“Thank the goddess,” murmured Decan, relieved.
“Aslara, why are you doing this? Helping us?” asked Trista. She carefully gave the baby some more goat’s milk, relieved to see the child took a liking to it right away. The tiny human ate much more from the milk than she ever did with the chewed meat.
“You looked like you were in trouble.”
“But you know nothing about us.”
“That should not prevent one from helping those in need of help,” said Aslara.
“You’re right. It’s just that we haven't come across many people lately who did not mean us harm.”
“Would you care to tell me what happened?” said Aslara.
Trista started talking; about the journey, and the sacrifices they had been forced to make. From the beginning—losing their parents, the soldiers and black ships—to the days at sea and how the goddess had guided them to the main continent. Aslara was visibly fascinated when Trista mentioned the ocean—water as far as the eye could see.
“And you can’t drink any of it?” asked Aslara, surprised.
“No. There are fish in there you can eat, but the water will just make you thirstier.”
“That makes it even more cruel than the Endless Sands.”
Trista continued her story, telling Aslara about the bodies of those who had not made it. About the man who had sent them into the desert, and how they had encountered the child, alone in her dead mother’s arms. The words flowed out of Trista's mouth like an unstoppable river. It felt good to finally talk about the horrible things they had encountered; to share them with this person she barely knew. Perhaps this way, she would be able to let go of some of the misery she felt inside.
After the story, Aslara looked at Trista and the others, and smiled. It was a smile that gave Trista the feeling of being completely understood. No additional words were needed, nor could Trista utter them if she wished. She was overcome with exhaustion again. Reliving their journey had drained her of what little energy the food had given her.
“Well, Trista of the Waterclans, I’m happy my instincts were right. When I saw your reaction, it was sharp and fierce, but you never took the first step to attack. You were just being cautious,” said Aslara with another smile. “Thulai helped as well. She has an excellent sense for spotting bad people and she wasn’t bothered by you lot at all.”
“Thulai? Who’s that? Doesn’t she want to come in and eat as well?” asked Decan, who had been exceptionally quiet during the story.
Aslara laughed.
“No. Her hooves aren’t really made for window climbing, though mountains and deserts aren’t a problem.”
“Hooves? Oh!” exclaimed Decan, his face turning red as he realized Aslara had meant the desert tibu outside.
Trista looked up and met the Minai woman’s eyes. They made her feel lighter, her energy somewhat rekindled. The corners of her mouth curled into a smile. Seeing Decan’s reaction, she broke into a laugh.
Aslara smiled. “Good. It’s good to hear you laugh.”
Aslara climbed up into the window frame again. There, she turned to look back.
“And speaking of her, I’ll need to tend to Thulai for a bit. I suggest you all get some sleep. We leave before sundown. I don’t want to be caught here after dark.”
The afternoon sun made Aslara’s dark hair shine and her skin glow. Trista was struck by the strange beauty in front of her, one she had not seen—or noticed—in a long time. The desert woman was not just strong and lean; as Trista looked deeper, past the exterior, she saw an inner strength and confidence that naturally flowed from their new friend. The woman’s certainty in being was enticing.
Trista’s head lightly buzzed. Her fatigue caught up with her again, pushing away the spark of energy she had just felt. Her eyelids grew heavier with every passing moment.
“Why’s that?” she said, rubbing one eye as she lay down.
“Because those bigger baell’weks that do wake from their slumber? They hunt at night.”
Chapter 21
Bitten
“What do you want me to say? I don’t think we have any other options,” said Trista.
They were walking through sand-covered alleyways and narrow streets at roof level of the old, crumbling buildings. Most signs of civilization had long been washed away by the waves of sand moving through the city over the decades. Just smoothened stone remained, defying the never-ending grind of tiny grains of sand.
Aslara had woken them a short while ago. The sun was barely visible above the highest walls that still stuck out of the sand; it was time to leave.
Without delay, Dalkeira started up another private conversation with Trista about her distrust of Aslara.
“Look, I know you have not met many people that weren’t trying to kill us, but the world normally isn’t like that. She’s not one of those soldiers,” added Trista.
“That might well be. And I agree if she wanted us dead she had every chance to try, or would simply have left us in the pit. But still, something is off. The way she looks at you, and me when she thinks I am sleeping. I cannot figure out what goes on behind those dark eyes. There is something she is not telling us.”
Dalkeira snorted. She would be happy to leave all this sand behind soon, Trista knew. The rest and food had done all of them well, but even the dragon must feel her muscles ache from the long days filled with walking and their narrow escape the day before. Decan had offered to carry the baby girl for the first part, but Aslara said he and the child should sit on Thulai’s back when they got out of the city. The strong desert tibu could have carried more of them had there not been any other luggage, but Aslara had no intention of going into the desert without provisions.
The words reminded Trista of their own inexperience with traveling. Now that she had a moment to recover and gain some energy from a good meal and available water, her thoughts were much clearer. In fact, she had not felt so clearheaded in a long time. There was indeed something about Aslara, but Trista did not sense it in a negative way. The woman’s strength and direct way of approaching things left quite an impression on her.
Walking through the sunken city, Trista heard soft scratches and hisses coming from inside the buildings. From the corner of her eye, she noticed several lizards quickly shot away as their small group passed the final few yards to the outer wall. They cleared the outskirts of the city and walked out into the desert. The last rays of sunlight disappeared from the sky in front of them as the sun gave way to the moon. Behind them, the ruined city sprang alive with the ghostly hisses of hundreds of lizards emerging from underground. Chills ran down Trista’s spine at the idea of being stuck there at night.
“I think she means well. She saved Decan and the child. And she has such a gentle creature with her. I mean, I’ve never seen an animal listen so well to a human. There’s not a shred of fear in that animal toward her master, just complete trust. It’s impressive,” Trista continued.
She shocked herself by speaking her mind so bluntly. She had not intended to take a stab at Dalkeira like that. She had not expected to feel jealousy. But clearly she was sad, somewhere deep inside, that the bond between her and Dalkeira—although strong—was not on such a refined level.
“Let’s keep our eyes and ears open for now and see if she can lead us out of the desert like she said,” added Trista quickly in the hope that Dalkeira did not notice the previous remark.
The dragon gave no reply. Trista looked behind her and saw that Dalkeira had stopped. She was looking back toward the city.
“What is it?” asked Trista.
Dalkeira turned toward her and started moving again. She did the dragon’s equivalent of shrugging her shoulders.
“It is nothing. I thought I saw something move along the city walls,” said Dalkeira. “But I guess it was nothing.”
Trista looked back, and indeed saw nothing except the tower and walls of a half-sunken city in the sand. Dalkeira took a few leaps and launched herself into t
he air. Trista felt the push of air flow past her as Dalkeira beat her wings to gain height.
“Where are you going?” called Trista after her.
“Like you said, to keep an eye on things—from above.”
Trista sighed. She quickly picked up the pace to catch up to her other traveling companions. Their little group disappeared over the top of the dunes as the nightly survival of the baell’wek began. The sand at the base of the ancient wall softly vibrated before it slowly rose to form a large hump. It slid along the length of the wall, calmly scraping along the stones of the old city. A deep rumble came from underground, triggering an orchestra of hissing protests from the city’s smaller nightly inhabitants.
Trista felt tears come to her eyes. Relief flowed over her like a mother’s embrace, taking away any discomfort from her feet and muscles, if only for a moment. Their first night had gone by quickly as they followed Aslara through the desert. Decan and the child had mostly traveled on Thulai’s back. It had been a silent trip; none of them saying much, preserving their energy for the journey. Trista felt the continuing tension of Dalkeira’s distrust toward Aslara as the night went by. But when the first rays of sunlight announced the morning’s break, Trista found herself reaching the top of a sand dune, together with Dalkeira, to be greeted by her brother’s shouting.
“Triss, look. We made it! We really made it!”
And there it was. Completely unannounced, the desert ended. Trista took a deep breath as her eyes filled up from happiness. The doubt of the last few weeks slid from her heavy shoulders. She really thought they would not make it. That they would end up like the soldier and his horse, buried beneath the sand far away from the waters she loved. She looked at Aslara, who calmly kept walking. It seemed the goddess was still looking out for them, offering them guidance when they needed it most.
The landscape itself changed unusually abruptly. It was as if an invisible barrier held back the loose sand, as Trista saw a sharp line where the desert bordered on a dry-looking, but life-supporting, landscape. Low shrubbery could be seen here and there, thin little twigs with sharp thorns trying to protect the small, dry leaves between them from any passing herbivores. Their surroundings changed color, from the fine yellow-white of the sand dunes to a darker red earth crust that stretched for miles on end.
There were no hills once they left the desert dunes behind. And while, for the first part of the day, the red earth showed mostly empty—apart from those out-of-place-looking thorny plants here and there—the ground was littered with rocks, large and small. Walking became a lot less tiring with such a hard surface beneath their feet.
“Step on the rocks or go around, but don’t put your foot over them to where you can’t see,” advised Aslara. “Snakes and other creatures might use them for shade and can strike at you if startled.”
The scorching heat of the desert was replaced by a slightly more bearable dry hotness, but as the sun rose and their road continued, it became clear they still needed to find some shade and rest. Aslara pointed to a strange shape on the horizon.
“That’s where we’re going,” she said.
Small patches of dry grass started to fill up the landscape. First around the edges of stones, then later larger patches firmly defending their place in the landscape all by themselves. Small trees greeted them here and there with minuscule, feather-like leaves. At dawn, Trista spotted some tiny animals. A desert mouse, small lizards and strange-looking beetles; even the occasional bird. Aslara speared a snake that slithered by. It was not big, but it was dinner nonetheless.
Dalkeira approached a small tree, barren of leaves, its branches twisting and turning. She sniffed at the strange waterdrop-shaped nests that hung from the branches.
“It is like an entire colony, but no one is home,” remarked the dragon.
As their guide, Aslara displayed her knowledge of the land. They followed tracks of long-gone animals and dried up streams. They even passed several empty waterholes. All the while, Aslara kept them on track, even when their destination disappeared behind the increasingly taller withered shrubbery. When they finally arrived, the strange shape turned out to be a tree, though tree was too simple a word. The giant stood high above the plains, a rounded trunk with wide horizontal branches at the very top. The trunk looked like a puffer fish about to burst, it’s bark smooth like oiled leather. Instead of branches, large, sharp thorns covered the trunk from the bottom up, some of which were so large one could easily use them to climb all the way to the top. Snaking down the tree were several dried-up vines that carried old, wrinkled, dark red fruits.
“We’ll stop here for a while. We can eat and rest, and then continue when night sets in,” said Aslara.
After Decan and the child had dismounted, Aslara relieved the desert tibu of her pack harness and reins. She let the animal wander off to find some dry shrubbery to eat.
“How’s she doing?” Trista asked her little brother, pointing at the baby.
“Better. She slept most of the night. Just woke up again. Looks like she’s hungry.”
“I can take her for a while if you want to rest,” said Trista.
Decan thankfully handed over the child and immediately lay his head down in the shade of the tree. Trista spent some time feeding the baby. They were back to chewing meat again for her, at least until they could reach the village Aslara spoke of. They still had plenty of water to drink, though Aslara urged them to ration wisely. Dalkeira had been offered a full bag of water, which seemed to be enough for her to keep going and counter the dangers of dehydration.
Trista saw Dalkeira sitting quietly on the edge of the shade. She seemed mesmerized by the large tree in front of her, softly swaying her head in and out the sun. Trista thought she heard the dragon hum a soft melody that trickled into her mind. When eventually the baby fell asleep again, Trista was about to mentally reach out to Dalkeira when Aslara joined her and offered her lunch.
“She’s something else, your sha’cara,” said Aslara, nodding toward the dragon.
Trista looked at the dark-eyed woman, unsure what the remark meant.
“Why do you say that?”
“She feels it. The life inside the Taori,” answered Aslara.
“Taori? What life?” said Trista.
Aslara smiled gently.
“Taori is a guardian of life,” she said, pointing at the tree. “Some call them the Thorned Pillars of Life. They’re worshipped amongst my people as protectors of all that is born and dies.”
That puzzled Trista. She regarded the dried-up tree in front of her.
“Pillar of Life? I don’t understand. I don’t mean to offend, but it doesn’t even have any leaves to provide us with shade,” said Trista. “All I see is a dried-up trunk and those shriveled-up red pods. How can you call that life?”
“There’s more to it than you can see. Your sha’cara does. But perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised, for I’m certain she’s a true-to-life winged ancient.”
Trista let the remark slide as she walked over to the tree to get a closer look. One of the vines hung in front of her all the way to the ground. Trista almost expected it to go straight into the ground, as if it was a long-stretched root from a plant up high. Some of the plants that grew on the cliffs at home had similar roots. They curled along the rocks, searching for small bits of earth to settle in.
Just above her hung a dark red pod. Now that Trista was closer, she saw it was not actually as hard as she thought it would be. She stood on her toes and carefully reached for it.
“More to it than you can see,” she mumbled to herself.
She looked behind her as she stretched her arm upward.
“Does that mean you can eat these?” she asked.
“No! Stop,” answered Aslara. “The blood fruits are forbidden. They poison those foolish enough to try them!”
“Blood fruit? That doesn’t sound tasty at all,” said Trista, quickly lowering her hand.
“It does not? It sounds like something
that could taste like meat, or perhaps even like one of those larger fish,” said Dalkeira’s voice inside her mind.
Trista looked at the dragon, but apparently the remark had been thoughtlessly made, as Dalkeira continued observing the tree with great interest.
“It’s like she sees the life flowing inside,” said Aslara, who followed Trista’s gaze. Seeing Trista’s reaction, she pointed up to the sky. “Life that slowly feeds the area around it as the waters stay up there. Without the Taori, the desert would reclaim the red earth until nothing was left. Their legs stretch out many times beyond that of their own need.
“Legs? You mean the roots? In the ground?” Trista wondered.
Aslara gave a small nod.
“The reach of their legs allows the surrounding plants to use the Taori’s water in times of drought.”
“Rain! That’s what you mean by ‘life’,” said Trista, finally understanding. “Of course. Water, the source of life. It’s the touch of the goddess. But does it really rain here at all? I haven’t seen a drop of water fall from the sky since we reached the coast.”
“It will. The time is near. The Taori know it, and I think your sha’cara feels it, too.”
“Okay, stop. Why do you insist on calling her sha’cara—or ‘winged ancient’, for that matter—when I told you her name is Dalkeira? It’s very rude,” said Trista.
Aslara laughed.
“I apologize. I don't mean to be rude. Sha’cara isn’t her name. It’s what she is. The one that guides you. She connects you to the realm of…this,” she explained with a sweeping gesture. “Plants, sand, animals. Your companion as well as your counterpart. The First Mother was said to have met such a sha’cara. A special one; a winged ancient. They met under the Thorned Pillar of Life at a time when they were being chased and hunted. You should consider yourself very lucky to have received such a guide.”
Trista looked at Dalkeira, who now lay curled up with head under wing . She felt the smallest of tingles inside her body and mind. It had been a while since she felt it. And now she did, the feeling was less strong than she remembered. Had she been too preoccupied with doubt and worries to let the presence of their bond come to the surface? Or was something else going on?
Wavebreaker (Book II of the Stone War Chronicles): Part 1 - Trickle Page 42
