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the Hill Raiders came from the south. We know it s Tarkir s spawn, the
infernal Lucial, you pray to now."
"That s not true!"
A sound in the distance caused both men to hesitate and exchange glances.
"Raiders. Coming back," Enar said in a hushed voice.
Gilby nodded. "For her."
"Then we ll give her to em."
Khamsin screamed as they grabbed her. She flung her arms wildly in an effort
to break free of their hold, even if only for a short time. It was all she
would need to summon an elemental, something she would never have done in the
village before. But the village no longer existed. And the men who roughly
held her small body had every intention of killing her.
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Desperately she shoved against them. Gilby stumbled and her left hand was
free. She cupped it against her chest quickly then flung it outwards,
screaming the incantation at the top of her lungs. Flames like fireflies
danced on the ground around Gilby s boots. The thin Coveman tripped on his own
feet as he scrambled backwards.
"You filthy bitch!" Enar slapped her hard across the face and this time it
was Khamsin who stumbled, wrenching her arm as the stocky man still grasped
her firmly. He threw her to the ground face down and clamped his boot hard
against her back. He grabbed first one wrist, then another. She cried out as
he forced her arms backwards, almost pulling them out of their sockets.
"Scream, witch!" he bellowed as he lashed her hands together. "Scream while
you die!"
"Enar!" It was Gilby. He clawed at the older man s trouser leg. "They re
almost here!"
The sound of hoof beats was getting closer.
The Coveman stood tensely for a moment, hatred glittering in his dark eyes.
Then he spat on the ground. "Come on!" he ordered gruffly, grabbing Turpin by
the scruff of his neck. "Gilby, take his arms. Let s get out of here." The men
ran, dragging a limping Turpin between them.
Chapter 5
Khamsin lay sobbing in the dirt and stones, her arms aching. Her mouth tasted
of dust and blood. She cried out for Tanta Bron, her voice like a child in
pain. She d lost her home, her husband and friends, her sister-in-law and all
that she cherished. She was beaten and accused of sorcery. Terrorized. Damned.
And today was the day she was to turn eighteen years old.
She cried til her voice was hoarse and choking, then cried some more. Her
body was vaguely aware of the thudding of hooves coming nearer. The riders
that Enar had seen. Hill Raiders.Let them kill me, she pleaded inwardly.Let
them slash and mutilate my body. I have nothing, nothing. Am nothing, anymore.
Tears spilled down her cheeks as she slitted open her eyes. The ground
trembled beneath her face and she saw the spindly but powerful legs of horses
slashing through her field of vision. One horse drew nearer, no, two. Maybe
more. She could no longer count legs, make sense of what her stinging eyes
told her. She tensed her body, the Supplications to Her Goddess echoing
through her mind in a senseless litany.
For protection, I beseech you.
For guidance, I entreat you.
For protection...
Someone shouted. It sounded like the Olde Language. Bronya had used those
words. But when? Where? And who but a Raheiran would speak&
The Sorcerer. Raheiran was the language of all magicks. She would finally
hear his voice, calling her true name.
But she heard nothing, save for her rasping breath and the distant crackle of
burning timbers. Everything was silent again. If not for the pain coursing
through her limbs, she would have thought she was dead.
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Someone touched her, grabbed her shoulders. She no longer cared to fight. She
let her body go limp and unyielding.
Let it be done. Let it be over with.
Her hands were untied but still she didn t move, didn t resist even when she
was turned, slowly, onto her back. She let her head fall to one side. She
hiccoughed spasmodically.
At the sound of her own name she opened her eyes.
"Khamsin? Lady Khamsin?"
She looked up, expecting for all the world to see the hideous countenance of
the Sorcerer, or the fierce face of a South Land Hill Raider. And saw only the
pale eyes of Rylan the Tinker. Her swollen lips mouthed his name.
He shook his head then murmured something she couldn t hear. She tried again
to speak but he silenced her, his finger to his lips.
The last thing she remembered was being lifted into his arms.
Then cool water was placed against her face. She opened her eyes. A gaily
striped awning formed a partial roof overhead, framed by brown, green and
golden leaves beyond. A faint glow of orange told her it was near morning. The
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