With his face masked to keep out the desert sand, he made a fierce looking warrior.With his face masked to keep out the desert sand, he made a fierce looking warrior. Dodging swords, spears, and bullets, he moved through the Barbers, introducing them to his English-style lance, topped by fine English steel. From the way the entire rescue party fought, they had to be English. Although they were dressed in desert garb, they used English weapons and tactics. Soon the Barbers where routed. Ivy's rescuers secured the area and then turned to appraising what was left of the column. If she hadn't known better, she would have sworn that the relief force was partaking in looting, just in a more organized fashion than the Barbers. No, they were just collecting the rifles and ammunition so they did not fall into the hands of the tribesmen. Several riders stood guard over the only survivors from the caravan, the women. In all the excitement they had forgotten to untie them. Knowing that they were a military unit, Ivy realized that this oversight would be dealt with once the area was considered to be safe. After making sure all was in order, the leader of the column rode over to the women. He was still wearing the mask, which covered all of his face save his eyes. Saying something in Arabic, he motioned to one of the men standing guard over them. The designated man jumped from his camel and walked over to the women. He was going to untie them. Their extremely brief stint as slaves would be over. This would be a story that would shock the tea club back in London. Instead of untying them, he checked their bonds and made sure they were tight. All of the women, including Ivy, let out a gasp. "What are you doing?" Ivy demanded. |