SandRider Read Online Free PDF Page A

herself for the landing. But the strong arms still held her tight and Kaznim realized that she was not falling, but moving rapidly forward. She began to slow down, and moments later, she was in a tunnel walking toward dappled green light framed by the shape of an archway. The arms still held her tightly and Kaznim risked a glance at her captors. She saw two young men towering over her: one with dark matted hair and a wild look in his eyes; one—whose grip, Kaznim noticed, was much weaker—had fair, tangled curls and a deathly pallor to his skin.
    Kaznim had heard many stories of desert children being taken for slaves, and her fear of falling was quickly replaced by the fear that she had been kidnapped. She readied herself to make a break for it as soon as she could. As they emerged intoa circular garden with arches in its walls, the young men let go of her arms. Immediately Kaznim shot off, heading toward another arch.
    â€œHey!” yelled the young man with the matted hair. “Not that one! Jeez!” He raced after her and the next thing Kaznim knew, there was a hand snatching the back of her tunic and pulling her away. Kaznim kicked out. They weren’t going to get her that easily.
    â€œWhoa!” said her captor. “Ouch! Steady on. I’m only trying to help.” There was something about the voice that made Kaznim stop struggling. It sounded genuine, like Mysor did when he was explaining something.
    â€œHey, that’s better. If you run into that one you’ll end up somewhere not nice at all. Here, sit down. You look rough, kiddo.”
    Kaznim thought the young man looked pretty rough himself. His clothes were bloodstained, ragged and filthy, but his brown eyes seemed friendly and she allowed herself to be led to a patch of soft grass where the other young man was already slumped. He did not look good. His tangled, straw-colored curly hair was sticky with blood; his wispy beard was full of grit, but even so his bright green eyes had a faintsmile in them. His companion hung back a little now, his dark brown eyes flicking to and fro restlessly, checking out the arches as if he were on guard. Both young men looked as though they had been in a fight and now Kaznim saw that the fair-haired one had a wide, heavily bloodstained bandage wrapped around his middle and a long gash on the outside of his right arm, which was bound with strips of twine, as if to keep the edges together. The dark-haired one seemed to have fared better. His face was bruised and there was blood on his tunic, but he had no dramatic bandages.
    â€œYou’re hurt,” Kaznim said shyly to the fair-haired young man.
    He nodded and winced in pain at the movement.
    â€œWould you like my tortoise?” she asked.
    The young man managed a wan smile and slowly shook his head.
    Kaznim did not feel brave enough to explain about Ptolemy. She put the tortoise down on the grass and all three fell silent as they watched him slowly uncurl and poke his head out into the sun.
    Kaznim began to relax and take in her surroundings. Thegarden had obviously been neglected for many years, for it was very overgrown with creepers climbing up the walls and long, rough grass sprouting up from what was once thick paving. The walls rose high—about twenty feet—into the air and within them were many more arches like the one they had come out of, each with one or two letters inscribed into its keystone. Kaznim counted twelve altogether. It was a beautiful, peaceful place and had the air of somewhere that had once been much loved. The only slightly disconcerting thing was a regular rumble that came up through the ground every few seconds. It felt to Kaznim as though a great monster were breathing beneath them. But the breath was slow, so, she told herself, the monster must be sleeping.
    In the middle of the circular garden was a small spring. It bubbled up into an old copper bowl around which were paving stones worn smooth by