“I know how you are with treating yourself, so I added extra bundles,” Tamin said, taking the rest of the fresh leaves and roots from the bundle he had made of his shirt. “You will be able to treat the cuts, grazes, aches, and pains of the others.”
“The few who are left…” I admitted, remembering how Nol Baggar and his Red Hounds had already captured a number of the slaves that we had brought with us to act as diggers and workers.
“Still—they will appreciate some fresh-ground and brewed coffa in the morning, at least…” Tamin admitted, and I knew that he was right. Coffa root was a bit of a delicacy amongst the Daza, as the plant wasn’t so-very widespread, but a cup of hot water infused with its bitter and earthy taste sent a zing of energy through your bones and lifted your spirits.
My god-uncle has always been a kind man, I thought. It was hard to think of him as a Senior Clerk in some Torvald court somewhere, sternly arguing this or that. It was even harder to see him still in those makeshift slaves’ clothes! For a moment, I was struck by both how far we had come and how far we had to go until we reached the end, and I could once again add braids and colored beads to my hair, and wear the clean and loose-fitting tunics of my people, and dance our dances by the light of village bonfires…
Tamin seemed to sense my unease as he put a hand on my shoulder, his head bobbing up and down in the predawn gloom. “Your mother will be proud, my little Nari. And we are not so far from our goal now… You said yourself that you had managed to make sense of the other half of the map…”
“I did,” I nodded. Or hoped I did, anyway. “We have to cross the Sea of Mists, and from there find the Giant’s Head—if the map is correct, and if our stories are accurate…”
“Of course they are!” Tamin said in a louder voice, sounding almost cheerful. “Or do you not believe that the very first Souda fought the Giant Tanka barehanded and felled him with a pebble!?” I could tell it was a strained, false cheer—but I was grateful for his optimism nonetheless.
“Ha. Of course, Uncle,” I said, as I folded him into a brief hug. I knew that my god-uncle was trying to give me courage—but my heart still felt heavy as I turned to walk down the small path through the oasis—out to where I already knew Ymmen would be waiting.
“Back to the camp?” The dragon opened one lazy eye at me and swished a tail through the sand and dirt of the Plains where he lay.
“Yes,” I said heavily, “back to the camp.”
By the time that Ymmen had set me down on one of the hills near the guard encampment the sun had already turned the Plains into a golden haze, shot through with crimsons and pinks. It had felt good to be carried into the air with Ymmen again, even if it was for such a short while.
“Thank you, dragon-brother.” I patted the side of his snout affectionately after he had released me, earning a pleased rumbling chirrup.
“There is no thanks between friends,” he returned. From any human that might have sounded like an insult—but I knew that the dragon meant that the reasons we did the things that we did were just because that’s what came naturally. We did not need to ‘buy’ our respect for each other with gratitude.
“I will go to keep watch on these Red Hounds, but I will come when you call,” Ymmen said, already voicing my concern before I had a chance to speak it. It was starting to feel more and more like we were becoming one thing, and I swear that I could feel an echo of the wind under my arms when the great dragon swept down the far slope, and glided low over the Plains lest any of Inyene’s guards see him.
Which left me with the task of walking down the slope and back to the encampment where the others would be. Although I was eager to see how the other Daza were faring, my heart was still heavy as I trudged. The encampment looked incongruous amidst the beautiful Plains. The guards had made an almost fortification of the recovered wagons, and the remnants of wagons and carts that had been broken by the dust storm—upturning their beds and stacking their wheels to form a low palisade wall.
The guards hunkered in their fortification and their tents, and looked frightened of this place that they found themselves in.
Perhaps that is understandable, I grudgingly thought, if none of them had ever experienced a full-blown Plains sandstorm before. But it still struck me how different the ways of Inyene’s ‘cityfolk’ and the tribes were. We regarded the Plains as an endless open sort of sea—it was impossible to curse its changing ways for our own ill luck— which was why even our most established villages were always changing. Huts would be taken down and the village site moved to allow the land to regrow behind them. The Plains were no place to play at building forts—the weather and the seasons would just overwhelm you in the end.
I was musing on these thoughts as I walked. It was probably my brief time with Montfre and Tamin that had given me this more distanced outlook. Not just that, I had to remind myself. It was also spending time with Ymmen. Just being in contact with him made it feel like I was returning to the sort of person that I was meant to be.
Who I really was, I corrected.
Thud-thud-thud-thud! My thoughts were interrupted by a sudden clash and beat of a familiar sound. Very familiar, and it still filled me with dread.
I looked up to see the dark shadow of the mechanical dragon rising over the encampment, its wings and internal machines making a terrible sound that rent the natural noises of the Plains. It flew oddly, turning in a wide, ungraceful circle over the wagons and tents. Even though I knew that the small figure on its back—no bigger than a bug from this distance—could only be Abioye, the mere sight made my heart hammer.
So I felt conflicted as I stopped. Why did my heart jump when I saw Abioye? But I couldn’t be pleased to see him, could I? Not while he flew on that thing! But I knew that I had to signal to the strange beast. I waved my arms in the air—it took a considerably longer time for the mechanical dragon to notice me than Ymmen would have done!
But then, the mechanical dragon dipped and swooped down towards my positions, and my heart lifted as I saw Abioye more clearly, raising one arm and waving it in the air joyously.
Unfortunately, I had to leap backwards and sprint across the Plains as he came in to land far too fast, with the leather wings of the beast flaring at the last moment, its claws raking the ground into great furrows of dirt and soil. I was scared that the thing would even tumble over and end up throwing Abioye or worse—but apparently this sort of landing was to be expected, as Abioye managed to bring the strange thing under control (only with its feet now easily over a foot deep in the rich soil of the Plains).
“Abioye!” I said, pleased with how hale and healthy he looked. He’ll be strong enough to lead us.
The young lordling beamed down at me as he undid the harnesses and belts that secured him to the seat between the shoulders of the mechanical dragon and swung his legs to vault to the earth—with only a small grunt of pain. His skin looked paler than it had, and his eyes were deep-lined with the shadows of his recent injury—but he did look well, thanks to Montfre and Tamin’s ministrations.
“You look—” I was in the process of telling him this fact when he surprised me by grabbing me in a fierce hug, reawakening all of my own bruises, knocks, aches and pains.