by Wacht, Peter
“Yes, that’s about right.”
“Wonderful.”
CHAPTER SIXTY
Old Friend
After less than a day’s ride, the Desert Clan warriors brought the Marchers to a large oasis nestled between several towering sand dunes that extended for almost a mile. Off in the distance at the far end a small waterfall fell into a lake with plentiful shade provided by a large swath of palm trees. The desert people had taken up every inch of available space on the grassy tufts beneath the trees, pitching silk tents and digging campfires in the sand, as well as corrals near the lake for their mounts. The tent city gave off a feeling of permanence. Clearly, they had established their camp near the water and under the shade some time ago and had no immediate plans to leave.
Dismounting from their horses, the Marchers were led on a haphazard path that wound through the tents toward a shaded part of the lake. The tents were pitched with little semblance of order, a controlled chaos ruling the camp. The men and women of the desert, particularly the children who stared at the strange warriors, stopped whatever they were doing to watch the strangers pass, silence following them through the settlement. The Marchers soon emerged in front of the largest tent of all, one that dwarfed the throne room of Eamhain Mhacha, with guards positioned around it, curved swords hanging at their sides, eyes wary, expressions hard.
It wasn’t long before the Chief of the Desert Clan emerged from his palatial tent, surveying the Marchers. His expression was grave, his eyes hard. Not a tall man, he was stout with broad shoulders and scarred arms that showed he knew how to use the twin sabers strapped to his belt. His long beard, which came halfway down his chest, was braided with bells that jingled softly as he walked. Coming to a stop, he stood face to face with Thomas, their noses no more than a few fingers apart.
“So, you are the leader of these thieves and beggars. A stunted shrub as ugly as a mule who needs the protection of a woman.” The Desert Chief gestured to Kaylie, who stood a few feet behind Thomas, hand on her sword hilt.
The Desert Chief had spoken in the language common to the Kingdoms, so the Highlanders understood the insult, and they were quick to take offense. Their hands moved to the hilts of their swords, Oso even faster as his blade was halfway out of its sheath. The warriors surrounding them quickly raised their throwing spears, ready to strike at anyone who made a sudden move. Thomas made a calming gesture, and the Marchers wisely withdrew their hands, Oso allowing his sword to slide back into its scabbard. But the Highlanders’ harsh glares and angry scowls bore down on the desert fighters.
Speaking in the language of the Desert Clans, Thomas responded. “I do not have time to listen to the useless prattle of an old hag who has the breath of a goat and the intelligence of a rock.”
Many of the surrounding fighters lowered their spears in surprise, shocked by what this boy had just said to their chief. The Marchers looked around in an attempt to read the situation, somewhat bewildered and unable to decipher what Thomas had said. Thomas repeated it in the common language so that they could understand, Oso gulping and wondering if Thomas had been wise to respond with an insult of his own.
The Desert Chief stared at Thomas, a sharp look in his eyes. Thomas stared back defiantly, his eyes blazing. Kaylie was convinced that Thomas had just doomed them all to a painful death. Then much to her surprise, the Desert Chief let out a huge bellow of a laugh, lunged forward and gripped Thomas in a bear hug.
“It is good to see you again, Thomas,” said the chief, speaking in the common tongue. “You are away for far too long, and now I see you twice in a matter of months. How fortuitous. You know you really should visit more often. When you were younger you moved through the sands with the grace of a desert cat, putting some of my best warriors to shame.”
“It is good to see you again, Chuma. I have been away too long from the sands. I forgot how beautiful they are.”
Thomas turned to Kaylie and Oso, introducing them both. “Chuma is a Desert Chief of the Ashanti Clan,” he explained. “He was with us in the Highlands when we defeated Rodric.” Neither had met Chuma during the short time that he fought with the Marchers, though Kaylie now did recognize him from the council that had occurred after the battle. The Desert Chief had said little then, spending most of his time listening to the discussion.
“Yes, that was a good day,” the Desert Chief said. “A good day indeed to put that fool to flight. But better to kill him. Have you killed him yet?”
“Not yet,” replied Thomas. “But it won’t be long. He owes me a debt.”
“He owes many debts, but you have the right of first claim,” Chuma nodded agreeably. “My apologies for your treatment on the way here. These men were not with me in the Highlands. I left those fighters in the eastern sands, closer to the Breaker, to give us warning in case events moved faster than we expected.”
“It was nothing,” replied Thomas. “I would expect nothing less entering the Desert uninvited.”
“Once these men find out you are the Highland Lord you won’t be able to escape them. They are greatly impressed by your escapades thanks to the stories I’ve shared.”
“Nothing too outrageous, I hope?”
“Of course not, my young friend. Of course not. I save most of my exaggeration for my own stories,” he laughed. “Come, let us talk.” Chuma pulled Thomas after him while instructing his men to find places and food for Thomas’ party. “Marchers, welcome to the Clanwar Desert. I am Chuma, chief of the Ashanti. You will be well taken care of.”
Over his shoulder, Thomas relayed his own instructions. “Oso, make sure everyone has a place. They’ll have an opportunity to get cleaned up before we eat.”
Just then servants appeared to direct the male Marchers to the bath set aside for the men, while a servant came to Kaylie’s side and directed her and the female Marchers toward the bath for women. Because there was so little water in the desert, it was a precious commodity. To show respect for visitors, no matter how unwanted or unexpected they may be, they were given the privilege of bathing before dinner.
Chuma put a familiar arm around Thomas’ shoulders as he guided him toward his tent. “So, how are your grandparents?”
Before allowing the servant to guide her toward the baths, Kaylie watched as Thomas walked off with Chuma. Once again Thomas had surprised her, not sharing everything that he knew. And if he didn’t reveal his friendship with Chuma, what else had he kept to himself? She promised herself that she’d find out more when she had some time with Thomas on her own, hoping that she had finally gained his trust. And if he was reluctant to share his secrets, she’d pry them loose one by one.
CHAPTER SIXTY ONE
Competition
As the sun began to set, the sharp red hues of the bright light dancing off the gentle waves of the small lake, the Marchers settled around the blazing cook fire situated in front of Chuma’s tent. After weeks of travel, Oso was thrilled to see that it was more of a feast rather than a light supper as course after course came forward.
“You should try this,” suggested Chuma, as a large platter was placed before them. Kaylie examined the dish skeptically.
Famished, Oso was ready to dig in. “What is it?” he asked as he reached for what looked to be skewered meat roasted over the fire.
“Baby sand snake broiled in goat’s milk.”
Oso stopped for a moment, rethinking. Kaylie recoiled, remembering how much she disliked her one bite of sand snake that she had nibbled on a few days before.
Oso shrugged, grabbing one of the foot-long pieces of crispy snake as his hunger got the better of him. “No harm in trying it.”
“That’s the way of it,” commented Chuma. “You’re just as adventurous as your young friend here,” patting Thomas warmly on the back.
“You seem to know Thomas rather well, Chuma,” suggested Kaylie.
“Ah, Princess, the stories I could tell about this one. He visited us many times with his grandparents, and each time he became engaged
in some escapade that set tongues wagging. I would hate to embarrass him.”
Ignoring Thomas’ look of thanks for demonstrating some level of discretion, if only for just a few seconds, Thomas sighed in resignation as Chuma began to regale his friends with tales of his youth here in the desert. He had expected no less. Much like his grandfather, Chuma loved to play the role of storyteller.
The Desert Chief proceeded to do so with vigor. “When Rynlin and Rya first brought Thomas here, he was an enigma. He didn’t talk much. But he watched everything and seemed to learn from all that he saw. Moreover, this was a child with no fear. The first day, he sent our entire camp into a tizzy. We thought that he had wandered off into the desert and gotten lost. Rynlin said not to worry, so I didn’t, at least initially. But when it started to get dark and he still hadn’t appeared, I decided to send out search parties. The desert is not the place to be alone at night. That’s when the really dangerous predators emerge.
“Right when a group of soldiers was about to set off in search of Thomas, there was a ruckus at the edge of the settlement. People were screaming and shouting, scrambling among the tents, trying to escape something. I thought we were under attack. But who should appear walking calmly through the camp, apparently ignorant of the commotion that he had caused, but Thomas.”
Chuma chuckled softly, his memory of that moment obviously still strong. He continued his narration.
“Walking by his side was the biggest desert cat I have ever seen. This beast was almost the size of that monster wolf that follows Thomas around. These desert cats are solitary animals. They go to great lengths to avoid people. And usually if an unlucky person runs into one, they don’t survive. Yet Thomas had found this one skulking in the sand dunes off to the west, injured, and befriended him. The cat was hungry so Thomas thought to get him something to eat.
“The remainder of the time Thomas was with us, the two were inseparable. The cat had been hurt, so Thomas made it his mission to help the animal heal and regain its strength before it went back off into the desert. It was the most remarkable thing. Even when Thomas returned to the Highlands, for weeks after that the desert cat snuck into the camp as if it were his home.
“In fact, one night I got up because of a strange noise outside, not paying attention to much of anything, when I fell flat on my face as soon as I exited my tent. I learned much later that Thomas had asked the cat to look after me, to protect me, so the massive feline would slink in at night and stretch out in front of the entrance to my tent. I had tripped over him. When I picked myself up from the sand and saw that huge beast, teeth shining and its yellow eyes glowing in the night, I almost pissed myself right there!”
Chuma’s raucous laughter rumbled over the oasis, Marchers and desert warriors laughing alike, as many of the desert people did, indeed, know the common tongue, and those who didn’t obtained a translation from those who did.
“That cat stayed with us for many seasons, following us around the desert. My daughter even named him Mischief, as he enjoyed sneaking up on me and scaring the living daylights out of me. When Thomas visited again, he thanked the cat and said that he was free to move on. Being the Highlander that he is, I believe his exact words were: ‘Your debt is paid.’ Nevertheless, I should note that the desert cat still appears from time to time, seemingly checking up on me as Thomas requested so long ago.”
“Thomas spoke to the cat?” asked Kaylie.
“Indeed he did, but you shouldn’t be so surprised knowing that Thomas can speak to that big black wolf of his. I knew quite early that Thomas could communicate with any animal that he desired. It’s a skill that’s valued here in the desert, though perhaps not in every Kingdom.”
“You’re right, I shouldn’t,” agreed Kaylie. “Beluil has a mischievous streak in him as well.”
“I meant to ask, where is that huge beast of yours? Is he traveling with you?”
“He is,” replied Thomas. “And I’m sure he’ll turn up eventually. He wanted to wander near the mountains for a bit, see if he could find any wolf packs.”
“Ah, yes. There are, indeed, wolf packs there. Several that are even coming down into the desert, something that has happened rarely in the past.”
“Why would the wolves enter the desert?” asked Oso, taking another bite of baby sand snake and clearly enjoying a meal that he had doubted at first. “I would think that they would find more and better game in the mountains.”
“Dark creatures,” answered Thomas.
“Exactly so,” confirmed Chuma. “As you probably know, wolves are natural enemies of Ogren, Shades and any other spawn of the Shadow Lord. If they scent those depraved devils, they’ll track them to the ends of the earth to destroy them. And as you’ve confirmed not too far from here, unfortunately these dark creatures are becoming more of an affliction here in the sands, just as I’ve heard has been the case in the eastern Kingdoms.”
“It’s to be expected,” said Thomas.
“It is,” replied Chuma. “After the council in the Highlands, I’ve been paying attention to the signs, and I’ve met with your grandparents privately. The Desert Clans meet in a fortnight. We will be with you at the Breaker. Of that, have no doubt.”
“Thank you, Chuma.”
“It is no more than what is required,” replied the Desert Chief. “To not be there would be a stain on the honor of every desert warrior.” The many desert fighters arranged around them murmured their assent or nodded their heads.
Kaylie sat there surprised. Normally the serious business between kings and queens was rarely straightforward, often requiring diplomacy and negotiation during which the parties tried not to say what they actually meant. But in less than a minute Chuma and Thomas had completed important business. Perhaps it was a lesson to be followed when she assumed responsibility for Fal Carrach.
The conversation turned once more to stories of Thomas. To Kaylie it appeared as if Chuma treated Thomas as the son he had never had, regaling his visitors with a tale about the time Thomas won a horse race against his best riders followed by one when he saved his daughter’s life after she fell into a den of sand vipers. Kaylie was enthralled, absorbing as much as she could, though at times, thanks to Chuma’s penchant for exaggeration, she found it difficult to separate fact from fiction.
As the evening turned to night, she became more aware that several of the Marchers had become intrigued by the desert women, who wore flowing skirts and tops that left their midsections exposed.
“Careful, Oso,” said Thomas, tracking his friend’s wandering eyes. “Anara might not take it well if she knew that you were paying so much attention to these young ladies. She always seems to have a hidden knife close at hand.”
Oso almost choked on his food, sputtering a few pieces of sand snake out of his mouth.
“I was not …”
“Don’t worry, Oso,” Thomas laughed. “I’m just playing with you.”
But Kaylie wasn’t amused, and she saw how Thomas’ eyes wandered as well. Particularly when a beautiful girl with dark, flowing hair, a wisp of a figure, a twinkle in her eye and her midsection bare, approached.
“Hello, Thomas,” said the young lady.
“Asmera.” Thomas rose quickly with a huge smile on his face. He lifted her off the ground and twirled her around, missing Oso’s warning gesture, who had caught a glimpse of Kaylie’s pained reaction that she tried to hide. “It’s good to see you.”
“You’ve never been away so long, Thomas,” said Asmera, her voice teasing. “I was afraid you’d forgotten me.”
“I could never forget you, Asmera.”
Kaylie stood up, walking toward Thomas and Asmera. She had a smile on her face, though it obviously was forced. She was angry with herself, realizing that she really had no claim on Thomas, yet she felt jealousy building within her.
“Aren’t you going to introduce us, Thomas?” Kaylie asked sweetly, too sweetly in fact as Thomas caught the edge in her voice and stepped back from Asmera.
“Yes. Yes, of course. I’m sorry about that. Asmera, this is Kaylie, daughter of King Gregory, heir to Fal Carrach. Kaylie, Asmera, Chuma’s daughter.”
“An honor, Princess,” said Asmera, giving her a respectful nod.
“It’s nice to meet you, Asmera.”
Asmera sat down next to Thomas, on the side away from Kaylie, and immediately engaged him in conversation. Kaylie tried to enjoy her meal, but much of it now had no taste in her mouth. She became angrier with herself as the feast continued because of her souring mood. She tried to force her way back to the role of pleasant hostess that she had perfected after having had to attend so many feasts at her father’s request, but it was proving more difficult than she had expected. As Thomas and Asmera laughed, Kaylie tried not to appear wounded by the lack of attention. Her face brightened when Thomas said that they’d be leaving in the morning.
“A good idea,” agreed Chuma. “Time is of the essence. Asmera has spoken to me. She’ll be going with you.”
“What?” Thomas’ smile turned into a look of concern. “Chuma, we have a dangerous task. You know what it entails.”
“Thomas, you know the law,” said Chuma.
“Thomas, it’s my choice,” countered Asmera. “I’ve been trained as an Ashanti warrior. You needn’t worry.”
“She’ll get you through the desert without any trouble,” confirmed Chuma. “Besides, I cannot refuse her. You will need her if you wish to navigate the Pits safely.”
CHAPTER SIXTY TWO
Lack of Understanding
Early the next morning the Marchers prepared to leave, saddlebags packed and restocked thanks to the generosity of the Ashanti Clan. Kaylie was in a foul mood, her temper threatening to get the better of her as she checked her saddle for the third time. Thomas and Asmera had not appeared yet, and although she refused to admit it, the seed of jealousy continued to spread within her. Adding fuel to the fire, Oso seemed nervous as he tiptoed around her, almost as if he were afraid of her, which only set Kaylie more on edge.
