They were heading for the canyon in the full light of day. No one had seen or heard from the Black Swan since he had disappeared over that sand dune, riding like a demon from Hades. Without the Black Swan to give orders, Graham had taken charge and had quickly set a hard pace toward the only protection available. With no knowledge of who or what the enemy was, he thought it their best bet; Regina could only hope it wasn't a trap. The Black Swan…Regina gripped her saddle harder. He had saved her life. The strangled cry they had released as they fell on the snake that threatened her, as if losing her meant losing their own soul…Regina couldn't forget it. Despite herself, she was worried for the Persian. She uneasily twisted her mother's ring on her finger, uncomfortable with these unbidden thoughts, but trying to stop them was like trying to douse the sun.
She urged Ro forward till she was level with Graham at the front of the guard. "Regina, you need to move back, it's too dangerous up here for you. We could be hit at any time." Graham waved her back. Regina ignored him.
"Do you know when the Black Swan will return?" Graham chuckled darkly.
"It's not as if he left a note before galloping off into the desert, going after your attacker." Regina frowned.
"It's not as if I asked to be assassinated, lieutenant." She replied, irritated. He scoffed.
"You have no idea what you've asked for, princess." Regina raised a chilling eyebrow.
"So explain." She replied dryly.
"You are like a walking target out here. A Greek, a sorceress, a woman. Somehow the object of the king's desire—and the Black Swan will protect that. They will protect that till they grind their own bones into dust. Now get back in line!" Regina held back her indignant retort…with effort...as she heard the surprising undertones of jealousy lacing Grahams poison. What could he be jealous of? Regina wondered. She sauntered back in line next to the two doofuses who were her guards, she could easily knock out both with a single whispered spell, even this entire group if she wished. She could only imagine how easy it would be for any attacking magician to do the same. The magician who had attacked her last night had not been as strong as her, she had sensed from the residual magic, but they had been discreet enough to sneak under the Swans and even her own radar. She suddenly realized there was a real possibility she may not even make it to the capital to start her mission.
They rested at mid-day per usual as the sun reached its zenith. Half the time she expected a band of robbers or brigands to pop out from behind a sand dune and slaughter them all, the other half of the time she scanned the horizon for the Swan's arrival. Neither happened. The only amusement she had was watching Graham strut back and forth across the camp, checking equipment and harassing soldiers. He had sent out an order earlier that morning ordering all weapons and armor were to be cleaned and prepared for the nights decent into the canyon. Everything was to be packed down and secured and anything not essential was supposed to be discarded into the sand, not that any of these hardened soldiers carried anything that wasn't essential.
The Persian army were so different from the Greek army. Because of the constant desert, most of the space they owned was taken up by their water. Everything else was trimmed down like fat off meat till all that was left was the bare minimum. Compared to Greeks, the Persians almost traveled naked. If she hadn't seen them fight firsthand at the battle of Lade, she would have thought them an easy meal for the better equipped Greek army. What these men lacked in equipment they supplemented that with pure, undefiled fighting prowess—especially the hazarpatish. As much as she hated it, she had come to respect the grit of this people.
._.
Emma crouched low behind a dune, Jemakh left far behind her. The sun was setting behind her, casting rosy shadows over the golden sand. In front of her smoke rose in the air from a camp. The camp. The tracks from the mysterious rider had led her vast leagues across the dessert and far from her own company. They had backtracked, twisted, and disappeared at some points as the rider tried to disguise his trail and confuse her. No doubt he had known he would be pursued. Emma had persisted though, and when she would lose them she would ride in a spiral from the point of origin until she found them again. Sometimes it would be an hour before she picked up the trail again. Her persistence had eventually paid off, and led her here. However, she didn't quite know where here was.
She had seen a fair amount of smoke on the horizon, obviously from some sort of camp. Weather it was the camp the rider was from or just one he had passed through, she didn't know. Now she lay crouched behind a dune, erring on the side of caution. The camp was situated around a high wall of stone that gave some shelter from the fierce evening wind. At some point or another she would have to try and pick up the riders trail again, weather it ended here or passed through. Emma sighed, there wasn't any point in wasting day light. Cautiously she poked her head over the dune and found the camp deserted, as the distinct lack of noise had led her to believe. Standing, she picked her way down the dune, whistling for Jemakh. He soon caught up as she reached the bottom of the hill, and trotted behind her as she headed for the camp. There were three fires, all a couple feet apart—enough for around fifteen men. They had horses, she counted seventeen distinct hitching marks. Her attacker's tracks led her right here. She followed the trial as she watched as he dismounted from his horse, and his boots hit the sand. She smirked, he had small feet—or he was actually a she. They had walked over to the center most fire, and there was a fair bit of pacing.
Emma paced back and forth, following the trail step for step. The trail paused, as if they had stood for a long time, facing another pair of boot tracks. Probably talking, Emma deduced. They started up again, this time a whole bunch of boots. She followed the group, following those distinctly small pair amongst them around the back of the tall rock. As Emma rounded the rock, however, those small feet became the least of her worries. In front of her lay a vast field of smoking fires, thirty to forty, embers still red hot. The sand was churned where horses had pranced as tents had been felled. Criss-crossing tracks of what could be well over four hundred men compacted the sand like they were smoothing the dirt over her grave. The tracks of her quarry diapered into the melee, but Emma knew that they would be even easier to track now. There was no doubt they had left with the mass exodus of a trail that wove like a deep mote toward the direction of the canyon. Emma's gut dropped in her stomach. She was outnumbered at least three to one, and by the age of the tracks this group was probably already at the canyon preparing for what was no doubt a trap for her men; for Regina.
Emma climbed back into Jemakh's saddle, groaning at the headache that throbbed behind her eyes. This endless chase was taking a toll on her already exhausted body. She pulled up her sleeve to reveal her snake bite, which kept shooting streams of fire up her veins. She used her mouth and arm to tighten the tourniquet she had wrapped around her bicep. This was the best she could do with her magic stores so low. Jemakh sensed his masters pain, snorting quietly. Emma patted his neck gently, "Don't worry about me boy, I'll be fine," she spoke, urging him into a run.
Even if she had to chase them to the ends of the earth, she would wipe this threat to Regina off the face of the earth.
._.
"Zeus, doesn't this desert ever end?!" Regina muttered under her breath. She pulled her robe closer to her body as a cold desert wind bit into her shoulders. Tonight was uncharacteristically cold for the desert, the coldest she'd yet to experience in its sandy belly. They were only travelling by the light of the stars tonight, Graham had forbade the light of torches or candles. It felt to Regina like the sky had eyes tonight, the cold glittering light of the stars seemed to bore impassively down on them. Yes, this was definitely the coldest night she had experienced here. They had traveled non-stop since sunset and had been heading toward two distant lumps on the horizon. As they had closed the distance she had come to realize they were not more sand dunes as she had thought but were two looming spits of reddish rock. Emerging tall and silent from the dessert's curving bosom—the beginnings of the infamous canyon she had heard so much about. Her stomach lurched as the group came to a stop a few hundred yards from the opening. This meant there were but three days between her and the capitol.
The sound likening to a hundred snakes shedding their skin made her shiver, the glinting of swords being bared to an unspoked command glittering across the darkly clad group. They moved forward again slowly, the slowest they had moved all day, into the mouth of the canyon. The decent was steep and the path consisted of a mostly downhill slope of sand. Ro picked his way down carefully beneath her, considering his mistress. She patted his side in thanks. Once they reached the bottom they started forward into the canyon, the hoofs of the horses making dull thumps on the cracked earth beneath them. It was a strange feeling to Regina to be riding on solid ground again, it felt too…hard. She chuckled to herself, that's how ground generally was after all. The world wasn't made of deserts, contrary to her surroundings.
That thought had just passed through her brain when the sounds of a running horse echoed across the looming canyon walls. "Protect Regina." Graham came riding to stand at the point of the group while Regina was swallowed into the center of the group of Persians, not a very pleasant place to be, surrounded by a hundred sweaty men that hadn't bathed in weeks. Her nose wrinkled indignantly even as her heart thumped madly as the rider approached. She couldn't see much, but the flash of a willowy reddish-bronze flank and a dark main slapping against a graceful neck calmed her almost at once. It was the Black Swan. "Swan!" She heard Graham greet his incoming commander, yet there came no cheerful reply. He was bowed low over his horses shoulder, urging him faster till he was only a few yards away, then both horse and rider skidded to a halt.
Instead of stopping, the Swan strode toward her, a tumble of words followed that set her heart pounding again. "We're surrounded and under attack! We need to ride now!" Regina watched in horror and fascination as the Swan pushed through the crowd of armored shoulders until he reached her.
"What do you mean?" Graham frowned. "We've seen no one." With shock, she watched, as if detached from her body, as he swung himself into her saddle and deftly took her reins from her hand. His own horse coming to faithfully stand by Ro. She felt him shaking his head.
"There is no time, it's a trap! Ride!" He wheeled Ro around and started to urge him forward, but a bright light startled the movement. An arrow on fire hand been launched from somewhere in the canyon wall. As if on que, a thousand voices rose in a wordless war cry and black hissing arrows rained from the sky. Men streamed from deep fissures in the canyon walls, attempting to cut off their escape flashing bright swords. Her company screamed and died around her, Ro faltering. Then the Swan was gripping her hard around the waist, forcing his body over her as he kicked Ro into a gallop. It all happened so fast that her brain had no time to process anything but the scent of sweat, sand, cinnamon and vanilla that surrounded her.
Blood splattered her cheek as they passed a dying swordsman with a sword in his neck, his wide eyes white with fear. Sturdy shafts hissed around them, screeching as they hit canyon stone or found a mark. She buried her hands in Ro's mane, clutching as he galloped beneath her. Suddenly there was a flash of bright light and she could taste the magic in the air. Surrounding them was what seemed a crystal shield, shimmering white with pure energy. The familiar feeling of magic humming in the air brought Regina out of her battle induced stupor and cleared her head. The shield flickered as it faltered, an arrow getting through. She felt a thump and heard the Swan grunt as it buried itself deeply into his shoulder. The shield flickered again and Regina realized it was coming down. Quickly, she pushed against the strong hold around her and started to twist in the saddle.
"Stay down!" The Swan tried to push her back but his movements were weak as he tried to fight her and steer the horse at the same time.
"No!' Regina twisted fully around until their bodies were flush and she was peering over his shoulder. The scene she saw made her shudder. Men being slaughtered under the cold light of the stars. She pushed aside her fear and brought her palms up, purple energy crackling from them. It lanced out in a hundred different directions, finding surrounding enemies and burning a hole through their bodies. The smell of charred flesh filled the air. Another hail of arrows descended on their heads and Regina quickly threw up a shield. Thicker and stronger than the pitiful attempt from the Swan before, the arrows glanced off with a ping and spun away. Regina gave a self-satisfied smirk. Suddenly from behind a rock a caped figure strode out in front of them. Ro reared on his hind legs and the Black Swan grunted as he held up both their weights. The figure had his palm up and was chanting, yellow light glowing from their fingers, Regina only had seconds. She twisted toward the figure and summoned a huge wave of purple energy that blasted the figure onto their back, the hood falling back and revealing short golden hair and feminine features.
She had no more time to look, however, as the Swan took the opportunity and dug his heels into Ro's heaving sides, galloping away. She maintained the shield as they made their way out of the melee, the sounds of battle started to fade. Every so often she shot a bolt of energy at any head that poked out of the rock, but that was becoming less and less often.
They rode like that for what seemed like hours, the Swan watching the front and guided Ro through the canyon as Regina watched their backs and maintained a shield. Jemakh, ever faithful, trotting by their side and within the shield. It was obvious the Swan had trained him to maintain a close distance during battle for his own safety, which made her smile, the trick showing how much the Swan cared for his companion. They barley spoke a word as they trotted though the dark maze. It was only when Regina felt a warm splash land against her leg in the small space between them that she looked down to see blood staining her white toga. Confused, she looked for the source, and suddenly the dim memory of the arrow came back to her. "Black Swan, you are hurt."
"I know." She heard him grimace.
"Slow down, let me pull it out." He shook his head.
"I must get you out of the canyon." Regina clicked her tongue and Ro stopped beneath them. She heard the Swan sigh, but guessed he was too tired to protest because he made no movements to try and start them up again.
"We haven't seen another soul for hours. It will only take a moment." She felt rather than saw the small tremble of exhaustion and pain that moved through the Persian.
"There are clean bandages in Jemakh's saddle bag." The Swan spoke, betraying nothing.
"I won't need them." Regina replied. She carefully unbuckled the Swans dark leather shoulder plate to get at the dark protruding shaft. It was as round as the fattest part of her pinky finger and surprisingly heavy. She ripped the cloth underneath away till there was a good sized hole around the wound. Dark swirls flowed gracefully across tanned flesh, but Regina didn't take any time to scrutinize the tattoos as she focused on the wound. Blood was seeping around the edges and had soaked the shirt around it. She tisked, berating herself for not noticing earlier. It was stuck just below the collarbone over the Swans left breast. She gently twirled the shaft to see if the arrow was stuck in bone, but it turned smoothly. The Swan grunted in pain. "I'm sorry…knife." The Swan grabbed a small knife at his hip and handed it over.
Regina summoned a fireball in her palm and plunged the knife into the flame. A surprised gasp, despite the circumstances, made her smirk. "You can't do this, Swan?" She asked.
"Unlike you, magic isn't my primary weapon." He grimaced. Regina raised an eyebrow.
"Very observant." She replied. She took the knife out of the fire and doused her fireball before probing the tip into the wound.
"It's not that hard to notice, seeing as your body is not accustomed to hard exercise; there must be another way you defend yourself." Emma felt a sharp stab of pain in her shoulder and hissed.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Emma's eyes flicked up to Regina's and saw an unexpected teasing sparkle in them, gods they were close to each other.
"Er-um…ow!" Was all she could get out as Regina started to probe deeper into the wound. When she had cleared sufficient space for her finger to reach the arrowhead, she withdrew the knife and gave it back to the Swan. Emma grabbed it and gripped the handle hard as Regina replaced the knife with her fingers. Emma felt them as they stroked their way down the arrow shaft. Her hand shook from the pain of it.
"Almost there…" Regina felt the metal beneath her fingers and hissed as the buried arrowhead cut the tip of her finger. She pulled the flesh away from the arrowhead and prepared to pull it out, blood welling around her fingers. "Get ready." She was about to pull when she felt the trembling the Swan could no longer control. With her free hand Regina guided the Swans left hand onto her thigh. "Brace yourself there." Emma's heart leaped as Regina placed her hand on her thigh. She squeezed it a little to stop her trembling and braced her arm, slightly leaning onto the other woman's thigh.
"I'm sorry." Emma whispered. Regina just let out a sound that was either a scoff or a snort, and got ready again.
"On the count of three." Emma grit her teeth. "One…" Emma tensed and felt Regina tense as well, "two!" She felt as the arrow was pulled out of her flesh with a small rotating motion. The pain was excruciating. She couldn't help it when she yelled, slightly whimpering a little at the end. Regina tossed the arrow to the side and quickly waved her hand over the wound that was welling and dripping with the Swans dark blood. All at once the wound closed and was healed as warm magic spilled over it. Emma groaned again as some residual pain lanced up her arm. "It will take time for your arm to realize it doesn't have a gaping hole in it anymore." Regina spoke. She started to gently rub the spot, working the ache out of it. Even slick with blood and sand, the Swans skin still felt surprisingly soft. She clicked her tongue and Ro started trotting again.
"Thank you." The Swan spoke quietly, voice rough from shouting. Regina continued to nurse the arm for a few more dare she say intimate minutes until she felt the Swan relax beneath her touch. She then maneuvered herself to a sitting position behind the Swan. Above them the sky was turning a rosy pink. Specks of blue sky, so cheery in comparison to the dark night sky before peeked through the clouds in the sky…clouds in the sky? "It's going to rain." The Swan spoke, as if answering her question.
"How do you know for sure?" Regina asked. The Swan chuckled.
"I just do. I've lived here a long time." Before she could stop herself, Regina spoke.
"How old are you?" The Black Swan stiffened in front of her, then relaxed.
"Just this once, I will let you break the rules of the game, for the arrow…I'm 20." Regina blinked. She had not expected the Swan to be so young, let alone younger than her by 8 years! "There it is."
"Huh?" She raised her furrowed brow to see the end of the canyon in sight. Climbing from out of its looming walls was like escaping from the belly of the beast. Relief washed over her as Ro struggled up the steep sandy slope up. There wasn't a soul in sight, only sand as far as the eye could see.
"We made it…" The Swan breathed. Regina was surprised to hear a similar note of relief in their voice. Suddenly the Black Swan unexpectedly swayed in the saddle in front of her, suddenly feeling limp. Regina felt for the strong magic signature of the Persian but what she found was a well almost drained completely. This explained the terrible quality of shield they had cast. "Swan?" The soldier suddenly lost all strength and started to slip from the saddle. Regina reached out to try and stop him from falling but it was like trying to stop a boulder and she only ended up pulling herself down too. She crawled over to the Persian and peered down at them.
"Swan, can you hear me." The Swan only groaned. "Tell me what's wrong, why are you like this?" The Swan weekly tried to pull up his sleeve, but his hands shook. Regina ripped open his black sleeve, revealing two inflamed puncture marks that had bloody pus and a clear liquid dripping from it. She could see a blackness creeping up the veins of his arm. Regina shook her head, with everything that had been going on, she had forgotten about the snake bite. "Why didn't you heal yourself?" Regina scolded.
"The water…the water…" The Swan whispered, and then was silent. Regina frowned, looking down at the masked warrior. Her fingers teased the edge of the warm metal, curving under the edge, brushing a smooth jaw. She could know, she could take it off and know right now…but then the words registered. The water. The water. Regina cursed, sitting back. She couldn't, not even for information, not now. She waved her hand and a tent unfurled itself from its stashed position behind Ro's saddle. Regina picked the Swan up with her magic and laid them inside on the pillows that had fluffed themselves. She kneeled next to the Swan, taking up a gloved hand and threading their fingers, pressing her palm firmly against the others. Magic flowed from hers into the palm of the Black Swan, her enemy. Magic that was meant to heal and revive. Regina felt underneath the mask with her other hand until her fingers met soft lips. She gently opened them, and then worked a water skin underneath the mask till it met the Swans lips. "You're not going to die on me yet, not because of me, you insufferable idiot." She whispered.
