When blood is spilled for the first time… the road is never the same again.
The farther east they traveled, the more everything changed.
The land hardened in color, turning to a deep, dark red. The sky rose higher dry, cloudless watching from above without mercy. Even the air carried an ancient scent, the smell of sands that had been stepped on only to receive a final trace.
They spoke little.
Najjar walked at the front, his back straight despite the weight of exhaustion.
Behind him, Aram kept the role of the servant as agreed, yet his senses moved faster than everyone else.
Nabalian read the ground.
Solan watched the heights.
Karem watched the empty spaces.
And Seham… watched the men themselves.
At dawn, as a nearly level stretch of land opened before them, Nabalian felt that something was wrong.
The ground made no natural sound.
The sand… was too solid.
He slowed, then said in a low voice heard only by those who knew him well:
"We're not alone."
Moments later, they emerged.
Seven men stepped out from behind the rocks.
Their clothes were filthy, their beards long, their eyes narrow gleaming like wolves that had found prey. Short swords, light spears, and laughter filled with certainty that they were the strongest here.
One of them clearly the leader shouted:
"Hand over what you carry… or be buried right here!"
Najjar stepped forward, planted his spear in the ground, and replied calmly but firmly:
"We are not a caravan.
And we will bury only those who come closer."
The leader laughed mockingly.
"Big words… from few men."
They were given no more time.
Nabalian moved first.
He did not wait for a signal.
He raised his bow, drew the string, and released.
The arrow tore through the air like a short scream and buried itself in the man's left shoulder. He fell, screaming, blood staining the sand.
The leader roared:
"Attack!"
The plain exploded into motion.
Solan moved like a shadow.
He threw a thin rope that wrapped around the legs of two men at once. They crashed to the ground. Before they could rise, he leapt over them and struck one with the knotted rope across the jaw. The man collapsed unconscious.
Karem never drew his sword.
He pulled out a small vial and hurled it beneath the feet of two men charging him.
A sudden flare erupted, throwing them into confusion. In the same breath, he drove his spear into one man's chest, then kicked the other's knee sideways. The second fell without a sound.
As for Seham…
She was unseen.
She moved among them touching, pulling, striking, vanishing.
She ripped a dagger from one man's belt, drove it into his thigh, then slipped behind him, opening a path straight toward Aram.
Only then did Aram move.
He did not use speed.
He used force.
One blow shattered a man's nose and dropped him to the ground like an empty sack.
On the far side, Najjar faced the leader.
Spears crossed high, then low. A feint to the right, a turn to the left.
Despite old fatigue, Najjar found an opening and thrust toward the man's chest.
But the leader twisted away at the last instant.
He fled into the rocks with two others.
It ended quickly… and brutally.
Two bodies lay still.
Two men would not rise again.
A third crawled across the sand, his leg bleeding from Nabalian's arrow.
Aram ran to him, grabbed his shoulder, and slammed him to the ground.
The man raised his hands, gasping.
"No don't kill me!"
Nabalian said coldly:
"You showed no mercy. Why should we?"
The man cried out:
"I'm not one of them!
I left my tribe seeking adventure. I don't lack coin only luck, for I followed the wrong men!"
They studied him.
His clothes were better.
His bearing was different.
Aram locked eyes with him for a long moment.
His judgment did not fail.
He said quietly:
"We've given you a chance. Go."
But the man did not move.
Instead, he said at once:
"My adventure begins with you."
Aram asked,
"And how do you know that?"
The man smiled despite the pain.
"Because anyone who travels east with so few men no trade, no banners
is either fleeing a fate… or forging one."
He pulled out a square piece of carved wood, etched with fine ridges.
"A cave key.
Gold, silver, blades my family's inheritance.
Take what you need… and let me travel with you."
Nabalian's hand froze.
All eyes turned to Aram.
He asked quietly:
"And who guarantees you won't lead us to ruin?"
The answer came without hesitation:
"Because I need you… as much as you need me."
Najjar stepped forward.
"Your name?"
"Tavar."
A short silence followed.
Then Aram said:
"You will lead us to the cave.
And if you deceive us… you will not think long about death."
Tavar nodded sharply.
The next day…
they followed him.
Seven now.
Men from different roads,
with different blood,
but bound by a single shadow
The shadow of a man
who was once a tribal leader,
and who would become
the leader of an army.