Chapter Six
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The terrain sloped steeply downward, easin’ the effort, but the tall grass beside the road thinned to the occasional weed. Groves had long disappeared, as did the crossin’ creeks, and even with the sun nearin’ the horizon, the heat struck like a mallet and sucked away my energy, what little remained.
I couldn’t remember ever feelin’ so hot and miserable. The threat in the Range was cold. Snowfall wasn’t uncommon in the high passes in the middle of the summer. The sun’s a completely different worry down here.
I couldn’t make my feet move forward any longer. Stopped, dropped my jacket to the ground, and my knees almost buckled. There was nothin’ before me but two tired ruts trailin’ away drunken-straight as far as I could see. The air swirled ghoulishly over hard-packed ground, brown in drought.
I blinked and the blur faded for a moment. Far away, farther than I thought I could walk, the Earth rose again into new hills, dark with the promise of new forests. And water.
“I’ll never make it.”
Maybe, I should turn back. That constable would be less polite a second time. I’d have to cross the fields around the town. But how much longer could I go on without somethin’ to eat? The dragon carried me in two hours a distance that would take me two days to walk. Stumblin’ as I am, it’d take four days. Crossin’ that would only get me back as far as the wee beginnin’-edge of the Range. I couldn’t guess how much farther the Hamlet lay beyond that. Another two days? Five? My body would be bloated with maggots far before then.
A glob of mornin’ porridge two days ago had been my last meal.
“I’m between a mean rock, and a nastier granite slab.” I blew out my breath and closed my eyes against the pain drivin’ between my temples. I slumped over and rested my hands on my knees.
A faint clatter comin’ from behind me interrupted the silence. I turned. A blob of brown and gray hovered over the ruts. I blinked, and covered the glare of the fallin’ sun with my hand. A horse—no a donkey, pulled a wagon. I stared.
A few minutes later the image neared enough to make out the form of at least three, huddled together on some kind of buckboard. I plopped down in the hot sand, and waited.
“Whoa,” a young man not much older than me called out to the old burro as they neared.
Beside him sat another, almost a twin, dressed in the same brown and gray clothes, scuff of bristle claimin’ patches on both their chins. Their narrowed eyes against the sun showed no emotion. Another boy perched on a trunk latched behind the single bench-seat, faced the rear. He jumped to the ground and walked around the wagon. Peered at me with curious eyes.
“Ya look as lost as a soul can be,” the boy said.
I didn’t have an answer for him. Considered the harm the three could do to me. There was little they could do to help. The buckboard was a two-man rig. The third sittin’ on the trunk had to be pretty uncomfortable. As I had that thought, the boy rubbed his backside.
It wasn’t as though, if they chose to offer me a ride, they could accommodate me, other than on the donkey’s back. The poor thin’ struggled with its current burden.
“Ya have any water?” I asked.
The three peered north, as though havin’ the same thought. How far before they crossed another creek? One of the boys in the buckboard grabbed a jug that lay between his feet and held it out. I hesitated to get up, and the standin’ boy grabbed the jug and carried it to me.
“Thanks.”
I uncorked it and struggled to lift it to drink. The water tasted muddy, and hot, but it was wet. I took several gulps, of what was probably set aside for the donkey. The three prolly had fresher water they saved for themselves. I stopped, and gazed at the poor animal. Its head hung almost to the ground, sides heaved against the heat, ribs distended.
Couldn’t take any more of the animal’s water. That tic in my back itched.
I struggled to rise, walked to the beast and helped it drink from water I poured into my hand.
“We’re on our way north to make our fortune.”
I looked back at the boy who carried the jug to me. He couldn’t have been more than fourteen. Maybe even three years younger than me.
The one from the buckboard who made the decision to share the jug, spoke. “Hope to pick up labor in Caern, first, and work our way north. The cities need strong backs, men with an imagination and gumption.”
I rested the jug on the ground. The donkey twitched his long ears, opened his dark eyes wider to show a tinge of blue, and took me in. A shimmer of—I couldn’t put a word to it. The only time I’d felt the sensation before was when the warlock ogre-healer wielded his majical staff when my mama—I quickly worked to put that memory aside. But that moment, I seemed to sense the emotions of the beast, its loneliness, sadness, pain, yet determination to put everythin’ he had to serve his human masters.
The combination of emotion and hurt made me shudder.
The desperation returned to tighten my chest, as the donkey pressed his face forward and snuffed at my soiled shirt.
“Another sip, boy?” I hefted the jug and poured more water into my hand.
The tongue rasped across my palm. Would the creature survive the three boys’ risky journey? The thought twisted inward, as I considered the desperation of my own trek. I was a fool to think I could find Papa. Had no clue how dangerous the world is.
“Ya look like ya’re about to fall over,” the younger boy said.
I grunted. “I been beaten, robbed, stabbed, and clubbed. I’ve had a tough couple days.”
The boy sittin’ to the right on the buckboard asked, “Ya got any money? We might allow ya to ride the ass if ya do.”
I looked into the eyes of the donkey. Even if it might get me farther up the road, and I had a pence or two, I wouldn’t put the creature through that additional strain. In this heat.
“I’ll have to pass.”
“Yar belongin’s were took?”
I nodded.
“No coin at all?”
A hitch caught in my chest. The boy, elder teen, likely considered if it was a worthwhile effort to strip me of any possessions. Another day and I wouldn’t have need for my worthless boots, or Aedwin’s handkerchief. I considered sharin’ the thought.
“Ya best be gettin’ on,” I said instead. “Sun be down in an hour or so.”
The younger lad took the jug from me and hurried to latch back on to his make-do seat. A flicker in the sky caught my attention and I glanced up. A vulture. That’s what my day had lacked. For a moment I connected with the eyes of the lad who seemed to be the threesome’s leader, before turnin’ back to peer up at the vulture again. I sensed the others follow my glance.
“That one of them blasted dragons?” one asked.
“Couldn’t be,” another said. “They know they ain’t welcome north of the Range.”
“Them stinkin’ goblin lovers ride ’em north to do business.”
“Shut up, Amos.”
“Well, they do. I heard it said.”
“When them Northerners get the whole gist of that pact they forced down their throat, they’ll decide too many different kind of folk are movin’ to the Range.”
“What pact?” I asked.
The two older boys looked down at me as though I’d grown tusks and a snout. That made me think of Ike, an ogre of few words, but on the whole not a bad sort, for an ogre.
The lad on the trunk said, “Hope it ain’t huntin’.”
“Let’s get out of here. Maybe it’ll choose to dine on him.” The leader jabbed a soiled mitt my way. All three cackled dryly.
The boy holdin’ the reins gave them a shake. I hurried to get out of the way, but I needn’t. The emaciated donkey was in no rush. Though the road continued to ease toward a desert lowland, the animal struggled to set the cart in motion. It dropped its head to the effort. The buggy creaked and swayed as it passed. If it managed to the next village, it’d be a miracle.
The younger boy facin’ me gave him a wave and a smile. His teeth were blackened and missed an eye-tooth I hadn’t noticed earlier. His friendly partin’ implied the other boy’s hope the dragon feasted on me never sunk into his little brain.
I watched them go, just as the younger boy continued to peer back, for lack of any other entertainment. I thought of the sun’s heat on my left cheek, the exhaustion bendin’ my shoulders—the dragon. Was it Taiz’lin? Why would he be back? He’d left me to suffer. Prolly considered that really funny.
Maybe the ogre wanted Taiz’lin to ensure I continued north, and out of his hair. Maybe with luck, Taiz’lin would put me out of my misery. But the idea of bein’ eaten made me shudder.
Would Taiz’lin kill me first at least, before gnawin’ away? Not a pleasant thought, despite my readiness to accept death. The effort to keep goin’ just wasn’t worth it. Can’t even place what Papa looks like, any more. Tried to imagine Mama’s face, but couldn’t manage that either.
I fell to my knees and leaned into my forearms, pressed my forehead against the hot sand and closed my eyes. Would my sisters forget me? Would they ever learn of my demise? Would Papa ever return and provide for them? If he did, what would the girls’ lives be like with Papa, without Mama? He was a stern one, unknown to share his thoughts, unless they were angry ones, truth be told.
A gust thrust gravel against the side of my face. I closed my eyes tighter. The thrummin’ of wings—not just wind, a landin’ dragon. Seconds to live. Should I say a prayer?
“I love ya, girls. Don’t miss me overly much.”
The Earth jarred, and I flew forward, forehead scrapin’ the ground. I flung my arms out as I realized I’d been pushed hard in the seat of my pants.
“Ya alive, human?”
I fell on my side and rolled onto my back, peered into the whirlin’ slate, then green, blue, purple eyes of Taiz’lin the dragon.
“Must ya heap insult upon injury?” I mumbled.
“It speaks.”
I pulled my arm over my face. “Kill me and get it over with.”
“How did I miss ya, human? I waited beside the road for ya all day.”
Waited? I uncovered my face, blinked at the dust that pierced my eyes.
“Ya don’t look very well.” Taiz’lin growled.
The effort to sit up made the world spin. Maybe it was more a wobble. I tried to focus, but nothin’ seemed to work. The fuzz darkened. To black.
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I bolted alert. My head hung, arms bound tight against me, and my legs drooped lazily—into nothin’ness. A cold wind quickened the collection of my senses. Eyes focused upon the Earth, I didn’t know how many hundreds of feet below. I opened my mouth to scream, but the wind forced it back in.
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