Page 79 of The Eyes of Tamburah
“You return to your research job. Banqui has already been replaced and won’t be trusted, so it makes sense for him to leave for another city, or rather to pretend to. After a number of sun jumps, when it’s obvious no one will hire you, you’ll return to the monastery. At least, that’s what the rumors will say. In fact, you’ll join us in our work with Banqui as our new leader.”
“And you called this a simple plan,” she said. “What if someone comes to the monastery looking for me?”
“That’s unlikely,” Bazia said.
“Bazia,” Ximen warned.
“It’s true,” she shot back. “Shyla has no friends except Banqui. No one will miss her.”
“Bazia, that’s enough,” Jayden said.
“She’s right.” Shyla hated defending the woman, but she had to give the lady her due. Bazia must have been the one to collect the information on Shyla. Too bad she didn’t inform Jayden about her deal with the prince in time. Unless the bitch purposely kept it from him.
“Look, we’re running out of time. Are you going to help us?” Jayden asked.
She tapped her arm. “I thought I didn’t have a choice.”
“We’re not like that.”
“Really? May I remind you about being chained against my will for twelve sun jumps?”
“We’ll explain how our organization works at another time,” Ximen said. “But if you’re not committed to the plan, we’ll have to find another way or it just won’t work.”
“I’m determined to help. What’s the next step?”
* * *
Shyla ran up the side of the dune. Or rather, she tried. Her boots sank into the sand up to her knees, limiting the speed of her ascent. And the sun… Oh the sun… It seared through the fibers of her sun cloak like tiny hot iron pokers. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear flames danced on the garment.
As she struggled to keep ahead of the figures pursuing her, she mentally cursed her big mouth. Ximen and Jayden had wanted to stage this getaway at angle thirty, but no,shehad to insist that if she’d just stolen a priceless artifact with magical powers, she’d wait until angle sixty-five to take off. The logic being that they wouldn’t chase her at such a dangerous time of the sun jump. And if they did, they’d retreat when the sun reached angle seventy in order to get to safety, giving her a greater chance to escape.
A nice bit of logic until she reached the surface. Even through the layers of the scarf wrapped around her eyes, the bright orange light just about blinded her. And the heat… Oh the heat… It sucked every bit of moisture from her nose, mouth, and eyes. Her tongue shriveled to a piece of velbloud leather. Blinking hurt. What she sucked into and blew out of her lungs was no longer air. No, it burned like invisible fire. And it pressed on her like a physical force, cooking her from the outside in. She feared she’d be a pile of ash by the time she reached the monastery.
At first she kept a slow pace, each step an effort of will. Each dune felt taller and steeper than the last. When the first arrow zinged by her and thudded into the sand nearby, that was her cue. Behind her a group of Invisible Sword members fanned out to give chase. An act for the monks who remained on the surface as lookouts until just before the danger zone. They had circuits to develop a tolerance for the harshest angles.
Another arrow whizzed by her ear. She scrambled, her desperation genuine as the sun crept toward the danger zone. Reaching the top, she spotted the monastery. A group of monks stood near the entrance, staring at her as if she was the Sun Goddess arriving for a visit. A third and fourth arrow flew past, motivating her to hustle down the other side. When she staggered to the bottom, she envisioned her pursuers standing in a line on top of the dune, but she didn’t have the energy to turn around. And the monks wouldn’t help until she crossed the monastery’s threshold.
With the last of her energy, she sprinted. But she wasn’t fast enough and an arrow nicked her left thigh. The entrance loomed. Only two more—
Son of a sand demon! An arrow pierced the back of her right shoulder. The force knocked her to the ground, and she sprawled forward in the blazing sand, the pain of the arrow a mere annoyance compared to the blisters erupting on her exposed palms and wrists.
Your escape must appear genuine,Ximen had warned her.
Shyla belly-crawled the remaining meter. The monks waiting for her grabbed her under the arms. She cried out as the motion jostled the arrow, but they whisked her deeper underground. The cool air sizzled on her hot skin. A shiver raced through her followed by relief to no longer be frying alive in the sunlight.
When they gently laid her down on her stomach, the cold stone table equaled the finest silk cushion.
“Water first, then we’ll remove the arrow,” a voice said.
They tipped her on her uninjured side and handed her a water skin. She squeezed it so hard, it sprayed her face. Not caring, she sucked the rest down, making more of a mess. The water doused the heat in her mouth and throat. When she finished, they returned her to her stomach.
Fingers prodded the skin around the arrow’s shaft. Shyla bit down on a cry.
“It hit the bone, but it’s not deep,” a monk with a raspy voice said.
She didn’t recognize him.
After a few moments and more poking, he tsked. “The arrow is barbed.”
