A Dominion soldier would just make the kill. They'd run the man through, or make him dance with shock magic until his pores smoked. They were brutally efficient. Not the Alik'r. The sands, dry and hot, unending in every direction, they take their time. Drag it out. Let him hold on to hope, and fight as much for his sanity as for scraps of food. Just as Alazir had predicted, only a week later they were forced to leave one of the wounded behind. His leg wouldn't heal right on the forced march, and each day he had lagged further behind. Cyrus had offered him a ration, a token last meal. It was little more than a gesture, and the warrior refused it, unwilling to take food from the mouths of his brothers and sisters. He simply stood on a dune and watched them march into the horizon while he waited for death.
Two days later, it became clear that the strength of one of the other injured warriors was flagging. Alazir didn't expect him to leave with them the next morning. He couldn't pause often to look back at those bringing up the rear, his guards keeping his attention toward the front with sharp prods from their weapons. When next he glanced back he thought he saw a serpent emerging from the sand several feet from the tired warrior. He was prodded forward and looked away before doing a double take. Looking back again to call out and warn the man, he saw the sand shifting all around the swaying snake, and then a gray form emerge beneath it, clutching a dully glinting dagger.
"Ambush!" He shouted, twisting in his bonds. Before they could turn, the Khajiit had plunged the dagger into the man's back and sent him tumbling limply down the dune. Alazir's shout had roused some attention, but many were looking at him now, instead of the Khajiit ambush. He saw at least six of them emerge from the sand in unison, all from the rear. They got another Redguard before anyone realized where they were coming from, but when Cyrus' men rallied, they struck back with fury born of desperation. Some of the nearest warrios simply dove onto the Khajiit, kicking up clouds of sand as they rolled, trying to find purchase, trying to gain the upper hand, or hold off the attack until someone could help. Alazir's guard's hesitated.
"Cut me loose, you fools! We have to fight!" he punctuated by yanking the ropes. One of them promptly threw down his end of the rope and ran towards the nearest melee. The other immediately grabbed the rope between Alazir's wrists and dragged him to the ground, shoving him away with his boot.
"Let Cyrus or the Dominion choose your fate, Ugatka. I care not which," he sneered before charging away as well. Alazir struggled to his feet, and looked around. There were a few more Khajiit than he had thought, but they were outnumbered by the Redguard, and being quickly overwhelmed. Alazir stumbled into the battle, tackling one of the ambushers off the Redguard he had been about to finish off. She got to her feet while he pinned the Khajiit, and then buried her sword in its chest.
Alazir rose and put out his arms, "Cut me free! Let me help!" He said quickly. She paused, then shook her head slighlty and turned back toward the fighting. Alazir growled and threw himself down next to the dead Khajiit, looking for its weapon. He finally caught a glimpse of it, partially buried. As he laid hold on the handle, a voice cut through the shouting.
"Redguard!" The Khahiit stood, silhouetted by the sinking sun, looking down at everyone that still remained. One of the Redguard, the one Alazir had saved dragged a Khajiit prisoner to his feet, setting her blade against his neck. The speaker paid them no mind, but went on in his peculiar accent, "The Aldmeri Dominion, and the newly established government of Sentinel wills you to know that you have been discarded and condemned, as dissidents, to exile in the desert. Return on pain of de--eaaagh!" An arrow took the Khajiit in the throat, causing its tail to spasm as it tumbled out of sight.
Alazir heard a grunt from nearby, and looked over to see the prisoner's body slump to the ground, and all was silent for a few moments.
"What did he mean?" Spoke one of the surviving warriors, hardly more than a boy.
"It means the coast has fallen," Answered Kotara standing not far from the woman with the dead prisoner at her feet.
"It means Skaven is our only hope," Cyrus interjected, "Search these ambushers for supplies. We must continue our march before the sun sets."
Alazir hovered at the edge of the small group that departed the scene of the battle, no time spared to bury the dead. The desert would soon erase any sign that they had been there. That's what you didn't say, Cyrus Alazir thought to himself, looking over the dwindling group of warriors, It means the Dominion aren't chasing anymore. They have decided to let the desert consume us. He met Kotara's gaze and it was clear he was thinking the same. His eyes seemed to challenge Alazir. Are you more prepared than any of us for what is to come?
No warrior's death. No battlefield glory. No vengeance. They would starve, shrivel and go mad, before simply disappearing among the sands. For the first time, Alazir felt afraid.
~~~
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