The Great Akheri Wastes, 23rd of Seventhmoon 3045
Hot air left the sand billowing, blowing it on the riders’ faces as their kooris carried them at a loping walk across the dunes. Ren’i coughed. Gusts turned the air even more dry and scorching, and he felt sand rasping between his teeth every time he clenched them together.
”Cover your face properly,” Blueleaf instructed, glancing at Ren’i’s fallen scarf meaningfully. He corrected it until only his eyes were visible beneath the cloth.
The last rays of the sun had already sunken below the horizon, dying the sky in shades of purple, and Ren’i sighed in relief upon feeling the air growing cooler.
They had been riding across the Akheri wastes for two days, or rather nights, always making camp at dawn and setting off an hour before sunset to spare their own and their kooris’ strength. Blueleaf, Hawk and the representatives of Verem and Om-Var – a Veremise huntsmaster called Denae, who was almost as quiet as Hawk, and the Om-Varian Moonstone – were taking the lead. Ren’i, Linnee and Sava followed them. Last came Dewdrop and two hunters Ren’i didn’t know by name, leading two kooris acting as load bearers for their supplies. Dewdrop and her hunters would remain waiting for their return close to the mouth of the pass: they’d only bring what supplies they could carry with them.
At times they passed places where the monotony of the landscape was broken. Wind revealed cracked, half-covered stone slabs, corner stones and the remains of collapsed buildings that seasons had not yet worn into nothingness. Sharp corners jutted from the sand here and there.
The akheris riding at the lead didn’t pay any attention to the structures, but for Ren’i, Linnee and Sava’s they were like magnets, drawing in their eyes.
There was no vegetation anywhere, no dead trunks, no stumps or root systems, nothing to even hint at how long ago trees had given way for the plains and begun the slow, withering transformation into the wasteland that nowadays covered the southern parts of Daqan. Ren’i could vaguely recall his teachers saying that the entire northern continent had once been covered by similar old-growth forests as the central and northern parts of Kisha, until the separation of Awa had altered the air and ocean currents, and the southern climate had turned dry and hot. The citizens of the region had fled from the approaching desert northwards over time, hunting after water and shade, until there was nowhere left to run.
Against Kauarin’s yellowish gloom Ren’i could make out a large, dark silhouette in the distance, which turned out to be a head carved out of stone, or at least the remnants of one, as they rode closer. One half of the face was buried in the sand, but judging by the shape of the ear he knew the figure was of an akheri. The shape of the nearby dune hinted that the body of the statue was resting somewhere in the sand. Further off something that looked like the topmost parts of a collapsed tower jutted out of the soil. The beams that had once supported it lay on the ground in several parts.
There were whispers of lost lives, of a world much older than theirs everywhere, all smoothed by wind and time, and Ren’i felt that same wavering sorrow as he had at the Statues of the Eight back at home in Hol Saro.
They went around the ruined villages, not pausing near them even to drink. The akheris avoided even those where nothing else remained but single stones here and there. Ren’i did not ask why. In the darkness of the night there were occasionally distant lights, like solitary, quivering flames that lit then vanished whenever you tried to focus your eyes on them. At first he’d thought the northern lights had returned and were reflecting off the sand, but the sky remained starbright and dark.
Ren’i had to force himself to tear his gaze off the ruins, though it grew harder every time. Whatever the lights were, there was no following their summons, he felt it in his very marrows. The desert did not belong to the living, and what was resting beneath the sands wanted to be left undisturbed.
The night was clear. Ren’i took off his scarf as the wind died, feeling the cold stiffening his sweaty hair. The Kishan style fur coat and gloves kept him warm. Ren’i and his soldiers had insisted they all bring proper winter gear, and indeed they had procured enough clothing for the entire party from the army’s storages.
”What does the word ’akheri’ mean?” Linnee asked as the third day was dawning when they stopped to set up their tents in the most sheltered place they’d managed to find: in the shade of great sandstone boulders.
”It comes from the words nye’akheri-an qaril in our language,” Blueleaf answered. They held on to the canvas while Linnee and Sava slid the poles in their places and stretched the canvas between them. ”The great southern wasteland. The name Meril-An comes from the same origin – an means south, meril means fortress. The old tongue has died over the centuries and the original term has been shortened to akheri, meaning an inhabitant of the wastes.”
”I always thought it was the name of your species.”
Blueleaf hummed. ”So do many of us. Apparently our ancient relatives had no specific name for us – we were just the people who inhabited the southern coastal regions from Meril-An to Kiye.” They extended a hand towards the taivashi soldiers when they dug out the fly sheet meant for the tent’s entryway. ”I can attach that. You start erecting the next one.”
The day’s heat was an intruder even in their dreams, and Ren’i woke up drenched all over in sweat when Hawk roused him late in the afternoon.
”Up,” Hawk called from the tent’s doorway. ”We have to get moving early if we want to make it through the pass before dawn.”
Ren’i mumbled something indistinct while trying to locate his shirt in the bundle of discarded clothes. His fingers felt warm in a way that told him he’d seen the same dream as tens of times before: fire and soot and swirling sands.
Hawk watched him from the corner of his eye while they broke their fast. Ren’i’s hair was now short, only just reaching his chin, and wavy from the humidity.
Ren’i felt that he was being observed, and wasn’t particularly surprised to notice that the observer was Hawk. He was seated on top of a large rock, bow drawn for possible predators.
”What?” Ren’i asked.
”Nothing,” Hawk muttered, turning his eyes back towards the desert.
Blueleaf tore a new piece off their bread and grinned knowledgeably. ”You cut your hair.”
”So what?” Ren’i wondered.
”A new haircut won’t prevent the Liqaris from recognising you, you know.”
”It’s not about that.” Ren’i scratched at his bare neck, which was still itchy after the shave. ”It’s a custom where we’re from. A Kishan soldier cuts their hair before going to war.”
”Isn’t that a bit premature? The war hasn’t started yet.”
He managed a lopsided smile. ”According to international law Liqaria and Kisha are still at war with each other, because no peace negotations have been attempted since Liqaria’s failed navy assault. When I as the representative of the royal house set foot on the soil of a hostile nation in these circumstances, it can be taken as an open provocation.”
”Only if you get caught.”
”Yeah, if I get caught,” he repeated, nodding. He sobered up. ”We’re not out on a joyride. If the Liqaris catch me, I know what the consequences are. I wish for an honourable death, a soldier’s death, and a soldier is not a soldier without his uniform.”
Blueleaf and the other akheris stared at him, but Linnee and Sava, also sporting shorter haircuts than before, did not even look up from their breakfast. Blueleaf exchanged a long look with Hawk and took a bite from their bread, and no one said anything else while they ate and drank.
The last hours on the desert slipped past like in a dream. Thin wisps of cloud turned little by little to an enormous wall that rose in front of them, far away in the horizon. The rising, gusty wind washed sand over them in waves. It covered the air in a brownish haze that was hard to see through beyond the tip of one’s own nose. Hawk gripped the mane of his koori with both hands, bent as low on the animal’s neck as he could to keep the sand off his eyes.
The wind carried colder air that felt like slashes of a knife against sun-scorched skin. Ren’i detected the faint smell of salt in the air and knew that the coast was not far off anymore. He squinted, trying to focus his gaze. The skies had darkened so fast that back at home in the north he’d have anticipated a snowstorm to hit at any moment. Through the sands he saw a dark shadow like the ruins of a gargantuan city, and his eyes widened when he realised what it was.
Under the dark mass of clouds rose the upright walls of an enormous canyon. Ren’i felt shivers creeping up his spine.
”We’re here,” Denae shouted over the wind. It was the first time she’d spoken to anyone else besides Moonstone since their departure from Hatam-Ile. ”Let’s pause in the shelter of those rocks to unload!”
They lead the kooris behind tall rocks two metres in height and dismounted. The earth was hard and dry underneath their soles; sandy dunes were turning into hard-packed, clay-mixed wasteland. Linnee and Sava unloaded their tents and furs from the saddlebags while Dewdrop began sorting the food supplies into two separate piles. Ren’i took off his scarf, shook the worst of the sand off his hair, and stepped away from the shelter of the pillars.
”Your highness?” Linnee called after him.
”Wait here,” Ren’i replied. ”I’ll have a look at what sort of terrain’s waiting for us.”
He felt his feet moving as though on their own, unable to take his eyes off the pass rising up ahead. The wind grew stronger with each step. It travelled howling through the canyon and brought with it freezing air that made the sands swirl restlessly, as though preluding an approaching storm. Ren’i came to a halt on top of a nearby hill and felt shivers going down his spine once more.
He had already recognised the place from afar; he’d seen it a countless times in his dreams. He felt the same tug within himself as always before, almost like something pulling him towards the pass. Ren’i shuddered.
No, not just pulling. Someone was approaching, he felt it as a tingling in his blood, and wasn’t particularly surprised when a low voice called his name.
”Ren’i.”
Hawk came to a halt by his side. He, too, had taken off his scarf, and the wind caught in his braid, tossing it about like a weather wane of the darkest raven black.
”So this is it,” Ren’i said. He looked paler than usual, the shadows of several poor nights’ sleep underneath his eyes robbing him off what little colour his skin had. ”The Pass of Mists. A fitting name, that.”
The circling sands rose towards the sky like a whirlpool of air, making the entire landscape appear gray and foggy. It could not compare to the sand tornado that Hawk remembered from his dreams, but he could still feel the shirt sticking to his back with cold sweat.
Hawk glanced at him. ”Something wrong?”
Ren’i swallowed. His voice was a touch shaky when he spoke. ”I know this place. I’ve been here before.”
”Here? When?”
”You’ll think me crazy.” He laughed nervously. ”Don’t tell the others. I’ve… dreamt about this place ever since we left Hol Saro.”
”Are you sure?”
”I am now that I see the place with my own eyes.” Hawk saw Ren’i swallow again. ”The dream’s always the same. I’m alone in the desert. I’m running, but not the way you’d normally run in dreams. You know that feeling when you’re trying to run in a nightmare, but your legs won’t obey? This is different, like I’m flying forwards. I know that something’s pulling me somewhere, but I don’t know what or where.”
The image was crystal clear in Hawk’s mind, just like it had been in his own dreams. He could almost feel the lightness of his feet over the dunes as he allowed some unseen force to carry him forwards. ”Go on.”
”I can only just make it out through the sandstorm – this giant pass the wind’s blowing from. Just like now.” He shook his head. ”I know it sounds insane.”
Hawk was silent for a moment. ”In that dream… Did you feel like you were looking for something? Or someone?”
Ren’i turned to look at him. There was an odd gleam in his eyes when he asked, ”how come?”
”I’ve seen something similar.” Hawk took a deep breath. ”Someone’s waiting for me in the eye of the storm. Knows that I’m looking for them. The storm grows stronger when I get close—”
”
—and the air catches fire,” Ren’i continued for him. Ren’i felt a chill pass through himself when Hawk looked him straight in the eye and nodded. ”The flames swallow the whirlpool, myself, everything. And when I wake up…”
”My skin burns and I feel like I’ve inhaled my lungs full of ash.” Hawk’s voice was barely more than a whisper.
”Yeah.”
There were very few things they agreed on, but in that moment they both felt deep down that they understood each other perfectly. Hawk saw his own confusion, his own fear reflected in the other’s eyes. That confident shell that Ren’i tended to carry was gone, and it hit Hawk once again just how young he truly was.
”But that’s just not possible,” Ren’i finally said. ”I’ve never heard of two people somehow being able to have the same dream.”
”Neither have I,” Hawk admitted.
Ren’i kicked the ground with his heel absent-mindedly as he thought, brows furrowed. ”But what’s so special about this place? Are we supposed to do something here? The dream always felt like an omen, somehow.”
”There are no omens. There has to be a logical explanation for this.”
”I wish I shared your confidence,” Ren’i said and smiled dully. He glanced at the storm pushing out of the pass. The wind was growing stronger. ”Be that as it may, but I do get the feeling that there’s something strange going on. If so, I suppose we’ll find out before long.”
They began descending side by side towards their travel companions, who were still sheltering behind the rocks. Hawk did not say it out loud, but the thought that his dreams had something to do with Ren’i and this journey bothered him at least as much as it bothered Ren’i. He had to – they both did – speak with Ared as soon as they returned to Hatam-Ile.
”Listen, Hawk,” Ren’i said. He stopped before they could get within earshot of the others.
Hawk quirked his brows as though in question.
”If you happen to see that dream again, will you let me know?”
Hawk thought about it for a moment, then nodded. ”Likewise.”
”Agreed.”
They exchanged their light riding clothes for leather and white furs. Ren’i felt strangely naked without his breastplate. He belted the sword firmly in place, checking the fastenings multiple times; it was now his best, and only, life insurance. Apart from provisions their backpacks only carried tents, sleeping pallets and supplies for making a fire, but even so they were full to the bursting once they were ready to set off.
”Three weeks,” Blueleaf said to Dewdrop. ”We’ll meet you here in three weeks.”
Dewdrop nodded. Ren’i, Sava and Linnee saluted them as the small akheri patrol started leading the kooris, bearing a much lighter load, towards the coastline looming in the horizon, where the akheris said would be enough vegetation and caves in which they could set camp while waiting for the other party’s return. Most of the water and food remained with Dewdrop’s group. Without kooris the scout patrol couldn’t carry more provisions with them than what they needed for crossing the land bridge – once across they’d have to hunt what they needed.
”The day’s waning, folks,” Blueleaf said. ”Let’s get moving.”
The journey through the pass was not pleasant, but Blueleaf lead them resolutely onwards without slowing down for a second. Though the air was still relatively warm in comparison to what Ren’i was accustomed to, he felt himself shivering. The wind grew harsher and harsher as they advanced further south. It seemed to resist them to the last, as though it were some living creature trying to scare them out of its burrow. Its angry whistling echoed ceaselessly from the canyon walls, and Ren’i couldn’t help thinking that the dream was a warning: stay away, or else…
”We can’t stop,” Blueleaf said as Sava and Linnee paused to drink from their waterskins. They were forced to shout, but even so it was still difficult to make out the words. ”We’re not resting until we’ve reached the bridge.”
”Why?” Sava shouted back. ”We’ve been going for hours already!”
”There’s no shelter here whatsoever, no caves, no rock formations, not even bushes. And all the beasts in the area know that.” Blueleaf set off and gestured for the others to follow. They shouted over their shoulder, ”let’s hurry, we still have a couple of hours of walking ahead!”
Daylight was fading, it was visible in the yellowish glow that only just filtered through the thick clouds. The clouds had spread ever wider as the afternoon dragged on, now covering the sky entirely under a thick cover. Ren’i stayed close to the akheris, hand constantly clutching the hilt of his sword. Hawk walked beside him, bow drawn. Ren’i saw him glancing around constantly, and though nothing in his expression shifted, Ren’i could read the tension in his demeanor. The walls of the canyon were unnaturally smooth, as though enormous water masses had smoothed all cracks and bumps on them, and Ren’i couldn’t shake off the feeling that they were somewhere they weren’t supposed to be.
At times sand and pebbles rained down to the bottom of the canyon, and more than once they thought they saw some animal, or several, following them from the ledges. Ren’i sent out a careful, probing thought, but found nothing more unusual than carrion birds.
Though they moved as fast as their riding-weary legs could carry them, it was already dusk when they left the canyon behind and found themselves on the sea shore. Ren’i finally let go off his ashay wearily and pulled back his thoughts. The magic carried by demon blood had weakened during the hundreds of thousands of years that they’d lived on Melkem’s soil, and Ren’i didn’t possess even what little most taivashis had left of their ancestral gifts. Scouting the surroundings with his thoughts was only possible for him within certain limits, and he was not good at recognising the presence of animals. The signals they sent were weaker than those of the taivashis, akheris or other sentient, two-legged species, and the searching had drained him.
Ren’i understood at once what Onniar had meant when talking about the land bridge. The tip of the cape narrowed into a rocky path no wider than some ten metres, over which frothy waves tempered by the high tide washed at times. Giant rocks gleamed with moisture; in many places the water had washed thick, slimy algae over them. When the tide was at its highnest only the tallest of them would jut out from the waves.
”The water’s rising,” Sava yelled.
”Follow me,” Blueleaf ordered. ”Quickly! And watch your step!”
No one questioned their words, setting off down the narrow, rocky path instead. The cold, humid air blowed nonstop from the Eastern Sea and tried to knock them off their feet as they half-sprinted, half-walked on the treacherously slippery rocks, keeping as fast a pace as they dared. The wind made Hawk’s eyes water; it seemed to permeate all the way to his bones even through the Kishan furs.
”Hurry! We’re almost there!” Blueleaf shouted over their shoulder.
A small, barren and rocky island loomed ahead, rising from the sea some metres higher than the land bridge. The path, formed by rocks, rose little by little, the gaps between individual rocks growing until they were forced almost hop from one to another in order to advance; the rising tide had already swallowed the edges of the bridge. They were all panting loudly when they finally clambered up on the island.
Ren’i clutched at his side, trying to calm his breathing. After hours of concentrating his head felt strangely tender, as if his mind were bruised from using his ashay.
”Not even a hint of any bloody shelter from this wind here,” Sava grunted and pulled the fur hat more tightly over their head. The island was small, perhaps fifty meters wide at best, and the numerous stunted evergreens were not enough to keep the wind at bay.
”Let’s set up our tents under the trees. They might not do much about the wind, but we can at least attach our tents to them and prevent them from flying off,” Ren’i suggested.
Blueleaf nodded. ”Let’s get to it, then. We’re all in need of food and rest as soon as possible.”
Linnee and Denae struggled to light a fire, but before long the flames of a campfire were blazing, quite disregarding the water and sleet-mixed drizzle coming from the sky. Ren’i felt a tug in his mind when Linnee directed her ashay in the fire, feeding the flames until they burned too hot for the rain or the wind to threaten to put it out anymore.
Hardly anyone spoke while they ate. Hawk could tell from Ren’i’s face that he was about to fall asleep where he stood. Whatever he’d done while scouting the landscape around them, it had clearly exhausted him. Hawk had felt it when he’d used his powers – a split-second’s burning in the air that had made his heart throb squeamishly.
The waves rose and crashed against the shoals surrounding the island, filling the air with the scent of salty air. When darkness fell, it was inpenetrable, and not even Hawk’s eyes could make out more than the outlines of the rocks and the islands sticking out of the water. He held his bow at the ready, crouched under a pine, and stared in the darkness.
The coming days would not be pleasant.
Next chapter (coming 1st November) >>