The Wanderers of the Water-Realm (47 page)

Whiteflower pointed towards the carcass of a freshly killed narr that was being spit-roasted over the embers of an open fire glowing in the middle of the compound.

“It appears that hunting has been good today. This evening, we shall be the guests of these hospitable people and we shall eat our fill of the sweet roasted meat. Afterwards, you may sleep in safety and I will treat with the chief hunter in the hope of trading a few more bundles of dried herbs for a sack of preserved narr-flesh in order to supplement our rations.”

The girl shook her blonde hair. “Now I must bid you farewell for a short time and wash myself at the spring, for I would be clean when I dine with these people.”

The newcomers ate in the company of that poor but hospitable family of nomads and slept soundly throughout the night with their hosts standing guard over them. At first light they rose, breakfasted upon the remains of the roasted narr and bade farewell to the hunters before resuming their journey eastwards. However, the caravan had progressed less than an Earth mile before Whiteflower abandoned her place at the head of the column and sought out the boatmaster who was urging on a particularly bad tempered transport narr.

“Master.” she began, laying her hand upon Darryl’s wrist. “I was unable to persuade the chief hunter to part with any of his precious reserve of dried flesh, for he and his family are facing a long and hard trek in order to keep up with their migrating pray. Even so, he gave me some information that may well save our lives. He warned me that a band of robbers are plundering and murdering the clans-folk who dwell close to this road, and they were last seen about three days march ahead of our present position. The chief believes them to be far too numerous and well armed for us to defeat, should they attack our expedition when we pass through their territory. Master, I know the road ahead of us turns and executes a considerable loop to the north. We are close to the base of that loop and therefore have the opportunity of striking across open country for three days, in order traverse the base of the loop and regain the road where it turns again in an easterly direction. Also, crossing the base of the loop will save us a total of about ten days of hard travel.”

“Do we have a choice, lass?” The boatmaster said with a worried look upon his face. “I’ve become used to trekking along this road and have no wish to push out into that waterless wasteland if it can be avoided.”

Whiteflower shook her head.

“We could push on and hope the band of robbers has moved away from the road in search of a new territory to plunder, but I honestly beg you to refrain from taking such a dreadful risk. Master, the wastelands are a grave to the inexperienced traveller, but I was born in the midst to these very plains and you are reasonably safe whilst I am acting as your guide.”

Darryl kicked a divot of the red moss high into the air and watched its flight until it fell back to the ground.

“Well, if we must strike through the wastelands, the sooner that we are about it the better. I’ll inform the other members of the expedition of my intention to deviate from the route, the next time that we pause to rest the narr.”

The caravan made good progress along the old trade route and reached the next way-station well before evening. And the water bubbling up from its spring proved to be every bit as sweet and pure as Whiteflower had promised and the entire company drank their fill of the liquid and washed the travel dust from their bodies before seeking the solace of sleep. Paris, who was standing the final guard duty of the night, woke the travellers a good hour before dawn. Every member of the expedition rose and quickly breakfasted upon dried narr’s flesh. Afterwards, they filled every container they possessed with fresh water from the spring, for they knew they would need every drop of the precious liquid during the cross-country journey lying ahead of them.

At first light the caravan departed from the way-station and began its long trek across the open plain. The newcomers quickly discovered that movement across the plain was far from easy, for patches of wild red moss often grew well past ankle height and impeded the movement of both the men and their laden pack animals. The ground was also criss-crossed by dry gullies that filled with rainwater during the wet season, and by the numerous pot-holes and patches of sinking sand barring their path. Indeed, the newcomers would have made very little progress without the guidance of the blonde-haired tribes-woman.

The expedition advanced for miles into the open wasteland until they were engulfed by the seemingly endless sea of crimson moss, with both the newcomers and their animals being constantly subjected to the pitiless heat of the five suns lying upon them like a heavy weight.

The daylight hours seemed never-ending to the struggling travellers, whose only respite from the toil of the march was the few short stops that Whiteflower allowed enabling them to catch their breath and to water the tough little transport narr.

Darkness fell, but the members of the caravan groped their way forward for a further hour before Whiteflower declared herself to be satisfied with the first day’s progress and called a halt for the night. The travellers released the pack animals from their burdens and tethered them close to clumps of edible moss where they could graze and regain their strength for the brutal toil of the following day. Meanwhile, the temperature fell and the newcomers swathed themselves in their warm sleeping garments and huddled around a small fire made from dead moss. A stew of dried narrs flesh simmered over the flames and Whiteflower bulked out the soup with a few handfuls of the same wild moss that was the staple diet of the transport narr. Unfortunately, the moss gave the food a bitter flavour that was hard upon the palates of the travellers and Whiteflower laughed as she watched her companions struggling to swallow their portions.

“Forget the taste and eat every morsel.” The tribes-woman ordered. “The moss has a disgusting flavour, but is nutritious and contains a drug that will stop your joints from becoming inflamed by the toil of the journey. Sometimes, my clans-folk have survived for weeks at a time by simply chewing upon that bitter plant, now, my friends, put your heads down and sleep whilst you may.”

The second day of the trek across the wasteland largely resembled the first. Unfortunately, as nightfall approached, the weakest of the transport narr sank under the weight of its burden and neither an extra ration of water nor the encouragement of Paris, who was its drover, could persuade the creature to rise and resume the advance. Paris wished to continue with his attempt to succour the animal, but Whiteflower pushed him aside and cut the creature’s throat with a single stroke of her knife.

“Save only the food and water that is part of its load.” She ordered sternly. “Cut a good portion of flesh from its haunch to serve as our evening meal. Leave the herbs and medicines that it carries to rot with its carcass, for the weight would kill the remainder of our narr, if we should be so foolish as to burden them with an extra load. Now move swiftly for very little daylight remains!”

The sky darkened, but the caravan struggled onwards for a further two hours before Whiteflower paused and ordered the travellers to make camp in the shelter of a narrow gully. Soon, they were all crouching around a small fire and roasting the haunch of meat cut from the unfortunate pack animal.

For the first time, Whiteflower appeared unsure of herself and said not a word as she carved the haunch of meat into individual portions. After they had eaten she stood up and addressed the company.

“Master and friends,” she began. “I must confess to you that I have become unsure of our exact position, for many of the features in this barren landscape have been altered by falling rain and flash-floods. I know the old trade route lies a good days march ahead of us, but the way-station, containing a well of clean water, may lie a mile of two in either direction when we reach the road. It is therefore essential for us to find the road well before tomorrow’s darkening, and give ourselves ample time to discover the way-stations possition before night falls, for we must reach the water supply that we and our animals need to survive.”

She paused and drew a deep breath.

“I suggest that we rest here for only a portion of the night and resume the march a good four hours before daylight. We must give most of our remaining water to the transport narr or they will not live to reach the road. This will allow us only a single mouthful before we march and another to keep us going when the heat becomes intolerable.”

The girl burst into tears and flung herself at Darryl’s feet.

“Master, I have failed you. I fear that I have been foolish in overstating my ability as a guide, I humbly beg your forgiveness?”

The boatmasteropened his mouth to reply, but Myra quickly reached over and helped the girl to her feet.

“You have no reason to blame yourself.” She said. “For my inner-eye tells me that everything will be well, providing that we strive to do our best during the hard trek that surely lies ahead. I have no doubt that we shall be sleeping in comfort at yonder way-station tomorrow night!”

Darryl joined his twin sister and gently wiped away the blonde girl’s tears.

“Aye, tomorrow we shall rest peaceably. Now let us waste no more time with useless doubts and recriminations, for the night advances and we must all rest whilst we may!”

Whiteflower shook each of the travellers into full consciousness and urged them to prepare to resume the march as quickly as possible, although the night was pitch black and the Water-Realm dawn was still several hours away. The members of the expedition groaned and massaged new life into their cramped muscles, before rising from their sleeping robes in order to help the tribeswoman to load the packs of trade goods onto the backs of the complaining transport narr. Once the loading was completed, the girl supplied each of the travellers with a single meagre mouthful of water before giving almost all of the remaining liquid to the laden pack animals. Once she was satisfied that the preparations for the day’s march were completed, she took her customary place at the head of the caravan and gave the order to resume the trek.

The caravan advanced for hours through the bitterly cold night and each member of the expedition would have given a king’s ransom for the privilege of returning to their warm sleeping robes, yet they gritted their teeth and carefully felt for each foothold upon the treacherous ground as they moved through the inky darkness. Indeed, some of the travellers would certainly have become separated from their fellows and lost in the night, had the tribes-woman not lit a torch and held it high in the air as a point of reference at the head of the column.

The travellers groped their way forward, across the numerous dried watercourses and the many other obstacles littering the darkened wasteland, until they began detecting a slight reddening in the sky and they knew the Water-Realm dawn was close at hand. Rapidly, the light strengthened until they were able to make out the surrounding landscape and Whiteflower was able to discard the torch that she had carried ever since the beginning of the day’s march.

The bitter chill of the night quickly departed from their bodies with the rising of the five suns and the members of the expedition stepped out with new vigour as their faces were caressed by a warm and pleasant breeze. Yet the strength of the sun’s rays increased as the hours past and by midday, the heat was so intense that even the simple act of breathing became an energy-sapping chore.

George, the Herculean boat hand was the first of the newcomers to reach the point of near exhaustion, for the weight of muscle making him a formidable adversary in battle, was simply an added burden during this blistering cross-country trek. The boat hand accidentally stubbed his foot on a hidden rock and tumbled to the ground. Despite his best efforts, he was quite unable to rise until Darryl grasped his hand and hauled him back onto his feet. Fortunately, the young giant still had a hidden reserve of strength and was able to resume the march without a pause.