The upper arm showed similar scoring, sometimes interrupted by a narrow band of smooth bone, but he also found a pair of deep, angled gashes that cut to the marrow.
Shahin cleared his throat. “You might want to take a look at this.”
Bahadur moved from where he had been standing near the corpse’s feet to look over Shahin’s shoulder.
“These grooves – it looks like the flesh was scraped from the bone. But the gouges…”
Bahadur whistled. “An extraordinary blade, with an extraordinary level of strength behind it.”
“And do you see how the ribs are broken near the spine? That’s probably the blow that killed him. Would have punctured a lung, if not the heart. No man alive could pull the bow that would shoot that arrow, though.” But this definitely fit with what he’d seen of the creatures that got Teqrab.
“A ballista could do it, but I haven’t heard anything about an army on the move. Besides, that wouldn’t explain the rest of it. You’re certain this is the merchant?”
“Reasonably, sir. If you’ll come over here?” Ihsan’s voice was husky, and he cleared his throat after speaking. He moved a little off to the side of the remains and crouched down.
Following, Shahin and Bahadur saw him pick up a coin pouch with a snapped cord, only a little darker than the sand, and the scrap of cloth pinned under it.
“I found these near the body.” He opened the pouch and poured out its contents over his open palm. Sand slipped through his fingers, revealing a number of gold and silver coins.
“Do you remember what the man was wearing the night you expelled him from the carnival?” Bahadur’s voice was inquisition harsh again.
“More or less. That cloth could have come from his trousers.” Shahin hadn’t paid too much attention to the man’s clothes, but at least it was similar.
“So we’ve found him, anyway.” The lieutenant’s shoulders slumped as he exhaled – the look of a man who’d just been handed more questions than answers.
“Say. Why don’t we examine the remains of Ihsan’s horse, since we’re already out here?” Shahin was pleased that he had kept his voice steady.
Ihsan looked at him with wide eyes. It took him a moment to find his voice. “Yes, let’s.” The other man’s voice was quiet.
He understands.
“Very well. Lead the way.” Bahadur pivoted and strode back towards where the horses were waiting.
* * *
Shahin was uncomfortably aware of how long the afternoon was stretching. By the way he was gripping his reins, so was Ihsan. The gentle sway of his mount’s gait and the creaking of their saddles did nothing to calm Shahin’s nerves today. Glancing left, he saw a crater-like depression in the crest of a dune.
“There was one there,” Shahin pointed. He felt an odd sense of bravado welling from his unease. The feeling that there was nothing left to lose allowed him to sound nonchalant. “They burrow down into the sand to ambush their prey. The first thing you see is like a moving mountain. Ihsan, when were you attacked?”
“Sunset.”
“Right before dawn for me. And it was dusk when we kicked our ‘friend’ the merchant out, so he was wandering around out here after dark. They’re probably nocturnal.”
“Veteran salt miners and scavengers have gone missing during the day.” Bahadur didn’t sound happy about that.
“Safer to call them opportunistic, then.” Unease fluttered in Shahin’s belly.
“We’re nearly there. We should dismount, or we’ll disturb the tracks.” Ihsan’s voice was level, if a little distant.
“Tracks?” Bahadur sounded skeptical. It had been at least a day.
“You’ll see.”
Bahadur snorted. “Assuming they haven’t been blown away already.”
Ihsan nodded, but Shahin barely noticed. In the hollow between three crater-topped dunes was the skeleton of a horse surrounded by dulled impact marks and an occasional sweep, as if a large rod had been dragged across the surface of the sand.
“I was making my way back to the road.” Ihsan’s eyes were as distant as his voice now, remembering. “Out of the corner of my eye I saw a massive, dark shape rise out of a cascade of sand. My horse saw it, too. She took off, and I wasn’t about to stop her. Something hit the sand behind us not a half-second later, so that must have bought a little time… She ran this far, but then we were surrounded. She screamed, reared, tried to wheel around. I heard a snap, a crunch… she screamed again. I launched myself out of the saddle and took off running… I could still hear her struggling, but what could I have done?… The creatures started making this weird chirping sound – ‘tchra! Tchra!’ – but they ignored me.”
“Sounds familiar,” Shahin said.
Ihsan nodded. “Then I had to wait for the Chèin’ii to decide I wasn’t going to collapse again before they would let me report in.”
Shahin glanced up at the sky, noting the time. “I would like to respectfully suggest that we head back. If we hurry, we can be inside the Stormbreaker by sunset.”
Bahadur took a moment to quiet his dancing horse, its ears and tail twitching, and glanced at the progress of the sun through the sky. “You’re quite right. Let’s ride.”
Shahin managed to feel almost comfortable as they cantered over the dunes back towards the road and the city. He could feel the rhythmic contraction and release of the muscles in his mount’s sides; feel himself relaxing into the habitual rocking motion of the gait. The desert was still home, no matter the manner of creature that infested it. May all the gods of all the cities curse me for a fool.
The Stormbreaker wall was washed with orange light by the time they reached it.
“You’re free to return to the Chèin’ii as we pass if you wish,” Bahadur stated as they rode under the shadow of the Stormbreaker. His voice was tense, and he did not turn around in the saddle. “But you should know that they’ve been making preparations to leave.”
Shahin took a deep breath. “I will.”
“As you like.”
They rode in silence for the remaining minutes to where the Chèin’ii carnival was shutting down for the night.
“This is where we part. Your cooperation was appreciated.”
Shahin shrugged. He blinked, then, and had to suppress a shudder when the scene on the gate resolved itself into clarity. “Lieutenant, why are there so many scorpions on the city gates?”
“It’s the Sealing of Tchraja.”
“The Sealing of whom?” Shahin had never heard that name before.
“The Sealed God, who has twenty-four aspects.”
“Ah, that story! In Udhampna he’s just ‘the Serpent.’"
“Sir …the Sealing of Tchraja,” Ihsan interrupted.
“What is it, Ihsan?”
“The sound the monsters made…"
“Nonsense. It’s nothing but an old legend.”
“I hope you’re right, sir.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
It would be two more days before their men all returned to the caravan. They were cleared of all suspicion, which meant they would be leaving at first light. Like the others, Shahin was welcomed back to the fire with smiles and handshakes and shoulder clasps. Unlike the others, who had gone immediately back to their normal place, Uncle Shahin approached the Elders and sat on his heels. Chandi craned her neck to try to get a better view, but only saw Elder Nagendra rise and leave the fire. Shahin followed, looking oddly stoic. She turned around to face her parents, but her excuse to follow died on her lips as they looked levelly at her.
No matter. I can just ask him about it tomorrow. Time to change the subject. “So do you think things will be better in the south?”
“Surely they will be.” Her mother sounded certain; Chandi wished she could be so sure.
“Indeed. I’m only worried about the Elder’s talk of disappearances. If we’re lucky it’s just brigands, but if there’s an army out there…” Papa sounded as worried as Chandi felt. Not that there was any comfor
t in that.
“We’ve talked our way past armies, too, my love. Every city-state in the desert recognizes Chèin’ii immunity.” Until the uprising in Samsurab, it had been every city-state.
“You’re probably right.” He did not sound reassured.
* * *
The wagons began moving as the dimmest stars blinked out, engulfed by the light of a new day. The world grew pink as they made their way along the outer Wall Road. Soon the edge of the sun glimmered above the top of the Stormbreaker. There was no music, not yet. Music would alert the citizenry they were leaving.
It was a quiet plod that morning. No one was yet lined up to enter at the Vri-Rodhyaji gate when they reached it. This was strange, but just as well. Breakfast was cold, the bread cooked the night before, and began appearing around the wagons after they turned onto the Rodhyaji.
The sun was clearing the horizon as they passed through the Stormbreaker and out into the Qaehl. Talikha began to sing, welcoming the day. The song was soon picked up all along the line. It was good to be back on the road again, quick turnaround and all.
Now then, to see what I can learn. Chandi hopped down out of her parents’ wagon and began walking. The drivers at the head of the line would be the ones who knew where they were going, but they weren’t the ones to ask the question that burned her lips.
About halfway up from where Chandi started she spotted him. Uncle Shahin sat his mount as though it were an extension of him. She’d heard a story, once, that Uncle Esha said he’d heard from a Masonterran merchant, about a people with the lower body of a horse and the upper body of a man. Looking at Uncle Shahin, she thought she understood the story’s origin. She picked up her pace to walk beside his horse on the outside of the train. He kept scanning the dunes the way scouts did on guard.
“Good morning”
He nearly jumped from his saddle. “Oh, good morning. Shouldn’t you be back with your parents?”
“I’m old enough to walk along the train. I needed to ask you something.”
“Oh? And what would you like to know?”
“You were a courier, right? So it was your job to ride the desert alone. What happened to make you give that up?” Chandi looked at him, her dark eyes demanding an answer.
He hesitated.
“…I decided I was lonely.”
“Then why did you show up looking like you’d walked through a sandstorm?”
“You saw that, then.”
Chandi nodded. “Was it the monsters?”
There was another long pause. Uncle Shahin glanced towards the caravan proper. “Who said anything about monsters?”
“I found the guard they sent out to investigate the missing man. He talked about them after he revived.”
There was another long pause. “They were bigger than Kamari here.” He pitched his voice such that Chandi had to press against the horse to hear. “They buried themselves under the dunes and struck right before dawn. No sandstorms, but a lot of wandering until I found my way to Q’uungerab. When I heard your carnival was in town, I thought there might be more safety in numbers, so I asked to join.”
“I see.” Chandi nodded. “Then that’s what you were talking to Elder Nagendra about last night?”
“Yes.”
She took a deep breath. “So. There are monsters in the east and monsters in the west… do you think there’re more in the south?”
“I don’t know… Since I answered your questions, you get to answer mine, right?” His tone changed abruptly, as did his volume, from somber to cheery.
“Sure!”
“First off, your name?”
“I’m Chandi, daughter of Korshed by Talikha, pupil of Kiran.”
Shahin twisted in the saddle to look at her. “You’re Korshed’s daughter?”
“Uh-huh!”
“Must take after your mother.”
“I hear that a lot, for some reason.”
He seemed to think better of whatever he had been about to say.
“Anything else you want to know?”
“…Who else knows about what’s going on out there?”
“Auntie Nikita. Elder Nagendra swore us both to secrecy.”
“Pretty clever of you to figure it out. You won’t breathe a word of this to anyone else, right?”
“Right. I just… needed to know. I should be getting back, though. Thanks, Uncle. Here’s hoping for safe travels.”
“For all of us.” He smiled at her as she patted Kamari’s flank and started trotting back down the line.
* * *
The day passed quietly. The caravan made camp that evening in a large hollow among the dunes, and practice that evening inside the circle of wagons felt light after the last few days’ intensive training. So far, so good. Chandi curled up on her mat and drifted off to sleep in the silent desert night. Free of its physical constraints, her mind wandered.
She was back at Carnival, dancing in the alleyway behind a pavilion where Uncle Darshan and Remu were playing. The song was Jahaiya Resh To’N. Her world was that song and her body the instrument, and it was glorious. She gripped a corner of her sari and it became a fan as she moved between rocking steps and quick spins on alternate feet, her arms spread wide to let the cloth ripple behind her. Someone was watching her. Momentum carried her through the end of the spin and she stood, bent forward, her arms poised for the next turn. Chandi lifted her face to look down the alley she had believed safe and secluded. Standing in the shadow of one of the pavilions, a man with the head of a spider was staring at her. She turned and fled.
She ran to another part of the carnival, and now she held a basket filled with medical supplies. Crossing the entry, she glanced out towards the road. There was a long, leather-colored lump in the middle of the Vidhyaji. As she stared at it past the people entering the carnival she realized that there was a scarf with a thick metal band across it draped over one end. She thrust the basket at one of the gate guards and it winked from existence. She darted out into the road. She rolled the man over onto his back and screamed: a massive pincer reached for her from where the body had been.
The carnival disappeared. Now she was walking up the line of wagons. There was something she needed to ask Uncle Shahin. He came into sight about halfway up the line from where she started. “Uncle Shahin!”
He smiled and turned away, appearing more cheerful than she had ever seen. She was dimly aware of a clangor coming from somewhere in the train. The alarm bells. She opened her mouth to warn him, but could only scream. A monster bigger than their camels rose up out of the sand and cut him in half. His horse was skewered on its tail.
The alarm bells grew louder. Her eyes felt gritty. People were shouting, screaming. It was dark, and she was in her bed, tangled in her blankets. Huh? Bandits, maybe? She fought her way out of bed and toward the step, but Papa stopped her as she tried to leave.
“Stay here, sweetling. We’re moving.” He gave her a gentle push back into the wagon. “Talikha! Get inside, I’ll finish the hitch!”
“Quickly now!”
Chandi pulled back the curtain once more and saw the rest of the camp. She couldn’t see the moon to know how late it was – late enough the torches had burned out. There was still plenty of light to see by, though: on the far side of camp, wagons burned. Chandi felt dread settle in her stomach like a stone. She didn’t know how she’d slept as long as she had; the bellows of frightened camels, the screams of terrified horses, should have awakened her.
She could make out aunties and uncles fighting with the pack animals, trying to hitch them to wagons when all the animals wanted to do was run. A lone rider galloped across the center, waving a burning brand in his hand. Calls for speed came from everywhere in the camp, and the smell of wood smoke caught her nose. She could hear the sound of metal hitting stone from beyond the burning wagons. Chandi raised her eyes to try to look past them – stages, perhaps, if they were lucky, but more likely people’s homes. The back of her throat started to constrict
.
Iron struck stone again. A large curved shape was visible above the wagons and it shone the color of dried blood.
She felt her mother’s hands on her shoulders, but she didn’t move. She couldn’t tear her eyes away.
“Come back inside, sweetling. We’ll be leaving quickly. You wouldn’t want to fall.”
Chandi opened her mouth to speak, but her voice had fled. Her cheeks felt damp. She licked her lips and tried again. “Shouldn’t we make sure no one gets left behind?” It was almost a croak.
A wagon lurched into motion.
“We won’t leave anyone behind we don’t have to, but the order is to fly immediately.”
Two more wagons took off into the night.
“But-”
“No buts. It’s the order of the Elders.”
Now the spell holding her eyes on the carnage outside broke, and she could look at her mother. “That’s the end of it, then? What if Auntie Kiran or Auntie Nikita was over there?” Her voice cracked, turning it into the wail of a child.
“Shush. Come over here and sit with me. The longer it takes us to get away, the more people will die. Or do you think that firebreak is somehow going to keep them at bay forever?”
“…No …but…” Her cheeks were wet now, and the constriction in her throat was almost enough to make her choke.
“Shh, shh.”
Chandi was bundled into her mother’s arms, and she felt Mama stroking her hair
“I’m not going to tell you it’ll be all right. But we’ll get through this, and the Aranya Prasuuna Chèin’ii will still be a family once we’ve mourned our dead. But first we have to get away, or they’ll have died for nothing.”
Now their wagon lurched to life, and the camel brayed loudly as Papa finally allowed it to run from the smells of fire and predator behind them. As they pitched and jostled away from the camp, she thought she heard calls of “Tchra! Tchra!”
* * *
Long after the animals had run out their fear, at some point after they had been allowed to walk again and found their way back to the road, dawn broke. Gradually, she realized that the wagon was still.
“I’m going outside.”
Advent of Ruin (The Qaehl Cycle Book 1) Page 6
