As the riders neared the party, their features became more pronounced. Each wore layers of ragged cloth and bandages besides. No skin nor hair could be seen. Handles of large curved swords peeked over their shoulders. In the billowing dust of their mounts they looked like the fabled Zhinn of the desert.

Elein glanced back at the men and women behind him and was reassured. Baruht stood strong and tall, untroubled by his nakedness- normal for a northerner. Neff had raised the hood of her cloak to cover her face and retrieved her rune-covered staff though it was twice her size. The twin brothers, Juran and Zurin, stood next to each other, four-foot long swords in hand, each movement copied so close it was like holding a mirror. Ristul had rolled up his sleeves and was imploring his goddess, Karna, to bless and protect them. Sahlina held her knives in that curious reverse grip and crouched low. Tiny bubbles of air pushed at her long cloak from inside.

They were good people. Hopefully none would die today.