Authors: Troy Denning
Ruha nodded, then pointed at the dune standing between them and the wall. “There:”
:Over the dune?” Utaiba asked.
“The dune will be gone when we get there;’ Ruha answered. “Tell your men that the witch is casting a spell. They are to follow us-no matter what:”
As Utaiba passed on the order, the witch prepared her spell. Keeping her back to the warriors, she took a small pouch from her robes, then withdrew a pinch of glittering white sand and packed it between her lower Up and teeth. It had a bitter, acrid taste that made her want to spit.
When the sheikh finished his orders and looked back to Ruha, she asked, “Are you ready?”
He drew his scimitar. “Through the wall?” Ruha nodded. “Like the wind,” she mumbled.
After whispering her incantation, the witch spit out the sand. Instead of falling to the ground, it streaked toward the wall with gathering momentum. As it picked up speed, the small torrent of sand gathered more particles. After flying twenty yards, the stream had become a raging river of tiny granules.
“What are you waiting for?” Ruha cried, pointing at the spell. “Follow it!”
His mouth hanging agape, Utaiba turned his mount toward the wall and urged it into a full gallop. Ruha did likewise, and then she heard the Raz’hadi voicing their war cries as the rest of the tribe joined the charge.
As they raced forward, Ruha watched the four sentries scurry back and forth along the wall, trying to summon help. They were too late. By the time the Zhentarim could organize a response, the Raz’hadi would be inside Orofin.
The stream of sand crossed the dune in front of the unbroken stretch of wall. The mound exploded with a ferocity that surprised even Ruha, causing a howl that echoed across the desert like the cry of Kozah himself. In an instant, the spell sucked up the entire dune and hurled it against the fortress, blasting a hole ten feet in diameter through the wall’s glazed mudbricks. The four sentries abandoned their posts and fled along the ramparts.
As Utaiba passed the place where the sand dune had been, he looked over his shoulder with a triumphant grin, screaming wildly as a cloud of brick dust and sand billowed out of the newly opened breach to engulf him. The witch rode into the gray boil an instant after Utaiba. It was only then that she realized there had been a flaw in her plan.
The silt filled her nose and throat so thickly that she felt like she had ridded into a bed of quicksand. The sand grains stung her eyes and forced her to close them, not that it mattered. Even if she had possessed the long thick eyelashes that enabled camels to see in sandstorms, she could not have seen past her Mount’s head, much less guided it through the breach. Instead, the widow simply folded herself flat against her mount’s back and trusted the beast to find its own way, hoping that the riderless camel still tethered behind her would follow.
Despite the certainty of facing combat if she made it successfully into Orofin, Ruha did not bother drawing Lander’s saber. She wore the Harper’s face, but that did not mean she possessed his skill with the sword. The long blade would only get her into trouble. Instead she placed a hand on the hilt of her jambiya, ready to draw it if need be, but equally prepared to cast a spell:
The sand stopped stinging Ruha’s face, and muffled shouts of alarm drifted to her from directly ahead. Realizing that her camel had found the breach, she opened her eyes. Utaiba’s mount was directly in front of her, charging out of the other end of the hole, a full fifteen feet ahead. As she watched, the beast bowled over a Zhentarim and bolted into the courtyard beyond.
The widow reached the end of the little tunnel a second later. A pair of Zhentarim lay directly in front of the breach, the skin stripped off their bodies by the final blast of her magical sand stream. Ruha’s mount and the riderless beast behind it jumped the corpses, then the witch guided them a few paces to the right and reined them to a halt out of the way of the warriors that she hoped would soon be pouring into the fort.
The interior of Orofin was anything but the mass of confusion Ruha had expected. The fortress was about fifty yards across, with the ruins of buildings hugging the wals. Orofin’s artesian well sat in the center of the courtyard, it’s bubbling waters filling a square basin. On each of the basin’s four sides, a small spout emptied into a water duct. Protected by a rusty steel grating, these ducts ran to the edges of the fort, each emptying into a shallow pool that fed the canals outside the fort.
Next to each pool rose a staircase that led to the ramparts. At the top of these staircases, the Zhentarim had made huge stacks of rubble, and a steady stream of blackrobed men were carrying the deadly packages to locations above the breaches that the Bedine were attacking. There they passed the bundles to men standing over the breach, who would in turn drop them onto the warriors below. To both sides of these men stood archers, who were returning the fire of the Bedine bowmen. Ruha guessed that about half of the Zhentarim force, between four and five hundred men, were engaged along the walls.
At the bottom of the wall, in each of the ten breaches that the sheikhs had selected for the attack, half-a-dozen Zhentarim armed with swords, daggers, and spears were fighting Bedine warriors. Behind them stood two dozen reinforcements, ready to take the place of any blackrobed fighter who fell. Another ten to fifteen men waited in the ruins to either side of the various melees just in case any Bedine did manage to break through.
Utaiba had already ridden his camel into the midst of one of these Zhentarim companies and dropped his reins. The sheikh was slashing .at crossbowmen while his mount kicked and bit at the astonished reinforcements. Ruha caught a glimpse of the animal’s eyes, and it seemed to her the beast was enjoying the fight as much as his rider. She searched her mind briefly for a way to aid the sheikh, then realized that any spell she cast into the melee stood as much chance of killing Utaiba as the enemy. Besides, from the looks of things, it appeared the wiry sheikh and his camel were a fine match for the shocked Black Robes.
The widow continued her survey without seeing any sign of the Zhentarim she wanted to find most: Yhekal. As the invaders’ leader, Ruha felt certain that the white-haired man had sent Bhadla to kill Lander, as well as the assassin that had tracked them to the Sister of Rains and killed Kadumi. If the Bedine accomplished nothing else by storming Orofin, she was determined to see him die.
Vengeance was not her only reason for looking for Yhekal. Ruha knew that the Zhentarim leader had used magic to enthrall her father, and she had no doubt that he could use it for other purposes as well. The sooner she eliminated him, the more likely a final Bedine victory became.
As her one uncovered eye searched for Yhekal, Ruha was surprised at how quiet the interior of Orofin seemed. Upon breaking through the fortifications, she had expected to meet a wall of arrows and a host of flashing blades. In
stead, with the Zhentarim busy at the breaches the Bedine had originally attacked, the courtyard was empty, and no one came to defend the newly opened breach.
The widow doubted that the calm would last for long. Even now, the sentries who had been guarding this section of wall were probably alerting their superiors to the breakthrough. Regardless of where Yhekal was hiding, Ruha had to take advantage of the Zhentarim’s temporary shock and open the way for more Bedine to enter Orofin.
She pulled a yellow ball of gum from her pocket and summoned an incantation to mind. She was no longer concerned about being observed using magic. In the heat of the battle, she did not think any warriors would see her casting a spell. Even if a few of them did, they would be too busy fighting to gossip with their fellows or wonder why Lander was acting so strangely.
The witch threw the sticky glob at the nearest company of Zhentarim. A sphere of orange flame erupted in the ruins and spewed into the breach the Black Robes bed been defending. A few agonized cries rang from the hole, but most of the men simply turned to ash without a sound:
Ruha watched the smoking gap for what seemed -like ages. A few charred Zhentarim staggered out of the ruing, moaning in agony and stumbling a few steps into the courtyard before they died. No Bedine warriors followed them from the blackened hole.
“What now, Lander?”
The voice startled Ruha. Drawing her jambiya, she whirled around to see a Raz’hadi warrior at her side. Behind him were two dozen more.
“Where is the rest of your tribe?” Ruha asked, frowning at the small number warriors with the man.
The warrior shrugged. “The dust was very thick. I heard many men scream as their camels hit the wall instead of running into the breach. I am sure that those who can will follow soon:’
“Let’s hope so:” Ruha pointed at Utaiba, who was still waging his solo battle-and beginning to lose. Several Zhentarim swordsmen had finally surrounded bun and his ferocious camel. “Your sheikh could use some help opening that gap. .
Ruha -had no sooner pointed out Utaiba’s position than the alarmed warriors gave a war cry and rode off to aid’ their leader. The witch looked back toward the charred ruins she had just cleared with her fireball. There was still no sign of any Bedine coming through, so she rode to the breach. When she looked into the narrow crack, she saw a nervous Bedine peering through it from the other side.
The warrior dropped his jaw in shock. “Lander?” “Come on!” Ruha snapped. “The way will never be more clear.”
A look of chagrin crossed the man’s face, then he turned and waved to the men behind him, screaming, “Follow me, Binwabi warriors!” A moment later, nearly a hundred Binwabi were pouring through the breach.
The witch heard the clacking of crossbows behind her. A dozen black bolts flashed past ‘her, and Ruha lashed her camel with its reins, urging-the beast to move quickly. She expected to feel the sharp pain of a steel shank any moment. Instead, the camel tethered behind hers roared in agony. Its knees buckled and it collapsed, causing the widow’s mount to stumble as it tried to obey her command.
The beast fell, and Ruha jumped clear, landing in the charred remains of the Zhentarim who had fallen prey to her fireball. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw several Binwabi warriors also take shelter in the ruins. The one who had led the way through the gap yelled, “Send a runner to fetch our bowmen!”
Keeping her head low, Ruha spun around to face the attack. A few yards away, two dozen Zhentarim armed with
crossbows were taking positions behind the fountain in the middle of the square. Behind them, a steady stream of Black Robes armed with sabers were charging out of a cellar to meet the Bedine breakthrough. With this second group came a man wearing a deep purple robe and silver wrist bracers. His hair and skin were as pale as salt, and his eyes were as blue as the sky.
“Yhekal!” Ruha whispered. Instantly she realized that he and `the men with him were the reinforcements Sa’ar and Utaiba had predicted would be guarding the tunnel.
The pale-skinned invader stepped over to the crossbowmen and pointed at the camel Ruha had been leading behind her mount. “The witch is under the protection of the goldhaired berrani,” he said. “She may even be invisible. Keep the Harper pinned down, and I will flush her out!”
While his men fired blindly in the general direction of the fallen camel Ruha-Lander had been riding, Yhekal stood at the edge of the fountain and began to chant. Several Binwabi warriors, fearful of the enemy’s magic, rose from behind their cover and started to run, but their flight was cut short by the enemy’s crossbows.
Ruha crouched in the ruins and collected a handful of small stones. A couple of stray quarrels passed over her head, then the Zhentarim leader completed his spell.
The blackness in Ruha’s left eye changed to a milky blur, then light began to seep in around the edges of the patch. The widow ran a hand oVer her face, and when it touched smooth skin instead of Lander’s rough beard stubble, she realized that Yhekal had dispelled her magical disguise. Ripping the patch off her eye with her free hand, Ruha muttered her own incantation and held the stones she had collected up toward the sun. As she completed the spell, they started to glow with a fiery red.
Peering over the top of the ruin, Ruha saw that the Zhentarim crossbowmen were busy reloading their weapons.
Yhekal’s blue eyes were fixed on the rubble, and his brow was furrowed in an angry frown. Behind the mage, the last of the Zhentarim reinforcements had finally left the cellar and were rushing to meet a steady flow of Raz’hadi pouring through the breach Ruha had created.
The witch stood, raising her hand to throw the glowing stones. Yhekal’s gaze shifted to her face, and the crossbowmen stared at her with slack jaws.
“You!” snarled the Zhentarim leader. “Where is the Harper?”
Ruha did not give him the satisfaction of an answer. She threw the glowing stones in his direction, then dropped back into the rubble before a crossbowman could bring his weapon to bear on her.
The stones streaked straight at Yhekal, picking up speed and trailing flame. The Zhentarim leader’s eyes widened in fear, then he dived for the well at his side.
The mage was far too slow. As he stretched out over the pool, the stones struck him square in side. He screamed in searing pain and splashed into the water head first. There was a loud hiss, then a column of vapor began billowing out of the basin.
When one of the Zhentarim warriors pulled his commander out of the pool and laid him out next to the basin, Ruha smiled. Yhekal did not move or even groan, and she could still see the sun stones glowing in the charred wound. Even if the assault on Orofin failed now, she would count it at least a partial victory. With that single spell, she had avenged the deaths of her husband, her father, her brotherin-law, and her lover.
The Binwabi warrior who had called for the archers leaped into the ruin at Ruha’s side. Studying the woman’s unveiled visage, he asked, “What magic is this, witch? What did you do with Lander?”
The invaders’ crossbows clacked again. Both Ruha and
the warrior ducked as bolts streaked over their heads, then the widow instinctively tried to cover her face. When her hand found no veil, Ruha blushed, then she reminded herself that the women in Sembia never covered their faces.