Maybe, later. Right now we have to pay a visit to one special little region in No Mans Land, then well see. Now, off with the questions! she said in a strict tone. The caravan is departing soon. Get up onto the saddle, lean against the dunewalkers hunch, and have some sleep. Ill make sure you wont fall. Go.
North whispered Kangassk, tired and drowsy. Magical North
Gentle rocking of the saddle lulled him to sleep. On the very verge of the sleepy oblivion he felt Vladas little hands on his waist, carefully holding him so he wouldnt be afraid of falling down.
Another day and a half passed. The caravan followed the road in complete silence, everyone tense, alert, and constantly looking around. Kangassk was no exception. His injured head hurt mercilessly, and the very thought that he might get a hit with a stone again made him furious, so staying awake wasnt a problem. Also, he was prepared this time, bow, arrows, and all. No wonder a maskak who was unlucky enough to peek at the caravan above the dune, got an arrow to the eye.
Yeah! Get it, sucker! Kangassk growled victoriously.
Good job! Vlada clapped him on the shoulder. Youve got the scout. There wont be a second raid now.
Who knows? There suddenly was a doubt in Kans voice. Maybe he wasnt alone.
Even so, they will know we are alert and ready, not an easy prey at all. They wont risk it.
A merchant riding a dunewalker in front of Vlada and Kangassk turned his face to them and nodded in approval.
Indeed, there was no second raid.
The dunes grew smaller and smaller with every hour. Soon, the ancient cobblestones of the road were clearly visible again, their sand-repelling runes heavily worn by wind and time, but still working their magic. The feeling of being watched, hunted, gradually faded. People began to talk again. Vlada explained to her companion how the road magic worked and shared some stories from her life as a Wanderer. With all the dangers behind them the journey became quite pleasant again; the time flew.
By the next morning they had entered Border. The town was small, but well defended, both from the ever-advancing sands and possible bandit raids. Unlike the rest of Kuldagan population, Borderers didnt bother with preserving the ancestors purity, so there wasnt a single pair of identical faces in the crowd. They also were diurnal people, busy during the day, sleeping at night, just like the rest of the world behind the Mountain Ring. Kangassk was shocked at the diversity of faces, at the bubbling, noisy day life, at the coolness of the air which was so different there, close to the mountains Needless to say, he looked hilarious in his endless shocked excitement. Vlada couldnt help smiling every time she looked at him.
Local inns went by the word dlar as well, but, having many storeys connected by winding staircases, resembled little towers. Vlada rented a whole storey on top of one such tower. There were three rooms there: one for her, one for Kangassk; the third room stayed empty for the sake of the perfect peace and quiet she wanted after the journey.
Kangassk had hoped to sleep through the day as he did most of his life, but Vlada didnt allow it. His objections ignored, the wounded guy was dragged to the nearest healer to have his head treated properly. Since using magic is too dangerous so close to No Mans Land, the healer treated him with some nasty smelling ointment and a decoction of burngrass root, which felt precisely like what its name implied: burning mercilessly. After Kans head had been treated and bandaged Vlada took him to the market to buy some armour. To his surprise, they passed by all the heavily laden stalls displaying chainmails, breastplates, helmets, and all kinds of exotic items. Vlada spoke to the local weapons dealer directly and asked him for kevlar. The old master had just snarled at first, but then changed his mind and brought her a couple of thick lined cloaks, time worn, dusty, and discoloured by the sun. The price the old man asked for them made Kangassks jaw drop. Vlada paid it in full, not even bothering to haggle.
Vlada tried her luck again, asking for a gun, but no, the old man didnt have one.
No one goes into the Burnt Region anymore, he said. Everyone goes around. It adds two weeks to the journey, but, hey, youll arrive in one piece, so thats worth it.
The kevlar armor he sold them was some kind of family legacy from the gold rush times, hence the high price.
Maybe we should go around as well? Kangassk asked Vlada that evening at dinner, meek hope in his voice.
No, she replied.
Why? Just why! Kan threw his hands up in indignation.
Because Im in a hurry.
To do what?
Hmm Vlada hummed, contemplating. Okay. Lets say, Im going to the Dead Region to redeem my good name and help an old friend You can stay here, Kan. Its a free town. No one will ever see you as a freak here. Live your life. Be happy.
No! Im not letting you go to the Burnt Region alone! Kangassk crossed his hands on his chest, his lips set stubbornly, his eyes bright and angry again.
For a few seconds the only sound breaking the awkward silence was his furious breathing.
You are not too bad as a fighter, said Vlada out of nowhere.
Beginners luck Kan exhaled with a hissing noise and scratched his bandaged head. It was my first real fight, actually
Ill teach you. Well have time during the journey, she promised.
Chapter 2. I wish I had a gun
Chargas step lightly on their soft, padded paws. Dry autumn leaves may rustle under their feet, their claws may click once in a while on a stony road, but when they walk on grass you can not hear them at all because your human hearing is not sharp enough for something so subtle.
Two charga riders followed a well-trodden trade road up to the crossroads where they turned north. The narrow path they chose was a remnant of the gold rush times. Back then, when thousands of people travelled that way, their heavy boots had worn the ground down to the rock. Like an old scar, the forgotten, overgrown path was still visible through the young green undergrowth. It didnt snake around the hills and trees, it boldly went straight through every obstacle in its way, be it a meadow or a forest. Close to the obscure border of the Burnt Region the path emerged from under the grassy carpet of weeds and flowers and headed up, turning into a wide two-track road littered with innumerable shell cases that still glinted in the dust. Gold rush times were rough times
Whats in the Burnt Region now? Kangassk asked Vlada. Is it abandoned, since no one seems to go there any more?
Dont get your hopes high. Vlada shook her head. Yes, its mostly a wasteland now, but people still live there.
I wouldnt, Kan said with a lot of confidence.
Sasler was cleaning his rifle, carefully wiping every little lens in a clever device attached to its barrel. The very device that made him the most feared man in the Burnt Region: a scope.
Finally, satisfied with his work, he replaced the lid of the black case protecting the delicate lenses. When fully assembled, the scope resembled a bulging, unblinking insect eye.
As usual, before setting off for the hunt Sasler peeked into his house and waved goodbye to his wife and little son. This simple ritual was extremely important to him, for many reasons.
In the dense pine woods these hills were covered with the sunlight reached the ground in patches. Sasler avoided stepping on them, he preferred to stay in shadows where he felt more comfortable.
The weather was fine, not a single cloud in the sky. Sasler chose a comfy spot at the edge of the cliff in the shade between two blackberry bushes. He could see the whole meadow from there. All he needed now was to wait for some hungry animal to show up.
His bulge-eyed rifle lay next to him, its eye covered with cloth. Comfortably sprawled on the grass, Sasler waited for his prey. In such beautiful weather he could see further than usual, as far as the old road.
The old road someone was there, heading into the heart of the Burnt Region
The old road goes up into the mountains, Vlada explained. People used to wash gold there, in the icy-cold springs, and build houses around them. Most little villages are abandoned now, but some people have stayed. I doubt they would like to see us, though. Thats why wed better make a little detour through the forest.
Kangassk sighed pensively and scratched his charga behind the ear. The mighty beast answered the stroke with a loud purr.
Sasler didnt care about the old road, but he did care about his forest. Those two had just left the road and entered his territory! He grabbed his rifle, ripped the cloth off the scope, and took a closer look at the intruders.
He was glad he hadn't rushed to pull the trigger. The strangers looked very much like old Crogan's bandits, kevlar cloaks and all. It took him a whole minute to realize they weren't a part of the gang.
These two carried no guns with them, just three swords and a short bow. Plus, their chargas were heavily laden, obviously for travelling purposes.
Fools. Two young fools either seeking adventures or trying to make a shortcut through the Burnt Region despite all the warnings they no doubt got. Or, maybe, they are not fools at all, but in fact, someone much worse than Crogans thugs are
Sasler tarried, balancing in indecision. The riders, two tiny black specks on the yellowish-green grassy carpet of the valley, were slowly moving in his direction. He couldnt just kill them, not while them being innocent young fools was still a possibility. He needed more info. Having noted where they had entered the forest Sasler left the cliff. He decided to follow and watch those two, closely.
Saslers family was used to him being absent from home for days when he hunted, so he was in no hurry. He kept his distance, he stayed in shadows, he observed his targets from the higher ground.
From time to time he removed the cloth from the scope and took a closer look at the strangers. The scopes high-power lens, a technological marvel no less wonderful than magic, allowed him to see their faces if he wanted and learn what they talked about. During the decades of hunting Crogans thugs, Sasler became quite good at lip-reading. This alone made him a threat to be feared enough to stay away from his forest. He was a local dark legend, an evil spirit reading peoples minds, striking from nowhere, unseen, unreachable, too precise to be human. Unknown to the outer world, the lonely hunter with a scope on his rifle kept Crogan's gang away from the south road and the towns it led to.
Saslers family knew his secret, but nobody else did. Crogan, who was way too religious for a bandit, saw the ghost shooter as a punishment from gods, always wondering what would they punish him for. Didnt he pray often enough? Werent his sacrifices generous?
Old Crogan had killed a lot of people during his lifetime, loved a good torture too. If you had asked him whether he remembered a boy he had tortured to death for pure fun in his youth hed just say, Which one? for there were many. Sasler did remember, though. The boy was his firstborn son
No, these two are neither Crogans thugs nor some other threat, concluded Sasler by the end of the day.
The strangers, a girl and a boy, had young, honest faces. They smiled and laughed often, making jokes and sharing stories as they walked. Sasler himself couldnt help an occasional chuckle while lip-reading their conversations.
Adventurers, he thought, Young and stupid, brave and defenceless The boy looks a bit like my late son. He must be about the same age Sure, Ill let them pass through my lands, but what then? What will happen when they enter Crogans territory? Sasler squinted. He didnt like the choice he faced. His family, wife and little son waiting for him at home, were on his mind, they always were, but now his late boy was too.
No! No, damn it! he whispered angrily waving the dark thoughts away. Ill look after the kids. Ill keep them safe if I can.
The evening came, gentle and breezy, so unlike the harsh desert nights Kangassk knew. It was time to camp, to everyones joy, chargas included. The beasts got tired too. Once freed from their burden they got themselves busy stripping the young trees from bark which was obviously a treat for them. Chargas are omnivorous, so they could go hunting if they wanted. These two werent in the mood for the hunt, though.
Vlada sent Kangassk to gather brushwood. By the time he had returned she had built a proper fire pit, with a little cauldron hanging on a hook above the neat ring of stones. The cauldron was filled with water, bits of salted meat and dried bread the simplest wayfarer food. All that was missing was fire.
Isnt it dangerous to build a fire here? asked Kangassk who felt uneasy in the forest. What if somebody finds us?
I think its quite safe, Vlada assured him. As far as I know, the local bandits avoid this forest. They believe it to be haunted or something
Oh, wonderful! Kangassk gulped. Then Id better build the fire right away. At least Ill feel safer.
He didnt even look at the tinderbox. Most likely he didnt even know what a tinderbox was. Why would a Kuldagan dweller even need such a thing to make a fire? They have dragonlighters for that.
Kan promptly fished the dragonlighter out of his pocket. The pocket dragon was squeaking, clawing at his jacket, and trying to squirm out of his grasp. The little thing had just eaten all the tasty crumbles Kan poured into the pocket, so it was too full and sleepy to work, no wonder it was fighting back.
See, this is a lighter, said Kangassk, showing the dragon to Vlada. Just squeeze it in your hand and whoosh! you have fire.
Then he did squeeze the little dragon in his hand and moved its snout above the brushwood. The branches were a bit damp, so it took them some time to catch fire.
See! said Kan, clearly proud of himself. Lighters are cool! We
There came a thin farting sound Kan stopped dead mid-sentence, swore, and opened his hand. There was a grey foul-smelling spot on his palm.
You little shit! he roared.
Vlada had several minutes of good laugh as she watched Kangassk chase the rebellious dragon in the tall grass. The nimble little creature apparently had a lot of fun as well. After its owner had tired himself out and dropped the chase it quietly returned to its nest in the jacket.
It took way longer for Vlada to calm down. She burst out laughing every time she looked at Kangassk.
He either has a rear valve defect like half of the lighters have or maybe hes just an uppish beast Kan tried to explain, so hilariously embarrassed it only made Vladas fits of laughter worse.
Sasler didnt quite understand what had just happened down there but seeing the kids laugh he couldnt help but smile himself. He wished he could warn them somehow.
The young adventurers went to sleep without leaving a lookout. They trusted their chargas to keep them safe. The beasts had keen hearing and could see in the dark as well as cats do. On top of all that they were huge, sharp-toothed, long-clawed, and insanely fast. The kids carelessly used them as fluffy pillows at the moment, but if Sasler had attempted to approach the camp the beasts would be at his throat in no time. Approaching the kids in the daytime was a no go as well. This way hed have to deal with the nervous young archer as well as chargas.