Chapter Twenty-Eight

Azar led the way, bent into the wind on the back of her galloping horse, red hair flying out behind her. Seto had thought riding on a camel was bad enough, but riding on a galloping camel was even worse. Now it was like being in a rowboat in the middle of a hurricane. Seto held on for dear life as his camel rollicked and rolled across the sea of the desert.

Téa and Joey had refused to stay behind, so they were tagging along behind Yugi. The falcon was coasting above on the updrafts, a mere smudge in the starkly clear blue sky. Ramla rode tall and proud on her camel like an ancient queen. If she had any fears about the upcoming skirmish, she did not show them. Marik seemed to be accustomed to riding on camels; he wasn't concentrating on holding onto the reins as Seto was; he was zoned out in his own little world.

The smoking ruins of Hemeget were hidden by several sloping dunes. As the group rounded the crest of the last dune, many of them drew their breath in sharply.

It had once been a proud city of spacious tents with colorful flags, fruit-bearing trees and stone-lined pathways. Now it was charred rubble, with most of the tents torn down and trampled. Some of them looked as if they had been exploded. Large black scorch marks scarred the ground. Trees were reduced to ashes, some of the surviving branches still on fire. Rocks were scattered everywhere, along with miscellaneous items like cooking pots and even a child's doll. It made a sudden stab of pain shoot through Seto's heart. He wondered who could do such a cruel and destructive thing. Who had the doll belonged to? Were they still alive?

Only three or four large tents were still standing. What might be inside them made a shiver of fright run down Seto's spine.

Azar turned to them all. There was deep pain etched in her face, as much as she tried to hide it. She made a small speech in Akaneben, and her voice was surprisingly soft and meek now for someone who looked so angry.

"She says to use extreme caution," translated Marik. "All three mages can shield themselves so they are invisible to our eyes. They could be standing right behind us right now, and we wouldn't know until it was too late." Several of them looked around fearfully. "We will ride down slowly into the valley, and Azar will issue a challenge. Hopefully they will show themselves right away, and Ramla, Azar and Samira can hold them off while the rest of us free the ones in the tents."

Azar frowned and added something. "She's wondering how the whole village can fit into four tents," said Marik, frowning. He shrugged. "Well, I guess we'll find out."

It seemed a bizarrely carefree statement considering the situation.

The group descended silently down the sand dune. Even the camels seemed to know that something was up, and they didn't snort or snuffle the whole way. Tension hung in the air like a stretched rubber band.

They entered the village boundary, the camels and horse stepping delicately over the bits of burnt rubble. The only noises were the soft hoof beats of the animals and the bated breaths of their riders. All else was silent. Smoke curled into the air, burning their nostrils and lungs.

Azar abruptly halted Skull-Shatterer, and the camels stopped also. She sat up straighter in the saddle and began to speak in a harsh, commanding, almost jeering voice. When her statement was over, she seemed to relax, barely moving, waiting for a reply.

There was nothing except the flicker of flame and the lazy wisps of smoke drifting into the sky.

Seto didn't know how much longer he could take this. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as a light breeze suddenly stirred through the air. His muscles tensed and adrenaline pumped through his blood as he prepared to flee.

Suddenly there was a blinding red flash of light, and Seto's eardrums seared as a huge booming crack split the stillness with its piercing, thunderous racket. His heart was beating double time; it seemed that a bolt of lightning had struck no more than four feet away. He was seeing spots; the scene was wavering before his eyes. And then came an answering flash, blue this time, and the scream of a falcon returned the challenge. Shouting a war cry, Azar lept off of her horse, her long deadly sword flashing in the sunlight. With a clang it met the blade of another person, a hooded human with a thick broadsword. His eyes gleamed in the recess of his hood. Magical fire crackled in his other hand; he was holding the broadsword one-handed.

Samira was protecting herself with a blue force field; she was battling a man with long red hair tied back in a horsetail. His eyes gleamed a bright demonic red; he was possessed. This must be Azar's brother. He was constantly barraging Samira's shield with a steady stream of red fire, but she was holding him back well.

Ramla blocked a blast from one of the renegades, and turned to shout, "Go to the tents now, while we have them distracted!" Her voice was barely heard above the din, with the raucous crackling of fire and the explosions of mage battle.

Seto tugged on the reins of his camel and urged it to move. Grunting reluctantly, seemingly oblivious to the chaos that was going on around them, the camel began to move agonizingly slowly towards the tents. But they had to get past the mages first. Azar had gutted her mage in ten seconds flat (he apparently wasn't very nimble). The dead mage was now lying on the sand in a pool of his own blood, with Azar standing over him triumphantly. Ramla was creating a wall of ice around her mage, and try as he might to melt it; he was slowly becoming impeded by the constant barrier all around him. Samira was trying to tire Zahir out now by dodging all of his blasts.

The camels made a wide arc around the battle, which was almost over by now. Ramla had killed the mage she was battling, but Samira was still having trouble with Zahir. He seemed to be the most powerful of the three, and had an almost endless store of energy. His red eyes were narrowed in concentration as he shot blast after blast at Samira. He was tall and muscular, yet limber, and a sword hung from his belt, although he did not use it.

Samira conjured a ball of blue fire and sent it shooting toward Zahir. Breathing heavily, he dodged it, but instead of answering back with a blast of fire of his own, he whipped around unexpectedly, holding his hands high above his head. A magical fire twelve feet tall suddenly shot up from his gloved palms. With a victorious shout, he deployed it straight toward the first tent. Azar screamed, but it was nearly inaudible over the roaring of the fire. It was like ten jumbo jets igniting their engines all at the same time.

What if there were people in that tent? Helpless, tied up, and about to be burned to death… the air wavered in a haze of heat… it was like looking through water… death loomed on the edge of the atmosphere, waiting to strike…

And then Seto raised the Millennium Rod, instantly finding the core of power, uncoiling it, but this time he did not flick it like a whip; he made a solid sheet of it, and sent it flying toward the tent… it spread out across the way, shimmering and twinkling… and the fire slammed into it full force and bounced back off. A rushing, thudding pain suddenly rose to the surface; his heart pounded in his ears and his blood rushed to his stomach… it felt like he had been socked in the gut by a heavy boot. In slow motion, he crumpled, falling off of the camel, sinking to the sand, bent over in agony, clutching at his aching stomach; the pain became too much and the blackness closed in over his eyes.

Far above him, someone was calling his name. The pain had faded to a dull ache that throbbed like a drumbeat.

There was a light touch on his shoulder, and the voice called him again. Spiraling up to consciousness, he reluctantly opened his eyes.

He was sprawled out on his side, lying on the sand. Samira was kneeling beside him. Their eyes met. "You saved the tent, Seto," she said, with a distinct note of pride in her voice. "Zahir is being revived right now. Just lie here and rest for a little bit."

But he sat up determinedly, ignoring the muted ache in his gut. "How is Zahir suddenly on the ground?"

"His magical blast rebounded on him when you conjured the shield with the Millennium Rod," Samira explained.

"Why does it hurt so much?" Seto demanded, grimacing at the pain.

"It seems that you put some of… yourself… into the power of the Rod," Samira mused, frowning as she thought.

"Right. Whatever." Had he really blocked the fire from destroying the tent?

All four tents were there. Téa, Joey, Marik and Yugi were helping to untie and reawaken the captives. All of the Hemegetians had red hair and wore clothes similar to Azar's. Even the tiny two-year old had a wooden sword strapped to his belt. All of them looked around at their ruined village with expressions of guarded sorrow. Even the children did not completely reveal their emotions. Seto wondered at this.

He painstakingly got to his feet and stretched. Samira was watching Ramla and Azar, who were attending to Zahir. His eyes were open and were identical to Azar's, except they twinkled with a hidden laughter that Seto had not seen in any of the other Scorpions. He wore a leather jerkin over a gray tunic, with brown leggings and knee-high leather boots. He had armguards on both arms, and a quiver full of arrows was strapped to his back, along with a short bow. Ramla was giving him a drink from her water flask. He sat up, yawned, and Azar immediately began jabbering away a mile a minute in Akaneben. Getting to her feet, Ramla trotted over to Samira and Seto. "We should let them talk," she said. "They've got a lot of catching up to do."

In fact, the whole village was crowding around the twins, smiling and sighing with relief. But there was something wrong. Why were there only adults and toddlers? There seemed to be a missing generation: where were the kids and teenagers?

Seto expressed this thought quietly to Samira. She bit her lip and shook her head. "I hope they weren't killed," she whispered worriedly. Seto shuddered inwardly; who would be evil enough to kill a child?

Samira waded through the group of Scorpions, and indeed, looks of panic were beginning to show on their faces as they realized who was missing from their midst. Samira relayed Seto's observation to Azar, who suddenly stood up with a loud expletive and a look of pure venom on her face. Looks of rage took hold of the adults' faces. Baring their teeth, they scanned around for something, but whatever it was, it wasn't there.

Suddenly appearing at his side again with a terrified look on her face, Samira whispered in his ear, "The Renunep village has raided Hemeget and taken the children hostage."

"Why would they do that?" How disgusting.

"Child traffickers," said Samira in hushed tones of fright. "They capture children and sell them to slavers."

"What?" said Seto incredulously. "That's sick."

"I know." Samira nodded. "We have to get horses and ride to the Renunep village to get them back."

"I don't see any horses."

But Azar was mounting Skull-Shatterer. With one last short statement, she set off at a gallop back toward the hills.

"She says her horse will trace his kin," translated Marik skeptically.

"What's that mean?" asked Joey.

"It means that the horse is going to find the other horses, Joey," Téa sighed.

"Ohhhhh," said Joey.

"All we can do now is wait," said Ramla calmly, sitting down cross-legged on a piece of sand free of rubble.

The Scorpions held a short council and decided that they would pack up and move to the larger city of Suresh, since their village was destroyed. It was unsafe living so near the Ashbaúdi hills anyhow. The adults proceeded to pack up the tents, and it was interesting to watch. Each tent was about twelve feet tall at its peak, and cone-shaped like a teepee. The poles were made of long, debarked, polished branches that Marik said had to be hauled from twenty miles away, since trees were scarce as water in the desert. To dissemble a tent, the outer covering of animal skins was unwrapped from the skeletal wooden frame, and rolled up like a rug. Then the poles, which were tied at the top to form the peak of the cone, were taken down and bundled together like firewood. Soon four neat tent-bundles sat on the ground, waiting to be transported.

Instead of pacing around nervously, the Scorpions set their minds to tasks like clearing away the debris, and packing up their few remaining belongings. Samira was content to watch the littlest ones, who sat beside her on the ground, staring around at their ruined village with wide, wondering eyes.

Zahir had sat down next to Ramla and they were talking in low, furtive voices, their faces betraying nothing of their conversation.

Seto wondered at the fact that there was not sadness in the eyes of the Akanep adults as they looked at their village, as much as there was a pure, red-hot hatred and a lust for revenge.

From where had such loathing come?