A Desert Tale - Slave Actress Sex Story

[The Sexy Patriot]

This day was a particularly hot one, temperature soaring faster than the quickest of birds could race across the sky. The day was proving to quickly be one that could not be at all merciful. Yet the hour was young, perhaps no more than two hours past daybreak. It would indeed be another miserable day.

A single woman strays from the confines of that which would shelter from the wicked desert heat. Even the desert animals, so used to the heat of this land, could not be seen. Yet one woman, clad in a light, airy dress, yet completely covered, manages to brave the elements and emerge from a tent.

Her eyes were dark set and squinted, as if surveying the land around her. The land sweltered, the waves of heat making the landscape appear to be under water. She stood, quietly watching, as if waiting for someone or some thing to approach. The thought itself seemed unimaginable, for anything to be moving in this heat was most unlikely.

Her hand rose, sheltering her eyes from the sun's vicious rays. She knelt to the sand, placing a gloved hand down to touch the ground below her feet. Her head tilted slightly and she listened to every sound around her. Hearing minute sounds was easy on a day such as this, where nothing else would move and the heat would carry the slightest of sounds across great distances. And that is when she heard it.

At first, it was barely more than a steady murmur, the rhythmic pattern of feet upon the sand. Slowly though, the sound gained strength and within a few moments, the skyline was dotted with shapeless forms. The forms would, of course gain the shape within the next hour or so that it would take for the riders to reach the camp. The woman, now knowing that the return of the riders was eminent, returned to the tent she had emerged from to busy herself once more with her task for the day.

Soon enough, the once near inaudible sounds strengthened to a mighty thunder against the ground. The riders had returned to the camp, some of the mounts without their riders, others toting injured men. Before the cloud of dust around the men and animals could settle, the camp had come alive with people. Some rushed for water, others for medical supplies, and still others to help the injured to a quiet place to rest, where their injuries could be treated. And the woman sat, watching the chaos with a noticeable concern on her brow. This was not the first time that the riders had come back in such a manner.

The concern lifted quickly when the animals were lead to their posts. From amidst the chaos, she saw the figure she had quietly waited for. He, the one that kept her up at night, worrying about whether or not he would return from another one of his raids, finally emerged from the cloud of dust. His wounds seemed worse this time, but for some reason unknown to anyone, he was still able to walk.

He shrugged off those that would come to his side and try to bandage him. He pushed aside the women that would bid him to rest so that they could tend to his wounds. His pace was steady, his eyes dark and menacing and his resolve undeniably strong. He did not stop until he reached the woman's tent. And there it was that, for only the briefest of moments, his legs shook and his demeanor of strength had nearly crumbled.

The woman waved her hand, as if to rid herself from those around her. The task she had been busying herself with was all too obvious now. She was preparing a salve, readying a bowl of water and ensuring that a make shift bed had been set up. She had become all too accustomed to patching his wounds and ensuring that he would heal properly and fully. She was thankful for the months of training she had to endure for this very task.

And as if it were a pattern, he stumbled to the bed and stood, wavering. She let the sides of the tent down and watched as he crumpled to his knees, then to the bed. Quietly, she moved to his side and began to pull away his torn clothing. Each piece was tossed aside, knowing that it would have to be cleaned and mended later. For now, his wounds were that which needed to be mended.

She watched as his eyes flickered, then closed. He was tired; the ride had only worsened the wounds. She didn't want to imagine the battle that caused these gashes and cuts, she was just glad that he had returned to her once more. She reached over to a stack of towels beside the bed and, one at a time, began wetting them and washing away the dust, sand and blood. Towel after towel hit the ground beside her, until he and his rather large wounds were cleaned.

Quietly, she sutured his wounds closed while he slipped in and out of consciousness. He wasn't feverish; he had just lost quite a bit of blood. Her concerns weren't rising though; she had seen this from him on more than one occasion. Once his wounds were closed, she carefully applied the salve, and then wrapped the wounds in clean gauze. All that could be done now was to wait out the night and hope for a quick recovery.

As he slept, she set out the bloodied towels and his torn clothing. She knew that someone would come by soon enough to remove them. She then, like so many nights before, sat at his bedside with plenty of water and food, waiting for him to wake.

The night was just as vicious as the day was, in more ways that she could have imagined. The men had ridden a full day's ride to get back to the camp, and it showed on their faces. The slaves busied themselves with preparing food and drink for the men, yet the woman still sat at the bedside. The men feasted and drank their fill, carrying slaves off to tents in celebration, yet the noise of the outside activities of the camp didn't even stir him from his sleep. She had become accustomed to this; it was not the first time it had happened.

As the fires of the celebration had simmered down to a dull roar, she left his side long enough to ensure that things had been picked up around the camp. Seeing that it wasn't an entire disaster area, as the noise would have lead her to believe, she returned to his side to wait. She could only have guessed what he did this time, what marvelous journey he went on, what great enemies he smote... what horrid things he wouldn't speak of, even if he were awake. But that would have to wait until after he had rested.

She almost caught herself drifting off to a sleep, having sat by the bedside for what seemed like hours. It was hours too, before the noise of someone approaching the camp woke her. She jolted herself awake with the sudden disturbance and nearly leapt out of the tent. Control was something she had though, control of her senses, control of her mind. She quietly exited the tent, but not before picking up a crossbow that sat near the exit.

She knew she would only have one shot... and it had better hit. If it didn't hit, she didn't know if she would have time to warn the camp. Yet, her intent was fixated on stopping the noise that approached the camp. She crept around the tent, slipped in between two other tents and came to a stop, crossbow drawn and ready when the noise stopped. The beast that had created the noise stood, not ten feet from her. The man sitting upon the beast merely shook his head at her as he slid out of the saddle.

It was probably more luck of hers than she thought, but the moons shining down brightly above her illuminated the figure that she nearly shot. All she could do was silently curse at herself for being caught off guard. As the man pulled down his sand scarf, she just all but threw the crossbow at his head. She still had that control issue... and she wasn't going to show that she was angry with him for scaring her like that.

The man was a Bakah man who she had, on many times, met with under the eyes of only the mother and the father. His description could only be fitting of a tribesman, for he stood easily a foot taller than her, two shades darker than her own skin color, with black hair and the same intense eyes of many of the men she admired in her life. And, almost on cue, he set his eyes on her. The instant that he looked at her, she lowered the crossbow and spoke to him, though nothing much above a whisper. She didn't want to wake the camp. His retorts and responses were almost as quiet as her speech was.

"What are you doing here, Tribesman?"

"I came to ensure that none were killed... and to have another discussion with you."

"You can't be here now. If they knew you were here, it would most certainly cause a disturbance."

"It doesn't matter, Lady... I came to speak to you and we will speak now."

Her eyes lowered slightly before she finally consented to speak to him. She dropped the crossbow into the sand and walked to the side of the beast on which he sat. She reached her hand up to him and, with a swift and effortless movement; he pulled her up onto the back of the kaiila and set her behind him. The winds pushed a slight bit of sand over the top of the crossbow as the beast rode away.

They hadn't ridden more than a mile when she began to notice that she had forgotten to grab her cloak before she had left camp. The desert, while blistering hot in the sun's caress, was bone-chilling cold once the sun rested and the moons shone down. The winds snapped against her thin covering just enough to ensure that she felt the chill of the night, and her body trembled from the cold. He had noticed her shivers and stopped the beast that they rode upon.

He turned in the saddle, the beast standing quietly and unmoving, and he looked at her. It was obvious that she wasn't going to say anything about the cold, but being a man of the desert, he knew what she was feeling. He pulled off the sleeveless, hood desert cloak that he wore and wrapped her in it. She spoke a quiet "thank you," then he lifted her chin and looked her in the eyes. He was ready to speak to her, and he wanted her to pay attention to what he would say at this meeting.

"The desert is not a friendly place, Lady. What are you doing out here, when you should be behind the walls of a city where you are safe?"

"The desert may not be a friendly place, but it is my home and I must stand at my Pasha's side no matter where he goes."

"Your Pasha fights against the Tajuks this trip out. That tribe is nothing more than a lot of murderous savages. They have no true alliance, but they fight for the Aretai, at their side... their left flank."

"He hasn't had the chance to tell me who they were fighting this time. I am just there to make sure that camp runs smoothly, and to patch his wounds when he returns to me."

The man looked at her, his eyes did not lie. He was concerned for her safety, as he had always been when she left the city and rode at the side of her Pasha. He pulled a bit tighter on the burnoose sitting on her shoulders, feeling a wind snapping around and shook his head as he began to speak again.

"Lady... this is not a place for you to play nursemaid. This is war and you are a liability. If the Aretai find you, they'll use you against him."

She shook her head at him, she didn't want to believe what he was saying and, as many other free women, she thought herself to be ten foot tall and completely invincible. Her stubbornness wouldn't let her see that he was probably speaking the truth. She didn't want to be stuck behind the walls of a city when the world around her was so full of life.

"I'll be fine, you'll see. You have always been too concerned about me. Nothing will happen."

He didn't believe her, of course. History was doomed to eventually repeat itself, and he knew what happened to her the last time that she thought everything was fine. The last time she declared that everything was all right, she found herself kidnapped and taken off to some place in the North. But he wasn't going to mention that one, again.

"We'll see Lady... but if you insist on being out here, staying in that camp while your Pasha is out battling, know that someone will be watching you. Just beware of the foreigners that enter this land. They will come, searching you out to speak to you. Believe nothing that they say..."

She had no doubt about the words that he spoke. She had already heard rumors of the foreigners entering the land, and she knew that the time would come when she would have to make a stand against them. She just wasn't ready to yet.

With the last words that he said, he turned back around in the saddle and urged the beast that they were still perched upon to make way back toward the camp. She rode behind him, quietly thinking about what he had said. The words stung her brain and she couldn't help but think... what if he was right. What if they found her... what if the Aretai came for her. She didn't want to think about what would happen.

The rest of the ride back to camp left her feeling somewhat hollow inside. She chewed on the words that he had said, cringing as they left a sting in the back of her throat. She didn't know exactly what would happen while she was out on her little adventure in the desert. All she knew was that she had to stand at her Pasha's side and be there for him, no matter what.

She didn't want to tell the man that though. She didn't want to seem defiant, at least... not yet she didn't. But she also did not want to seem weak. She wasn't stupid, she had a natural fear of the unknown, but it was also a sort of excitement to her. Everything was too fantastic for her to believe. She wanted to go out and conquer the world... or at least her fears. That would be enough for her. Her mind reeled with thoughts as the kaiila that they rode on stopped at the entrance to the camp.

He turned and looked at her, her eyes almost seemed glazed over for the briefest of moments with the thoughts that were racing through her mind. But the sudden stop of the beast brought her back to reality rather abruptly. She felt his eyes on her and she almost wanted to look at the saddle instead of him. But he caught her eyes and instead, she fixated her gaze on him.

"You have been returned to your camp... just remember what I have told you. Beware of the foreigners, for they will be more deadly than any Aretai you would meet in this desert."

She nodded as she slid down out of the saddle. She pulled off the burnoose and handed it back up to him, then crouched down and picked up the sand swept crossbow. He pulled back on the reigns of the beast and it turned to leave the camp. She stood in the entrance of the camp, holding the crossbow tightly to her as he and his beast moved out of sight.

As she returned to her tent, she noticed the setting of the moons. The sun would be rising soon, yet the camp was still quiet. The celebration from the night before must have left the men more exhausted than they realized. But she knew that soon, the camp would come to life around her. Yet it was not the quietness of the camp that had her worried. It was still the words that she had heard, the things told to her about the foreigners. She wondered if she should tell her Pasha.

As she slipped back into her tent, she set the crossbow down and returned to his side. He didn't seem to be in pain now. He looked like he was resting peacefully. She almost thought that she would be able to close her eyes and rest. However, rest would not come to her this very early morning, as just as her eyes began to close, the first sounds of movement outside of her tent sprang to life. The camp would, once again be awakened for another day.

It didn't take long for the camp to come bustling to life. The sounds of the slaves around the camp quickly prompted others to wake with a morning's freshness. Soon enough, the unmistakable aroma of food cooking drifted into every tent in the camp. And she sat, still watching over the resting man at her side. She wondered when he would wake; he had looked so exhausted when he rode into camp the day prior. It couldn't be as bad as she had originally thought, as his wound was not seeping and his fever had went down during the night.

Perhaps only an hour had passed when his eyes first cracked open. He looked groggy, washed out. It was obvious that he had a long battle the day prior, and it became more evident when he fully opened his eyes and tried to move. The first grunt of discomfort he let out, and she was coaxing him to lie back down. The last thing she wanted was to have him popping a suture, or worse... actually walking around without at least getting something in him.

After a brief interlude, which concluded rather quickly with a sighed "fine," he relented to lying back on the bed. Once she was certain he wasn't going to move, she slipped out of the tent to go get him something to eat and drink. There was no way she was going to have him out and gallivanting around while he was still healing. She thought, just as she stepped out of the tent, she heard him try to get up again. The attempt was quickly foiled when she opened the canvas up and looked inside at him.

She maneuvered her way around slaves busied with morning chores, passed a group of men that were involved in their conversations of war and found her way to the supply tent. A few moments after entering the tent, she had emerged with a basket with fruit and a bottle of water in it. He was going to eat something, even if it killed him. And the thought in her head at that time was... he had better eat, or she might make him wish he were dead with the verbal lashing that she would give him.

She opened the canvas again, this time bearing fruits and water only to stop and shake her head. She couldn't believe that he had actually gotten out of bed and was getting dressed. She was fairly certain that the man would never learn, no matter how much she pleaded or yelled. But she was definitely going to try.

"For Priest Kings' sakes Shaheen! Do you have to be so stubborn, or can you, just for once in your life, listen instead of being such a thick-headed pain?"

That was the sound of a not-very-happy woman, resonating very clearly across the camp. The entire of the activity of the camp seemed to come to a screeching halt when the yell came out of the tent. It was obvious that she was upset. She was more concerned than upset, but it came across as either way when she yelled. Thus, their first discussion since his return began.

"Yes woman, I do have to be this stubborn. Do you have a problem with it?"

He was obviously not in the mood for her antics today. She didn't really care either. She was already worried and upset about other things, and his need to be up and moving around after coming in like he had the day before had just set her into a near frenzy. She could feel her irritation growing. Thus, a very typical argument between the two of them went racing off.

"You are hurt, you came in hurt... and you have to be up and around, before even eating anything?"

"Yes, I do have to be up and around. There are things that have to be done."

"Well, not before you eat something and at least give your body a chance to heal some more. What would you tell me, if it were me in that situation?"

His eyes went dark. His inherent Taharic nature seemed to rise from him as he went from the caring Free Companion to the stubborn Kavar Pasha. He stood, rising to his full height, which was easily a head taller than her. He stretched out, she cringed as she thought about a suture popping, and he looked down at her with the deep-set, intense brown eyes that she was used to seeing set upon others. His voice never rose as he spoke though.

"It is time for me to return to my men... there are things that have to be done before we can leave this place, and I do not have time to argue about it."

She wasn't going to take that for an answer though, no matter how much she wanted to back away from him at this point. She wanted to run out of the tent and away from the camp when he looked at her like that, but she knew that she had to stand her ground this time. She had to talk to him, she had to tell him what she had learned... but she wasn't going to try and compete for the time if he were truly busy. Instead, she just quietly set the basket with the fruit and water in it on a table in the tent, and then stepped outside.

[The Sexy Patriot]

People's heads seemed to turn as she exited the tent. It was more than apparent that they had been listening, but no one wanted to step in between the two of them when they started to argue like that. She didn't even bother to acknowledge anyone either, passing kneeling slaves as she stormed out of camp. She was so furious with him, and she was fairly convinced that he didn't care about any sort of reason that she might have to be upset. She just wanted him to listen to her for a change, and maybe understand her. But that wasn't going to happen this morning; that much was certain in her mind.

She paced outside of the camp, like a sleen waiting in a pit. Her eyes were the only things that showed her anger though, as the veil covered the rest of her face. She was enraged, her pacing quickening as she could hear him leave the tent and head toward the men. She was angry with herself for showing her attachment so openly, yet again.

As she heard him begin his morning speech with the men, it just infuriated her more. She didn't want to be able to hear anything he was saying at the moment, all she wanted to do was leave. She didn't want to care, nor anything else that involved any sort of emotion that she might harbor inside of her. The morning sun was still slowly rising, and she knew that she could go for a walk to calm down. It was not proper for her to be acting this way, and she knew it.

And the sands left the only clue as to where she had went. But the constantly blowing breeze in the desert this morning slowly washed even that sign away. She walked until she couldn't see the camp any longer, then walked for at least twenty minutes after that. She wanted to be far enough away that she could yell and scream without being stopped. She thought she had gotten that far away too, when she dropped herself down into the sand and closed her eyes. She thought no one was around, until she heard the distinct footfalls of a kaiila.

Her head turned just enough and her eyes opened barely in time to see a kaiila on the horizon. As quickly as she saw it though, it disappeared once more. She couldn't even be alone in the middle of the desert. She knew who was watching her, and that angered her more. He had to send men, instead of himself. She wasn't going to go with them this time though. If he came near her, she silently vowed to herself, he would be walking back to camp alone.

Within a few minutes time, the predictability of the man had yet again come to pass. This was one of her favorite men to evade... he was much slower than many of the others, and easily sidestepped if she so chose to make it so. She wasn't quite sure why Shaheen insisted on sending his stupidest man to bring her in; it was obvious that the man was rather slow in the uptake, at least from her perspective. As he approached, she could hear him speaking.

"It's time to go back M'Lady. You know that he'll be wanting to speak with you soon."

"Here's a thought, Talal... why don't you go back to camp and tell him that when he wants to speak with me, he can come out here himself... I am tired of constantly being toted around and just waiting for him to listen."

It was obvious to even the very slow Talal that she wasn't budging this time, and he didn't want to start arguing with her. She had been rumored to have a temper of a sleen, and the tongue to rival one as well. He thought at this point, it would be best to face the wrath of the Pasha before dealing with his woman. He also didn't want to get in between two Companions that were having a dispute. For his own safety, he decided he would relay the message and deal with his Pasha.

She returned to her sitting in the sand as she watched him ride off into the distance, back toward camp. Her stance was solid this time, she didn't do anything wrong and she wasn't going to watch him hurt himself more so that he could look brave to his men. She thought he was just being ridiculous this time, and until she either felt differently or he came to speak to her himself, she was going to sit upon the sand and get a nice tan, despite her coverings.

Her plight would not be heard this day, though, as the sun began to beat down upon her shoulders. She couldn't forget how devastating the sun was at this hour, yet it didn't detract her from her intentions. She wanted to escape from this life that she had learned to call normal. Her mind set her back to cooler places as she ran her fingers through the sand. Each grain seemed to be a tiny heated pinprick across her flesh as her mind lingered elsewhere.

She remembered the island now, the beauty of the water crashing upon the shore. There was nothing quite like watching sun sink down into the Thassa every dusk. The birds sang a slow melody from their treetop homes as she could just almost feel the sprays from the waves meeting the shoreline. Footsteps were approaching on the banks of the island and a scent, right before a hand was placed on her shoulder.

Her eyes opened to see a man standing beside her. She didn't think he would actually tear himself away from his men long enough to talk to her. And she wasn't sure if she was seeing anger in his eyes or not. But it didn't matter as she was rather abruptly lifted off of the sand that she was near reclining in. She thought, if only for a moment, she could feel the intensity peering down on her through those eyes. His eyes could be so cold, despite the heat of the day.

"You shouldn't be out here without a guard... Ashleigh."

She thought those to be very typical first words from him. She was just positive that he thought her to be weak and fragile, without a clue in the world on how to defend her self from outside influences. She wanted to tell him how she felt, how angry she was with him for the way she was so quickly shunned, how he didn't even listen when she was only worried for him. But it wasn't going to happen today. She just stood there, looking at him.

"You can't keep running off like this... this is not how the woman of a Pasha behaves. The men look to me for strength, yet I seem to not even have the ability to control my woman. How do you think that makes me look?"

He continued on, but she had heard this time and time again from him. Sometimes, she thought that he really had forgotten how much younger she was than him. He seemed to be more scolding her than connecting with her and it was just beginning to ride that lat nerve she had. She could hear him talking, but she had finished listening some time ago. His words seemed to drown themselves in the back of her mind, but she quickly snapped out of it as she caught the tail end of what he said.

"... Maybe it is just time for you to return to the city, where you can be more adequately guarded."

That just set her off at that point. It was like a slap in the face to her. He wanted to send her away, just because she came here to help. She came with him because she wanted something more than being stuck behind the walls of a city. She wanted air, space freedom from her hidden restraints. She wanted to live and be remembered for something other than being some Magistrate to a desert city. But she knew that he wouldn't see that. She still didn't bother to speak at this point. She was so angry that she was afraid that the first thing that came out of her mouth would most likely get her cuffed. Instead, she chose strong silence.

He took her silence as a cue to remove her from the heat of the desert. She was very much being a good woman right now. He told her how it was going to be and, sure enough, she didn't argue. It wasn't very much like her, but he was pleased, nonetheless with the lack of arguing over this. As he led her back to the camp, she couldn't help but think about how foolish she had been for wanting this life. She would, however, comply with his request and go back to the city once more.

The walk back to the camp took very little time. She was only out far enough to remove it from her sight, not enough to get terribly lost in the middle of the desert. But the walk seemed like it took hours. The silence was enough to nearly drive her mad. She had been quite used to him speaking to her about most everything. He trusted her with secrets that his men hadn't been privy to on more than one occasion. But this time, the silence was piercing.

Her mind reeled from the sound of the footfalls on the sand. Each step seemed to be nothing more to her than the grains of the sand in the hourglass. The silence was penetrating her brain, tiny needles drilling into her temples. She wanted to scream, to lash out at him for making her feel so useless. Couldn't he see that she did it out of concern for him? But she knew it would be a wasted effort.

By the time that they reached the camp, she was certain that there was no changing his mind. She was much paler when she had left the campsite in her anger and confusion, and the men in the camp turned their eyes from her as she passed. The color had drained from her hands as she walked with him, and certainly her face too. Her face would have been much more apparent, had it not been covered. But there was something in her eyes that gave away everything, as if to peer into her soul and tell a thousand stories. She wasn't very proud right now; she was instead confused and hurt.

It was all that she could do as she passed people not to just turn and run away again. She didn't want to deal with what she felt was considerably unjust. They didn't seem to see that she was only trying to help the man that she was supposed to support completely. She didn't want to see him hurt, she didn't want to see him in pain again... but they looked at her like she had scorned him. Her eyes fell to the sand as she turned and quietly sunk away into her tent.

Her things were already packed as she entered, and the last slave moved quietly out of the tent shortly after her entry. She didn't want to be around this place anymore. She hurt and she was tired of seeing the bloodshed. This was not her idea of supporting him. As she settled down onto the pile of pillows in the corner of the tent, her eyes caught a glance of one of the cloths she had used to clean his wounds. The sight of the dried blood on it turned her stomach and it was the best she could do not to lose her stomach right there. She silently wondered to herself if this was what a breakdown truly felt like.

With all of the thoughts careening through her head, they seemed to lull her into a half-slumber. She was vaguely aware of those around her tent, yet her mind was at a standstill. She wanted to be off somewhere, either riding across the desert with the wind snapping her hair back, or sitting on the beaches of Ianda and watching the whales come to the surface for air just barely off of the shoreline. She wanted to hear someone's voice, directed at her, and not about her.

And then, just as she thought she could reach out to the water at her ankles, the tent flap pulled open and in he walked. He pointed at her bag, which her things had been meticulously placed in and a slave entered and gathered the bag. The slave exited the tent rather quickly and he just looked to Ashleigh. The dark eyes reminiscent of her father peered out of the veil she had masking her face and it was all she could do to control herself from saying anything to him. She was angry, and she felt rightfully so. This had not been the first time that her warnings had not been heeded, but she didn't want to lose something so precious again. She also knew, as she had predicted all day long, that her words would be lost to fall on his ears. So she maintained her silence, and instead stood and exited the tent past him.

Two of his guards sat on their kaiila, waiting to escort her back to the city. Her own kaiila had already been packed and ready for her. She looked back at Shaheen once, still very silent, but when she saw that there was no sympathy in his eyes, she turned and climbed up onto the kaiila. She wondered to herself if he were in as much turmoil as she was. She was curious as to whether or not his heart felt the same sort of emptiness that her own did... if he felt the burning in the back of his throat or the stinging of the tears that were being fought back. She hoped that he didn't, no matter how mad she was at him she wouldn't want him to hurt like this.

And she wouldn't know, at least not for a time, for Shaheen turned his back as her kaiila left. A slave in the camp whispered a rumor that they saw the Pasha dry his eyes as he sent away his woman, to protect her from what she could not know. But the slave wouldn't be named, and the rumor wouldn't leave the few slaves that were in the camp. No one was certain why he did it, but the last rumor was showing to be true... the Tajuks were coming again, and this time they were going for more than just the Kavar's blood. They were targeting the Pasha, and anyone that could bring him pain in any way. An outsider could have seen what was happening, but to a very confused Free Woman, it was all a mystery.

Apparently, the rumors of the Tajuks preparing their attack were very true. The problem would be, no one knew which way they were coming from. The two guards that began their escort of Ashleigh to the city were not expecting the Tajuks to ride in from the north. It was something very uncharacteristic of them; they always attacked from either the south or the west. This time was different for some reason, and they stormed the small group quickly... it was a surprise attack.

She turned her head left, and then right as the dust flew up around her. She could hear the swinging of the weapon of the region, the scimitar, as it cut through the air around her. She could hear the hisses and snaps of the kaiila around her as well. But all she could do was duck down onto her beast and hug her arms around its neck as best as she could. Even her kaiila was snapping at others as they rushed passed. There was something close to her though and she could feel it.

She closed her eyes tightly as she heard the sounds of metal cleaving flesh and bone, but she was certain that she felt blood spray onto her face. The beast below her crumpled and she fell with it, not knowing that the animal had been struck. War cries could be heard echoing across the desert dunes and it was all that she could do not to scream out in fear. But the moment her hand touched the sand below her, from the fall of her beast, she opened her eyes to the horror that was before her.

She couldn't move, her legs pinned under the beast from the way it had fallen, and there was nothing to shield herself from what she was seeing. But the guards that Shaheen had sent with her did indeed die fighting. And they fought bravely... taking out four of the attacking party before meeting with an untimely death of their own. Despite the horror that she witnessed, she dared not make so much as a whisper of sound.

They seemed to not notice her. She had been pinned under her dead kaiila, and she knew that it was the beast's blood on her veil. But she was entirely covered in it nonetheless. She thought to herself, if she could just remain very still, they might not see her. She could hear a set of feet hit the sand near her and her body tensed quickly. The blood on her was sticky, it smelled foul to her and it took everything within in her choke back the feeling of sickness creeping up her throat. Her cheeks burned, she felt her body was shaking like a leaf. The footfalls came closer...

"Looks to me like we got them... time to get the camp now."

She could hear the man talking to the others in his party. The camp... Shaheen... She wanted to leap up and fight him. She wanted to kill him with her own bare hands. But she couldn't have gotten to him, even if she tried to. The beast was far too large for her to move on her own. And her common sense began to take over as the words replayed in her brain. They thought her dead; that meant that they would be leaving her. But they were headed to the camp.

The footfalls quickly left the area though. You could hear the rustling of bags and feet, then the thundering movement of the kaiila heading away from the battle scene. She laid there for what seemed like ages to her, controlling her breathing and listening for the faintest sound. Eventually though, when she was certain that there was no one around her, she started her struggle against the beast that trapped her legs. Every time that she wiggled, she could feel the sand shift around her. The sand was loose here; she was lucky. She was certain that her legs weren't broken, but that she was indeed in enough pain that it was time for her to get away from it.

But even with her struggles, she still did not have the strength that it would take to move the animal even enough to get away. She may have thought herself to be invincible, but it was apparent, rather painfully at this point, that she was not, nor was she as strong as she would like to think either. Her fighting against the corpse on her was futile, but it was her fight, nonetheless.

Maybe it was her cries of frustration, or perhaps the scene of the battle itself. It could have been the sight of the gruesome deaths surrounding her, or even the scent of the blood on the sand. But she didn't seem to notice the footfalls that came from the distance, just out of her sight. She had to get to the camp and tell them, but her over-analyzing brain would tell her that it was already far too late for that. She screamed, cried and felt as if she could die here. Her body was tired, weak and she was hurting just enough that when she felt she could fight no more, she fell back against the sand in a daze.

There was a light around her; she had remembered this as it had happened once or twice before. She could feel the warmth of the light, when before she had felt like ice. She could hear a voice in the background, it sounded mechanical. And there was a scent, something that was unmistakably sweet. The voice seemed to say things, but she couldn't make out the words. And then there was silence. She didn't want to open her eyes; the light was so bright around her that she just knew that if her eyes opened, she would be blinded. But there was something there, something that she could see.

There were the sounds of a war. People around her were dying in masses. As she turned her head, there was a body lying next to her, head partially severed from the neck. She wanted to scream, but she was too mortified. Her voice cracked and all that came out was a squeak. The man's eyes were lifeless, cold and full of fear and hate. She didn't recognize him but she could almost feel his last pain.

As she sat up, there was no kaiila on her. But the sands that she laid upon were littered with bodies. The blood seemed to flow like rivers around her and as she reached out, she thought she felt a body float past her. She knew she couldn't stand now; her legs had turned to mush from her knees to her ankles. The vision of death around her was almost enough to make her lose her stomach. Just as she felt herself turn, her throat burning and her eyes watering, the light disappeared.

"Ashleigh? Ashleigh! Wake up! You have to get out of here before they come back and see you. Come on woman... snap out of it. Ashleigh, please tell me that you are alive. Come on now, we have to go!"

She felt someone patting her cheek and her eyes fluttered open. She looked up to see his face. The man who followed her so often, the one whose late night escapades kept her out away from the camp when she should have been resting. She turned quickly, looking around her. There was no river of blood, no bodies lying near her. She had obviously been dragged away from the sands of the battle. But she could feel the blood soaked veil on her face still. She tore it off of her face and slinked away from him, obviously disoriented. It had been another sight gift from the Priest Kings, but it had felt so real this time.

[The Sexy Patriot]

"Are you hurt? Come on, I have to get you out of here before they come back! I've got your things; let's go. Is that your blood? Tell me that isn't your blood, please."

"J... Jaali? Where am I? No, wait. I have to get back to the camp. I have to tell them!"

But as she tried to stand, she realized that her legs were weak and quickly fell back to the ground. It didn't stop him though, he looked at her as if he had known that would happen and, without thinking twice, he picked her up and put her on the back of his own kaiila. He pulled himself up onto the kaiila and headed back south, toward the camp.

It was all that she could do to hold on to him as they rode. Her body was weak; the vision of what she had seen this time was so intense that it seemed to burn images into her brain. But whenever she would start to speak about it, she found that she had no voice to do so. All of her fears were coming to life with each moment that they neared the camp. She didn't want to think of what could have happened, what she saw and couldn't stop.

As the beast slowed, then stopped, she looked around her. The fallen bodies and kaiila on the sands forced something within her to bury her face into his back. She didn't want to think about it, she was numb. There were no words, no tears; nothing that could adequately describe what was reeling through her mind. She feared the worst and it was already looking like her fears were true.

The signs of a struggle were present, but the men lying on the sands were not the men of the camp. The camp was empty from what she could hear, and when she finally found the strength within her to look, she was right. Those were not men that she recognized. With an urge, the beast limbered forward and she finally recognized a face, the man who stood over her at the battle scene. There was no gratification inside of her when she looked upon his broken and bloody body. She did not feel the joy that she had thought would emerge when she saw his intestines spilling out of his midsection. All she could do was weep.

He could hear her silent cries; it was obvious by how quickly he moved past the camp. This wasn't something that a lady needed to see, much less a lady in a fragile state. She seemed defeated, as if the world had come down on her shoulders. She wanted to hide her eyes from the carnage, but she was afraid that she wouldn't know the truth. She wanted to make sure that he wasn't in this mess. She had to know that he was still alive, and that he was well and waiting for her just over the next dune.

She never did see his body. That is because it wasn't there. He had, of course, been at this battle and emerged victorious. Shaheen hadn't lost a single man in the battle. But those that retreated were chased down, quite a few pasangs away from the camp.

The tracks in the sand would tell the story for only a few more ehn, before the night wind picked up and erased the traces of the battle from the desert. She wouldn't see the signs though, her eyes were instead set upon the bodies scattered around the camp. Her only hope now was that he would be at the city, waiting for her to get there.

Her body, however, was not ready for the full day ride back to the city. She was weak from the battle that had happened around her, from the kaiila nearly crushing her, and from most of all, the vision that was drilled into her head. She didn't want to believe it, but the death surrounding her was enough to take its toll on her mind. She shivered in realization, and then looked away as Jaali urged the beast on again, to leave the area of this death scene.

"He wasn't there you know. That much is obvious."

He was trying to calm her down. Maybe he heard her erratic breathing, or perhaps he could hear her heart shattering within her chest. She felt broken, perhaps lesser somehow. She should have been there, and she wasn't because she didn't say anything. She didn't know if she would have the chance to say anything now, and it was tearing her apart from the inside.

They rode further south from the camp, probably a good two ahn. She drifted in and out of sleep as they traveled; the movement of the beast was just rhythmic enough to lull her into an all too needed rest. It wasn't until the kaiila came to a stop once more than she opened her eyes to see what was obviously the Bakah camp. Men at the entranceway nodded their recognition of him, but seemed to take little notice of her. She rubbed her head, so tired from everything, and slid off of the beast's back, nearly falling over onto him as he jumped down.

He led her to a quiet tent and opened the flap, setting her bag down inside. He told her that she could rest there, but she looked like she would appreciate getting the blood off of her. She was rather grateful for that, as even though she had been covered in her beast's blood for more than a few ahn by now, she was more than a bit disturbed at the fact that she hadn't had a psychotic episode from it. It took her only a moment to find her clean robe and veil, and then find the small oasis that was sectioned off specifically for bathing.

He made sure that the men made a sort of temporary wall, to ensure her privacy as she washed herself. The guards at the door of the cloth wall were no less than exceptionally professional. Their eyes stayed straight, the militaristic style of discipline quite notable. Once she finished and had dressed and veiled herself, they waited for her exit, then removed the walls and packed them away.

It would be at that point that she hid within the tent provided. She moved to the furthest corner of the tent from the opening and sat, knees tucked to her chest, arms wrapped around her knees, and just rocked. She had seen too much this night, she was in a strange place with a man that she barely knew, and she didn't know if Shaheen was alive or dead. Things were not right and she could feel it. But her body did not agree with the activity that her mind wanted to continue and as her eyes closed, she found herself still rocking, still searching for an answer that she did not have.

The next morning started as any other would. The sounds of the camp around her could be heard through the tent walls and she opened her eyes thinking perhaps it had all been a bad dream. She stretched and yawned, then stood and opened the flap of the tent, thinking all would be well and her overactive imagination had just taken over once more. She thought she could almost hear Shaheen giving orders to the men, and then she looked out to the camp around her.

It wasn't a dream, she wasn't hallucinating from too much sun the day prior, and she was most certainly not standing in the camp with Shaheen. That was still very much the Bakah Pasha standing not too far away from her. Her muscles tensed and her body seemed to freeze where she stood. She had remembered bits and pieces from the night prior, but she thought most of it was nothing more than a wild dream created from lack of water or salt.

The men seemed to part ways as he finished speaking to them and as he turned, she could feel him looking at her. She wanted to duck back into the tent and hide. Maybe she was still dreaming. But she knew that she wasn't dreaming. She had slept for far too long, and she couldn't have been asleep again. As a few men passed by her tent, they seemed to not notice her at all. She was at least thankful for that, for she knew what very real danger she could be in at this point if they saw her a threat at all.

He approached her, her feet still wouldn't move. She wanted to run away, there was something very wrong in her mind about being here, being seen with him around others in the daylight that was wrong. She choked down words that wanted to erupt from her, thousands of questions blasting through her brain. It wasn't quite the time yet. Now was the time for no words as he stopped in front of her. He looked as if he were going to speak.

"You look hungry, but well-rested. Let's get you something to eat. A small group of my riders are being sent out to contact your Pasha. He will be notified of your safe rescue once he is found and... everything will be alright, of that I am sure."

There seemed to be something about the way he spoke that just calmed her instantly. She didn't know if it was the way he said it, or just the words themselves, but something about him was very soothing. He motioned her over to a tent with food and water, handing her dried meat as well as fruit, and a cup of water. She was grateful for both as she moved away a bit and seated herself back near the tent she had slept in. She didn't realize how hungry she had really been, but before she knew it, the had finished the food and water he had given her and was at least somewhat prepared to handle this day.

He approached her again, after she had eaten and seated himself down across from her. As he looked at her, her eyes lowered slightly. She had never quite gotten used to any man really looking at her. Only Shaheen had done that, and it was hard for her to accept even when he did it. Her lap was interesting enough, and the designs on her robe were intricate. She found it was easier for her to trace the patterns in the fabric of her robe, rather than look him in the eyes. But she had questions, he could tell.

"I was supposed to be returning to the city... I am sure he will be there waiting for me. He didn't want me out here in the desert; I probably stepped out of line again. I hope he's well... I didn't even tell him goodbye when I left. I was so mad..."

She muttered on to herself for a few moments and he just sat there, listening to her. She wasn't feeling terribly dignified at this point, sitting in the sand and playing with her robes as opposed to just looking him in the eyes. But there was always something about a Tribesman's eyes. They could look right through you, and she knew it. She didn't want him to see the fear in her eyes. She didn't want him to see her weak.

He didn't seem to mention it, although she was very sure that he noticed it. Instead they sat there, quietly conversing for a good part of the morning. He would let her talk when she had something on her mind and when she was quiet he would return the conversation. He never once mentioned her obvious discomfort, nor did he question her about the prior night. He just sat there and let her tell the story of the night before, as she was ready to talk about it.