by A. R. Cook
It had been three days since she, Mac and Chiriku left the sanctuary. Their elven guides had been with them up to the afternoon of day two, for they had led them to the edge of Juka Basin, where they had parted. The elves had made it clear that they would bring them as far as the outskirts of the Basin, for beyond was the swamplands, a land of which the elves were not too fond. Mac would have to be the guide from here on out, to which Chiriku bluntly verbalized that they were all going to get extremely lost and probably eaten by something.
Desert Rain was already missing the comfort of their elven bodyguards and elks. She trusted Mac to lead them, but it had been nice to know that the elves had their archery for protection. There had been an occasion where their elven guides had to fend off some large animal—a wild cat, it had looked like—with a few arrow-shots. Mac had a few handfuls of spare blast powder with him to scare off animals, but not much, so they were trying to stay as quiet and unnoticeable as possible.
“Are you all right-tkk?” Mac asked when he saw Desert Rain jerk out of her sleep.
Desert Rain rubbed her eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine. A bad dream, that’s all.” She sat cross-legged, and let out a yawn. “What’re you still doing up?”
“I was feeling a bit-tkk peckish,” he replied as he popped another slice of apple into his mouth. “And I figured someone should keep watch a while.”
“I could take over for you if you wanted to get some sleep,” Desert Rain offered. Seeing as how she was unsettled by the nightmare, she would not mind staying awake for an hour or two.
“Nah, don’t worry about it-tkk. I was waiting to see if that fellow followin us-ssck will come over to join us.”
Desert Rain thought she had misunderstood him. “Fellow? What fellow?”
“The one that’s-ssck been tracking us ever since the elves-ssck went home. He’s up the trail that-a way,” he said, gesturing off into the shadowed woods.
Desert Rain strained to see into the forest with her nocturnal eye, but could not see anything. “How can you tell?”
Mac snickered. “You don’t-tkk grow up being a lizard without knowing when something’s after you. Plus, he’s-ssck got a small fire going that he’s trying to hide by putting his body between it and us-ssck.”
The Hijn tried to find this supposed “fellow” again, and caught a faint, muted glow far off—she wouldn’t have noticed it at all if Mac had not said anything. The glow wavered, like the light from a campfire, but there was something trying to block its illumination. She was impressed that Mac had picked up on the presence of their follower so easily.
“Who is it, do you think?” she asked the lizard.
“Could be a thief,” Mac said, scratching his chin. “Could be a hunter out-tkk for game. Could be some nomad going our way. But I get the suspicion he’s-ssck not the aggressive type. We ain’t exactly armed to the teeth or nothing. If he wanted to rob or scare us-ssck, he would’ve done it-tkk by now.”
Desert Rain brushed back her hair with her fingers. “He might have seen Chiriku with her hammer. Maybe he’s waiting for all of use to fall asleep before risking an assault.”
“We were all asleep last night-tkk. He could’ve jumped us then.”
“True. You don’t think it’s anyone we know, do you?”
Mac shrugged. “If he’s-ssck a friend, then he should come on over so we know. Unless he’s real shy.”
Desert Rain watched the distant glow for a minute, and then she stood up. She started towards the direction of the stranger.
“You be careful, Gila,” Mac warned. “You don’t know if this-ssck is a trap. He could be waiting for one of us to check him out-tkk, and that’s when he’d cause trouble.”
“I know, Mac. If he does, I have Silverheart.” She took the black pouch out of her pocket and felt inside for the familiar hilt. She drew the sword out a short ways to reassure Mac and herself. Even if she couldn’t fight with it the way she had before, maybe the sword itself would be intimidating enough to make the stranger think twice about harassing her. She slipped it back in and started off again.
“Wait,” Mac said, as he reached into one of his pockets and took out a small bag of blast powder. He gently tossed it to her, and she made sure to catch it—if it hit the ground, it could blow up at her feet. “Just in case-ssck. Make sure to aim for the face-ssck,” he advised.
Desert Rain crept quietly past the trees. These were not the same kind of trees that lived in the rainforest. Here, the trees’ limbs sagged, draped in cobweb-like greenery, and the trunks were a bit more bulbous. Compared to the tropical trees of the Basin, these trees looked lazy and out of shape. Mac said that was an indication of them coming into the swamplands, plus that the ground had gotten softer and soggier since they left Juka Basin. Desert Rain had made care to wrap her feet up in strips of cloth to keep her feet a little drier from the soggy earth, but she was so used to feeling the ground beneath her that now she felt unsteady.
She wondered if the stranger was watching her coming, but if he was, he wasn’t moving from his spot. As she crept closer, she could clearly see his silhouette against the muffled light of his fire. He was lying down on his side, his head pillowed on his arms. She could hear his slow, steady breathing.
He’s asleep. She let out her breath, not aware she had been holding it. I’ll take a quick glance to see who he is.
She slunk along outside the rim of the firelight. She ducked behind a tree and peered out from behind it. From here, she could get a good view the stranger, barely lit by his dying campfire. He had his traveling hat pulled down over his eyes, and shadows masked the rest of his face. It was this, ironically, that verfied that he was in fact not a stranger at all.
Gabriel! This was getting weird. What was he doing here this time? Desert Rain thought back to the ordeal with the Zi’Gax. This man had appeared out of nowhere, with no explanation, in the same way. He could be stealthy when need be—Desert Rain was often caught by surprise back at the sanctuary when he suddenly appeared around a corner. This was too coincidental. Besides, why did he decide to follow her instead of staying with that family that employed him?
I should go. If I give him time, he’ll come over to us when he’s ready. Then he can explain why he followed us.
She didn’t leave, however. She watched him sleeping for a while, and she thought about those penetrating eyes beneath his closed eyelids. She had resolved that this was a regular human, but the question that she couldn’t kill was still nagging at her. The possibility is still there, the little voice of hope in her head said. You don’t know for sure. Maybe he is who you thought he was.
No, he’s not! I looked into his eyes. He’s not Skyhan, her logical side argued.
You convinced yourself it’s not him. You never found Skyhan’s body, after all. You never saw his real face underneath his war mask. He might have gotten amnesia, and that’s why he doesn’t remember you.
That’s ridiculous. It’s not the same person!
Look at you! You’re arguing with yourself! Obviously, you still wonder about it.
Fine then. I need to show you…I mean, me. A little more proof.
She crouched down onto her hands and toes, creeping around the edge of dim light like a cat. She approached the sleeping man, keeping highly aware if he should jerk out of sleep. She could not see any silver rune markings, since his hands and arms were swathed in cloth wrappings, and she wasn’t going to dare try and remove them.
His hat…I’ll take a quick look at his hair. Once I see that it’s not silver, that should be enough to convince you…me, I mean.
She slunk around behind him. She found herself shaking. She shouldn’t be so nervous. She shouldn’t have to do this at all, but if she didn’t, that little voice was going to keep nagging at her, and she wanted to shut it up. She didn’t have to pull the hat off the whole way, but enough to see his hairline. No silver hair, no Skyhan.
She reached her hand slowly out, steadying herself. She paused, thinking, What if it is
silver hair underneath that hat? What then?
Well, we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.
She lightly pinched her fingers on the wide brim of the hat. She barely pulled up the brim half an inch when Gabriel’s hand grabbed her by the wrist. She tried to yank herself free of his grasp, but his strong hand held her firmly. He turned and glared at her, his eyes fierce. Desert Rain’s lip trembled; she tried to stammer an explanation, but disjointed jibberish came out. “I…uh…there… you…we…I wasn’t…hat…”
He sat up, his hold still on her, and with his other hand he pulled off his hat. Locks of tawny-brown hair spilled out, chopped so it fell barely below his ear line. The strange blotch on the right side of his face was much more disturbing when fully revealed, and the same sort of defacement was on his forehead as well. They looked like inky swirling fingerprints from someone, or something, large. The blotches were blood-red, outlined in charred-black, and embossed deep into the skin, as if it had been branded into him. The skin around these scars was burned, as if the markings had come from a touch of fire.
“Is this what you were so eager to see?” Gabriel seethed, bringing his face within an inch of Desert Rain’s. “You think I didn’t know that you were always watching me wherever I went? You think I didn’t understand what you were thinking when you’d stare into my eyes? You can stop it now. You see what I’ve been hiding. I’m sure you can tell a lot about me, Hijn, but you don’t know everything. It would be a good idea for you to quit trying to find out everything. You should keep your hands to yourself.” He released her, harshly pushing her arm away.
Desert Rain rubbed her wrist, not sure what to say at first. “I thought you were someone I knew,” she said quietly. “I can see I was wrong.”
Gabriel placed the hat back on his head, and turned to face the fire, which was almost out. He was quiet for a moment, and then he let out a deep breath through his nose. “Why did you come over here?” he asked darkly.
“To find out why you’re following us,” she replied, her voice tense. “Mac and I thought you might be a thief.”
Gabriel made a small laugh. “You decided to catch the thief by surprise? What would you have done if I had been a thief, or someone worse? Cut my head off with that—” He made the slightest pause. “—sword of yours?”
“No,” Desert Rain retorted. “But I’m glad you’re not a thief, if I’m glad about you being here at all. I’d still like to know why you’re following us.”
The man didn’t reply immediately. He picked up a stick at his side and fed it to the fire. “I go where I please,” he finally said.
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“I go where I feel I’m needed.”
Desert Rain cocked an eyebrow at him. “You think I need you? Someone has an awfully high opinion of himself.”
Gabriel turned to look at her over his shoulder. “When I heard you were leaving, and all you had with you were that Quetzalin and that blabbering merchant, I figured you might want a bodyguard. Someone who could actually save your skin out here.”
That struck Desert Rain as both confusing and creepy. “I don’t know if I should say that’s sweet of you, but we can take care of ourselves.”
“As you were doing with the Zi’Gax before I showed up.”
Desert Rain’s ears folded back, and her face flushed. “First of all, we would have done fine against the Zi’Gax without your help.” Even as she said this, she knew it wasn’t true, but she was too mad right now to admit that. “Second, I don’t know how I feel about someone who can abandon a family who took him in and gave him a home. What, they don’t need you anymore? Maybe you don’t go where you’re needed—you go wherever you might find some excitement.”
Gabriel got up to face her. She stood up to match him, although he was quite a bit taller than she was.
“If you are so keen to know everything, Hijn, then I should tell you it was their idea for me to go after you,” he stated coldly.
Desert Rain’s eyes widened. “It was?”
Gabriel was about to retort, but he paused, looking a bit muddled. “It was Alana’s idea.”
“Oh.” She tugged on one of her ears. “What did she say?”
Gabriel sighed. “She told me that you wanted her to tell me goodbye for you. But I guess she must have wanted to repay you for the music you played for her, so she asked me to go with you to make sure you’d be okay. I tried to tell her that my loyalties were to her and her family, but she said that I had already helped them, and now you needed my help. Corb and Danal…the famer and his wife, they granted me permission to go. Alana’s a… tender-hearted child.”
“Yes, she is.” Desert Rain smiled at the memory of the little girl. “That’s kind of you to carry out a child’s request, but if you want to go your own way, I won’t tell Alana.”
Gabriel narrowed his gaze. “I don’t make a promise to break it.”
“Then why didn’t you ask me if you could come along before we left?”
“Would you have said yes?”
Desert Rain thought about that. She might have, she might not have. Knowing how she felt about Gabriel, about how he made her ache with guilt and confusion every time she looked in his eyes, she probably wouldn’t have wanted him to tag along. Chiriku certainly would have put up a stink about it, for no reason. Gabriel seemed to do what he wanted, however, whether he had permission or not. He had not helped fight off the Zi’Gax because he was ordered to, but no one had invited him to join in either. Asking did not appear to be something Gabriel did easily.
“Well, I guess I can’t send you back. I wouldn’t want to refuse Alana’s wish.” Desert Rain managed a smile. “But if you’re going to be a bodyguard, you can’t do much all the way over here by yourself. You better join us at our camp.”
Gabriel hesitated, but then he nodded. He picked up what little he had with him—his battlestaff and a handkerchief that had held a small ration of food—and stamped out his fire. They both walked off towards the glow of the campfire where Mac and Chiriku were, Desert Rain’s nocturnal eye helping to guide them past the shadowed trees.
“May I ask where you got those scars?” Desert Rain asked.
“You won’t get an answer,” Gabriel bluntly answered.
Desert Rain tightened her lips, having expected that. “Then may I ask why you helped us fight off the Zi’Gax?”
Gabriel once again paused before replying. “I go where I am needed,” he eventually said.
Desert Rain made a nod, knowing that that would be their last discussion for the night.
By late morning the next day, the four travelers had descended into swampier forestland, a veil of mist growing thicker as they went along. Gabriel took up the role of scout, keeping ahead to clear the path for the others. This was problematic at times, since he occasionally vanished in the mist, but he would sooner or later come back into sight, or the others would hear him whack at something with his battlestaff.
Chiriku was not thrilled to find out Gabriel had followed them. Not that she cared too much either way, but she didn’t like that Gabriel was trying to take her job as protector of the group. She was the one with the warhammer—all he had was a lousy stick. Desert Rain had told her that he had come to assist them by request, and it was honorable to let him fulfill that request. Pfft, sure. Wait until they got attacked by a wild cat or wolf, then they’d see who was the real warrior.
Mac, on the other hand, seemed glad that their mystery follower was Gabriel. The two hadn’t gotten to know each other well yet, but Mac thought him a “nice fellow.” When the group stopped to rest, Gabriel and Chiriku went off scouting around—it had evolved into an unspoken competition for who could catch any upcoming trouble first—while Mac and Desert Rain sat on the root of a tree. Mac leaned over to Desert Rain, lowering his voice for discretion.
“Are you thinking what-tkk I’m thinking?” Mac asked, grinning and giving her a wink.
“About what?” she aske
d.
“About that Gabe fellow following us-ssck. I guess that whole thing with the goblins-ssck gave him an appetite for adventure. Or maybe he’s got-ttk other appetites,” Mac said slyly, grinning those yellowed teeth.
Desert Rain’s face reddened. “Mac! It’s nothing like that. I don’t know the man, and he knows nothing about me.”
“A man ain’t got-tkk to know nothing about a lady to fancy her,” Mac replied. “Or vice versa. But who knows-ssck? You said that he’s-ssck a drifter, so maybe he’s drifting our way.” The smirk he gave Desert Rain, however, showed that he didn’t really believe that.
Desert Rain shook her head with a slight smile. Great, now Mac was playing match-maker, as if Clova hadn’t been bad enough about that sort of thing. “He’s here because the little girl he was taking care of asked him to make sure we’d be all right.” She looked up through the mist, at the gray sky above them. “But when we get to the Bayou, he’ll have fulfilled his obligation, and he can go on his merry way.”
“Sure he will,” Mac said, winking at her again.
As the day progressed, the territory grew more and more familiar to Mac, and he was able to identify some wild onions to add to their food supply. Small pools of brown water started popping up all around the landscape, bubbling with a viscous gurgle. Mac advised that they not drink it, although the warning was unnecessary. They came upon one pool of cleaner, drinkable water, where they filled up the flasks that the elves had provided for them before heading on.
The Bayou was one of the eeriest places Desert Rain had ever been. In her days with the artists’ company, they had always avoided this place. For one, the soggy, boggy ground would have sucked in the wagons’ wheels, and for two, the people who lived in this place were the Bayou Folk, hardly a society worth stopping for to entertain. It was a wonder that anyone could live here, with the perpetual haze that hung over the land, the mud that Desert Rain had to struggle out of more than once, and the odd noises emitting from the stocky trees and the burbling pools. Everything was sopping in grays, browns and dull greens, and even the air felt wet and heavy. There were also strange, unpleasant smells, like rotting meat and swamp gas.
