Ashford waited nervously as the army marched closer. This was definitely not what he had planned with Jon earlier. He had hoped to sneak into Raves undetected to make contact with Chieftain Sazon in private.
Now a whole tribe of warriors marched towards them.
"How many?" Jon asked, his voice devoid of emotion. He could have been asking about the weather.
Ashford had to swallow before speaking. "The Tribe of the Desert Scorpion boasts the highest number of warriors of all seven tribes." He looked at Jon, hoping his face didn't look as queasy as he felt. "Twenty thousand warriors."
"Good," Jon muttered. "It should give us the upper hand in negotiations with the other tribes."
Ashford would have laughed but he feared if he opened his mouth he might lose his lunch instead. "N-negotiations? Are you serious?"
Jon looked at him calmly. "I want to avoid fighting, if I can. We will make better time that way."
Ashford shook his head and waved his hand at the oncoming army. "Look at them! There will be no negotiations. If the goddess really does know that we're coming, then we will have to fight our way through."
Jon grimaced. "I'm afraid you're right. Still, gathering the largest host around us will serve our cause better."
"If they don't kill us on sight," Ashford said grimly. "We're lucky they disdain archers. Otherwise, we would be mistaken for pincushions once we were in range."
Jon smiled. "Have faith, my friend. These warriors will give us a chance to speak before they decide to disembowel us and leave us for the vultures."
Ashford could have done without that mental image. "How do you know that?"
"The same reason they hate archers; they follow my code of honor," Jon replied. He shaded his eyes and stared at the army quickly making its way toward them. "Besides, they probably have orders not to kill us on sight."
"They follow your code of honor?" Ashford asked.
Jon nodded, though he never took his eyes off of the army. "I think their ancestors were the men I led into battle. I felt that a man should be able to defend himself if you wanted to kill him. That's why my army never used archers. My men followed my example. My teachings caught on and became quite popular."
Ashford had to disagree with him there. "I much prefer killing men who have no chance of killing me. Which leads me to ask, what about magic? Surely you used magic in your battles?"
"Never offensive magic," Jon replied. "I fought with a sword and nothing else."
"Why?"
Jon shook his head. "You're not a warrior, Ashford. You wouldn't understand. Now prepare yourself. The army approaches."
The Tribe of the Desert Scorpion arrived in a cloud of dust. Chieftain Sazon rode on his horse in front of his marching army. Fifty of his best men rode beside him. Everyone else approached on foot. Horses couldn't survive the harsh conditions of the desert.
Sazon reined in several yards away from Ashford and Jon. The rest of his cavalry circled them, silent and grim as death. The foot soldiers ringed them in.
There would be no escape.
Ashford wiped the sweat off of his forehead as he watched Sazon dismount from his horse. The Chieftain was a very tall man. His skin was coal black. His hair was just as dark and extremely long. It was tied off at his neck and was braided all the way down his back. He wore a white vest with no sleeves and brown trousers tucked into knee high brown boots. His massive arms were corded with muscle. A sword and dagger were sheathed on his hips.
The men on horseback wore similar clothing, except their vests were different colors to denote their rank in the tribe. The foot soldiers wore simple brown clothing.
Sazon stopped several feet away. His dark eyes sized up Jon and dismissed him just as fast. He turned to Ashford.
"Ashford Caulston." His voice was deep and powerful.
Ashford stifled his fear as best as he could and bowed his head in respect. "Chieftain Sazon, it's a pleasure to see you again."
"I wish I could say the same," he said somberly. But his eyes held no pity for him. The warriors of Raves never learned the concept.
"How did you know I was out here?"
Sazon glanced at Jon. "I was told to march my army out here by..."
"The goddess," Jon said, when Sazon fell silent.
Sazon's eyes whipped back toward Ashford. "You spoke of the goddess to this outsider?" He hands gripped the hilt of his sword and dagger. Ashford could hear the squeak of leather.
"Yes," he replied.
What else can I say? Damn, this is not looking good!
"We came to trust you, against our better judgment," Sazon said, his voice flat. "Our countries were making great progress."
"Were?" Ashford asked.
Sazon grimaced and spat to the side. "Apparently, this man next to you has angered the goddess. Why else would she send out my entire tribe to deal with him?"
"The goddess has ordered you to kill us?" Jon asked. Again, Ashford was amazed by how calm he sounded.
"She told me to hear your words and then decide if I should take your life. Speak, Astuarian, and let us be done with this madness."
Jon stepped closer to Sazon. Several of the men on horseback unsheathed their swords. Sazon raised his hand and the men reluctantly sheathed their weapons. Jon took no notice of this.
The movement of the riders had attracted Ashford's attention to one rider in particular. It was a woman.
Her fine, silky hair was pure white, tied off and braided down her back like Sazon's. She wore a loose blouse of white silk and tight leather trousers, also white. The blouse was unbuttoned enough to show a generous amount of bosom. Her dark eyes and skin seemed to sparkle in the harsh sunlight.
Her eyes, in particular, were staring directly at him with an intense heat. Ashford gulped and hastily turned his head away.
"I have an offer to make," Jon told the towering Sazon. "I wish to challenge you for leadership of the Tribe of the Desert Scorpion."
Thousands of voices filled the air with laughter. Ashford could hear the foot soldiers repeating what Jon said to the men behind them. Laughter flowed along the deep ranks of the foot soldiers.
Sazon, however, had not laughed. He stared intently down at Jon. "By what right do you challenge me? You are not of our blood, Astuarian."
Jon bowed his head in acknowledgment. "The proud people of Raves honor the best warriors, regardless of their country of origin. It is by this right that I challenge you."
Again, laughter spread throughout the tribe. This time, Sazon's booming voice led them. "You, little Astuarian? I don't see a honorable warrior with great deeds to his name in front of me. I see a dead man."
Jon nodded and turned around. Several nearby warriors yelled at him and readied their weapons. But Jon merely walked back to their cart and pulled up the cover. He rummaged around for a few moments and withdrew an object.
He walked back and stood in front of Sazon. He held out the sword in his hand. "I have this deed to my name." He slowly unsheathed the sword and held the blade up to the fading sunlight.
