Alas we're near the end of my snippets.  Boo hoo.  LOL  

The good news is I have another warrior snippet to submit, and more good news is the next one I may submit is something I call "Medjai Spin the Bottle."

But for now, have fun reading this one.  Sometimes writing these little snippets has helped me sharpen my skills and technique in writing action.  And of course, can you blame me for always having Ardeth come rescue the woman in distress?  Who can resist a handsome desert warrior that comes in and literally sweeps you off your feet?  I also noticed I just had to describe Ardeth's physical appearance, as if we don't know it by heart by now but what the heck…I love writing about his face.  LOL

So enjoy this little story I call "Warrior Mode."  And as always thanks for the reviews. 

~*~

She stood paralyzed with fear in the middle of what remained of the camp, oblivious to the chaos that surrounded her from all sides. Men were running and shouting, tents were on fire and the night air was filled with thick black smoke.  Gunfire erupted in short bursts, making her subconsciously flinch with terror.  Her world was bathed in reds, oranges and shade of black as it was slowly consumed by fire. 


"Run, run, run," sang the litany of panic in her mind and her hands clenched into fists at her side. Yet she was unable to move.  Her legs felt heavy, mired in quicksand, her chest heaved with each breath and her eyes were wild with fright.  Her gaze swept over the carnage until she saw her own death bearing down on her.  A bandit, face contorted and obscene with the lust for killing, charged forward with his rifle aimed directly at her chest.

With an evil grin he pulled the trigger. 

~*~

The warriors chose to remain impartial and watched from the ridge above as the foreigners camp was attacked by desert bandits. Dealing with the ferocity of these men would certainly send the same message the Medjai would have delivered to the people below - leave or die.   They remained impassive as the destruction escalated, the tide of the battle showing the outcome would still be favorable.  The weak and defenseless were fleeing away from the fighting thus upholding part of the Medjai oath.


Until the woman staggered out of one tent.

Ardeth Bay watched with growing alarm as it became quite evident that her life was in danger.

"Why does she not flee?" wondered his Second.

His response was to kick his heels and his stallion surged forward, down the rocky slope as pebbles and stones followed in its wake, skipping down the incline. Man and horse raced across the open desert, his dark eyes intently watching her try to move, take one faltering step and he silently urged her to take another. He saw the oval of her face become clearer, the dark curtain of her hair waving in the breeze like a silken banner, and the light fabric of her clothes clung to her lush womanly shape.  He saw the comprehension register on her face and his gaze followed her line of vision until he saw the raised rifle pointing straight at her heart.  He urged Sabeeh to gallop faster and felt his beloved horse respond to his silent command with a burst of speed. He leaned over to the side with his arm out.

~*~

Insane laughter bubbled up from her throat when she caught sight of a new threat, a dark apparition bearing down on her from one side. Her gaze darted between the bandit intent on shooting her and this new danger.  But the sudden paralysis that held her body prisoner would not let her escape.  She closed her eyes and willingly submitted to her fate, having no idea that the outcome had already been determined from one simple act.


"Behold a dark rider..." she murmured and waited for death.

A second later she heard the crack of the rifle but instead of feeling the slug enter her flesh, a hard arm grabbed her around the waist.  She gasped and heard a grunt of pain.  Then her world tilted precariously as she seemed to be flying through the air, her feet dangling off the ground.  Her eyes flew open in shock and she stared down in amazement to find she was anchored against a horse, the ground passing by with sickening speed. The burning remains of the camp retreated behind them, black clouds of smoke still billowing into the night sky. She squirmed, tried to shift her body to ease her discomfort and placed her hands on her rescuers arm.

"Do not move...." he hissed in her ear, his voice deep and richly accented, the last word broken with a hitch of pain.

She obeyed but shifted again when the ground slowly started to move up under her feet. The arm that once held her so tightly loosened and before she could react, she was tumbling again, falling onto the hard sand.  She hit hard, rolled and a groan of pain slid past her clenched teeth.  Something fell by her side and she scrambled out of the way until she came to a halt. Her eyes widened in shock when she saw the dark rider laying a few feet away from her, his body unnaturally still.  She climbed to her knees and stayed there, drawing in gulps of air as she stared at him, confusion marring her features. Her mind swirled with questions:  who was he, why did he help her? And should she help him?

Cautiously she moved towards him until she was by his side. He was dressed in long black robes, his broad chest covered by ammunition belts and bandoliers in the shape of an X, strange looking swords strapped to his side. He wore a turban that partially covered his long, dark hair and a piece of cloth covered his face.


With a will of its own and forgetting her own recent brush with death, her hand slowly reached out and gently tugged down the face covering, revealing a face that made a thrilling tremor race through her battered body.  He was handsome and exotic looking with dark, crescent shaped tattoo's graced both cheeks.  His pale face was framed by a trimmed goatee and involuntarily her fingertips brushed against those dark markings.  Her gaze ran over his lean muscular body and soon discovered the reason for his unconsciousness - a bloody bullet wound in one shoulder.  

She gently probed it and suddenly his hand shot out and grabbed hers in a strong grip, making her shriek in terror. He held it prisoner as his eyes, glittering with a suppressed and barely contained energy bore into hers.  He pulled her forward until she was pressed against his chest, her breasts flattened against his lean, hard body.  Their faces were close, so close she could imagine inhaling his sweet breath, and released one of her own. Her eyes centered on his full, bottom lip then wandered up to find him still intently staring at her, an unreadable expression on his face.  Her fingertips played over his face again, lingering on those lips that were now parted and she had to stop herself from dipping her head and supping from them, like drinking sweet forbidden nectar.

His hand crept up into her hair and applied a gentle pressure on the back of her neck giving her all the permission needed.  She bent her head, brushing her lips against his even as she inwardly sighed with contentment.  They tested and tasted each other's mouth until the kiss grew ravenous, abruptly ending when she accidentally brushed his shoulder wound. He groaned from the contact and almost passed out from the pain. The sound of approaching riders broke them from their reverie and before she could react, she was surrounded by twenty men, all dressed in black.

She was once again a target they now had aimed in their sites.