Within two hours of departure, the seven came to the Erg, the great sand dunes curving away in long, graceful arcs as far as the eye could see, all the world before them a sea of sunlit beige and shadowed bronze. To their left, the Sun rose upward in the morning sky. To their right, the slow bend of the Erg carried it westerly veering northward. In the near distance behind them lay the city of Sabra and the Avagon Sea beyond. And before them stood the sands of the vast Karoo.
“Hut, hut, hut, hajîn!” cried Reigo in Kabla. “Yallah, yallah!” Then he switched to Common: “Onward, O sluggard bag of bones,” he called, the beast protesting with a shouted Hronk! but padding forward into the endless dunes despite its complaints concerning the bearing of a Man and a damman, the grumbling pack camels drawn after. Behind came Halíd and Gwylly, their string of muttering camels in tow. Next rode Riatha and then Urus on his dissenting gelding, with Aravan and his two pack camels bringing up the rear. And although Reigo rode in the lead, with Aravan coming last, they were following a course set by the Elf their navigator across the Karoo. And so went the small caravan of camels and riders, swaying into the Erg.
“Not like riding a pony,” mumbled Faeril.
“What?”
“I said, Reigo, that riding a camel is not at all like riding a pony. No wonder Aravan named them ‘ships o’ the sand what with all of this rocking and swaying. Why, a person might get seasick.”
Reigo laughed. “Some do, Faeril…get seasick, that is Look at the camel’s gait—it swings both right legs forward at the same time, then both left legs. When walking, this causes the swaying, for the camel must do so to maintain its balance. But when running, the gait smooths greatly.”
The damman looked down at the camel’s walk—“Oh like that of the pacers of Pendwyr”—her mind hearkening back to a time she and Gwylly had attended the horse-drawn, two-wheeled cart races on the green at Pendwyr.
“Aye,” replied Reigo. “But a horse has to be trammel-trained to the gait, whereas it comes naturally to the camel.”
“Lurch on, gallant camel,” cried Faeril, pointing ahead, “across the sandy dunes. But should I get sick, you will be the first to find out.”
Reigo’s hearty laughter belled forth, and his camel hronked in protesting response. And hearing the laughter and growl, the people behind smiled while the trailing camels grumbled, neither knowing the cause of mirth nor the cause of complaint.
* * *
During the heart of the heat of the day, they stopped and sat under hastily erected shade cloths. Out before them, the camels knelt down on the sand, instinctively aligning their bodies lengthwise to the Sun, exposing as little of them selves to its direct rays as they could. They would remain resting from late morning until mid-afternoon, resting during the time it was too hot for prudent travel.
The Sun had slid halfway down from the zenith toward the horizon when they prepared to take up the trek once more. The day was yet hot but bearable, and the loose robes and clothing in which they were swathed protected the companions from the torrid rays. Again Halíd reminded them all to down copious quantities of water. “Remember, like desert raiders the Sun and wind will rob you of moisture, and though the covering of your clothes will ward you from the worst of it, still you need to drink often. Take all you need, storing your water inside yourself instead of in your canteen. Men have died of thirst, water yet at their belts.”
“What about the camels?” Faeril asked.
“Tonight we should reach a pasturage,” answered Halíd. “Not all the Karoo is barren dune; some thorny bushes and grasses grow in sheltered places. There we will hobble the camels, and they will eat. They chiefly get their water from the bushes and grasses and shrubs, and for the most part do not need to drink. I have known them to go for a winter season without sipping water, especially when the grasses are rich and succulent and the mornings laden with dew.
“We will offer them a drink at dawn, but they will only take it if the grazing is poor.”
They struck their shelters and bundled them back onto the camels, the ill-tempered beasts sneering and growling and trying to bite ere they got underway again. But eventually they heeded commands, levering themselves up, hind legs first, then one front leg and finally the other, an ungainly maneuver at best, hronking and rrrunking throughout.
Gwylly turned to Halíd behind, looking up at the Man. “I say, Halíd, do you feel as I do that we might as well be up in the Bèllo Vènto’s crow’s nest, pitching and swaying high above everything? I mean, look at us up here on our lofty perch, higher than a tall Man’s head. From this vantage we should be able to see all the way to where we are going to camp tonight.”
Halíd smiled. “Not quite, Gwylly. Camp is some twenty miles south…five or so hours away.”
Halíd’s assessment was not far off, for they arrived at their campsite in just under five hours, well into the night.
They had gone some thirteen leagues that day, some thirty-nine miles, a good day’s trip and one that they could maintain day after day, for in spite of the complaints of the camels, they were lightly loaded.
They made camp and took a meal, and poured a small quantity of hruja oil in a thin ring about each bed site, a line that scorpions would not cross.
That night they set watch in order: Reigo, Haíd, Aravan, Gwylly, Faeril, Riatha, and Urus.
* * *
At the breaking of fast in the dawn’s light, Faeril looked at the pasturage, nought but thorny bushes and sparse grass, and she wondered at any beast that could survive on such. Yet when the camels were offered water, sneering with disdain they took none, having found the plants to their liking. Nevertheless, when offered grain, the camels ate eagerly, their appetites for such insatiable.
For four more days did they travel on a more or less south-bearing course, camping late at night, setting watch, rising at dawn, resting in the heat of the day. Depending on the pasturage, at times the camels took water, at other times none.
The land they crossed was desolate beyond redemption, filled with sand and rock and sparse vegetation. Yet there was an elusive beauty in its gaunt reach: Isolated rock towers soared hundreds of feet into the sky, as if an entire mountain had been carven down to its core by wind-driven sand, leaving behind a great monolith visible for tens of leagues. Dry oueds twisted across barren land, silent testimony that water once had flowed within their banks and might once again. Hills of red rock thrust up from rust-red sand, fantastic whorls and gnurlings and striations exposed to the Sun. Vast arrays of timeworn hoodoos, twisted stone pillars shaped by the wind, stood like unremembered fields of ancient obelisks dedicated to Kings long forgotten. Valleys of gravelly stone there were, the rocks rounded as if from water, though ’twas the wind and sand instead. Immense shallow circular pits gaped in the stark land, walls and floors covered with crustal salt. Towering flanges of upright stone ran for hundreds of yards, holed through here and there, huge windows for viewing beyond. In places wide stretches of bare flat rock reached for a mile or more, called beds of the giants by the K’affeyah. And now and then they came upon extended reaches of tussocky hummocks mustered in random array, and here they let the camels graze.
But always they came back into dunes, the sands of the Karoo, the face of the mighty Erg.
Late in the morning of the fifth day of travel the normally reluctant camels began eagerly surging up a long dune ’mid unmistakable grunts of urgency. And when they topped the rise, the comrades could see why. “Green!” squealed Faeril, for in the near distance ahead rose a sweeping arc of low, stony mountains, and cupped in its embrace was an extensive palm grove: they had come at last to the Oasis of Falídii, some sixty leagues south of Sabra.
Hronk, rrrunk, bellowed the camels.
“They smell the dates,” called out Reigo, “but I would have a bath.”
Thwacking his mount with the riding stick, “Yallah, yallah!” cried Reigo, then, switching to a dialect of Sarain, “Tazuz et h’tachat shel’cha!” and down from the du
ne loped the dromedary, pack camels running behind, needing no urging; and so ran all the camels, racing for the grove, as if afraid the ones in front would get there first and eat up all the dates.
As they galloped closer to the palm grove, Faeril could see that there were several mud-brick buildings clutched against the side of a broad, boulder-laden hillock. When she pointed them but to Reigo, “I see them,” he replied.
As they drew nigh, she could see that the buildings were relics, their roofs fallen in, some walls collapsed, the site abandoned. Though she knew not why, this revelation caused Faeril’s heart to hammer loudly in her breast.
* * *
As the hobbled camels grazed on fallen dates, the comrades wallowed in the great watering hole they found partially hidden under the solid-rock hillside, a pool sheltered by a broad overhanging ledge of stone. The basin was some eighty feet long and perhaps half that wide, the water ranging in depth from a foot or so to perhaps eight feet…and it was cool and crystal clear and pure. Spouting and diving down, Urus discovered a hole in the deepest part, and they speculated that the pool was fed by underground springs flowing down from the surrounding arc of low mountains.
“Perhaps the entire grove is fed by water from the hills about,” hazarded Halíd. “I can see the tracks of oueds threading on the surface. When the seldom-rains come, water is funneled down into this valley, disappearing into the thirsty soil. But the pool itself, I would guess that its water flows down underground slopes from the mountains above.”
“Yah hoi!” called out Gwylly, splashing, “I don’t care how it gets here. Simply that it does is enough for me.”
* * *
They pitched camp, and as the afternoon began to wane they strode up to the ruins, ancient dwellings rising up the slope above. Made of mud brick, most of the buildings had collapsed walls, and none had other than a hole where a door frame once was, their lintels fallen, the walls above tumbled down. The same was true of window openings, their structures but a memory. Open to the sky, no remnant of roofs remained, and sand had blown in and collected. It was apparent that no one had lived herein for countless ages.
Up through the ruins they explored, finding nought but wrack. Higher they climbed, seeking an answer as to why the dwellers had abandoned the oasis, finding none. At last they came to the topmost structure, and peering through the fallen-down doorway, a sweeping glance showed nought but another sand-laden ruin. Yet in one comer—“Hoy!” called Gwylly, stepping inward. “What’s this?”
Lying half buried in the sand was a piece of curved metal.
Taking care that no scorpions were lurking beneath, Gwylly gingerly pulled it free.
The buccan turned about, showing his find to the others. Aravan stepped forward. “’Tis a vambrace.” At Gwylly’s puzzled expression, Aravan explained. “Armor worn on the forearm. And from the look of it, ancient.”
The others had gathered ’round, and Gwylly relinquished his find, returning to the comer to poke about in the sand as the vambrace was passed from hand to hand. When it came to Reigo, he looked at it carefully, then started to pass it on, but then jerked it back and held it at an angle to the sunlight streaming inward through the place where a window once had been. “¡Oiga! See the scrollwork. This is Vanchan!”
“Perhaps so is this,” said Gwylly, holding up a yellowed length of shattered forearm bone.
* * *
That night, as Reigo prepared to stand the first watch, Aravan handed the Man the blue amulet. “Wear this, Reigo, and pass it on to the next warder as well, and have them pass it on to the next and the next.”
Reigo slipped it over his head, then held the stone out to see, the leather thong threading through a hole in the small blue stone. “What is it, Aravan?”
“A stone of warning, Realmsman, and a stone of warding as well. Should it get icy cold, wake the camp.”
Watching the exchange, Halíd’s eyes flew wide, and he breathed, “Magic!” and Gwylly at his side nodded.
Reigo, on the other hand, raised a skeptical eyebrow. Nevertheless, he tucked the stone inside his brussa, next to his skin. “Why, Aravan? Why now? I mean, we’ve been standing watch all along and never needed it before.”
“This grove is too rich to be abandoned without cause, Reigo. It has all desirable things: water, date palms, forage, shelter. Too, I deem that the vambrace Gwylly found came from one of Prince Juad’s Men, or one of the Men of the expedition which came searching for him. And all disappeared.
“And there are the desert tales of haunted oases, perhaps with good foundation.
“For those reasons I give thee the stone, to wear and to pass on to the others.
“I will rest now, as Elves do, watching and sleeping at one and the same time. Yet thou wilt be the first line of warding…thou and the stone.” Aravan moved some distance away and sat with his back against a large rock, easing his mind into gentle memories.
* * *
When Gwylly’s turn came, the night was cool, but not as cold as in the open desert, where the temperature plummeted with the setting of the Sun. But in the grove the trees somewhat ameliorated the chilling effect of the coming of the dark, releasing heat into the surround. Yet Gwylly did not notice, so uneasy was he from Aravan’s words to Reigo, words that conjured up inchoate visions of a terrible threat that had led to the abandonment of the oasis….
Throughout the rest of Gwylly’s watch he paced about the camp, his thoughts racing. In his mind’s eye he saw a lone Vanchan fleeing upward through the ruins, seeking shelter, a place of safety, a place to hide from the pursuing…what? No matter, for “it” or “they” found him, huddling in shadows in the corner, and they— Stop it! You incredible fool! Next you know, you’ll go running screaming out across the desert, pursued by nought but bogles of the mind!
Gwylly tried to settle down, but several times he thought he heard noises out in the dark, and twice did he deem that the blue stone grew cooler, though not icy cold.
When he wakened Faeril for her turn at guard, he handed over the stone on the thong, reminding her of Aravan’s words as well, telling her to take special care, and should the stone chill, call for aid immediately.
Faeril smiled at his concern, yet she nodded in agreement, kissing him good night.
Lying down, Gwylly wondered how he could ever get to sleep, but next he knew, Urus was rousing him awake in the dawn.
* * *
As they rode from the grove, Aravan called from the rear. Turning about, the others saw the Elf commanding his camel to kneel, Aravan dismounting. He strode a step or two to a small mound, and scooping sand aside he revealed an ancient toppled obelisk, faint carving upon its flank. Casting a handful of sand back on the stele and then carefully brushing it away so that whatever sand remained lay in the groovings, Aravan revealed its message. “Djado!” he called out to the others. “It is a warning—Djado!”
Halíd sucked in his breath between clenched teeth. “Cursed!” he hissed.
Gwylly twisted around to peer up at the Man. “What do you mean, cursed?”
Halíd looked down at the buccan seated before him. “It is said that at a place of Djado, Lord Death himself comes on his black camel, and if any are found at his guelta, at his watering hole, they will forever ride with him through the endless dark.”
A chill ran through Gwylly. “Oh, Halíd, how frightful.”
The Gjeenian reached out and squeezed the buccan’s shoulder. “Let us be glad, wee one, that the black camel was not thirsty last night.”
Aravan remounted his dromedary, and soon the place of Djado was lost to sight.
* * *
Far across the Erg they went, endless dunes of sand, the world a torrid furnace by day and a frigid waste by night, the ’scape ever changing, never changing, as across dune after dune they trekked. Pasturage became nonexistent, and the only water to be had was held in their guerbas, their goatskins. They fed the camels grain, but even so, there was not enough to sustain the grumbling, compl
aining beasts, and so, the animals began to draw on the fat stored in their humps. Faeril and Gwylly became concerned, and even though Halíd and Reigo and Aravan each assured them that the camels could bear up under such conditions, still the Warrows fretted. Yet onward they went across the sands, aiming for their next destination, marked only by a tiny spot on the reach of Riatha’s map.
Each day they rode till late morning and rested till mid-afternoon, then rode again until after dark. They camped on bare sand and spoke of grass and shade and running water and fields of green growing things, reminiscing. Too, they continued to pass Aravan’s blue stone from warder to warder throughout the night, and although occasionally it seemed to grow cool, it never became icy cold.
Five days they fared, crossing endless dunes, seeing nought but creeping waves of sand, but on the morning of the sixth day, once again the camels surged eagerly forward. “They smell water,” declared Reigo, giving his dromedary its head. Onward trotted the camels, and within a mile they came to a vast, shallow depression. Scrub grew in the wide hollow, and in the distant center were a handful of threadbare palms, parched, the fronds yellowish and sickly, among which they could see a mortared stone ring: it was the Well of Uâjii.
* * *
At Halíd’s nod Reigo dropped a pebble down the well, Gwylly and Faeril watching as it disappeared into the blackness below. It seemed an endless time ere they heard the plsh of the stone striking water. “Waugh!” exclaimed Halíd. “Five heartbeats deep!”
The Eye of the Hunter Page 41
