Disclaimer: I own nothing! It all belongs to T.P.
On the RunAfter you read this chapter plz review! R/R
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Chapter 3.
"George?" Alanna asked one day. He turned his attention to her on his gelding.
"Yes?" He was very tan from the sun, same with Alanna.
"I haven't seen any Bazhir. Is that bad?" she asked.
"No, not really. Unless you want to," he said while slowing down his gelding.
"No. I mean you said we might run into some of them, I was just worried about you. You said they wouldn't hurt young girls like me, like I said a couple of weeks ago, you're older and male."
"I'm only seventeen. And, I am also a thief, and thieves know how to fight, you could say." Alanna got a mysterious look in her eyes.
"You said you would teach me to fight, well, we know that we've pretty much lost the people following us. So now, when we stop, you can teach me," Alanna brought her mare closer to his. "Please?" George looked like he was deep in thought. He made up his mind.
"Sure, I will. The only thing is that you cannot whine about too much work, if you do, no more lessons for a long, long time. Got it?" George dealt.
"Fine by me." George hopped off his horse. Alanna did the same.
"Your first lesson begins now," he said. After that, he gave her a knife. They spent a couple of hours working on disarming. Aha! Success! Now for attacking. Not as lucky. A couple hours passed and still no luck. George told her that they would stop for the day. Alanna told him that it was only midday, but George wouldn't continue.
"George?" she asked later that day while they were riding. He turned his attention to her.
"Yes?" he asked.
"Do you have the feeling that we're being watched?" she asked nervously.
"Yes, I do. Get your bow ready. Just in case it's needed," he said calmly. He squinted at the horizon; black shapes in the distance. "Hillmen. Not as dangerous as Bazhir but they leave non alive alike the Bazhir. They kill anyone that crosses their path. Even a god."
"Surely not a god. Because gods can't die," Alanna said.
"I suppose. But right now we have more to worry about," he said taking out his knives. Alanna started trotting out.
"Charge, right?" she asked. George was about to object when she started down the rather large hill.
"Alanna!" he yelled. "Mithros she's a prick," he then muttered to himself before charging after Alanna. The two collided with the desert men who were a spirited group. George thrust his blade into one's chest. Alanna's mare was a warrior horse and kicked Hillmen as they came. She saw one go after George. She sent an arrow through his spine, not George's. It seemed as if there was a never-ending supply of Hillmen. Suddenly, an arrow not Alanna's own hit a rather ugly Hillman. Alanna took a risk and looked behind and saw men in various colored burnooses.
They were saved. Or so she thought. George cut off another hillman with a sound of relief. He too turned and saw the men in burnooses. The supposed Bazhir defeated the villains while a few escaped off into the desert.
"Come back, coward!" Alanna cried.
A Bazhir who looked to be the headman went up to George as he dismounted. Alanna's eyes flashed towards an axe gleaming in a fallen hillman's hand. It glimmered for a moment. Alanna stared: against the yellow-orange fire that filled her sight was a picture.
A city. It looked as if the buildings were made of marble. The city was ghostly-but beautiful.
Her eyes cleared, and the vision was gone.
Their rescuers formed a loose circle around her and George. The Bazhir that had approached George for a while said nothing only stared.
Finally he nodded. "I am Halef Seif, headman of the Bloody Hawk tribe, of the people called the Bazhir," he said formally. Alanna couldn't help but think that he looked a little young to be a headman of a Bazhir tribe. "Those who are dead were trespassers on our sands, riding without leave. You also come here unbidden. Why should we not serve you as we did these others?"
Let's see, because we don't kill people within fifty feet of us just because they're there, Alanna thought acrimoniously.
Suddenly George spoke. "I hope you will treat us fairly, Halef Seif of the Bloody Hawk. We took nothing. We harmed nothing, the youngster and I. We are simply ridin' south."
"To where are you riding south with a girl no older than ten?" Halef Seif asked firmly when he fixed his eyes on Alanna.
"We are ridin' to the University of Carthak. She is to become a mage," George said formally. Halef Seif turned to his men and started talking amongst them.
"Do you suppose by which they are talking like that is a good thing?" Alanna asked George quietly who hopped back onto his horse.
"I don't know. Just pray to the Goddess it's good," George muttered back. The headman turned around to face the two Northerners.
"We accept that you are taking the young girl to Carthak. As headman of the Bloody Hawk, I invite you to share our fire this night," he announced.
"We are honored by your invitation. Certainly we could not think of refusing," George bowed.
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The tent Alanna and George were given to share for the night was large and airy, well stocked with comfortable pillows and rugs. Alanna flopped down, thinking of the village itself. A rough count of the tents indicated the Bloody Hawk encompassed at least twenty families.
Her reverie was interrupted by a young girl of the tribe. She wore the face veil all Bazhir women put on when they began their women's cycles of monthly bleeding. She balanced a tray of food and wine. Carefully she placed it on the ground between George and Alanna.
"I am Anneka. You will rest here tonight until tomorrow when you ride to Carthak," she said to them. She looked to be about thirteen.
"Thank you, Anneka. We appreciate the food," George thanked. She bowed and quickly scrambled from the tent. After they ate George and Alanna rolled themselves up in embroidered throws and closed their eyes.
"Goodnight George," Alanna whispered.
"G'night Alanna," he yawned.
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Sorry I haven't updated in a while. I've been really busy lately. And plus, I just had the stomach flu.
SoccerrSweet