Badriya as-Sahra is sick of piling up camel dung and picking people's pockets for a living. Her world discriminates against women and orphans, and it is only her damned luck that she happens to be both. She yearns for more but can't do anything else...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Ayaz flicked Layl's reins, wishing for him to go faster than his usual speed. He could feel his dear steed wanting to slow down from exhaustion, but he caressed his horse's mane gently, relaxing his grip on the reins.
"Come on, Layl," he whispered. "Faster."
He hoped that they didn't get too far. He couldn't bear the idea of an innocent person slipping from under his watch.
Ayaz finally saw the ones he pursued; the traders unmounted not far from him, their weapons at the ready. Salma and Iman gazed at him with fearful looks, their mouths gagged and their limbs tied.
As Layl rounded around the traders, Ayaz leaped from his saddle and faced his enemies, matching their blades with his own.
Three of them came to Ayaz all at once. A storm of steel crashed onto him but he parried each blow with his saif; a loud clanging rattling his ears. They continued their deadly offense by raining stabs and slashes. Ayaz parried then evaded in defense, a grim thought crossing his mind.
These people weren't just slave traders: they were mercenaries.
Their skills were impeccable, something that took years of training and experience. They used powerful techniques that could handicap or kill a person in an instant. They were moves that Ayaz hadn't mastered yet. And even if he did, he wouldn't dare use them on anyone.
Too bad for them, he was a better swordsman for it.
Ayaz kicked one of his enemies aside and hit the other with the blunt side of his blade, leaving the last to circle him. Beads of sweat rolled off his brow, but his energy wasn't as spent as the mercenaries. While he watched them collect themselves, he noticed how they panted like dogs and how their arms shook from bashing their swords at him, and failing. Ayaz couldn't help but smirk.
They were damn bold to attempt a kidnapping in the daylight. But no matter, they'd tire themselves soon enough. Then they'd pay for their deeds.
The fourth mercenary stepped away from their captives and slowly headed for Ayaz. He looked at him arrogantly, as if he hadn't just watched his comrades fail to end him. Instead of reaching for the sword behind his back, he inserted his hand into his pockets.
Ayaz narrowed his eyes. What is he up to?
"Ayaz!" a female voice shouted.
He whipped his head to the source of the voice. Badriya was coming towards them. Everyone, including Ayaz, suddenly became distracted. She pulled her horse into a stop and landed beside him, pulling out her dagger from her sleeve.
"What are you doing here?" Ayaz hissed. "I told you to stay back." The selfish girl left Haytham to die.
Badriya scoffed. "Do I look like a medic to you? I'm better at fighting people than healing them."
Ayaz took a short breath and cooled his anger, shifting his focus to the captors.
The mercenary threw something overhead. Before Ayaz got the chance of discerning the object, a click sounded and it exploded right in front of their faces.
