The Free Trader of Warren Deep (Free Trader Series Book 1)
Page 8
They also needed it to be cooler. It was the fall. If they waited a couple moons, then temperatures wouldn’t be so hot, but they could find themselves at the mercy of the winter storms. Braden didn’t know how these affected the desert, but he suspected they wouldn’t be kind. Better warmer now without a sandstorm. They could go when they were ready, but Skirill wanted to find a source of water first and then determine the best way to get there.
In the morning on their first full turn at their campsite, Skirill ate a rabbit, then drank his fill directly from the stream. He hopped into the air and with a few powerful strokes of his wings, he gained altitude. He kept to his rhythmic beating, slow and purposeful, steadily climbing above the land. Soon he was a dot against the shimmer of the desert’s heat. Then they could no longer see him. It seemed that he had already flown further than they could travel on the ground in a single turn.
Then they waited.
But waiting did not mean wasting time. Both Braden and G-War headed into the woods in search of the raw numbweed which they could process in their small pot. It would take time, but having prepared numbweed, could be the difference between life and death. They found a few small patches, which Braden harvested in entirety.
Braden also downed a young buck who didn’t seem to be aware of the companions in his woods. G-War was pleased to have fresh venison. They would keep some warm for when Skirill returned.
The heat of the daylight passed, and the sun got lower and lower in the sky. The numbweed was in the pot with just a touch of water, simmering slowly. It couldn’t boil and it couldn’t get too dry. He had to keep adding just a little water at a time, watch it reduce, then add a little more. When it turned a certain light green color, it would be ready.
‘He comes,’ G-War said. As it edged toward dusk, they watched as a familiar dot reappeared in the southern sky, slowly approaching.
Almost too slowly. The Hawkoid was struggling to stay aloft. He would glide for a while, then beat his wings, slightly out of rhythm, making him weave as he gained height. Then he would glide and repeat the process. It took him an agonizing amount of time to return, although that was more perception than reality.
Skirill glided the last few hundred strides and landed in the stream. He dipped his head under the water repeatedly, drinking until he threw up, then drinking again. Braden rushed into the water to help him.
“Hot….Hot,” Skirill said out loud. Braden hadn’t thought the Hawkoid could get sunburned. How would they survive the heat?
Skirill’s legs were swollen, the stitches stretched tightly across his half-healed leg wound. The raw skin on his wing was dry and cracked. He dipped his body completely under the water a few times, enjoying the cool of the mountain stream.
“I need to take out those stitches before they rip your skin.” The water helped soften the thread and surrounding skin, so removing the stitches wasn’t difficult, but the skin had already been stretched to the extreme. Braden took his time to ensure that he didn’t cause any more damage to Skirill’s leg. The fire threw little light as he couldn’t allow the numbweed to get too hot. It wouldn’t be ready for some time yet.
G-War showed up at his side, front paws deep into the water as he chewed a mouthful of the weed. Braden knew that the ‘cat’s mouth and mind would both go numb from this effort. Only in an emergency would someone chew numbweed as it made the chewer weak and sleepy. Both the injured party and the rescuer would be unable to defend themselves. Chewing numbweed was the last ditch effort made by one willing to risk his life to save another’s.
‘Don’t be so dramatic. It can watch over us for once.’ G-War would never let on that he cared.
Braden put out his hands and the cat promptly spit out the gooey mess. Braden watched to make sure that G-War got out of the water before collapsing. Rubbing carefully in his hands to make a small patch, he put some carefully on Skirill’s wing and the rest on his swollen leg wound, freshly diced by the removed stitches.
Skirill sighed audibly as his eyes rolled back in his head. Braden helped him out of the water and settled him onto a small boulder, high enough to keep his tail feathers out of the dirt, but not too high where Braden couldn’t lift him up. Braden expected the Hawkoid to be far heavier than he was. Skirill weighed about half as much as the deer that Braden had killed earlier in the daylight. Their bodies were about the same size, but Skirill seemed much larger.
Braden checked the cooking numbweed, and added a little water. He brought some strips of fresh deer to Skirill, who ate them without opening his eyes. Braden took a cloth and wiped G-War’s front paws dry. The ‘cat’s tongue was hanging out of his mouth onto the ground. It was up to Braden to help restore the ‘cat’s dignity, which he did by putting the cloth under G-War’s head as a pillow.
Then Braden returned to the fire, settling in to watch over his friends for the night.
29 – Healing Time
By morning, Braden was exhausted, but he had two full batches of numbweed pouched and ready for use. G-War got up halfway through the night and staggered closer to the fire, where he curled up and promptly went back to sleep. Skirill remained on the rock, unmoving. Braden put his hand on the Hawkoid’s broad chest a couple times to make sure he was still breathing.
When the time was right, that is, late morning, they both ate heartily of the remaining deer. Skirill ate so much that he was unable to fly. He apologized profusely before climbing back on his rock for another long nap. Braden cooked venison for breakfast, took a long nap, ate more for lunch and then napped further.
About mid-daylight, he went hunting for more numbweed, but wasn’t able to find any. The hunt was more of a way to stretch his legs which he enjoyed. He also appreciated that he didn’t have to ride Max this turn.
Skirill and G-War were back to themselves come dinner time. Only Braden ate, though. The other two were still digesting their rather excessive lunches.
“So Ski, what’s out there?”
“Yess, you called ‘e that last night. It is ‘y older ‘rother’s na’e.”
“Your older brother is called Ski?”
“Yesss,” Skirill said.
“Friends give each other nicknames. Golden Warrior of the Stone Cliffs is a little long, so I call him G-War or even just G for short. Your name is Skirill, or Ski for short.”
“’ut Ski is ‘y ‘rother’s na’e.”
“What did you say? Buttski?” Braden laughed at his own joke.
The Hawkoid had lost the human’s train of thought. With the ‘cat’s help, he switched to the mindlink. ‘Ski is my brother’s name. You can’t call me by his name.’
“I’m sorry, but Ass is taken too. What do you want me to call you?”
‘My name is Skirill, yes?’
“Ess. I like it. Ess for the first letter of your name. Ess for yes, your name is Skirill. Ess it is.”
‘I used to like humans,’ Skirill shot back at the speed of thought.
“How many other humans do you know?”
‘I’ll revise my statement. I used to like you!’
“Wow Ess. That hurts. You and G teaming up against me.” Braden smiled broadly at the Hawkoid, putting his hand on the feathered back of his large companion. “Let me check that wing of yours Ess. We can’t have you in pain.” He looked the wounds over, pleased with the progress. He added a little numbweed to Skirill’s leg and wing. His chest would be fine once the feathers grew back.
In a more serious tone, Braden asked, “What did you see out there Skirill?”
30 – The Plunge
‘Infinity,’ was the first word that came through the mindlink. ‘I never saw the other side, but I saw a garden. I cannot describe it any other way. It will take you ten turns to get there by horse.’
“Ten turns.” Braden said, thinking through the variety of calculations he’d made before. “At that point, three turns will have passed since we ran out of water. If we cut back on water, will we have the strength to cover the distance?”
The risk was too high. He didn’t know how much distance they could travel and how long it would take with any certainty. Then it came to him.
“Since we’ve never traveled in the desert before, we need to practice. Tomorrow, we’ll head into the desert, as far as we can go in a single daylight. We’ll camp, then come back here. We will do this until we have what we need, our bodies and our supplies perfectly tailored for travel across the Great Desert. No one will be able to do what we can do.” Braden ended with determination.
They bedded down and tried to sleep. Braden was too excited to sleep well, and ended up getting up early.
First thing in the twilight before the dawn, Braden finished hooking up the cart and getting Max ready.
He thought about when he named his horse since he knew it was going to play a key role in their journey. He chose Max. Simple, but if Max couldn’t give the maximum effort, they would be stranded where they couldn’t survive. If they made it, Max was a horse to be remembered.
Turning back toward the pack horse, which he called Pack for short. He could make out G-War and Skirill in the cart. They had everything they would take with them. He wanted the trial to be as close to real as possible. What would they learn if they took shortcuts?
“With this first step, we move closer to our ultimate destination – the other side of the Great Desert! My friends, WHEN we cross, we will make history! We cannot fear the unknown. We must conquer it!” Braden said with a final flourish, head held high.
‘Who is it talking to?’ Braden heard the ‘cat say.
‘I have no idea.’ Skirill responded.
“Let’s go,” Braden said, his grandstanding moment deflated.
‘I think it was talking to us. How odd.’
31 – Into the Great Desert
Two turns later, they made it back to the campsite by the stream in the middle of the night.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been so hot and so tired before in my life. It was like getting cooked over a fire, without the benefit of spices or tubers.” Braden almost fell from the saddle into the stream. The horses were already muzzle deep, enjoying the unlimited supply of fresh and cool water.
G-War hopped lightly from the cart, although his fur betrayed his seeming resistance to the heat. In two turns, the ‘cat’s sleek coat had been replaced by dry, frazzled hair sticking straight out. G-War waded into the stream letting his paws cool, and slowly lapping his fill.
Skirill had flow to the camp just before nightfall. He was already recovered, stately sitting on the rocks, watching over his worn out companions.
They traveled quickly at first, then slower and slower as the heat of the sun beat down on them. Their breaks lasted longer and longer, but were less and less restful. When they settled for the night, the desert sand radiated heat, preventing a sound sleep. The horses drank and drank, but never seemed to cool down. Over two turns, they drank half their water supply. The distance they covered on the first turn was greater than what they covered on the second turn. It took them halfway into the night to make up the time. Half the water with a precipitous drop in travel suggested that they would make it only halfway to the garden, as Skirill had called it.
They slept well into the next morning, happy to wake to the cool of the foothills.
“I don’t know how we’re going to make it, G. I think I’m trying to lead you on a fool’s errand,” Braden lamented. He sat with his head down, his face still red from the burning sun.
G-War sat upright and licked a paw which he used to groom his ears and cheeks. The ‘cat was unperturbed as usual.
‘Why does it insist on traveling in the sunlight?’
“So we can see where we are going, of course.” Braden responded without thinking. As he looked back, he understood – the distances were so vast in the Great Desert that he could see the entire turn’s track at his first glance. As a new moon waxed, they would have enough light to see any obstacles immediately in front of them. They could focus on something in the far distance to help them go straight toward the oasis.
“You’re a genius G! Dig into that big brain of yours and tell me, how can we rest during the daylight?”
‘It builds a shelter with a sun screen. Dig into a bank, opposite the sun, put up a roof.’
“All because I have thumbs,” Braden answered with a smile. G-War never stopped grooming himself during their conversation.
“What would a shelter look like? How can we carry something big enough to cover us all, including Max and Pack? How far can we travel at night?” Although Braden asked these questions out loud, they weren’t questions as much as problems that he was already working to solve. Deer hide. Light, but long branches, wide forks at the end. He could tie these across the top of the cart. Yes. He could see how it would all work. Traveling at night was the key.
They spent the next two turns resting and finding the materials Braden needed to build their daylight shelter. With G-War’s help, Braden was able to find three deer. He smoked the meat to build up their supply, but it was the hides they were after. Braden didn’t have time to tan them properly. Even untanned, they filled the need.
It took some creativity to cut down the right branches. They were usually higher in a tree, where G-War and Skirill could see them. If they fit the description, Braden would climb up and use his knife to hack them down. It wasn’t pretty work.
They settled on ten branches, cutting the leaves off and sharpening the thick ends so they could more easily be driven into the sand and ground. He wove the bark to make short ropes for tying the pieces together at final assembly. The deer hides didn’t cover as much as he wanted, so he broke down the blanket pack and used the blanket as the main sun screen,. He added the deer hides to the sides, extending the shaded area.
As the third night after their previous foray into the Desert approached, they departed. They trotted until they reached the heat of the desert, then they slowed to a fast walk. As the air cooled, they picked up the pace. They only took one break, about midnight, and they drank from the casks without drinking to excess. They pushed on to the morning. As twilight revealed more of the desert around them, they looked for a place with an embankment facing northeast, to give them the least exposure to the hottest sunlight. Nothing at first, so they continued.
As the sun poked over the horizon, bathing the Great Desert in deep reds and vivid browns, Braden started to panic. He didn’t want to push too far into the daylight. Their gains during the night would be quickly lost.
He settled for an embankment that was only his height, but it faced the right direction. He went to work immediately digging with a wood shovel he had fashioned for just this purpose. It wasn’t near as good as a steel counterpart, but moving sand wasn’t difficult, and he didn’t have a steel shovel.
Braden drove the main branches into the top of the embankment at an angle to give them more space over their heads. He braced them with branches fashioned for that purpose, then put the blanket and deer hides in place. He dug out as much of the ground as he could under their shelter, letting out the stored cool of the deeper ground. It took Braden a little while to get the horses to lay down. It had been a long daylight followed by a long night. The sun was going to be brutal shortly. But they were finally settled in the shade. Braden used Max as a back rest. Skirill stood on the casks after they all had a good drink. G-War curled to the side away from the horses. He refused to get too close where he could get kicked or stepped on.
Braden splashed a little water on the horses’ necks to help them calm down. He took a drink from the flask, and then was instantly asleep.
32 – Moment of Truth
Braden awoke with a start. Sweat poured from him. Max breathed heavily. The sun’s heat pressed in on him. He had misjudged the sun’s path and it
was now shining on him and Max. Pack, Skirill, and G-War were still in the shade and sleeping peacefully. When Braden stood up to adjust the poles of the shelter, Max stood up, too. The horse clearly understood that it needed to get out of the sun, so it turned and looked for an open space in the shade. As it completed its turn, it bumped one of the shelter supports, knocking it down. The rest of the shelter came down with it.
Pack panicked and jumped up, throwing branches around, snapping a couple. Braden waded in, grabbing his harness and stroking his nose to calm him down. Skirill was protected against the embankment where the casks were dug halfway in to prevent their accidental overturn. Braden could see his wide eyes in a gap between the deer hides. G-War was nowhere to be seen.
“G! Are you under there?”
‘No.’ Braden looked around, finally spotting G-War on the top of the embankment.
He lifted the branches and watched as Skirill hopped out. Braden went to the top of the embankment and resunk the poles that made up the roof. He tied a couple together that had been broken. From the bottom side, he used two support poles to lift the roofing part of the structure into place. He reseated those two poles. Although he worked quickly, with the heat and sun he was hot and worn out when he finished. He corralled the two horses back into the shade, and pulled down on their harnesses until they laid back down on the ground. Braden helped G-War and Skirill drink sparingly from a flask, following with a deep drink for himself.
They settled back down, but sleep did not easily return. Everyone was restless. Eventually the daylight passed. As the sun headed for the horizon, the group ate their fill, while Braden took apart the shelter and reloaded the cart.
“Moment of truth, my friends. Do we continue on or do we head back and consider this a successful second trial run?”