Pursuit: Twelve

From the far edge of the funnel, another bandit approached Sabit. He skirted along the top of the slope of pebbles, leaning on a fire-hardened wooden spear—crude but deadly sharp. He wore a fine silk traveling tunic, his wide shoulders nearly bursting through the garment cut for a lady’s torso. His pants of creamy leather were topped with three belts, each more decorative than the last. Five necklaces adorned his throat, including Sabit’s chain of silver.

Sabit kept her eyes locked on the man’s spear as he approached. “I bear you no ill will,” the bejewelled man said, “but the maimed scorpion ain’t had supper in three days. It’s mighty hungry.”

“The hunger of a beast is none of my concern,” Sabit growled. “Return to me my property and I will let you live.”

The bandit let out a derisive laugh. “You seem to forget who’s been captured and who’s done the capturing. Let’s make this quick. I hate to see women suffer.”

He thrust his crude spear toward Sabit, goading her to the top of the slope of pebbles. Sabit turned her shoulders to avoid the fire-hardened point. With the same motion, she grabbed the shaft of the spear and pulled with all her might.

The bandit toppled over the edge toward the slope of pebbles. Flailing as he fell, he caught an edge of Sabit’s sleeve in his fist. Both of them tumbled down the slope of loose pebbles, careening toward the deep, dark hole below.



Wayfarings of Sabit: Pursuit is copyright (c) 2017 by Michael S. Miller. All rights reserved. New chapters post every weekday. You can support this and other stories on Patreon: https://patreon.com/michaelsmiller or http://ipressgames.com/fiction/