A Lightning-Quick Arrow [FoT]

Much as the Sun cast his gaze upon the earth, Zubaidah was casting her gaze upon the map Bahadur had given her. She had known the location for some time, but business had kept her from investigating the site. Well, if she were being honest, she did not investigate because she still had her reservations about Bahadur. She had no excuses anymore, however, since she was free for the most part and, more importantly, close to the location.

She was not greeted with pleasantries when Sirrush arrived. She had not expected them, true, but Zubaidah was ever hopeful that her life was not made more complicated than it was already. Instead, she heard shouts and arrows upon the wind, carried from the canyon that was her destination. Zubaidah had expected that more, even if she loathed to admit it. After all, when was there not conflict in these times?

Sirrush carried Zubaidah above the stones and shadows of the canyon below, tracing the whistle of arrow and bow-string. As she listened closely, she was able to ascertain the arrows’ direction in some rough fashion, moving closer and closer to the ever-louder whistling ahead. Zubaidah then drew her reins tight as she neared their location, lowering Sirrush onto the mountain-side, and dismounted. She would have to walk into the canyon on foot, lest an arrow make her its quiver.

It seemed that the shooting was close ahead, just around the brush-covered shoulder of a rocky hill, but the shouting was less frequent. Zubaidah guessed that both hunters and hunted were under cover, and thus could aim but sparse pot-shots at one another's refuge.

To come upon them directly, down the trail around the bottom of the canyon, would have been to expose himself to the fire of one side, and possibly of both sides. After all, in this untamed and ravenous land, it was easily conceivable that both sides of the conflict might represent interests adverse to those of herself and the Ash Company. With this idea in mind, one hand upon her spear, she made cautious progress along a steep outcrop that would hide herself from view - and stray arrows.

From the shouts and whistles, her ears trained, Zubaidah had deduced that five or even six bowmen were involved in the conflict. As for how they were divided? She could not even guess. To find out, she would have a look over the crest of the mountainside and, if the affair was none of her business, she would let them fight it out by themselves.


And so, climbing as noiselessly as possible and keeping her spear-head in front of herself, she came presently to the crest of a narrow ridge surrounded with thick bushes. She pushed her way cautiously through the brush toward the opposite side, passing around what few rocks or bushes that barred her progress. In time, however, the brush grew thinner. Indeed, it became thin enough that she could see the opposite wall of the canyon.

A sharp whistle sounded close below her, just over the brow of the ridge. Between herself and the brow was a huge rock showing its weather-worn surface from the cliff-face twenty feet above the brush. Sure that it could cover her, she crept towards this until she lay concealed behind. She peered around its cover once she thought it was safe, looking for the parties involved in the conflict.

There were five men at the canyon’s base, wearing black and crimson garments. As she looked closer, she realised that they wore the insignia of the Blood Camels. Could it be that there was a turf-war between them and some other bandit faction? A few paces from herself was the sixth man, alone, sprawled upon his front, bow drawn tight. She could not see his face, hidden beneath the mountain’s shade, but Zubaidah saw that he was dressed in Parthevian fashion. At first, she thought that he might be a Parthy Toad, but she saw no such evidence of insignia or anything else.

She watched him for a moment. She saw that the Camels were doing all the firing, and wondered whether the man was already dead. He did not move at all.

One man then advanced from cover, moving under the rapid-fire of his four fellows, nearing the sixth man’s position. Another followed him, motioning that the three remaining should continue, covering the advance of them both.

The two men were working their way across the canyon, taking advantage of every bush and rock. They were quite close to the hiding place of the sixth man now. In another moment, he would be beset with their fire from all directions.

The man smiled and leapt to his feet, slinging his bow round his back. As he fastened his quiver onto his belt, he moved towards Zubaidah, waving at her with an unusual cheeriness. Curious but suspicious, Zubaidah moved towards him as well, but kept him a few metres away, her spear in hand.

‘Who might you be?’

‘You must be Zubaidah then.’ She tensed on reflex when he spoke her name, uncertain whether he was friend or foe, ‘And I say again:’ Her hand tightened around her spear, raise slightly in a defensive stance, ‘Who might you be?’

‘Take it easy, lady. I’m not an enemy. I’m just a traveller.’

‘The name’s Yahya.’ He was too nonchalant to be foe, but he gave no reassurance that he was a friend either. ‘Now then, Yahya,’ She raised her spear higher, showing that she was not satisfied with just his name. ‘Tell me where you are from, and why you know my name.’

‘The second part’s easy.’

‘Everyone has heard the tales, you know?’

‘What tales?’

‘The ones about helping out communities and handing off fashion here?’

‘You are a terrible liar.' She pointed her spear square at his chest, intent on skewering him through. ‘I can see right through you.’

‘I have not made that second part public yet.’

‘I have kept it a private affair until all parties have agreed.’

‘Since you have no relations to my business-partners, I can only assume that you are some corporate spy or other.’

‘So answer me my question:’ Her tongue seemed just as sharp as her spear in this matter. ‘Where are you from?’

‘Fine, fine!’

‘I’m from Amakh, alright, so don’t - ’ Zubaidah was taken aback, lowering her spear and closing the distance towards him. ‘Amakh?!’ She looked Yahya all over, examining his garb and bow, before stepping a safe distance back again.

‘No, you must be lying again.’

‘You just said you could see through - ’ She cut his talk in half with a short and off-putting question. ‘Do you know Kut?’ As she stared at him, the small and involuntary movements he made were confirmation enough. ‘You aren’t lying…’

‘How did you know - ’ She smiled on the inside, for she had honed her skills much as a hunter would on wild beasts - as in, she had interrogated more men than she cared to admit. ‘You’re a terrible liar, I told you.’

‘So then…’

‘You must be a Hashashin.’

‘You catch on quick, lady, don’t you?’

‘I can’t entirely believe it, if I'm being honest.’ Even as she came to the realisation, she could not believe it entirely, ‘I can’t believe that you lot are still around.’

‘We never went anywhere.’ His eyes wandered towards the horizon, inviting Zubaidah to follow his gaze. ‘Literally…’ Her thoughts were spurred when she remembered what Kut had mentioned about the Hashashins being absent. ‘What do you mean by that?’

A sharp whistle, like an owl screeching in the night-time, caught both Yahya and Zubaidah's attention.

‘Come by Amakh sometime.’

‘Where are you going?’

‘You heard that whistle, right?’ He looked around, brushing away any marks he might have made within the dust, ‘Means it’s time for me to return.’

‘To Amakh?’

‘Yeah.’ As he looked behind himself, almost as if considering where would be the best exit-point, he paused and smiled at Zubaidah, ‘Listen, since you know Kut, you’re sure to stop by eventually.’ He flicked some red liquid from his satchel onto the ground, mixing it in the dirt in several places. ‘If you do, ask around for me.’

‘There’s a few of us who want more for Parthevia too.’

‘Why not - ’ Without a word more, he leapt off the cliff-side with a sudden jump, a rope-dart securing his fall, and shouted back, ‘Sorry, gotta go!’

As she was left confused, Zubaidah was almost caught unawares when she looked towards where Yahya had disappeared. She could see some tents at the bottom of the canyon, hidden from view before, looking like stains on white parchment. She had thought that the area around the mountains was devoid of life, but there was a small and messy camp built upon the flatlands nestled between the canyon. If she had any guesses, they must have belonged to the Blood Camels, since they sported the same colours. In order to find out its purpose, she would have to examine the scene.

Zubaidah ventured down the slopes, pushing through brush and pine-trees, until she stood just outside the abandoned camp. She did not continue further, however, since she realised that she was not alone at the Blood Camel camp. Indeed, she could hear the sounds of some other visitor, not human but animal.

Crouching within the brush, Zubaidah stared into the camp and looked for signs of movement. She stared for some time, cautious but interested, until her eyes grew tired from the overbearing heat. As she reached for a sip of water, however, Zubaidah saw a tail and some sparks flash towards the eastern side. Now alert, she crept nearer and more of the animal came into sight. It looked as though it were a Barq cheetah, a native of Parthevian lands, who had taken over the camp.

As she watched onwards, however, Zubaidah realised that the poor animal was limping. Looking closer, it seemed that its leg had been wounded and trailed blood onto the dusty ground. If the arrows upon the ground were related, which they were most likely to have been, she would guess that the Blood Camels had been the culprits.

Now she was not one with a soft heart, but Zubaidah could not help but feel she should tend it. As her arm rustled within the bushes, however, the cheetah caught wind of her and moved away from her in a half-hearted Speed Up. It ran out of sight with lightning-quick speed, away from the eastern entrance, allowing Zubaidah the freedom to move into the camp that it had been patrolling before.

As she entered, mindful that the cheetah might return, Zubaidah used the opportunity to gather whatever the Blood Camels had left, notes or otherwise. She knew that Bahadur had worked with them in some manner, and she was curious about how far he had been involved. Moreover, she wondered whether the Blood Camels had stolen the reward she had been promised by Bahadur, since their camp was laid over the destination marked upon her treasure-map of sorts.

As she entered their last and largest tent, however, Zubaidah was proven to not be far-off in the guesswork. Inside was a beautiful tree surrounded with spades and ditches, as if the Blood Camels had tried excavating the roots from the hard earth. If they had tried, they had certainly not been successful. In front of the tree, however, was the Barq cheetah. It was poised in a defensive position, as if protecting the tree from Zubaidah.

Wait, as if protecting the tree?

It all made sense now!, she thought to herself. It was obvious that the cheetah had been protecting the tree from the newly-built Blood Camel camp. For whatever reason, they had found out and set their sights upon Bahadur’s rewards, which must have been the tree itself. When they had begun their excavations, the cheetah had chased them away and been wounded in the process. Where then did Yahya fit into the equation? Was he protecting the tree as well, or was he some outlier? She was uncertain, but she would ponder those questions afterwards.

She began approaching the tree first, hoping to prove her hypothesis. As she did so, Zubaidah was met with growls and eyes glaring at her spear-head. When she understood this, she dropped her spear onto the ground and stepped away from it, as if at a border-gate security check. The cheetah stopped growling in turn, but did not cease their defensive stance. Realising that she had not fully earned its trust, however, Zubaidah took out her flute and began playing a solemn tune. It was sweet but sad, earning a whimper from the cheetah, but it was soothing more than anything. Indeed, after a few seconds, it had fallen into Nap Time.

Although she was reluctant, Zubaidah knew that she should take part of the tree as proof of Bahadur’s trial. She did not know how he might use it in her reward, but she was eager to leave the Bar cheetah in peace. As such, she cut a branch off and whistled for Sirrush, loading the wood onto its back. Hoping not to wake the animal up, Zubaidah left without delay and no further glance towards the Blood Camel camp. It was time that Bahadur answer for what all the hassle was.