Chapter 2

Jamal said, “Even if he’s a Perathean smuggler or spy, if we take him to the garrison, they could gain some intel.”

“Are we going to be asked to justify our actions?”

“Maybe, maybe not. If the higher-ups decide he’s not worth the effort, then it’s out of our hands.” Jamal was hard pressed to give a logical reason why he thought saving this man was so important. Call it a gut feeling or an smidge of intuition. Something about this person felt important. Jamal needed Tarik’s cooperation because the guy on the ground was tall. Although he was slender, he was still obviously as large as an adult. Getting him up onto the horse for transport was definitely a two-person chore.

“Okay, I guess it’s worth the gamble.”

“Let me see if I can get a little more water into him before we try to move him.”

“You’re soft-hearted. Maybe soft headed, too.” Tarik rolled his eyes.

“Screw you.” Jamal was used to the teasing from his partner. He kept at what he was doing, managing to coax another few swallows of water in the man. Maybe he ought to use a healing scarab. Every soldier on patrol carried at least one lapis scarab charged with healing power. With the random fire tornados and storms that still occasional blew through the Burning, burns and injury were always a possibility. The power kept within a scarab wasn’t enormous, but it might keep you alive after a serious injury.

“You do know it’s going to take a few hours to ride to Garrison Nine.”

“Like we weren’t going home anyway.”

“Well, true, I guess.”

Jamal dug into the pouch on his belt, fumbling around until he located the smooth roundness of the scarab. He pulled it out and pressed it to the man’s chest a hand span below his throat. Jamal murmured, “Shifa.” The dark blue stone scarab flared with internal light for several seconds then faded.

Obviously, the dried blood, dirt, and sand stayed exactly the same, but some of the sunburn and abrasions looked to be improved. The man’s eyes opened again. He looked up at Jamal with apprehension and confusion.

“Just stay still. The healing spell’s probably not finished quite yet,” Jamal said. He held the scarab in place for a another minute before returning it to his pouch. He’d have to pay to get it reset later.

“Water.” The man’s voice was a hoarse croak.

“Of course. It looks like you’re still dangerously dehydrated.” Jamal gave him another drink.

“So who the hell are you?” Tarik asked.

“I am Nev,” the man said.

“That’s nice but not super helpful. Querteshan? Perathean?” Tarik pressed.

“I have been living in Driven.”

“So Perathean then. I guess you’re trying to sneak across the Burning to get into Quertesh. Hoping to get into Quertesh for a little larceny or hoping to scope out some military intel?”

Nev looked confused. “I am a servant to Kustaa. He intended to sacrifice me to open a portal and bid a demon through.”

“Intended?” Jamal asked. “Demon?” Not that magic couldn’t be a powerful and dangerous thing, but there was also a chance the man was delirious.

Nev’s expression was both fear and embarrassment. “I escaped.”

Jamal offered him another sip of water. “Could we maybe postpone the interrogation until we get to the garrison? I’d rather not be out here when afternoon rolls around again.”

“Okay, so let’s get going. He’s riding with you.” Tarik gave Jamal an irritated look. “Unless you want him to walk.”

“No, he’d probably make it twenty paces and pass out again.” Jamal helped Nev sit up more fully. “Do you think you can stand?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Okay, slowly then. “

Getting Nev to his feet was not easy, not because he was extremely heavy but more because he was weak and clumsy. Jamal supported him with an arm wrapped around Nev’s chest from behind, his thigh wedged against the base of Nev’s spine. It took a long moment for Nev to stabilize his footing. Even then, he leaned back against Jamal a bit.

“Tarik, bring my horse over.”

Tarik complied.

Jamal guided Nev’s hand to the edge of the saddle. “Hang on to the saddle while I mount, then I’ll get Tarik to help you up.”

Nev nodded.

One foot in the stirrup, Jamal swung up onto his horse. Stonekicker made a low snort of curiosity. The horse was one of the breeds with extra wide hooves and a tolerance for the dryness of the desert. He had a relative even temperament but a tendency to wander if not kept on task.

“Do you want him in front or in back?” Tarik asked.