"Know this ring," his contact told him, holding out his fist. "Look well upon it. If any come in my place, and they do not wear this ring, know that I am taken."
They halted about twenty yards from each other. After a moment, one of the riders wearing a red shemagh wrapped around his face dismounted and came forward. As he neared Ullin, their eyes, the only portion of their bodies exposed, fixed each other. Ullin saw immediately, though, that this was a different person than he had met before, not as tall, and with a different way of walking. The figure halted a few yards away, pushed back his black robe to reveal the hilt of a sword, then removed a glove, and produced a small leather-bound packet. Ullin approached, and, before he held out his own packet, he looked closely at the ring of his counterpart. Satisfied that it was the same ring as he had seen before, he was curious as to why a different person had come this time. But he asked no questions and held out his delivery.
The Dragonkind, apparently satisfied as well, took it, and the two tucked their new burdens away as the Dragonkind looked about.
"Alone?"
"My escort was killed five days ago," Ullin replied.
"You speak our language." The Dragonkind said. It was the voice of a youngster, thought Ullin. But he could distinguish no features through the robes and armor, except, by the richness of them, that this must be a high-born of their kind. For surely only a prince would own such finery. Whoever it was, he would not have been entrusted with this assignment unless he was quite capable and trustworthy.
"Somewhat crudely, I'm afraid," Ullin answered.
"Well enough. Do you have far to go?"
"A fortnight, by foot. Perhaps farther."
"I see. Wait here."
The Dragonkind went to one of the pack animals and then returned, bringing a waterskin.
"Take this," he said. "We are but four days fast ride until we reach Kajarahn."
Ullin took the skin and slung it over his shoulder.
"Thank you. There is a party of renegades about," he said in return.
"We are well-armed."
Ullin nodded.
The Dragonkind made as if to say something, but perhaps thought better, and nodded, "Very well."
"Good journey," Ullin said, turning to go.
"And to you," the Dragonkind replied, remounting his horse. A rising breeze from the southeast fluttered the pennants. "A storm swiftly comes."
Ullin turned and looked at a wall of reddish brown clouds on the horizon.
"Yes."
He waited for them to pass westward, each of the riders eyeing Ullin warily as they went by. He watched them recede, waiting for them to be out of sight before going his own way. They were nearly a few fulongs away, heat-shimmered lines of black riders over a low trail of dust, when he turned. A brief glint in the sea of sand to the left of the Dragonkind caught his eye, and he immediately broke into a run to catch up with them just as a hot, dusty wind came at his back, as if to push him along.
The renegades rose up from their shallow sand-covered pits, and within moments their hail of arrows brought down six of the riders and four of the horses. From the sand to one side and the rocks on the other, the renegades charged the travelers, brandishing swords and lances. The four remaining Dragonkind were quickly surrounded by five times their number, but held their ground by dint of their skill. Ullin arrived just as the storm struck its first blows, and he fought his way through the renegades to join at the side of the travelers. Seeing the bowmen recovering their arrows, and realizing the fight was hopeless, Ullin grabbed the one in the red shemagh by the arm, deflecting a sword thrust from the desperate Dragonkind.
"It is I! Come away! Come with me!"
They were prevented from any further talk by arrows that took down another of the travelers, and Ullin grabbed the man again.
"To the rocks!"
By now the air was hissing with stinging sand as Ullin pulled the Dragonkind with one arm and fought with the other.
"To the rocks!" he cried again, pointing with his sword.
They ran through the sandy wind, fighting as they went, barely able to see friend from foe. But the pair slipped through the attackers, as the noise and force of the gale increased rapidly. They stumbled through the rocks while the renegades, too concerned with their spoils and too little troubled by the fate of the two escapees, did not pursue. By now the grinding howl of the gritty storm had engulfed them and was tearing at their robes and clotting their eyes.
"Here!" the Dragonkind yelled, barely audible though his face was just inches from Ullin's. "In here!"
Together they squeezed into a cleft beneath an outcrop and covered their heads with their robes. They huddled into the crevice and tried to pull their legs in as close as they could while the sand rose like an incoming windblown tide. The hiss and howl of the storm made speech impossible, battering them fiercely, and buffeting them about within their hole.
The wind suddenly intensified, and with it came a deep-rumbling roar paired with a wavering high-pitched shriek. Like ten thousand screaming banshees riding ten thousand stampeding buffalo, the horrendous noise encompassed Ullin and his companion as the powerful gale clawed and tore at them viciously. The sand that had just moments before threatened to cover them was now scoured away, and the two men twisted around to press their faces into the crevice, clutching at the rocks as their legs were pulled out from beneath them with the retreating sand. Both screamed unheard at the top of their lungs. They scratched rock and dug their nails into stone keep their hold as their robes whipped and snapped. Ullin managed to drive both his arms around a rock, and in the dim light he sensed his struggling companion sliding away, clawing and scratching at loose stones. He shot out an arm just in time to grab the Dragonkind's wrist, and he felt his own wrist clenched in return. The clutching wind shrieked and screamed, pulling them upward with invisible hands that tried to tear them out of their hiding place. Ullin felt as if he would rip apart at the shoulders, but he did not loosen his grip on the rock or the Dragonkind. Groaning, he pulled while sand and pain-induced tears clotted his eyes, until at last the Dragonkind gained some purchase with his other arm. Still they clung to one another, wrist to wrist, hand to rock, as the storm turned and pummeled them from a new direction. Once again sand poured up the little gully and down over its sides. The worst of this soon passed, the grit-laden air less forceful than before, but a mighty wind persisted for a long while, and once again it pushed sand and covered them to their shoulders.
• • •
Hours later, the storm spent itself, and it was some time in the night that Ullin regained enough of his senses to tell that the ringing in his ears was silence.
When he tried to open his eyes, sand fell into them, and he spent a long while blinking and loosening his grip on the rock he had been hugging so that he could carefully wipe the grit away until his vision cleared enough to take in his surroundings. Beside him the Dragonkind lay motionless, still clutching his wrist, his face tucked into his other arm which was still wedged around a rock. His red turban had blown away, and Ullin could see long black hair, tangled by the wind and filled with dust.
The Dragonkind moaned and released Ullin's tired wrist and pushed himself up to his knees, sand cascading down from his back and shoulders. Ullin did the same, and they slowly crawled backwards out of the sand-filled hole and into bright moonlight. In tatters, covered with dust from head to foot, they tried to brush themselves off, watching each other all the while out of the corner of their eyes.
It was the first time Ullin had ever seen a woman of the Dragonkind. Though she still had on the black armor and leggings, when she tossed out her hair, gathering it up in her hands to shake it out and toss it back over her shoulders, he was stunned by her beauty. A master at checking himself, Ullin continued emptying sand from his folds and pockets with only a cocked brow for reaction. They said nothing for a long while, each making sure they still had their documents and weapons, rebinding their leggings, and making new he
ad-coverings from the remnants of their cloaks. Ullin still had his shoulder bag and the waterskin she had given him, and, after checking the straps to those, he took a long look around. Lady Moon, not yet at her boldest, was nearly overhead, and by her light he could see far in every direction.
The storm had greatly altered the landscape, filling the low places with sand, and heaping great banks against the ridges of the rocks. Looking back to where the ambush had taken place, he saw that a broad, high dune had poured over the spot, the nearest edge of it only a few feet away and rising steeply up far above their heads. If the storm had persisted only a little longer, they would have been entombed.
"I fear your companions did not survive," he said. She nodded at the dune.
"I do not see how they could have. But I must continue on."
"Well, perhaps the renegades suffered the worst of the storm," Ullin said. He slung the water bag from his shoulder, took out his flask, and very carefully filled it with the precious stuff. The Dragonkind woman observed his care and that he did not spill a drop. Ullin then stood and held out the water bag to her.
"I do not take back what I have given," she said. "Besides, the messages you carry must be delivered. You will need water."
"No less than you. And what you carry must also be delivered."
"You will not make it back with only your flask."
"Then I will go as far as I can, to a place I know of where my body will be found by my people. Your messages will be taken from there."
Her expression told Ullin that her people had no such contingency for her, and he even thought he saw a slight look of shame.
"I am sorry. Of course," she said. "I am afraid I am new to this sort of thing. And perhaps those I represent are not as well organized as your people. There are very few of us."
"We do the best we can with what we have," Ullin replied. "If you continue your route, the renegades will have you."
"With so little water, I must go a different way. South, at first, into the desert. Then west to the ruins of the Dead Place."
"There is water at the ruins?"
"No. But there is shade."
"How far?"
"By foot, almost two days, I think. Another ten days from there to the city. But a turn southward will take me to an oasis in four days, and from there by a roundabout way I'll have steady water a day apart for another six or so days to the city. An indirect route, but one that will have your messages safely to their destination."
Ullin gazed north, the direction back to his own people. He slung the waterbag over his shoulder and nodded at her.
"Very well. We go together to the city. Along the way, we will protect each other. From the city I will go north and cross the mountains, working my way east to rejoin my people. We may as well be off before the sun rises."
Ullin started out, striding past the woman, and was several yards ahead when she called to him.
"But, wait."
"What is it?" he stopped and looked back at her.
Now, with the silver light full upon her figure, he saw she was young, not so much by her appearance as by the slight, hesitant, girlish movement of her shrugging arms and shoulders. Such was her unexpected loveliness that he smiled.
"You are right," she said. "Let us be off."
It was difficult going for several hours, first picking their way through the sand-covered rocks, skirting the new dune, then, where they guessed the road must have been, turning west and trudging through deep, fine sand, their feet sinking several inches with each step. After a few slow miles, the sand thinned somewhat and they could discern the roadway again. Their pace quickened as their way eased, and after Lady Moon left them behind, and her gown of light helped them no more, they continued on by bright starlight, saying nothing, staying close together so that each could hear the breathing and footfalls of the other. The roadway took a southward turn and, after an hour, returned sharply westward.
"Half of our pack animals carried nothing but water," she said. "And we planned to go quickly, without rest. But if you and I follow the road, we will never make it. On foot it is at least twenty days of heat and bandits until the next outpost and oasis. So we must go south."
Ullin let the woman take the lead since she seemed to pick out the way better. For all he knew, she had been this way many times. Looking at the stars, he followed close behind. By the time the eastern sky was growing pale, his thoughts were on his faraway home, and he tried to recount the years since he had last seen Tallinvale. Later, as the sun rose, it briefly passed through the same shade of red as his aunt's hair, and he wondered how she and her family were getting along. Was it four years since he last saw them? Or was it five? He could not do the calculation, and, regardless, the Eastlands Realm was a world away. It was best to put such thoughts, such memories, out of his head.
The sun quickly changed from red to yellow, then to searing white, blasting the travelers with its heat, bringing Ullin's mind back to their predicament. Few could survive what they were attempting. But the papers she carried had to get through, and she stood a better chance with him than alone. The attempt had to be made.
The day rapidly grew hotter. He settled into a split state of mind, one part carefully making his body take each additional step, the other part struggling against the heat to stay alert. With Ullin following the Dragonkind woman, the two slowly moved deeper into the vast expanse of unbroken flatlands, their footfalls somewhat muffled by the thin layer of fine brown dust that they tread upon. After an hour and longer, the woman adjusted their course to the southwest, and Ullin, squinting at the blazing way ahead, saw a distant wavering shape that, as they drew closer, rose up as a lonely turret of stone. It was about twelve yards in diameter at the base and three times as high, at least up to where the topmost portion was crumbled away, the stones of the ancient top scattered around the northern base. They found a spot in its shadow among some of the fallen blocks, and his guide sat and leaned back against the stones. Ullin sat beside her, and surveyed the landscape before them. The hard pale floor that stretched out in every direction was by now shimmering with heat, making the distant horizon waver. Ullin handed the flask of water to her. She nodded and took a few sips, then handed it back.
"Was this a watchtower?" he asked.
"Once. And once there was water here, so they say. In a past age. The ruins of the old city lay some six or seven leagues to the west."
Ullin rummaged through his bag and found a hard brown block. With his knife he carved off two pieces about the size of his thumb. He held out one for her, and she took it with a quizzical look. He bit into his own portion and began to chew. She watched him chew and chew, then after sniffing it, she carefully took a bite and chewed, too. They both chewed for a long while. When finally, and not without a little difficulty, each had swallowed their bite, she looked at her remaining portion.
"What is this?" she asked.
"Soldier rations. We call it jawrock."
She nodded, "Thank you," and slowly put the remaining piece into her mouth. As she chewed, her expression made Ullin chuckle while he ate the last of his portion. She smiled back at him, nodding as she tried to swallow.
"It's terrible!" she managed to say.
Ullin nodded, "I know."
"Whatever is it made of?"
Ullin shrugged as he swallowed. After a moment, he was able to say, "I don't think we want to know. Here, have another sip of water. It will help."
She took the flask and a small swallow, then handed it back as she stood. As she threw off her black hooded outer robe, she noticed that Ullin did not take another drink, but tucked the flask away. Quickly, and with the ease of experience, she lifted her spaulders and unbuckled her breastplate from the backplate, dropping her armor away. Ullin saw the outline of her form as her blouse stuck to her skin with sweat. Soon she had her leg guards off, too, and she found a place behind one of the stones to hide the equipment. With her back to him, she pulled her long black hair around her neck
to reknot it behind her head.
"I will retrieve these if ever I can, "she said as she put her robe back on and refastened her head band around her hood. "Now we go west. You wear no armor?"
"Only in battle. If there is any at hand."
He stood, tucked his shemagh over his mouth and nose, pulled his hood over his head, and followed her out from the shade into the full fury of the unforgiving sun.
"You have seen many battles?" she asked without turning around.
"My share."
"Against my people."
"Yes."
"And you have killed many?"
"That has been my lot."
"I do not believe in lots, or fate of any kind."
She turned her head to look back at him as she spoke this, and Ullin caught the flash of her greenish-yellow eyes. About a mile later, she spoke again.
"These wars are unjust. Although we are sworn enemies, it is because we choose to be so, and we can choose not to be so, too."
"Hatred runs deep," Ullin replied. "Our two peoples are bound by it in oath and in blood. The bonds of the past are strong. They bind the young to the old, one generation to the next, in ways words cannot tell, and stain all hands with blood. Those who wield the sword. Those who make the sword. Those who raise the grain to feed the swordmaker. Things are not easily changed."
"Yes. But if people yearn for peace, they may hope to find it, if they try."
"Perhaps they may. If they are brave and do not fear change."
The Nature of a Curse (Volume 2 of the Year of the Red Door) Page 54
