Khashbal Clan's lands were large and rich. For three days Alam and Tajar rode across the western portion of it. They rode as fast as they dared to push their horses because if they were caught their lives would be worth very little. Although the Empa and Khashbal clan were not enemies they were far from allies. The plan was to quickly pass through them unseen and come out of them straight onto The Trail. From there it would be an easy ride of a day or two to reach the town of Lasthome.

Once the rains began they forgot about trying to be secretive. Long range vision was destroyed by the rain so the only danger they had was a patrol coming across their fresh tracks or stumbling into them. Behind them the mountains were swallowed by the rain, in front of them the land was veiled in grey. Occasionally some gentle hills and gullies would break up the tedium of the land. These always had a fattened stream flowing in them that had to be crossed. Such places had trees that would provide a bit of shelter but Alam and Tajar did not stop. These breaks in the land were the exception not the rule; hours would pass without seeing anything but the flat, featureless tedium of long grass made heavy with rain.

Every inch of Alam and Tajar was wet. All of their possessions were soaked except for the contents of their leather oil-bags. The Clans People of The Endless Plains always took with them a large leather bag treated with oils and fats to make it waterproof. It would be used not only to keep things dry, but as a floatation aid when crossing rivers.

With no sun or stars to guide them Alam had no idea where they were, or if they were even heading in the right direction. Tajar seemed to know what he was doing and Alam simply had to trust him. The two friends rode in miserable silence - heads bowed, resigned to their discomfort.

It was late afternoon when Tajar suddenly reined in his horse.

"Alam stop!"

Alam snapped out of his musing and pulled on the reins. He noticed that Mist's ears were pricked forward and her head was up. In front of them, only eighty paces away, were cows. They had come upon the edge of a large herd. The cows jerked their heads up and complained loudly at Alam and Tajar.

"Damn!" said Tajar.

"What?" asked Alam.

"We're spotted!" Tajar pointed to three riders on the outskirts of the herd who were clustered together and pointing at them.

"So? They're only cowherds."

"Yes," said Tajar as he prodded his horse into a canter away from the herd. "But there will be warriors nearby to protect the herd."

They kicked their horses into a gallop and skirted around the herd. Minutes passed slowly with Alam checking over his shoulder constantly. The rain made it impossible to see if they were pursued. As the day's light was just beginning to fade the rain subsided to miserable drizzle which still kept them soaked but opened visibility. Their horses, already tired, became slower and slower.

"Come on, Mist," Alam coaxed her, "Just a bit further. We will be safe if we make it to the night."

Behind them dark smudges appeared in the drizzle. Slowly, but surely, the indistinct marks took the form of a line of horses riding after them.

"They are gaining quickly," stated Alam.

"Fresher horses," said Tajar.

"I can't tell how many there are," said Alam.

"Me either," concurred Tajar.

"This is pointless." said Alam. "There's nowhere to hide and they'll be on us before dark. Follow me!"

He pulled Mist's reins to the right and directed her to where a small solitary hillock rose out of the fields. They reached the top of the hillock and dismounted. Alam pulled out his axe and stood with its head on the ground to indicate that he was armed but wanted no trouble. Tajar imbedded half a dozen arrows in the ground by his right foot. They were ready for quick reloading if needed.

The riders came to the foot of the hillock like a storm. Their faces were grim, and it seemed to Alam that many of them looked eager to fight. They smashed weapons against shields as they fanned out to surround the hillock. Alam stood still and tried his best to look impassive like Chief Urlock or Serik would. The reality was that his heart was thumping in his chest. He gripped the handle of his axe with white knuckles.

"Breathe," muttered Tajar. "It will look bad if you pass out. Oh, and try not to wet yourself this time."

Although Alam was too terrified to smile, it helped him to relax a little. As the circle of horses was completed around the hillock spears were lowered, pointing inwards.

They are just trying to scare us...

It's working.

"Ten of them," muttered Tajar.

"Tajar," Alam said under his breath. "Please don't say anything about the box. I don't want our enemies to know that it's anything special."

"Sure," Tajar muttered back. "It's your box."

A man pushed his horse forward. He wore new looking armour of metal plates over embroidered red silk. His finely detailed helmet concealed much of his face.

Nobility, surely.

"Who are you that crosses Khashbal lands?" demanded the man.

"My name is Alam and this is Tajar. We are peaceful travelers on our way to Lasthome," replied Alam in a clear voice.

"If you are peaceful why do you carry weapons, and why did you flee like thieves or spies?"

"We are as we say we are. The weapons we carry are for our protection and nothing more. We merely wish to travel to Lasthome."

"Then why, I repeat, did you flee if you have nothing to hide?"

"Because we know that the Khashbal law is intolerant of trespassers, and we feared finding ourselves in exactly this situation." said Alam.

"Well, that is plainly spoken," said the man with a smile. "So tell me, where are you from?"

"Empa Clan."

"And your business in Lasthome?" asked the man.

"That I can not tell, but it is of no harm to anyone in Khashbal," answered Alam.

"You will tell me," insisted the man.

"I mean you no disrespect, but I will not."

"Well, Alam and Tajar, of Empa Clan," the man spoke out. "You have three choices before you. You may try to fight through us, but we will surely kill you, or you tell me why you travel to Lasthome and I will judge whether or not to let you pass, or you keep your silence and we take you to the head of our Clan so that he may decide your fate."

Alam thought for a moment before replying. "I have a fourth choice for you to consider, but it relies on you being a man of honour and trust."

"I hope that I have some degree of honour," the man replied. "As to trust, that is harder to find, especially when meeting armed men skulking through our lands. That said, I am willing to hear you out."

"I strive to be an honest man," said Alam. "I speak the truth when I say we are no threat. I ask you to look into my eyes and judge for yourself if we are a threat. You will see that we are not. I then suggest you simply let us go free."

The men surrounding the hillock sniggered amongst themselves, amused by Alam's wishful thinking. Their leader paused as if actually considering the idea, but then shook his head.

"I have seen too many spies to trust anyone outside our Clan. You may be as innocent as a newborn babe, but I think not. Lay down your arms and we will escort you to the Lord of Khashbal Clan. He will decide your fate."

In the end Alam and Tajar had no choice but to give up their weapons and armour. All other possessions were left in their care. Their horses were then tethered to the saddles of two of the Khashbal warriors and led towards the heart of their Clan's lands.

"Well that went well," Tajar shouted to Alam who was two horses in front of him.

"Yes, but it could have gone worse," countered Alam. "They could have killed us."

"Pha! They might have killed you. After all you are a bit on the soft side, but there is no way they could have taken me. I am Tajar the Mighty! Whom no man hath slain!"

Around him all the Khashbal warriors broke into laughter.

"More like Tajar the captive," interjected the leader in the red silk.

"Ha! I am exactly where I want to be!" sparred Tajar.

"Which is?" the man asked.

"On my way to Khashbal. I have always dreamed of going there. It is said that your village is full of beautiful women who need a good man but alas, they are all out looking after cows. With me captive in Khashbal I will have the pick of the crop."

"Tajar, just this morning weren't you were telling me of your undying love for someone in a blue dress?" said Alam.

"Ah! Perhaps that is a difference between us. You want a rose, I want a bouquet."

-----------------------

If you are a voter, or comment maker, please do so. I love all the feedback.

-Y. V. Qualls