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long legs drawn up under her robe, her chin resting on her knees. "You
said... " she paused hesitantly. "You called the Faraezi your mother's
people?"
"Yes, " Torin answered shortly.
"Was she... Was your mother in the camp this morning?"
He worked a strip of leather, making a wrapping for the handle of the
knife he'd salvaged. He did not want to share himself with a stranger,
not even one who had lived among his tribe. But in a land where the
names of family were cherished, to know something of a fellow traveler
was a request he could not reasonably refuse. "My wife and parents are
dead many years. " His voice was so gruff that Biar stirred.
Mali soothed the boy, patting his shoulder and making nonsensical
noises. Softly, she said, "I'm sorry. "
Torin grunted and poked savagely at the strip of leather, and the knife
point sliced through, splitting the material instead of making a hole.
Mali was silent for a moment, then spoke as hesitantly as before. "The
Faraezi, did you say their summer camp is near Tarsis?"
"Yes, woman. " Without offering more, Torin finished the intricate
wrapping for the knife handle.
"You don't like towns. Or city dwellers. "
Torin grunted again, this time with disdain. "Barbarians. Where water
is plentiful, people become slaves. "
The woman's exotic eyes narrowed over the rim of dusty cloth, but she
said no more.
He moved on as soon as the heat followed the sun into the evening sky,
pushing the woman and the boy harder than he would have pushed seasoned
travelers, the thought of the enemy disappearing into the plains giving
him speed and energy. The faster he could get the two to water, the
faster he could be rid of them. The faster he could be on the trail.
The sun set, falling below the horizon with a spectacular show of
purple and red. With the night came the wind, racing across the sands
as if it were chasing the waning sun.
Torin called a rest. He would wait for the light of the rising moon.
They sat in the shelter of a crescent dune and shared bread and cheese
and precious sips of water. Mali and the boy leaned against each other,
almost too tired to eat.
Only red Lunitari rose to shed its light on the desert, limning the
rocks and the dunes in a rosy glow. Despite being told all his life
that the red moon was the power of the neutral wizards, Torin found its
light baleful. The curves and hollows of sand became places of
suspicious shadow, bathed with a blood-red glow that made him cold. But
it was light nevertheless, and it lit their way east. Perhaps three
hours of good traveling time remained when Torin stopped them for
another rest. The chill in the night air made him want to keep moving,
to warm his muscles with effort. But Biar was no longer walking a
straight line, and exhaustion had robbed Mali of her graceful stride.
Torin chafed at the limits they set upon him. Alone, he would have
continued well into the morning, then slept away the worst of the
coming day's heat, but the woman and the boy did not have his stamina.
Biar was nearly asleep on his feet before he could help unroll the
blanket. Mali stood nearby, leaning on the sheltering rocks.
"We will rest sooner if I have help, " Torin said, glaring up at Mali.
He realized the woman was not resting. She was staring up into the
night sky, her eyes reflecting red in the light of the moon.
Torin dropped the blanket. "What-?"
Mali made an abrupt cutting motion. The whites of her eyes stood out
against her dusty skin as she searched the sky. "They're up there, "
she whispered. "They're near. I can feel them!"
"What?" Torin repeated, drawing his sword. The blade flashed in the
light of the moon, and he slapped it against his thigh to hide the
revealing reflection. "Where?" He could see nothing but stars against
the blackness of sky.
Behind them, Biar gasped. "The crystal! It's warm!"
"Put it away!" Mali cried. Grabbing the boy, she dragged him back into
the thin shadow at the base of the rock.
"But-"
She clapped her hand over Biar's mouth and shoved him to the ground,
yanking at Torin as she dove for cover.
Torin resisted the strength in the arm that tugged at him. The sounds
were closer this time, clearer without the voices of the dying, and
more frightening without the swirling blackness for distraction.
Creaking, flapping, stirring the wind from above. What was it that sent
the desert sand swirling about his legs, that blotted out the light of
Lunitari? He didn't have the courage to look up.
He pressed back into the scant protection of the shadows and waited for
the blackness that had come with the sounds, for the debilitating
terror. But the unnatural fear didn't come.
He gripped his sword tighter and shifted to a crouch. He would not
cower in the dirt this time! He would be stronger than the darkness.
Mali's grip tightened on his arm, silently urging him to stillness.
Torin could feel the woman's body shivering against his shoulder, could
smell the sweetness of fresh sweat. But Mali was not quaking with fear.
She was shaking her head, warning him not to move.
The moment's hesitation was enough for Torin to realize the sounds and
the blackness were passing them by, were growing fainter as the sand
settled around his feet, as the moonlight and stars returned.
The three stayed silent, huddled together for long minutes after the
sky was clear. It was Biar who finally moved, protesting the weight of
the woman on top of him.
Torin stood slowly and surveyed the moonlit landscape in all
directions. He saw nothing but the scarlet outline of dunes, the
pinpoint twinkle of stars. "What was it?" he demanded, angry because he
already knew her reply, because belief was more confusing than not
knowing the answer.
Mali shook her head and turned away to worry with the blanket.
"How come you know so much of these mythical beasts?" Torin caught the
woman's arm and spun her so the moonlight illuminated her face. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]