by Sharon Joss
CHAPTER 13
Renly huddled low over the racing traggah’s neck, his heavy bag clutched in front of him, clinging to the animal’s sparse mane. Silverbeard had enough power to bolt out from beneath him. The animal was wider and more powerful than any horse he’d ever ridden, and he hung on with grim determination, lest he fall and be trampled to death. Within moments, the stables and festival grounds had disappeared far behind them.
His heart pounded in an echoed rhythm of hoof beats and the explosive breathing of their mounts. They dashed down a hard-packed dirt road through low rocky hills at exhilarating speed. Silverbeard huffed like some massive steam engine made of muscle and sinew. Renly’s body responded automatically to the movement of the racing animal and soon he settled into the relentless rhythm of the magnificent beast beneath him.
Ahead of them, K’Sati rode Neatfoot with a casual ease he envied. He imitated her body position, shifting his pack behind him, lowering his head along his steed’s muscular neck. Silverbeard’s stride lengthened and his gait evened out. The traggah’s ears pricked forward, as if to say, ‘thanks, that’s better’.
He caught himself grinning like a fool. Never in a million years would he have ever imagined he would end up riding an alien creature through the wilderness of a distant planet to rescue Garrett. He’d even surprised himself. He’d done it without even thinking.
After a while, the hills flattened out and the road descended in to a valley. They encountered no one else. He began to wonder if they were riding in the right direction, but he’d been to the festival site often enough to know that this was the only other road from the festival village. He realized Paul must have lied to him; and wondered again why he wouldn’t say where Garrett was. Wouldn’t even talk about him. The sting of Paul’s lies made him more determined than ever to catch up to Paul and make him talk.
In the distance, he spotted a line of trees, and hoped that was their destination. They should have caught up to him by now, he thought. He couldn’t imagine that his brother’s friend had more than a couple hours head start. Renly tried to calculate how many miles they’d covered. Their pace had slowed to a ground-eating lope, but neither traggah seemed tired in the least.
By mid-afternoon, his muscles began to cramp. The odor of traggah sweat filled his nostrils; sores developed where his legs rubbed against Silverbeard’s ribs. Without the shelter of the rolling hills, the raw bite of wind buffeted them, biting him through his thin clothing. He was glad for the heat of the animal beneath him, but the winds whipped the moisture from his skin. His lips grew cracked and dry; his eyes gritty.
His thirst grew. Fifty feet ahead of them, K’Sati rode with single-minded intensity; her eyes glued to the approaching forest. He called out to her about stopping for water, but the wind whipped the words from his mouth and whisked them off into the desolate prairie like silent ghosts. They passed no restaurants, inns, or any sort of buildings. The land around them seemed empty of life; human or animal.
Finally, as they approached the line of trees, K’Sati sat up on Neatfoot, and both animals slowed to a brisk trot.
“When we reach the stone forest, there is a small spring where we will stop for water. But for only a few minutes. Golden Boy is just ahead of us.”
“How do you know?”
She looked at him, as if startled. “Open your thoughts. Are you not aware of his presence?”
Warily, he shook his head. “No.”
She nodded toward his mount. “Look at Silverbeard’s ears. He and Neatfoot both sense Golden Boy. Traggahs are born with an innate sense of their herd clan. This is how they find each other in the wild. Neatfoot, Silverbeard, and Golden Boy are all born to the same herd. Even at the stables, we keep them together. After racing season, when they are released, they can find their way back to their clan by instinct, no matter how far away they are. You have that same ability. If you open yourself to Silverbeard, you will become aware of Golden Boy, just as I do.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think it works that way for Terrans. The only person I’m aware of is my brother.”
The wind colored her cheeks with a rosy glow. She had wrapped her hair in a colorful scarf on the ride, but wisps of her dark hair caressed her brow. The Khirjahni were a handsome people. The urge to sketch her made his fingers itch.
* * *
Up close, the forest appeared different from his earlier impression. The twisted trees grew in a widely scattered formation, providing broken shade, but little protection from the wind. Beneath the trees, the packed red earth of the road transitioned into a fine sandy gravel. Only the merest bits of grey-green plants and weeds fought for existence beneath grey woody brush. The stunted trees appeared to be some sort of conifer, based on the needled leaves and oddly-shaped cones. Beneath the heavy sulfur smell, he caught a familiar light scent he couldn’t quite name.
K’Sati pulled Neatfoot to a halt and slid to the ground with admirable grace. “This way.”
He eased himself off Silverbeard and groaned as his feet hit the dirt. The traggah snorted and shook himself with vigor, obviously happy to be relieved of his rider. Renly stretched out the kinks in his legs and groaned as the circulation returned like pins and needles to his numb feet. He followed K’Sati down a narrow footpath, while the traggah crowded him from behind.
Sheltered beneath a natural stone formation, the spring was about the size of a swimming pool. Both traggahs pushed ahead eagerly, wading knee-deep into the shallows to drink where the water burbled to the surface. Renly watched uneasily as K’Sati scooped handfuls of clear water from an elevated trickle into a stone trough, which seemed to have been carved from the stone for that very purpose.
The water seeped across a mossy, lichen-covered rock face before dripping into the stone basin. Long strands of bright green algae rimmed the edge. The hotel and festival grounds provided sterilized water. No one said not to drink the local water; the subject never even came up.
“Is the water safe to drink?”
She gave him a questioning look. “For Terrans?” She shrugged. “I do not know. This is the only place for water.”
Renly had never experienced such thirst in his life, but only a fool would drink unsterilized water on a known plague planet. Fleetingly, he wondered if Paul had brought his own water, but his thirst betrayed him. He cupped his hands into the basin and drank. He refilled his hands with cold sweet water until he could hold no more.
Other than the rocks around the spring, he saw little few other landmarks. “Why do they call this place the stone forest?”
She gestured toward the trees. “Stonewood. The wood of these trees is very heavy and dense, like stone. In the old days, before the Khirjahni and Th’Dorrans signed the treaty, the Khirjahni used dead limbs of the stonewood trees as weapons.”
Renly glanced around at the forest floor. “I don’t see any dead limbs.”
She shook her head. “You won’t. The trees are too hard to cut for firewood, but the dry wood burns for days. It makes excellent charcoal. Most of the areas closest to the coast get picked clean on a regular basis.”
With a tentative grip, he tested the pale reddish bark of a nearby sapling. Solid as an iron bar. Even a thin twig resisted all but his most strenuous attempts to bend it. He crushed a few of the pine-like needles between his fingers. The faint aroma of pineapple filled his sinuses. Neat.
When he reached into the branches to pick a pinecone, something bit him.
“Augh!” He jerked his hand away, but the blue-skinned lizard refused to let go. He smacked his gloved hand against the tree, trying to knock the creature loose. Again and again, he banged the lizard against the trunk until it finally let go and skittered away.
K’Sati grabbed him and dragged him away from the tree. “Get away from there!” She ripped the bloody glove off his hand. “Oh no!” She sounded frantic.
A cold, heavy sensation snaked up his arm. “What was that?”
“Bhok-Bhok. Tree lizard.” She
put his bloodied hand to her mouth and sucked vigorously, then spat a yellow gob of something onto the pale sand beneath their feet.
Oh shit. “Am I going to get dragon pox?” His legs trembled.
She shook her head. “Only craggons carry the pox. They live in the mountains.”
Relief flooded through him. “Thank god.”
She dragged him over to where the traggahs were eating grass. “Tree lizards are poisonous,” she told him. “How do you feel?”
His legs refused to cooperate. He slumped to the ground. “I think I’m going to throw up.”
She grabbed Silverbeard’s bridle and dragged him over. She shoved his wounded hand into the traggah’s mouth.
He jerked his hand back. “What are you doing?” His hand was on fire. His entire arm throbbed painfully.
She slipped her hand into Silverbeard’s slobbery mouth and pulled it out; dripping with grass-clotted saliva. She slathered traggah drool all over the bite area.
His tongue felt too big for his mouth. “Wha-?” His vision began to narrow.
She peered into his face. “Traggah spit has antiseptic qualities. Can you ride?”
Her voice sounded like it was a million miles away. His throat began to constrict. He couldn’t breathe.
“Get up, Terran, or I will leave you. I must get Golden Boy back.”
He heard nothing more.
CHAPTER 14
K’Sati stared at the unconscious Terran at her feet. Mother of stars, whatever gave her the idea to bring an off-worlder along? Of course the trees were infested with lizards. Everyone knew that. What was she going to do now?
She looked up the path. Golden Boy was so close. Maybe ten minutes ahead of them. He wasn’t running any more. If she left now, she could catch up to them and trade traggahs with Paul. It would be dark soon; easy enough to sneak Golden Boy into his stall before morning. He would win his race and no one would ever know.
The unconscious off-worlder began to gag. She rolled him onto his side and he vomited up water in great wracking sobs. There was nothing she could do. Even if she took him back to the stables, he would die before they got there. And Wayne would be waiting for her. On the other hand, the Terran would slow her down if she brought him with her.
He choked on his own bile and gasped for air.
“Come on, get up.” She hauled him to his feet.
“I hate this place,” he mumbled.
She leaned him up against Silverbeard, but the traggah skittered away, refusing to cooperate. She slapped the Terran’s face. “Can you ride?”
His head lolled to the side. “Never should have come.”
Too heavy for her to hold upright, he slid to the ground. His lips were turning blue. She checked his hand. Three bites. His arm had swelled, and the sleeve of his jacket was cutting off the circulation. She grabbed the sleeve and ripped the seam apart up to his armpit. She winced at the sight of it. The arm had doubled in size and was hot to the touch. “Come on, get up. We have to go.”
His eyes rolled back in his head.
He was dying. He would die no matter what she did. But the idea of leaving him for the scavengers she would not do. She would have to take him with her. If she tied him to Silverbeard’s back, she could leave them at the gate of Temple of the Mother, where they had the proper herbs to purge the poison from his system. She would still have time to catch up with Paul in the rocklands before he reached the steppes. Once they reached on the high plains, she would never catch them. Golden Boy was too fast, and he loved to run.
She coaxed the Silverbeard to his knees, and settled him to the ground. Stay. She sent him an image of what she wanted.
He snorted and put his ears back unhappily, but stayed down.
She dragged the Terran’s limp body over to the traggah. He clutched his heavy shoulder pack with one hand and refused to let go. His muscles had locked into spasms now; she couldn’t loosen his grip without breaking bones. With no other choice, she eased him and his bulky satchel across Silverbeard’s back. She ripped the rest of his jacket into strips and used them to tie him to the animal.
She patted Silverbeard released him to stand. The traggah groaned and lurched to his feet, protesting with irritated whistles. Already, the unconscious man listed to the side. They wouldn’t get far like that. This would be so much easier if Renly would just open up to the animal.
“Wake up, wake up!” She slapped his face.
His eyes opened, but held no spark.
“You must hang on or you will die. You must help yourself. Are you listening?”
She slapped him again, and he nodded. He shifted himself into a better position on Silverbeard’s back. The traggah shook himself and his ears came forward. A good sign.
“Renly.” His alien name sounded strange to her ears. “Listen to me.” She gripped his chin in her hand and forced him to face her. “You are an empath. Stop shutting them out. Open your mind. Traggahs have a need to bond. This one wants to bond to you. He wants you to recognize him. Say his name, Renly. Say it in your mind.”
“Gah,” he said, and was gone.
Silverbeard gave a little buck.
No! He needs our help. You must carry him. He is herd to me.
The herd usually abandoned the hopelessly sick and injured. She felt the question in Silverbeard’s mind, but for the moment at least, he’d stopped bucking. She leapt onto Neatfoot’s back, and pulling Silverbeard by the reins behind them, set off at a trot through the stone forest.
* * *
An hour later, pre-dusk for second sunset deepened the shadows around them. They still had not caught sight of Paul and Golden Boy. K’Sati sensed them ahead of her in the gloom, but she couldn’t push the traggahs any harder. The trees were treacherous at night, and if she went any faster, Renly would topple off his mount. They would be at the Temple of the Mother soon. It would take her only a moment to tie Silverbeard to the front gate and ring the wayfarer’s bell. With a bit of luck, she would be able to sneak up on Paul after he bedded down for the night, and steal Golden Boy back without a confrontation.
Even in the failing light, she recognized this part of the forest. These woods had been her playground as a child, and in a way, they seemed to welcome her home. By the time the lights of the temple appeared ahead of them, night had fallen completely. She hesitated. When she left this last, she swore she would never return. Seven years was a long time. No one would recognize her, now. She had no reason to be wary, yet caution made her nervous.
As they rode up to the temple gates, her heart soared with relief.
Golden Boy stood in the visitor paddock with another traggah, dining on the sweet hay the acolytes grew just for that purpose. She choked back a sob of relief, and urged Neatfoot forward.
At the entrance to the temple, two young acolytes came running out to greet them. She put them to work getting the unconscious Terran pulled off of Silverbeard.
“He has been bitten by a tree lizard,” she told them. “More than three hours ago. Call the Temple Mother.”
The girls shouted out for assistance with the unconscious off-worlder. None were turned away from the Temple of the Mother. More young women streamed out of the temple, and K’Sati led Neatfoot to the paddock. If she left with Golden Boy now, she would have him back to the stables by dawn. No one would ever know.
Renly began to struggle against the girls. “Where’s Paul?” he was barely coherent. “Paul!”
Using Neatfoot’s bulk to shield her from the women, K’Sati moved to the paddock gate. She recognized the voice of the Queen Mother immediately.
“Your friend Paul is here as our guest. He is sleeping right now. You may speak to him later, when you are well. Come now girls,” she clapped briskly. “Bring this poor man into the healing room and prepare him for the rites.”
K’Sati slid the bar to the paddock aside and opened the gate. She slipped Neatfoot’s bridle off and the traggah eagerly joined the others gathered around the feed trough. Golden Boy di
dn’t resist when she slipped the bridle over his head and seemed happy to see her.
She turned to leave the paddock, only to come face to face with the Queen Mother herself and half-dozen priestesses.
K’Takiweah nodded, looking extremely pleased with herself. “I thought I recognized you, K’Sati.” Her eyebrow lifted in that way that K’Sati remembered so well. The temple mother’s cruel mouth twisted in a false smile.
K’Sati began to tremble.
“Welcome back, little blaspheme. I always wondered what happened to you. I am so looking forward to getting reacquainted. I cannot tell you how happy I am that you’ve decided to return to us.”
The priestesses took hold of her and K’Sati knew Golden Boy would miss his race.
CHAPTER 15
The delicious aroma of warm porridge awakened him. Renly opened his eyes. He lay on a thick pad on the floor of a whitewashed room. A young Khirjahni girl of about nine kneeled next to him, wafting steaming hot cereal beneath his nose.
She was the first Khirjahni child he’d seen since landing on Aurum. She wore a simple, rough-woven shift belted with a braided cord. Tiny goat-like horns emerged from a halo of short brown curls. At this age, her graceful neck looked no different from a human child.
Her eyes widened when she noticed him staring at her.
“Where am I?” He scooted himself into a sitting position, but settled back down again when the room began to spin.
She smoothed his forehead with her small hand. “Your fever has passed.”
The porridge smelled delicious. “Is that for me?”
She nodded at his bandaged left hand. “Are you in pain?”
He flexed his fingers experimentally. “Not enough to complain about.”
