Zikka Sandwhisper's Arc

Chapter 5 of 5

The lead guard's spear blocked Zikka's path to the wagon. Two more spread wide behind him. She had tired the sultan for nothing. One wrong word now and they would wake him and drag her to his tent in chains. So she reached for the only weapon she had left. She let her knees go soft. She swayed into the guard and laughed too loud. "His wine," she slurred. "He pours too deep. I only wanted air." She pressed a hand to the guard's chest and let her fingers curl in his robe. "You smell better than the whole tent. Did you know that?" The guard stiffened. His eyes dropped to her hand, then to her skin. The two others looked at each other. Zikka leaned closer and traced the strap across his shoulder. "Walk a lost girl back to bed," she whispered. "No one has to know you left your post." For a breath it worked. His spear dipped. His jaw loosened. Then a snore broke off inside the tent, and the sultan's voice called her name, thick with sleep. The guard's face changed. Suspicion cut through the heat in his eyes. He stepped back and raised the spear again. "Drunk women sleep," he said. "They do not creep toward the treasure wagon." He turned his head to shout for the sultan. A shape moved out of the dark palms behind the guards. Tharak. Her orc ranger. He had sworn himself to her long ago, and he carried her errands across the deep sands without a word to anyone. He must have tracked the camp and waited for her signal. He gave none now. He clamped one thick arm across the lead guard's mouth and dragged him back into the trees. The spear dropped in the sand. The other two spun. Zikka struck fast. She swept a leg and drove her shoulder into the nearest man. He fell against the wagon wheel. Tharak took the last one low and pinned him in the dark. In moments all three lay bound and gagged among the roots, breathing but silent. Tharak looked at her. "You are slow tonight." "I was working," she said. She wiped sand from her knee and watched the tent. The sultan called her name again, closer to waking. "We go," Tharak said. "Now. The idol stays." She hated it. The wagon stood ten steps away. But three missing guards would wake the whole camp by dawn. If she grabbed the idol now, she would run with it into a hundred spears. She pulled her eyes from the wagon. "Not yet," she agreed. They slipped into the palms past the oasis pool. Behind them the sultan stumbled from his tent and found an empty watch. His roar rolled across the water. Zikka had lost her easy theft and burned her cover with him. Now the whole caravan would hunt her. But she had Tharak at her side again, and the idol still sat where she could reach it.