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.