“I don’t see anything, Miss.”
“Well, I think that … wait.” I scanned the horizon. “Damn, it’s gone. I thought I saw …” I shook my head.
“There are mirages in the desert, Miss.”
“I know, Carrie, it’s just that … it seemed so real. It looked solid.” I peered at the horizon again, then blinked hurriedly as a stray bit of sand blew in my eye.
“Well, let’s just keep going, Miss. Hopefully the horses and camel will have a sense of where to go.”
We were headed east, I could tell. A bit south as well, but mostly east. It was hot and dry, and my thirst felt like it would never be sated, even though I sipped from my water-skin throughout the day.
Khepri stayed asleep most of the journey, mumbling and groaning in dreams we could only guess at.
“Her wound is not infected, but I am sure it pains her, Miss,” Caroline said as she checked Khepri for the fourth time. I understood completely. You really couldn’t travel with an unconscious, delirious, wounded person who mumbled in her sleep about demons and sirens without getting a little worried.
I worried, too. I worried the horses weren’t familiar with this area and were blundering about, unsure of their destination. Even though they stayed on course, walking in a straight line, I still worried.
I guess I’m a worrier.
I tried having a long conversation with the camel about it, but got few answers.
The camel, basket still strapped to its hump, chewed as it walked, and I, astride one of the dark brown horses, held the camel’s lead in my hands. It stretched out from the horn of my saddle, but I kept a short rein on it. As a result, the camel was walking nearly alongside me, suggesting it as a fine companion to bounce ideas off.
“Camel, do you know where we’re going?”
No answer, not a peep.
“We seem to be headed in this direction, and the horses leading us have not veered much from their straight line,” I glanced over at the camel.
Flies buzzed in its face.
I dismounted and tied a bit of cloth from our pack across its bridle. It was gauzy and didn’t do much, but it was an improvement on the fly situation.
I remounted.
“Camel, what’s your name?”
No reply.
“Do you have any opinion on our situation at all?”
The camel cocked its tail and stopped walking.
I brightened.
A shower of poop fell behind it.
Oh, well.
We resumed walking.
“Camel, do you think we’ll survive this week? Or do you think we will die of thirst in this massive desert, and be eaten by predators, our bones never to be found by our families? No?”
The camel just blinked at me with long-lashed eyes, and continued chewing its cud.
We plodded on.
“Carrie, this is mind-numbingly boring. Tell me what your thoughts are about our misadventures.”
“Well, Miss, I …” Caroline thought for a minute. Then, “I really think we’ve been quite unlucky, and I hope we survive this. That’s all I really wish for right now, Miss. Just to stay alive.” She looked at me. Her face was grimy from being buffeted by the desert sands. I was sure mine was, too.
“You don’t think we’ll get back home?” I asked.
“I certainly hope for it, Miss, but ...” She turned back to face forward, and fell silent.
I sighed.
“Camel, I know what Carrie said was probably correct, but I can’t help but feel a spark of hope for seeing the northlands once again. Sleeping in my own bed again. Tasting the mead brewed from our own bees, and the grain grown from our own fields again.” I fell silent for a long minute. “A princess should not have to be in these circumstances.”
The camel did not reply.
We plodded on.
Always on.
Night fell.
We stopped and made camp, because despite what Khepri had said, everyone was exhausted. The camel sank gratefully down next to our tent as Caroline busied herself making a small fire.
I arranged Khepri in her bedding next to the warm flames, checked her wounds, and held her while she drank the water I dribbled into her mouth. At best, she was half-conscious. This worried me greatly.
“Well, the wounds don’t look infected, but they don’t look like they’re healing, either. In fact, parts are still bleeding, just a little.” I studied the healer’s pale face. “If we don’t get her medical help soon, she could die.”
Caroline came to look.
“She does look very pale, but she doesn’t feel hot,” she said quietly as her hands felt Khepri’s forehead and under her ears. “No fever, as far as I can tell.” She sat back.
“She still losing blood, though.”
“Only a little, Miss.”
I discarded the bloody cloth from Khepri’s bandage change and reached into the healer’s bag for a clean wrap. My fingers hit a small, sharp point as they closed on the linens.
“What’s this?” I wondered aloud.
Caroline came closer, and we both examined the strange twigs that had been carefully wrapped in a small bundle with colorful thread. As I wrapped Khepri’s wound, Caroline sat and smelled the twigs.
She reached her tongue out for a taste.
“Miss, I think they’re blackroot.”
My eyebrows rose. “You’re kidding.”
“No,” she handed me the bunch, which I now saw were dried roots. “The taste is similar to our own dried Verdantwood, and it tingles on the tongue.” She smiled.
I touched my own tongue to the hard, dark woody objects. She was right.
“Well, maybe we can steep some in a tea and give it to her to drink,” I said.
Caroline nodded. “It would help her weather the pain and ease her discomfort.” She took one of the roots and busied herself making tea.
I looked again to Khepri’s bag. I wondered. … Fumbling around deep inside, I was soon rewarded. “Aha!” I said in triumph as I withdrew my hand, grasping several more root bundles. I looked at Caroline. “We’re set.”
That night, bedded down next to a fire, I felt cozy yet anxious.
“Carrie, I can’t believe what’s happened to us,” I spoke in a near whisper, my hands wrapped around a tin cup full of warmed camel milk. I stared into the black, silent night, and the fire crackling was the only sound in my ears.
“Princess,” Caroline said.
Khepri lay quietly, bundled next to the fire. Her eyes were closed, and she was full of blackroot tea.
“I never imagined …” I choked on my words and just stared into the fire, lost in thought.
We both enjoyed the silence for a spell, then Caroline spoke.
“I wonder if Christianne is okay?”
Oh, gods. I am such a selfish, spoiled thing.
“I hope she’s alive,” I whispered. “And I hope we can reach her soon.”
Caroline sat up. “So our destination is not to escape back to Prince Phillippe’s land and reunite with the royal party?” She stared into my eyes, shocked.
“No.” I sat up as well. “No, I really think we need to find Christianne. We need to rescue her.” The more I said it, the more it felt right.
“But Princess, what chance do we have, against the sheikh and all his people?” Caroline sounded close to tears. “I know we shouldn’t just leave Christianne, but we are just two. What could we do? We would just be recaptured and join them in their misery.” She held back a sob, but just barely.
“Princess, I had thought our goal was to reunite with your parents and return home to the northlands.”
I stood and walked around the fire and sat next to her, wrapping my arms around her. She put her face into the blanket around my shoulders and was still for a few minutes.
I patted her back gently.
“We will do our best to get back home, Carrie. I didn’t mean we wouldn’t.” I sat, holding my maid and staring into the fire well into
the night.
Hours later, the fire died down to embers, I suddenly opened my eyes, wide awake. I had been asleep against Caroline, and something had woken me. Something …
Looking around at the stillness of the night desert, I strained my ears for any sound. My eyes were drawn upward, and I gasped at the sight of what seemed like millions of stars blanketing the inky blackness. I felt astonished at the beauty of it all, these stars so distant in the midnight sky. They almost seemed to be watching us. Like spectators of the human condition.
Carefully extracting myself from the blankets so as not to disturb Caroline, I stood. Khepri mumbled in her sleep a few feet away, and I walked over to her. I placed my hand on her forehead and then under her jaw. She had been restless and had mussed her covers, but she was not hot with fever. She must be having an ordinary dream. Crouching next to her, I tucked the blankets around her again, and then rose to my feet again.
Something drew me … I could not tell what it was, but I felt a restlessness of my own. I checked on the animals: They were all fine. I picked up one of the scimitars and began to walk the perimeter of our camp, just to settle my mind. I was halfway around the little encampment, lost in thought, a million stars watching me from above, when it dawned on me.
“No one is coming to save us,” I said out loud. “No one.”
In that moment I felt so sad I choked back a sob and put my hand over my mouth. I glanced back at the others, but my words had not woken them.
I took a deep breath, then another. Fingering the scimitar at my waist, I slowly pulled it out and held it aloft, studying the blade.
I had killed a manticore with this.
I could not leave Christianne. No one deserves to be left behind. If no one was going to rescue me, I thought, I’d better start handling things myself. I felt instant resolve. And movement caught my eye. Looking up, I saw a streak of white curve across the sky.
A shooting star.
Chapter Eight
Silent Mist
Caroline finally opened her eyes.
“Good morning, sleepyhead.” I smiled, sipping milk. She sat up, rubbing her eyes.
“It’s barely dawn, Princess. Have you been awake long?” She yawned.
“Oh, only half the night.” I glanced back at Khepri’s motionless form. A barely audible snore came from the mound of blankets.
I turned back to Caroline. “I’ve come to a decision, Carrie.”
“So have I, Miss.” I raised my eyebrows.
“Tell me yours first, Carrie,” I fell silent and waited. She seemed to gather her thoughts.
“Well, I was thinking about Christianne,” Caroline looked over at me.
I nodded.
“She’s so young, she has her whole life ahead of her.” She looked at me again, then continued. “And I think we should figure out a way to help her.” She finished in a rush.
I smiled. “I agree. I would not want to be left without rescue, and I don’t think she would, either.” I set my cup down, stood, and hefted my scimitar, then twirled it around me. “I’ve been practicing with this thing, and I think I could be a formidable opponent.” I smiled wider and raised my eyebrows at Caroline.
“But,” Caroline continued. “Maybe shouldn’t we try to get some help? Can we do very much alone?”
“I think you can do more than you think,” Khepri’s voice came weakly and surprised us. She was finally awake and lucid.
We both hurried to her side.
“How are you feeling?” I asked the healer.
“I’ve been better,” she said with a wry grin. “But I feel like I am healing, slowly.” She glanced down at her bandages, gingerly touching them, then looked back up at us. “You two have been taking care of me?”
We nodded.
“Well, thank you. I appreciate it. You didn’t have to, you could have escaped, instead.” Khepri laid back down, exhausted.
“We couldn’t just leave you,” Caroline murmured, tucking the blankets back around the healer. “Besides, you took care of Miss, and we appreciate that.”
I nodded in agreement.
“I have been thinking a lot while lying here and what I think is that my uncle should not own you. You are too much trouble. Far too much trouble.” She fell silent.
Caroline and I looked at each other and grinned.
We were soon packed up and on our way again.
“I hope these animals know what they’re doing,” I remarked to no one in particular.
Khepri spoke up. “I hope so, too. I don’t recognize anything around us,” She lifted her head and glanced at the surrounding desert. “Not that it’s terribly recognizable.” She fell back down. Then, in a tired voice, said, “I usually travel with others who know the way.”
It was another couple of hours before I noticed a difference in the animals. It was very subtle, but they seemed to be walking faster.
“Hey, do you notice …” I said, looking around. I could see nothing on the horizon, but …
“The camel knows,” Khepri murmured.
“They are more interested in our journey,” Caroline said.
They were. I stared at the animals instead of the horizon. Ears were swiveling and pointing forward, noses were flaring, and the faces of the camel and horses looked less bored. There was no way else to describe it.
“Hmmm,” I thought.
We started up a small rise, the horses and camel leaned forward and strained to climb up the hill of sand. As we topped the swell and the next valley came into view, I leaned forward, putting my hand up to my forehead to shield the sun.
“Oh!” Caroline exclaimed.
It was an oasis. Water. Shade. I licked my lips. My mouth twitched eagerly just thinking about fresh water.
The animals walked faster now, with a goal in view, but it was another hour before we got to the outskirts of the oasis. It looked small when we were several miles away, but the closer we got, the larger it looked. It almost seemed to be growing, but I chalked it up to an optical illusion. At least I hoped it was an optical illusion.
As we approached, we noticed the whole garden surrounding it seemed to be enclosed in a mist. I looked up above the mist and saw the sun shining brightly, indeed, beating down on our headscarves. But the sunbeams seemed unable to penetrate the mist hanging over the oasis. And other things changed as well.
The first thing we noticed was the sand got firmer and we were rising up out of it, which was strange because the oasis was in a low-lying valley surrounded by dunes. I could actually hear my horse’s hooves on the harder ground.
The second thing we noticed was the smell.
“What is that?” I asked, sniffing the air.
Caroline closed her eyes and took deep breaths. She turned to look at me, and our eyes met as she shook her head and raised her palms skyward. She couldn’t place it, either.
“It’s fermented marula fruit,” Khepri rasped from her blankets in the camel basket.
Fermented fruit. Huh.
The animals did not pause as we entered the oasis. The mist closed in behind us, and it was like being swallowed whole. I took a deep breath and warm, moist air entered my welcoming lungs, so dried from the weeks’ ordeal.
It was quiet, very quiet. My horse led our small party through the trees; palms and fruit trees, tall grasses and bushes. She seemed to be on a quest to get into the life-saving moisture of the oasis, and I let her go in. I was amazed at our surroundings and kept seeing new wonders as we passed them.
Ten feet in, we passed under an enormous tree dripping with ripened marula. The animals’ hooves made a squishing sound as they stepped on fruit the tree had dropped onto the forest floor.
Forest. I came to call it that, because it was a forest. A dense, wet, jungle forest that seemed to go on forever. We had seen the whole of it from the sand dune hill above, before we had descended, but now inside the oasis, it was enormous. I came to understand why on our second day.
The thick smell of the fermen
ting fruit was heady, almost like rum splashed onto an oak plank floor. The animals scooped up mouthfuls and chewed as they walked, tossing their heads in enjoyment. I could smell the fermentation, but also the strong scent of sugar, rising all around us.
We soon came to a grass clearing among the trees, free of the fermented fruit and somewhat dry, and made camp, setting up our fire for the night. The horses and camel were happy to munch on the grass, and Caroline and I were able to relax a bit after the long day’s journey.
I had found a nearby spring bubbling out from two rocks, and made several trips carrying water back to camp for us all. The horses and camel drank deeply, and so did we: The water tasted so good.
“Mmmm. It tastes almost metallic,” Caroline said, looking down into her cup.
“You should have seen the spring, the water coming out of the rock sparkled with gold flecks that gathered at the basin below.” I scooped up another cupful and drank deeply.
Khepri was drifting in and out of sleep after we brewed her another cup of blackroot tea with water from the spring.
I was idly looking up at the horizon, which was thick with mist. The color bothered me. It was the greyish-green hue that preceded a storm, but there was no wind. The air was still and quiet, the forest trees did not move.
“Carrie, this is so strange,” I murmured, looking out at the sky.
“I agree, Princess. But even odder than that?” She pointed back the way we had come, and I followed her finger.
My jaw dropped open.
The horizon, the last few inches above the break in the canopy of trees and vegetation, was a picture of the landscape we had just arrived from an hour before. It was sunny desert. Bright, sunny, hot, sun-beating-down-on-your-head-making-you-sweat desert. It was clear that outside this oasis the world was cloudless and sunlit, the normal Alkebulan desert.
But here – here it was like a different world.
We both watched as the small window we viewed the outside desert in slowly closed, shuttered by thick greenish-grey mist.
The Pirates of Moonlit Bay Page 5
