the size of a small club, but Gizzal could see that it was sharp like a dagger. It was clearly thin enough to slice through the raider’s neck with ease.
The other raiders were slow to respond. As the bearded raider’s headless body fell to the ground, the old raider swung his spear over his head. Isbibarra raised his dagger as a shield, and as the raider’s spear came down it collapsed around the dagger, the spearhead bouncing harmlessly off Isbibarra’s shoulder. The old raider was unprepared for the extra momentum and fell forward. As he did so, Isbibarra plunged the dagger through the side of the raider’s skull, impaling his brain.
The raider boy staggered to his feet, only now realizing that his companions were dead, their bodies still falling to the floor. Isbibarra flicked his hand, flinging the dagger toward the boy. In shock, the boy lifted his bronze shield to his jaw. The dagger pierced the shield but was stopped by its hilt. The boy eyed the dagger as he attempted to raise his repeating crossbow with his free hand. But the boy stood lopsided.
Before the boy could gather himself, Isbibarra slammed into the shield. The weight of the shield proved too much for the boy. The shield collapsed against his body, bringing the dagger with it as it pierced his neck. The boy collapsed immediately, his blood pooling on the ornate rug below them.
In but a moment, Gizzal now stood alone with Isbibarra. Three raiders were dead or dying.
As the boy lay writhing on the ground, Isbibarra reached for the boy’s repeating crossbow. The asymmetrical bow wobbled slightly in Isbibarra’s hands. Isbibarra moved back to the entrance and shot several bolts, shooting wildly but hitting the older woman raider in the chest twice. She grunted and fell to the ground, dropping her scimitar as she did so. Gizzal hadn’t even heard her coming.
Isbibarra stood alone surrounded by four bodies now, holding a small wooden dagger in one hand and the repeating bow in the other. With Isbibarra standing still, Gizzal could see how smoothed and incredibly sharp the dagger appeared. It had to have been hidden within Isbibarra's cane. As Gizzal appreciated the sight, Isbibarra raised the repeating bow toward the upper half of the tarp on his right, releasing several more bolts toward the sky. Gizzal heard a grunt, and the young raider girl fell through the tarp with several bolts through her head and groin. Isbibarra didn’t even turn his head as the sun's rays coated the once-darkened tent.
“Was that six?” Isbibarra asked. He still held his bow outwards, tense from the fight and coated in blood.
Gizzal was in shock. He was splattered with blood himself, perhaps even a little of the older raider’s brain. All he could muster was a beleaguered “Huh?”
“No, that was five.” Isbibarra moved to Gizzal, grabbing his shoulder. “We must find the sixth.”
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Gizzal, though naked and covered in blood, complied. He followed without thinking. Isbibarra shoved him through the tarp, forcing him through the ridge of the dune. Gizzal saw the healer lying crooked next to the campfire but caught little else. If the last raider was hiding amongst the livestock on the ridge, it would be impossible for him to tell.
“He’s running,” Isbibarra said. “He tripped and rolled down the dunes. I cannot tell where he is in the sand." Gizzal wasn’t sure what the blind man meant, but he wasn’t in a place to argue. He was simply pushed along as Isbibarra led him back to their camel. As Gizzal stood, his eyes looking out over the horizon, Isbibarra reached for his longbow dangling off the back of his camel.
“I am sure you have many thoughts about all this," Isbibarra said. "Just know this: if the boy escapes, we will be dead before moonfall. I can use a bow on solid ground, but I cannot see past the sand. If you can tell me where he is, I can do the rest. For both of our sakes, will you help me?”
Gizzal nodded blindly. His thoughts were preoccupied with the blistering sun on his pale and exposed skin. But he understood Isbibarra's concerns.
Isbibarra shoved him past the livestock to the ridge. Gizzal got a closer look at his longbow. It was of magnificent length, longer than he was tall, and carved with the same darkened wood as Isbibarra's dagger. Isbibarra pulled back his drawstring, bringing forth an exceptionally large arrow. He was nocked.
“He is moving too fast now, but he will slow once he has to go uphill. Tell me when that happens. Can you do that?”
Gizzal looked out over the edge of the ridge. The dunes stretched for leagues, he could see where they faded into the flatness of the Eivettä but that was barely in his periphery. Only now did he realize how much this dune towered above the others. He looked down, spotting a lone figure tumbling down the slope. It was the young boy who had laughed as Gizzal was thrown off his camel. He was running blindly into oblivion. Isbibarra aimed his longbow at the boy. His angle was off slightly, but it was steady and strong.
“Any moment now.”
Gizzal observed the boy as he continued downward. It was a steep slope, perhaps two hundred meters. Very briefly, Gizzal imagined the boy crying as he fell over himself.
Then Gizzal’s thoughts returned to the boy’s mocking laugh. How happy he was to see him captured. Gizzal was not a slave. His name still meant something. He was smarter and more cunning than any raider. He would never be ‘aslavgagt.’
The boy reached the bottom of the valley and tripped over himself as he attempted to scale the adjacent dune. He slipped as sand collapsed around his ankles.
“Now,” Gizzal said.
Isbibarra’s arrow launched from his longbow. A bird’s cry shrieked as the arrow glided down the dune and landed in the center of the boy’s spine. The boy, who had been only a meter above the valley, collapsed into the sand.
Isbibarra grunted. “Did I hit?”
“Yeah.”
“Good.” Isbibarra relaxed the string of his bow. “In time, move the body up the slopes. I will move the healer into the tent before the sun kills him."
“Okay…” normally the Head would argue with someone so blatantly giving him orders, but he was wise enough to suspect that now wasn’t the most appropriate time. “What makes me think you won't kill me when I go down?”
“If I wanted you dead, Digram Gizzal, you would be dead.”
“Then why not?”
Isbibarra hesitated before placing the dagger in his belt sheath. “As soon as you bring the raider’s body here, I will bind you again. You are welcome to take your chances in the desert, but I doubt you know which way to go. You are almost certain to be captured again. But before you run off you must know this: those raiders had no intention to sell you as a slave. They called you an elephant. Do you know what these raiders do to elephants? Ask yourself where all the bones came from.”
Gizzal realized then that maybe some of the rumors were true after all. He inquired no more.