Chapter 1

Along the horizon the sky began to lighten, throwing shadows on the sides of the sand dunes. A gust of wind blew a fine abrasive cloud that scoured the landscape.

Jamal Fayed nudged his horse with his heels, setting the animal ambling forward again. There was still a half a day left on this patrol assignment. He glanced at his partner, Tarik, also mounted on a horse, plodding along beside him. “It’s been half a season since any of our people have seen the Peratheans trying to sneak across the Burning.” The swath of hot arid desert that separated Quertesh from Perathea took two days to cross with a good reliable animal. It took three days for a determined man on foot.

“I did hear that a trade caravan came across a couple of weeks ago,” said Tarik. He adjusted the keffiyeh on his head, settling the cord that held the cloth in place at a different angle.

“Anything of great note for sale?” Jamal asked.

“Someone said they brought some peaches. All preserved against the journey by some magic charm that keeps them the same as the day they were picked.”

“I bet they cost a small fortune.”

“More than you and I can afford,” Tarik said.

“It could be worse. We could be at war again with Perathea. My history knowledge is sketchy. Has it been four or five times?”

“If you ask my grandmother, she’d probably say four, because I don’t think she counts the couple years of peace in her teens as an actual lack of war. She calls what’s going on right now—pretending peace—”

Jamal squinted. What was that he saw lying on the sand in the distance? An animal? A hunk of fabric picked up by the wind? “There’s something over there to the left. I’m going to have a look.”

“Probably part of a tent.”

Urging his horse to move at a quicker pace, Jamal kept an eye on the object. The closer he got, the more the object looked like…a person. Judging from the lack of movement, he immediately began to wonder if the person was still alive. Drawing close, he slid down off his horse and strode over.

The body had close cropped light hair and wore an ankle length tunic, no shoes, and nothing else as far as could be seen. All of it was filthy, encrusted with a mix of sand, sweat, and dried blood. Dropping to one knee, Jamal thought he detected a faint rise and fall of the chest. Alive? He rolled the body on its back. The lips were ragged, scabbed, the left cheek darkened by a severe bruise. Somehow, he had expected the features underneath to be delicate and feminine. They weren’t. The jaw line was strong and the cheekbones high and angular. And yet there was no sign of facial hair. Young man? He looked so damaged and so very vulnerable. Sunburn and blisters marred his skin.

Jamal pressed his fingertips to the man’s throat. A fast weak pulse beat beneath the skin. He was alive. Why did that make Jamal unexpectedly relieved? Touching fingers to skin…felt odd, somehow familiar.

“He looks Perathean,” Tarik commented, stepping up beside Jamal.

“Pale skin and light hair, yeah, okay, possibly true.”

“We should leave the body where it is.”

“He’s alive!” Jamal replied.

“So slit his throat and be done with it.”

“You have no idea who he is! There are immigrants who live in Quertesh. Not many, but they’re legal citizens.” Anger flooded Jamal.

“Why in the fuck would a Querteshan be out here in the Burning, mostly dead and by himself?”

“Wandered away from a caravan?”

“The nearest trade route is a full day’s ride west.” Tarik looked dubious.

“Which could be why he’s in such awful shape.”

“There’s a lot of blood. Is it his?”

Jamal ran his hands along the man’s limbs. There were scrapes and gashes. He gingerly pushed the stiff, stained fabric of the tunic up. Dried blood coated the insides of the man’s legs. His penis hung limp and splattered with similarly dried blood. It also looked like there might be other injuries in that sensitive area.

“Did he get stabbed, or did someone rape him?” Tarik asked.

“I can’t tell, but does it really matter? Hand me one of my water skins. I’m going to see if I can get him to drink a little.” Jamal slid an arm under the man’s shoulders and lifted him slightly.

“Seems like a waste of perfectly good water.”

“You’re a bastard,” Jamal snapped. He grabbed the water skin Tarik held out and twisted the top open. He dribbled water into the man’s mouth a few drops at a time until there was a weak coughing swallow. “Easy. There’s more.”

It took a number of minutes to get a few mouthfuls into the man. Slowly, his eyes opened for a moment then sank shut again.