North Africa, 687 C.E.
A white scarf covered the lower half of his face, protecting his pale skin from the harsh sun and blowing sand. Wind picked up the loose end of the scarf, whipping it around his head.
The sun looked like a huge yellow fire, burning a hole in the center of the sky. The wide streets of the city were covered in dust and sand which blew in every direction when the strong winds off the sea barreled through the streets. The short sandstone buildings cast no shadow at this hour.
A flood of sound poured through the empty street before him, yells and cries, hundreds of feet moving together. A second later the street filled with a crush of people, pushing and shoving at each other as they called out in the sharp local tongue he barely spoke. He understood enough about the disturbances to know he should leave the city before sundown, but he wasn't yet sure the safest way out. Most of the gates were surrounded by unruly crowds and the docks were in turmoil.
If the citizens stopped their uproar for their noon prayer it might calm them, but it might not. For now they were ignoring him. Still mounted on his black horse, the scarf around his face, it was not obvious that he was a foreigner. Some might take him for a wealthy citizen, even a mercenary for hire. But as the outcry turned from words to action, he would soon be a target.
He grabbed at the loose end of his scarf, tucked it into the front of his shirt and kicked at the flanks of his horse. As he trotted forward he moved his hand down to the hilt of his sword, the familiar roughness of its leather grip making him feel more secure. Instead forcing his way across the street or against the wave of people, he stayed close to sandstone walls, moving with the crowd until he came to a side street and could turn away toward the city's outer walls.
If he understood the woman at the stable correctly, there was a caravan leaving out the eastern gate and it was accepting foreigners. It was a safer bet than the docks, were at least one European had been attacked trying to board a boat.
When he left the main street and turned into a mostly empty alley he lifted his hand from his sword and draped it over the pommel of the saddle, still holding the reins in his other hand.
He had liked the look of the sandstone buildings when he'd first entered the city, and liked the food, fragrant and spicy. It had felt welcoming, like a place he could settle. The people were fiery, animated. Passion and life radiated from them and he'd found it invigorating. Maybe in a few years, or a few decades, their xenophobia would dissipate and he could return.
The wind kicked up little dirt devils in the street before him. Each died in seconds and another one would sprout up a few feet away.
The eastern wall loomed before him, a darker color than the pink-grey stone used to build the single story houses and shops that filled the city. He felt weary at the thought of leaving the city so soon, at being back out on the road. He'd spent most of the last fifteen years on the road, alone. Even if he barely spoke the language and had little in common with the people here, he was still in human company.
He tried to recall anything about the last decade and half besides days and night of training and practice. Something besides the brief, violent encounters with other immortals. All he could remember were nights alone in the road, and days on horseback.
Every few minutes small crowds would appear, dashing down alleys or across the side streets. One group stopped in the alley in front of him. A young man, probably not yet twenty, stared at him. Maybe he had noticed the small patch of pale skin not hidden by Jacob's scarf, or seen that the sword at his waist was a foreign Roman blade. The boy's angry green eyes bore into him, challenging him. The other boys pulled at their friend, trying to get him to continue toward the front of the city were the crowds were converging.
On his horse Jacob put one hand back on his sword hilt and lifted the other to the scarf but did not pull it away from his face.
One of the boys, taller, but also probably younger than the one staring him down, pulled at his companion's arm and said something. All Jacob could understand was the word for 'hurry.' The boy moved slowly forward at his friends' proddings, not taking his eyes of Jacob.
When they were past he continued down the alley, but did not take his hand from the sword. Soon the wall was so close he could make out the cracks and fissures in it, caused by endless days baking in the hot sun. Most were repaired and sealed, but the scars remained.
A dense, cloudy feeling overwhelmed his head, like it had been wrapped in thick layers of cotton. His hand flexed instinctively around his sword and a calm spread out from his gut. All distraction passed away and he felt driven, knowing his purpose. There was an immortal to fight.
His calm was almost instantly disturbed when he recalled his surroundings. To challenge another immortal here, now, with a riot imminent, would be dangerous.
He rounded another corner and saw a large stable, camels and horses clustered under its wooden overhang. Over two dozen people were gathered, waiting for the caravan to leave. Some stood, others sat on benches, while some sprawled in the dirt. He suspected the immortal was among them, but could not pick any one person out.
He'd met close to a dozen immortals since learning about the Game and the rules. He'd challenged each one in turn and won each time. It had always been easy to pick an immortal out of a crowd. They, like Jacob, would be studying those around them, trying to find the threat.
He climbed down from his horse, pulling the scarf away from his face. His beard had grown in, coarse brown and black hair that was just starting to itch. His long nose was burnt at the tip from overexposure to the sun, when he'd not yet known to protect his face with the scarf.
Leading his horse along the crowd he studied the faces of the men in turn. One looked up at him from a bench, a man with skin even darker than the locals. He watched Jacob with large brown eyes, inclining his head slightly in greeting.
A woman leaned against him, her face covered in a thin veil of black cloth and her body hidden completely in a black wrap. Her head rested on his shoulder, one arm draped over his lap. The man had a long, curved blade at his waist. Though many men carried such weapons, Jacob knew from the way the man tensed his fingers over the hilt that this was the immortal.
"Jacob Kalin," he said, inclining his head at the darker man.
"Rotnati," the man said, thumping two finger against his chest. Bright sunlight shown off his bald scalp. His eyes were narrow and his thick nose bent in the middle as though it had once been broken.
He jerked his shoulder, upsetting the woman's balance, then spoke in the vulgar Greek that was a common trade language along the sea,"This is my companion, Qhei."
The woman started, lifting her head and leaning forward. She looked up, surprised to find a man standing above them. Through the veil all Jacob could see were brown eyes, still hazy with sleep, and tan skin. As she straightened he noticed a bulge along the outside of her right leg. He recognized it as scabbard strapped under the fabric.
She was also an immortal.
He was taken aback. Had she really been sleeping? Resting her head on another immortal? Had she not felt the pulsing buzz in her head as Jacob approached? Or maybe it was a ploy, maybe she only pretended to be sleeping.
"If you've come to join the caravan the guides are over there, preparing the camels." Rotnati's accent was heavy, giving his words a rich, musical tone.
"Don't let them charge you more than sixty," the woman spoke, her voice somewhat muffled by the veil, "They started off charging less, but as more come in," she gestured her hand at the crowd, "they have been taking advantage."
Jacob stood, his broad shoulders hunched, looking between them. These two immortals were clearly allies. He knew it happened, but had not yet encountered it. His teacher had told him to treat it like any other challenge, but he could not help but worry what the second immortal would do as he fought the first one.
"There are deserted streets a short walk from here, with so many people consumed by this unrest, we should not be disturbed." Jacob was aware of how foreign his voice sounded, how even the Greek sounded labored on his tongue.
The dark man looked to the woman, she only stared at Jacob.
"Is this boy proposing we fight him?" Rotnati asked.
"Only one of you, whoever chooses. I have no objections to fighting a woman, I've taken the heads of two women."
"Have you?" Rotnati sounded less than impressed.
"In the middle of this," the woman stood and Jacob backed away, gripping tightly to his sword, "you would propose a fight and a quickening?"
"That is what we do." He stared into her dark eyes, which were now clear of sleep.
She reached up to her veil, pulling it away. She had a long oval face and strong cheekbones. Her lips were pale compared to her dark sink. The scowl that cut her face made her look almost matronly and Jacob could not help but feel a bit like a child being scolded.
"That is what fools do. This caravan will leave just after the midday prayer. I intend to be on it and not delayed by something as idiotic as the Game." Without the veil her voice was sharp, biting.
Jacob turned to the man, "Then you will fight me."
Rotnati laughed, a deep sound that felt like it was coming out of the earth, "It's too hot to fight, and I have an overfull belly."
"You both refuse to fight?" He spat the words out, looking between the two immortals with clear contempt.
"You should be thankful boy. I've picked my teeth with better men than you and Qhei wouldn't break a sweat cutting you down, even on a day like this." Rotnati made a show of fanning himself.
"The only thing that matters right now is getting out of this city before they start rounded up outsiders." Qhei took a step closer to Jacob and he pulled his sword part way free of its scabbard.
She stopped instantly and Rotnati stiffened, his hand frozen on his own sword.
"The mortals of this city are of no concern, this is about the Game." Jacob said calmly, somewhat insulted that he had to explain the importance of the Game to others of his kind.
She leaned her head closer to him, still making no move to her sword. He glanced down at the scabbard, wishing she would draw it so they could continue on with what must be done.
"Do you know why they do this? Why this city is about to erupt?"
He shook his head.
"Babies were dying in childbirth, no more than usual, but some took their mothers with them. One of those was the daughter of the Kalif." She sighed. "People have been hungry, the same coins that filled their bellies a year ago aren't as filling this year. The weather is too hot and the sea is plagued by storms. They are turning the everyday tragedies of humanity into an enemy. They think the city is under a curse."
Jacob shook his head again, "Stupid superstitions."
The woman laughed at him, her scowl lifting into a mocking grin, "Says the man who's ready to cut the head off a stranger because he was told that is what immortals do."
"Only fools think immortals can be anything but enemies." The words came out of him without thought.
"Then Qhei and I are great fools." Rotnati pulled at the woman's wrap, indicating she should sit again. She complied and crossed her legs; the gesture pressed the outline of her scabbard tighter against the fabric. "But we are fools who will leave this city with our heads on our shoulders. You do know how they execute people here, don't you?" He ran his index finger along his neck from ear to ear.
"Headman's axe," Qhei narrated his action, "He usually gets it in one cut, but a thick neck like yours might take two."
Jacob shifted on his feet and glanced at the crowd surrounding the stables.
"If a duel doesn't draw attention, a quickening surely would, and good luck to the immortal covered in lightning bolts, trying to convince these people he had no part in a curse." Rotnati laughed again.
Jacob's horse pawed at the ground behind him. He didn't know what to do, it seemed the two would not fight him, but he didn't think it would be safe to join them on the caravan. They may have allied with each other for now, but they were unlikely to extend that to him.
A tall man, one of the locals, left a cluster of camels and walked along line of travelers, talking to each in turn. Before he'd made it all the way to them Qhei called out in the local tongue, too fast for Jacob to follow any of it. The man glanced at her, but did not respond. She called louder, this time gesturing him over to her. The man sighed and ran over, inclining his head at her, but looking rather insulted by her exposed face.
As she spoke, Qhei gestured to Jacob and the tall man spun to look at him, nodding.
"He's agreed to charge you only fifty to travel with us," she said to Jacob, "He'll waive the fee entirely if you agree to sell your horse to his cousin."
Both Qhei and the tall man were pointing now, to an older man standing by the stables.
"What?" Jacob dropped his sword back in its scabbard, "I'm not selling my horse, and I'm not traveling with either of you."
"Then stay here and lose your head, it's no concern of ours," Rotnati said, though his tone was not as harsh as his words.
Qhei looked up at him, her brown eyes seemingly sincere, "The only way out of this city with your head on your shoulders is with these men." She gestured to the tall man, who looked like he wanted nothing more than to leave the conversation.
Jacob shifted his weight from one foot to another, completely at a loss for what to do or say next.
Qhei sighed, "If you are so intent on taking a head, I will fight you, but after we are safe out of here and across this desert."
He looked to the gate and after a pause said, "How long is the journey?" He'd traveled to the city by ship and knew almost nothing of the land beyond.
"Just over a week."
Jacob laughed, looking cynically between the immortals, "You expect me to trust traveling with you for that long? Sleeping in the same camp with you?"
"You don't strike me the type to kill a man in his sleep. Why would you think we were capable of such treachery?" Rotnati looked genuinely insulted by the insinuation.
"We are enemies." Jacob said plainly.
The tall man shifted around, nervous and in a hurry, glancing at men now setting out their prayer rugs near the stables, seemingly eager to join them.
Bells rang across the city and a man's voice called the prayer. But what was usually a single voice, calm and clear, was drowned out by a hundred others. Though Jacob did not know the words, the intent was clear, they were calling for blood, for some sacrifice that would end their plight.
He knew he was unlikely to survive a night in the city. If these two immortals really believed their words, that they had no need to fight, he might be safe. If they did not, it still might be better to trust his sword arm to defend him rather than stay in the city.
He tried to speak to the tall man, but struggled so badly with the words he wasn't sure anything he'd said was understood. Finally he sighed and addressed Qhei.
"Tell him I'd like passage."
She nodded and repeated his words in the jagged language. The tall man nodded frantically and hurried away.
Jacob took the reins of his horse and went to follow him.
"You'll want to talk to the stableman about your horse. I'll speak for you if you are worried about being understood." Qhei leaned forward as if about to stand again.
"I'm not selling my horse." He wrapped an arm protectively underneath the horse's neck.
"Oh, you'll not want to take this beast out onto the desert." Rotnati said, standing and striding over to the horse.
Jacob wanted to draw his blade again, but did not, trying to play along with their act of diplomacy.
"He is a lovely animal," Rotnati continued, "It would be a shame to have to slaughter him."
"You think he wouldn't survive the journey?"
"That's what we were told." Rotnati inclined his head to the guides who were now all engaged in prayer.
"I've traveled these sands." Qhei said, "it would be folly to take a horse out there."
Rotnati bent and rubbed up and down the horse's leg. "His hooves are too small, his legs to thin. He will sink into the sand, break his leg. If not, then he will die of thirst. Horses can do well in the desert when you are going quickly, if they travel over solid ground. But we will move slowly and over too many dunes."
"If you care for the animal, leave it here. If you are willing to make it a feast during our travels, then by all means, bring it along." Qhei watched from the bench, her arms crossed, the veil dangling beside her face.
Looking back over the gathered crowd and pack animals, he saw that there were only camels out in the line, some weighed down with supplies, other wearing large saddles draped in blankets.
He pulled his horse's face down to his and stroked the animal on the nose. It snorted and pushed its head against him. He'd had the horse for almost two years. Jacob had stayed with him as they pitched through huge waves, soothing and comforting the animal, in the ship that brought them to the city.
Jacob rubbed the small white patch between the horse's eyes then pulled the reins to the side so he was looking the animal in the eye.
"It's ok," he stroked it along the neck, "we'll be ok."
He looked up to the stable and reluctantly pulled on the reins, leading the horse. He heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Qhei following, covering her face again with the veil. She hurried her steps until she walked next to him.
He was aware of how little distance separated them. Her long wrap rustled and her right hand hung down at her side, nearly brushing against him with each step. He felt exposed, vulnerable. The last time he'd been this close to another immortal without a blade between them was when he still studied with Gracvius, learning the rules of the Game.
"As healthy and strong as he is, you should get a good price, not just the cost of travel." Qhei turned her head to inspect the horse, "Rotnati sold his horse to this man, he will try to convince you he's doing you a favor by taking it," she looked back to Jacob, "When he saw we wouldn't be duped, he gave us a fair deal."
Jacob did not reply, running his hand down the horse's neck, always aware of just how far his sword was from his hand.
The other travelers they passed turned their heads with mild interest. Most were foreigners, like Jacob, some obviously European, others darker like Rotnati. The dirty, warm smell of camel fur grew stronger as they approached the stables. It was so unlike the smell of horse, which was familiar and welcoming to Jacob. It was heavier, more acidic. He curled back his lip, exposing his crooked teeth.
"A week, traveling on those thing?" He looked at the closest animal, covered in patchy tan fur and surrounded by flies.
Qhei walked up to the camel, rubbing its side and patting it just under the hump. It didn't have a saddle and sat in the dirk, swishing its short tail and chewing cud.
"They are very reliable, and very sweet. Maybe not so arrogant as horses."
He raised an eyebrow at her, "Arrogant?"
"Horses are trained to do a thousand tricks. Some men even teach them to dance. Camels might be vain and rude, but they are not haughty about their duties."
Jacob let out a quick laugh and looked Qhei up and down, suddenly wishing she would pull the veil away again so he could see her expression, see if she were joking with him. Her eyes looked bright, maybe playful.
His horse stepped nervously, uncomfortable around so many other animals. He patted the horse on the nose.
"Can we just get this over with?" He said, gesturing to the stableman, who was just rising from prayer.
Qhei nodded and let him lead the way to the wooden stables.
The stableman had a deeply wrinkled face and big hazel eyes. They seemed to hang in the middle of his head, pulled downward by the heavy skin around them. His nose came to a sharp point like a beak, which was a common feature with the local men.
Jacob stopped close enough to see a cluster of blemishes along the man's jaw and around his ear. He started talking, pointing between the horse and Jacob, talking so quickly Jacob had to close his eyes just to focus on the sounds.
Qhei spoke and the old man started speaking louder and more rapidly, jabbing a finger into Jacob's chest. He opened his eyes and held out his hands, trying to ask the old man to slow down.
"Qhei," he started, feeling uncomfortable asking anything of the immortal, "can you ask him if a horse could survive the journey."
"He is going to say no."
"Please," he looked to her, then down to the dirt at his feet, his face stern "could you just ask."
She spoke to the man. Again his voice increased in pitch and he jabbed Jacob in the chest. Jacob looked up and scowled at the man. The man's wrinkled face was pulled down, annoyed and demanding. Qhei spoke louder, holding out her hands to try and get the old man to listen to her.
"What is the matter?" Jacob asked.
Qhei shook her head, "He doesn't understand why he has to talk to a woman with you standing right here." She sounded weary and annoyed.
Jacob rolled his eyes, "Because I have no idea what he's saying."
The man jabbed Jacob again and Jacob slapped the hand away, then pointed his own finger squarely in the man's face, "Stop!" His voice was stern and laced with all his frustration, "she is the one that understand you, speak to her," he pointed at Qhei.
The old man started again but Jacob cut him off, reaching for his shoulder and holding it tightly, "Her. Talk to her," he spat out.
Anger and frustration were overwhelming him. He longed to be back on his horse, riding away from here. He ground his teeth at the thought, dropping his hand from the man's shoulder.
The old man waved dismissively at everything Qhei said. She spoke patiently, casually moving her right hand to her hip, resting just above the outline of her scabbard.
Jacob's hand moved reflexively to his sword, resting on the hilt. He quickly studied her form under the wrap, trying to assess how strong she was, how quickly she would move in a fight. The clothes gave him few clues.
The old man was shaking his head, speaking to Jacob again, and pointing at Qhei.
"He says it would be cruelty to take the horse out," she said, "but he will give you twenty on top of paying your way in the caravan."
Jacob looked into the big black eye of his horse, rubbing him down the neck.
"He wants the saddle to." Qhei lifted her hand and stroked the other side of the horse's neck.
Jacob nodded slowly at her, then moved down the side of the horse, rubbing him down and unfastening his saddle bags. Qhei spoke again to the old man as Jacob slung the bags over his shoulder and moved to the other side to retrieve his remaining gear.
The bags and their contents were all he had. Most of it he would easily abandon if necessary. Besides his sword and enough coin to get by, he needed no possessions.
When he was done he passed the reins to the old man in exchange for a sack of coin. He poured the contents into his hand, counting it back into the sack. The old man was clearly offended, making a show of turning away and not watching, but mumbling loudly to himself. When he was sure he'd been paid fairly, Jacob stroked the horse one more time, and walked away. Qhei followed after.
Jacob looked back over his shoulder to the stable where the old man was taking the saddle off the horse and yelling at a young boy. He sighed deeply and adjusted the packs on his shoulder.
"Here," Qhei turned away, walking toward one of the camels, "load this one."
She stopped next to a camel, darker than the others, a saddle resting over its hump, colorful blankets hanging down its sides.
Jacob looked at her blankly.
"No one has claimed it yet, and it looks well tempered," she said, reaching for one of his bags to strap to the saddle.
He pulled back so she only grabbed air, "I can do it."
She crossed her arms, standing next to the camel. When it became obvious Jacob intended to say nothing else she turned back to the bench were Rotnati still sat.
"Thank you," Jacob said, not turning away from the camel, "for translating."
"We have to help each other when we can," she said, and walked back to the bench.
Jacob laughed without enthusiasm and adjusted his packs.
When the guides were ready to start, men moved through the crowd, giving directions and helping those who needed it to mount their camels. It was clear to Jacob he was among the least experienced, having only ridden a camel once before, simply to see what it was like. He'd hated it then, and he hated it now.
Rotnati sat on his camel a few paces away, calling out suggestions as Jacob climbed into the saddle.
"The camel knows his job, all you need is to relax and enjoy the ride."
Jacob rolled his eyes and slung his leg over the large saddle. There was more padding then there would be on a horse. He hated how far he was from the animal's body, feeling he had little control.
One of the guides, the tall one who'd spoke to Qhei earlier, stood next to the camel, holding its head to the ground as Jacob mounted. He'd pointed to his chest and said "Abdu," so Jacob took that as his name.
Abdu pointed to the saddle and said something to Jacob, repeating it when Jacob did not respond.
"He says to hold the front of the saddle, so you don't get thrown around when the camel stands." Rotnati demonstrated by grasping the front of his saddle.
Jacob did the same and Abdu gave a command to the camel. The camel's legs straightened, back first then front. The two quick jerks jolted Jacob and his stomach gave a lurch.
Qhei rode up next to Rotnati, leaning over from her own saddle to pat his camel on the head. The bottom of her wrap was pulled up, exposing a red pant leg that clung tightly to her calf.
An excited murmur passed through the crowd. People looked back across the city, some covering their faces in astonishment, others moving quickly to complete their tasks. Jacob spun in the saddle to see a huge plume of dust and smoke rising over the tops of the sandstone buildings.
Qhei listened to the crowd, then reported, "It seems a mob is pulling down the trading houses along the docks, setting fires."
"Did your people get out?" Rotnati asked.
"We shut down two days ago and I told them not to return. Hopefully they listened to me." She watched the smoke, her eyes sharp and determined.
Jacob briefly considered asking about their exchange, but did not. Though he would put on a show of cooperation during the journey, they were still immortals, still his enemies. There was no need to learn anything more about them.
"If we don't leave soon we will have to fight our way out." Qhei said, pulling back the wrap over her right leg.
Her camel blocked Jacob's view of the leg, so he could not see her scabbard, or what type of sword she carried.
A loud, high pitched voice came from the front of the line - one of the guides shouting orders to the rest. Everyone was mounted, all the supplies were loaded. Another order was called and the camels started forward.
Without instruction from him, Jacob's camel lurched forward, following Qhei's. He swayed uncomfortably in the saddle. Qhei's camel moved more rapidly than his and in a few moments he had a clear view of her right leg. A leather scabbard was tied overtop her red pants, a blue tassel hanging from its top. The sword itself was hidden in the case, but judging by the length of the scabbard, it had to be short.
A short sword required close fighting. She probably relied on speed and agility more than strength, which was a good tactic for a woman. If he could see more of her body, how muscled she was, how lean, he could gauge her endurance.
He looked to Rotnati. The dark man was easy to read. He moved slowly enough that he must rely on his strength and reach to fight. His curved blade was commonly worn by horse warriors and desert men. Jacob had fought another immortal carrying such a weapon. They had good reach and served well to block. He regretted not taking that sword, he'd come to think it might serve him better than the tapered Roman sword he carried. If he defeated Rotnati then he would take the sword and look for someone to instruct him in its use.
As they passed through the gates a huge noise echoed behind them. Jacob turned to look, along with many others in the line, more smoke and dust drifted over the city. It sounded like a building had collapsed, maybe more than one.
He cast his eyes quickly to the stable, seeing his large black horse face down in a trough, apparently content with his new owners. Jacob tried to console himself with that thought, but he missed the animal more with every step the camel took.
When they were through, the gatekeepers closed the doors behind them, blocking their view of the city and the still rising smoke. Spread before them was a sea of brown dirt, and a pale blue sky above. The few thin clouds in the sky broke apart as the wind pushed them across the sky. Small piles of boulders and withered looking shrubs provided the only scenery in the bleak landscape.