Call of the Herald (26 page)

"I don't like that idea at all," Strom
said.

"There has to be something we can do," Chase
insisted, his own desperation driven by fear. Survival almost
seemed too much to hope for given the circumstances.

"When we get closer," Benjin said, "we can
sneak away to spring the trap. We'll speak of it no more until
then. Catrin won't like it, but it's what's best for her."

"And what then?" Strom asked, anger clear in
his voice. "You go off and spring the trap and die, and what
happens then? Catrin, Osbourne, and I go off and fight the world?
Cat's right; you're both being idiots. Should we run through the
desert to see if it's hot? No." He paused a moment to return the
stares currently aimed at him. "When we get close, we watch and we
wait. If we're clever enough, we'll see some sign of activity
before they see us. I'm not sure what we do from there, but that's
a far cry better than running in there and jumping around like a
couple of idiots with torches and getting yourselves skewered."

There was a long moment of silence when Strom
finished speaking. He crossed his arms and dared anyone to
challenge him.

"Nobody said we were going to go running in
there," Chase said, slightly downcast. Strom glared at him.

"Especially not jumping around with torches,"
Benjin added.

Chapter 16

This life is but a brief tenure, one of many
perspectives a spirit must experience in the quest for
eternity.

--Sadi Ja, philosopher

* * *

The clear skies and cool air would have been
perfect for hiking, but they were accompanied by gusting winds.
Funneled closer to the sands by the narrowing grassland, Catrin and
her companions were relentlessly pelted with stinging sand. They
held pieces of clothing over their faces, but their eyes still
suffered.

"Be watchful for water. We need to replenish
our supply as often as we can," Benjin said. They saw troughs left
by a previous deluge but no water. Catrin mentally explored the
landscape as they traveled, hoping to find a spring, but the only
water she sensed was deep beneath the sand.

"Do you see that dark column of rock? Is that
a waterfall?" Strom asked.

"If it is, it's awfully small," Chase
said.

Catrin cast her senses toward where Strom
indicated, hoping she would detect water. She tried not to be upset
when she found nothing, but she realized she had truly expected to
be successful. Determined to make a thorough examination, she tried
running her senses across the distant soil from another angle. Her
spirit soared when she felt the slightest pressure of
resistance.

Focusing on that place, she sensed a very
small amount of water, but water it was. "You are both correct. It
is a small waterfall," Catrin said, and despite some sideways
glances, they began walking toward the waterfall. As they
approached, the land rose at odd angles and was difficult to
traverse; loose rock and scree made matters worse.

A small flow of water trickled down the rock
face, a shallow pool at its base. The water was cool and clean, and
they refilled their empty flasks. They tried to wash themselves in
the small basin, but their results were only cursory. The murmuring
water gave an air of tranquility; a tall tree provided shade, and
moss grew thick over the rocks surrounding the basin. It would have
been idyllic to stay there, but they knew they had to move on.
Despite efforts to find anything edible, they had not found a
morsel since leaving the valley. They were running out, thanks to
the dunking most of their food had taken, and needed to find
something soon.

As they departed, the wind died down, making
the rest of the day's hike bearable. The northern coast loomed in
the distance like the edge of the world. Trees and vegetation
became sparse, and gouts of dust rose from their boots with each
step. They continued on, well after sunset, despite their
weariness. The nearly full moon in a clear sky provided ample
light, and the air became cooler, almost comfortable. Catrin was
still wary of seeing more comets. She yearned for the exhilaration
of their energy yet feared the consequences.

An abrupt turn in the mountains and the rush
of the pounding surf signaled their destination, and the exhausted
group made camp in a stupor. In the morning they would turn east,
marking another milestone in Catrin's mind. Another step completed
and another step closer to safety--at least that was their goal.
They ate a little that night, trying to conserve what they had.

The next few days were long and
uncomfortable. They found no game and no water, though Benjin did
find some edible roots and a couple of rare herbs.

"Beware the cactuses," he warned as the
plants became so numerous, they were nearly unavoidable. "Those
with fine, hairlike spines can be worse than those that look more
intimidating. Stay alert and avoid them if possible."

The next day they picked their way along the
coastline, and the mountains dwindled to hills. In a few places, as
the terrain allowed, deep blue waters could be seen in the
distance. Those waters were surrounded by a barrier reef and were
said to be littered with rock outcroppings and extensions of the
reef just beneath the surface.

Strom stopped abruptly, startling the rest of
the group. "I saw a bright flash of light--over there," he said,
pointing into the distance behind them. They watched for a few
moments but saw no more flashes or signs of movement.

"You most likely saw one of two things: a
soldier's gear reflecting light, or a mirror being used to send a
message," Benjin said.

"Do you see that cloud of dust?" Chase asked,
pointing into the desert. It appeared out of place. It did not look
like a funnel cloud and seemed too narrow and isolated to be caused
by wind.

Benjin shaded his eyes and gazed into the
distance. "Take cover! Now!" he ordered.

"There is no cover," Strom observed darkly,
but his voice shook with panic. All that dotted the landscape were
small bushes and a few straggly trees, and a mass of riders was
thundering straight for them, leaving little doubt they had already
been seen.

"Boil them!" Benjin swore. "Draw your weapons
and guard each other's backs. If we must die this day, then let's
go down with a fight."

Belt knives and short swords seemed like a
pitiful defense, but Catrin committed herself. She considered
stringing her bow, but she knew it would do her little good in
close quarters. Her hands shook and her heart pounded. She had
never been so terrified. The roiling dust cloud grew closer, and
she imagined hundreds of soldiers bearing down on them, intent on
her destruction.

"Let them come," Strom said through gritted
teeth. "I'm tired of running and hiding. Let this be done now."

They stood grimly, determined to face this
enemy. Catrin's instincts shouted that they should find some hole
to hide in, but she knew they would be found.

The shimmering air obscured the riders even
as they came into full view, and they slowed gradually as they
approached. They used no reins, which was foreign to Catrin. She
saw, though, it was so each rider could carry spears, crossbows,
and slings.

The horsemen were at ease in the desert
environment. They expressed no hostile action, but neither did they
appear overtly friendly. They just moved forward with the
confidence of those who know their land and their horses. Lean and
muscular, their mounts' coats were lustrous, and their manes thick.
Even their fetlocks bore long, thick hair that draped over their
hooves.

"The tribes of Arghast approach," Benjin
said. "Sheathe your weapons and hold your ground. Don't do or say
anything unless I tell you. It's said they'll generally only attack
if you insist upon crossing the desert." The riders slowed their
horses some fifty paces away.

Catrin estimated more than a hundred horsemen
spread before her, and she studied them, needing to understand this
new adversary. There were several distinct variations in their
clothing and saddles. The differences were subtle, almost
imperceptible. One group had thin, dark sashes across their chests.
Another group was distinguished by the braided manes and tails of
their horses and yet another by tattoos branded on their horses'
withers.

Only the occasional rattle of a harness broke
the silence, and the riders made no attempt to communicate, seeming
content to wait. Catrin glanced at Benjin, who stood patiently. She
could see no sign of emotion on his face, but she could feel the
anxiety of his energy and marveled that he could hide his emotions
so well.

Seven horsemen broke free of the line and
walked their horses forward at a measured and deliberate pace. Six
of them wore the same styles she had noticed, but the seventh rider
was different. He rode clumsily and bore only a tall, iron-shod
staff. His horse was tethered to the horse of the leading rider,
and he appeared to be struggling to remove his headgear. They were
close when he finally got the headgear off, exposing his frayed
hair and wide, blinking eyes. Catrin drew a sharp breath when she
saw Nat. He smiled sadly and waved as he approached.

When the horsemen stopped, they dismounted
gracefully, except for Nat, who nearly fell out of the strange
saddle. The Arghast gave a signal, and their horses backed away. An
equally subtle command sent the horses to their knees.

"What do we do?" Catrin whispered to
Benjin.

"You and I will approach them. The rest of
you, stay here," he said.

Catrin felt her face flush, and her anxiety
rose to a new level, but she would show no fear. She and Benjin
approached the Arghast but remained silent. The still-hooded man
next to Nat stepped forward and spoke in halting words.

"We leaders of Arghast tribes. I, Vertook of
Viper tribe, speak for all tribes. This man say you Herald of
Istra," he said, nodding toward Nat, who looked terrified.
"True?"

Benjin nodded his head slightly.

"Yes, it is true," Catrin answered. Nat
seemed relieved but said nothing. The tribesmen considered her
answer and spoke harshly among themselves.

As Catrin turned her head to check on the
others, her eyes swept along the horizon, and she saw a light
flashing in what appeared to be a pattern.

"The Zjhon," she whispered to Benjin, and he
nodded again. She turned her attention back to the tribal leaders.
Their conversation had grown more animated, and hushed tones gave
way to angry shouts.

Knowing the Zjhon's arrival could lead to a
bloodbath, Benjin stepped forward. "Gracious tribal leaders, I beg
your pardon, but I fear dire happenings."

"Who you?" Vertook asked.

"Benjin, Guardian of the Herald."

"Speak," Vertook said after a moment.

"Enemy soldiers follow us. They are signaling
each other. We will all be attacked if we stay here," Benjin said
with a slight bow.

Vertook turned to the others, and his words
led to more shouting. He turned back to Benjin. "Soldiers follow
this one too," he said, nodding to Nat, "but we take care of them.
We no fear soldiers but will take you to safe place." He placed two
fingers in his mouth and whistled a long, high-pitched note.
Several horsemen broke away from the line and brought five
riderless horses forward. Vertook pointed to Chase and the others
and waved for them to come forward.

The approaching horsemen dismounted and
presented headgear to each of them. A major difference between
these headgears and the ones worn by the tribesmen were that they
bore no eye slits, and they would not be able to see where they
were led. Each of her party was paired with a tribal leader, their
horses tethered to those of their custodians. The tribesmen waited
for the others to put on their headgears then helped them onto the
horses.

The headgear was suffocating, and being
unable to see left Catrin disoriented and queasy. A sudden cry
broke the air, and the horses whipped around, moving off at a fast
trot. Holding on to the horse's mane, she tried to synchronize her
movements with his, but it was difficult without her sight and what
seemed an erratic path, but she let her other senses guide her.
Through their physical bond, she made contact with the horse. She
felt an overwhelming sense of power and endurance but mostly
loyalty. When she dug deeper, though, she could not help but sense
the overwhelming sadness. This horse would carry her to the end of
the world if he was asked, but the one to whom his loyalty belonged
was gone. A feeling of separation and loss washed over Catrin, as
her mount projected his mourning. Tears soaked her cheeks and the
inside of her headgear; her nose became congested and breathing
became even more difficult.

By the time they finally stopped, Catrin was
exhausted mentally, physically, and emotionally. A muffled voice
told them to remove their headgears, and she wrestled it from her
head. Her sweat-soaked hair clung to her scalp, and even the warm
breeze felt cool on her face. She gulped air as if she had been
suffocating. Leaning against her mount, she felt as if he were
leaning equally on her, as if bearing her here had brought some
purpose to his life. It shocked her to sense his gratitude, and she
was trying to let the noble animal know she felt the same when she
noticed Vertook watching her. He approached, pulled his flask from
his belt, and handed it to Catrin. She nodded her thanks and drank.
The liquid had a tingling sweetness that was warm going down even
though the liquid was relatively cool. She wondered for a brief
moment how he kept it so cool then handed the flask back to
him.

"You feel better now," he said roughly.

She thanked him and realized her eyes had
adjusted to the fading light. She was surprised to find herself in
the mountains, but these were not like the mountains of her home.
They looked more like enormous piles of clay that soared high into
the sky, taller than any she had seen before. They formed an almost
complete ring around the small valley, and it was cool in their
shade.