Beyond the Edge of Dawn by Christian Warren Freed

best. A farmer’s son who thought to rise to power and glory. He was weak and trusted too freely.”
    “So you murdered him.”
    Bradgen fumed. “I did what was necessary for my people! I don’t expect an outlander like you to understand our ways. Life here is pain. I’ve secretly built a federation of tribes with the capability of uniting the entire desert. We will take our place atop Malweir’s power struggle.”
    Pirneon decided to continue fishing for time. “And then what? There’s no way the rest of the world will allow you to succeed.”
    “Then we make our war on the world,” Bradgen snarled.
    “You’re mad.”
    “Too long have our tribes been laughed at and looked down on. No more. All of that ended an hour ago. Adonmeia and Habrim were the last of the old guard. They needed to be removed for the good of the future. I would expect one in your position to understand.”
    Pirneon did, though without agreement. “You want it all, don’t you? What shall your title be in this new world order? Sultan? Overlord? God-king?”
    Eyes twinkling with the lust for power, Bradgen leaned a few inches closer. “A small price to pay for so noble a quest. What else could the man who conquers the world be known as? Nations will tremble at the very thought of my name. Despair will sweep across all Malweir, and I shall ascend to a place never before imagined.”
    Pirneon laughed again. “You honestly believe these half-assed soldiers can contend with the great armies of the world? Neither you nor your ilk are fit to lick the shit-stained heel of a Gaimosian’s boot.”
    Bradgen lashed out with a heavy backhand, splitting Pirneon’s upper lip. “Just where is mighty Gaimos now? Ashes in the wind. A whispered name heard only in shadows. Don’t compare your failure to what is coming.”
    A loud explosion rocked the ground, closely followed by several more. Shouts of surprise arose through the camp and were quickly mingled with the cries of the wounded and dying. Bradgen and the guards were thrown violently to the ground.
    An armored figure burst into the tent. “Sir, we are under attack!”
    “By whom?” Bradgen snapped.
    The soldier trembled. “We don’t know.”
    Bradgen snarled and picked himself up. He grabbed one of the guards by the shoulder in passing. “Kill the Gaimosian. Whatever else happens ensure he dies.”

TEN
    Escape
    Aphere watched the explosions rage across the enemy encampment with grim satisfaction. She’d orchestrated numerous campaigns throughout the years, but this was proving to be the most satisfying. Thousands of warriors lay waiting in the night for the signal to attack. At forty years old, Aphere was no stranger to war, and she fully intended to prove her experience tonight. A nearby horse snickered in anticipation. She smiled, grim yet serene in the wild chaos erupting around her. Even the animals could feel it.
    The crimson glow of so many fires gave her an almost legendary silhouette. To friend and foe alike, Aphere appeared a lovely goddess of war come into the world to wreak untold vengeance. Slight of build and standing a whisper shorter than the desert warriors, Aphere was in peak physical condition. The crimson band on her head held back her auburn hair, giving her a hard look that frightened many.
    It was almost time. She drew her sword and called for the commander of troops. Weeks in the desert had left her an angry woman.
    “Ma’am?” he asked with a thick accent after stalking across the dune to reach her side.
    “Commander, sound the horns to advance. Catapults continue firing until we breech the perimeter,” she ordered.
    He nodded and rode off. “Sound the horns….”
    Baleful calls went up in the night and were answered by a dozen more from all sides of the besieged camp. Aphere began the slow ride into the carnage. Smoke rose in dark columns from the score of fires already raging. She could make out bodies lying at twisted angles, broken from the ferocity of her