by Kim Wedlock
It took a few attempts but Petra soon grasped it, and Eyila settled for Aria's slightly more aggressive gesture, one which seemed as if she was trying to rip something off of her face. Rathen stifled his chuckle out of respect for her efforts.
"If he agrees to a meeting," she continued, "you will kneel throughout with your hands on your knees - even if he gets up and starts wandering around, which he is prone to doing, you are to remain where you are, facing his seat. While he is within your sight during the meeting, you will always look him in the eye as a show of attention, and you must not interrupt him. When the meeting is finished you will place your hands on the ground in front of you and bow low where you are until he has left or permits you to rise."
"So he may not even agree to see us at all?" Anthis pressed.
"Just as any leader, he has the choice. If he deems you a threat, not only will he deny the meeting, but he could have you killed on the spot."
Anthis's eyes widened.
Eyila suddenly grinned. She had proven on a handful of occasions to have a strange sense of humour, and it seemed that it was showing again. They hoped.
"You may not take anything you are offered, except for food," she continued, though none were inclined to oblige even then, "and you may not try to barter or bargain."
Rathen blinked as he, like the others, tried to ensure that everything she'd said was stored in an easily-retrievable part of their memory. "Is that everything?" He asked in feign mildness, to which she nodded. "All right. Then how about what we can expect from everyone else?"
"They will stare, some will hide, and our hunters will surround you."
"I suppose that's to be expected..."
"But if you do all I said and remain beside me, you won't be harmed." Her eyes flashed with a strange brightness. "Stray, however..." She smiled again, and a few managed a nervous chuckle. "I also suggest that you get straight to the point if he does grant you a meeting."
"Impatient?"
"Not at all, but he isn't going to want you in the village for any longer than you need to be. Neither will I, nor anyone else. The sooner you've said what you need to, the sooner you can leave."
"What's the likeliness that he'll grant us permission to visit...Ut'hala?" Rathen asked, silently proud of himself for remembering the name, though the tribal girl seemed to grimace ever so slightly at his pronunciation though he'd thought it had been perfect.
She took a moment to think. "I don't know. It depends how convincing your argument is. So, like I said: you'd best get straight to the point. Otherwise, I think that's all you need to know."
"You think?"
Eyila looked back at him flatly. "It's not often that I have to lead outsiders into my home; I'm doing my best to remember every niggling little detail for your sake. I could just leave you all right now - I know this desert like the back of my hand, I could be back home before the sky is black. So," her eyes darkened, "I suggest you be grateful that it's not in my nature to be selfish."
"We are grateful," Rathen swiftly assured her, "I'm sorry. Thank you for your help - without it, I don't think we'd have much hope of even finding your village." He glanced back over the landscape again, wondering not for the first time just how Garon had intended them to find it with no landmarks of any kind, and was silently grateful for the fact that he himself hadn't been given the chance to fail, either.
She folded her arms across her scantly covered chest, her white eyebrows twitching. "Yes, well, apology accepted." Then she turned away without another word and wandered back towards the boulder she had previously been perched upon, leaving Garon to return quickly to his self-imposed watch while the others tried desperately to recall every detail she'd given them.
The air was warmer the following morning, the welcome chill of the night chased away by a heat that was more than simply unseasonal by Turundan standards, and served as an abrupt reminder of their surroundings even before they left the distracting comfort of sleep. Though spring was slowly giving way to summer, it seemed that by travelling north, they were meeting it head-on sooner than any of them would have liked.
"It's quite cool, actually," Eyila had said as they ate their breakfast, having overheard the group's complaint. "The heat won't truly set in until a moon from now."
"It gets worse?"
"Unbearably so in the summer - but we have ways of dealing with it."
She seemed disinclined to elaborate, but truly it was none of their business, even if Anthis's curiosity was so great it was almost tangible. But he had shown uncharacteristic restraint around the tribal girl, almost certainly through fear as manners had never held him back before, and it was more than a mild concern of Rathen's that it would become too much for him in the village, that he'd forget what they were told and both stare openly and try to touch things in his fascination, regardless of warnings or threats. He would have to keep an eye on him - and place upon his hands the spell that still bound Eyila's if he truly had no self-restraint.
Despite the promise of reaching the village that morning, there were no signs of habitation to corroborate it, and the shared but unspoken doubt that they were being led into an ambush despite the girl's helpfulness became only more prevalent in their minds.
And so, when they crested a small dune and found themselves surrounded by a group of bronze men, garbed in animal skins and armed with spears and bows, no one was particularly surprised.
"Put your blades away," Eyila snapped before Petra or Garon had the chance to fully draw them, and stepped hurriedly towards the most painted of their sudden adversaries. The young man's brow, streaked black with some kind of chalk, was momentarily warped in relief as he recognised her, but his hostility was quick to reassert itself and much stronger than it had been. He snatched Eyila by the arm and dragged her behind him, pointing his feathered spear closer to Rathen's face in the process.
He raised his hands in preparation, but as Eyila loosed a few sharp words in a strangely adjusted form of Ivaean, one or two Rathen could just about follow, both he and her kinsman came to an uneasy stop. The tribal's blue eyes, a deeper shade than Eyila's but no less shocking, turned to her in doubt as those of his comrades followed, but she met his stare levelly.
Slowly and unwillingly, he lowered his spear, and Rathen duly lowered his hands. The tribal then turned to the girl and exchanged less heated though equally exotic words, while Rathen and his companions watched carefully, listening for anything familiar or a hint of what was likely to happen next.
All eyes suddenly fell upon them, and Eyila quietly returned. The slight tension that knotted her bare shoulders only put them further on edge.
"Let's go," was all she said, and they were given no choice but to follow as four of the eight men fell in around and behind them, forming an armed escort. These must have been the hunters.
Her pace slowed and she dropped back alongside Rathen. "You had best free my hands before we arrive," she said with a tone of warning, and despite the apprehensions rising in his gut, he held himself taller to reassure the others and gave a subtle nod. He really had no other choice - but he could at least prepare a shielding spell should things turn out as badly as he expected.
Aria walked close alongside him, grasping his hand tighter, but when he glanced down he found her peering up at the armed man beside her, a furrow of curiosity upon her young brow. He quickly tugged her hand when he realised she was staring, and she discovered her mistake in that same instant. She looked away frantically, her wide eyes snapping back to their heading.
They walked on in a cloud of tension and it soon felt as though an hour had passed. Their legs ached from climbing the growing dunes, though they'd lost count of just how many, and as the day dragged on the heat only increased. When Aria dared to reach for a waterskin, their entire entourage had readied their weapons. She suddenly decided she wasn't thirsty after that.
And so it was with a twisted relief that they finally looked upon the cluster of dark shapes that rose in the distance
below this tallest dune, breaking the monotonous landscape and offering a change to proceedings, be it for better or for worse.
Eyila dropped back alongside Rathen again, and following a single glance, he released the bindings from her hands. There was a greater confidence in her step as she retook the lead. From then onwards he kept an even closer watch on her, despite his doubt that she'd try anything still so far from her village. If there was to be an assault, it would be within her people's reach.
He spared a glance around at the others, catching their escorts' watchful attention as he did so. But he didn't need to give his companions any kind of hint. Both Petra and Garon had the same quickness to their eyes, and even Anthis was paying very close attention. If they couldn't grasp their own weapons, they at least knew to get behind him and within the protection of any spell he might cast.
"Hands," she said as they neared the bottom of that final sandy hill, and they duly obeyed her previous instructions. But even with Garon's single free hand at his back and Petra's at her front, their weapons were no more than a quick reach away, and Rathen could just as easily form seals no matter where his hands were. It was only courtesy that restrained them.
There was nothing to mark the boundary of the village; it seemed to start where the first square, sun-baked building rose, constructed from a mixture of stones and clay with a thatched door, roof and shutters. Someone stepped out from it, though they were too far off to tell if it was a man or a woman, and after standing and staring for a moment, turned and hurried off deeper into the village, shouting something ahead of them.
The group took a collective uneasy breath, but remained otherwise silent.
More villagers quickly appeared in the distance, bronze figures clad in yet more animal skins scattered amongst the mismatched dwellings to watch the approaching party, prompting yet another wave of alarm. It seemed as if the entire tribe had turned out...
Their minds rung with Eyila's words and warnings, each of them certain they were missing one point or another and frantically searching the recesses of their memory to retrieve them, if just to avoid provoking anyone through an accidental insult. Rathen and Garon were the only two to settle for simply being mindful of their manners and focusing instead on noting any potential threat.
They had soon drawn close enough to see the paint across their skin, then the myriad of patterns they created, and then, eventually, the dizzying variety of shades of blue that coloured their gripping eyes. The scent of surprisingly familiar spices drifted towards them on a light breeze, jostling steel pipes in its passage and creating a wonderful, tinkling music, and in its wake a small cloud of red and another of orange billowed up briefly from within the depths of the village.
But their guard was not lowered, the two's eyes still flicking about in search, and after just a few more paces, they were among them.
The tribe stepped back and watched them pass just as warily as the group walked, their pace slowing in hesitation as they made the effort to turn their eyes to the ground and use their peripherals instead, and they refrained from looking up even as whispers rippled through the crowd.
It was only at the sound of hurried footfalls that they finally raised their heads, their hearts suddenly hammering as the four enclosing men drew to a sudden stop, and Eyila cast them all a grave look and commanded them to wait where they were and keep their hands where they could be seen. They did so without question, though Rathen's fingers twitched in preparation, his senses sharpening. The others took a shuffling step closer to him.
The crowd parted and another man stepped forwards. White paint coated his forehead, concentrated at the edges of his hairline and sweeping inwards to fade at the centre above his nose. Vertical black lines had been painted along his jaw, with one reaching up on either side to stop just beneath his eyes, which were almost as pale as Eyila's and steeped in worry. His chest was just as broad and defined as the hunters', and though he, too, wore skins, a collection of lengths of leather were tied about both of his biceps, coloured in reds, oranges, browns and deep greens, with feathers woven into them. No one else, Rathen was quick to notice, wore anything like it.
The worry in the older man's eyes was replaced by a well of relief as they fell upon Eyila, and he grasped her firmly by the shoulders as she stopped in front of him. But his eyes changed again, touched by concern and confusion as he spotted the bandages that poked out from beneath her own skins. She said something too quietly for the others to catch, and though they eased a fraction, they were quick to flick past her and onto her company. Their fleeting note of understanding was extinguished by a flash of rage.
His voice, even in its fire, was as rich and musical as Eyila's, and though he spoke in that same modified Ivaean, Rathen caught just enough to follow.
"Why did you bring them here?" He growled, taking little care to subdue his words in the presence of ignorant foreigners. "What are you thinking, Eyila?!"
"They can help us," she told him quickly, "they can restore Ut'hala."
"Ridiculous. A pretence! They're cityfolk, they help no one."
"They helped me." She indicated her injuries, but the curl of his lip only worsened.
"Only because they felt they stood something to gain - getting here, for starters."
"They only want to talk to you--"
"You mean pretend to barter before robbing us blind!" He stormed past her and looked over the five of them, scowling deeper as he searched each face, though he faltered briefly in confusion as he looked upon the child. He regained himself easily enough and turned back to Eyila. "Even at nineteen, you are still too naive!"
"Or perhaps I am just not as cynical as you, Chief."
His eyes darkened as hers flashed in anger, and the rest of the village watched in silence. "You are dangerously close to impertinence."
"Have you really become so pig-headed that you would turn away aid?" She demanded, her tone unchanged. "Don't our people have troubles enough without us stubbornly making them worse?"
"Yes, troubles enough." He could feel the weight of the village's stares, though most were unsurprised by the clash, and lowered his voice for her ears alone. "And they may have just brought more along with them. The cityfolk are embroiled in far more advanced conflicts than we are - ours may run deeper, but we can still talk our way to peace. But they are destructive, you know this, and if they've trailed their war in behind them, we will be dragged into it." He looked at her now imploringly. "Against them, we haven't got a chance."
"They are five," she sighed, "and one of them is a child. Why would any danger follow them? Let alone out here?"
"Why indeed? And why are they here at all?"
Rathen's eyes flicked away as the village chief turned towards them, suppressing the disappointment that had come from his eavesdropping, then stood straight and raised his left fist to his forehead, touching his second knuckles to his brow. Garon was already in the process of doing the same, fortunate that his sword arm, which was supposed to be free during the salute as a symbol of protection towards the chief, was the one that had been immobilised, and Anthis clumsily followed their lead. Petra made the sweeping motion with surprising grace and Aria managed with more finesse than Rathen had expected - but she had spent most of the past evening practising.
The chief, however, didn't appear impressed by what amounted to little more than basic manners. "What is it you want from Ut'hala?" He asked them sharply, accusingly. "There is nothing there, no treasures for you to take."
"We don't want to take anything," Rathen replied as respectfully and earnestly as he could as the man came to a broiling stop in front of him, older up close than his bearing would suggest, "we--"
"Then you expect something from us in return for restoring it - assuming you are not at fault in the first place."
"I've told you before, the magic doesn't feel like that," Eyila reminded him none too carefully, joining him in front of Rathen, though she stood beside neither. "They are not responsible."
<
br /> His eyes burned. "Then what makes you believe they can fix it?"
"We've been studying other locations under similar effects," Rathen replied, thinking quickly to simplify the matter without holding anything back, "and researching all we can. We think we have a way to fix it, but we need to study more sites - the worse they're affected, the better." So far, the tribe seemed more angry than hostile, and though he'd adopted a manner both submissive and reasonable, he was more than prepared to loose a spell in a heart beat if he had to. But at least they were speaking directly with the chief.
But now the feathered and painted man narrowed his eyes in intense suspicion. "How is it you know of Ut'hala? And of how 'badly affected' it is?"
Rathen opened his mouth to reply, but it seemed that someone had rattled Anthis's cage. "It's only elven ruins that have been affected," he blurted, "and it's no secret that there's one out here. As for the rest, we were t--"
"We were guessing, initially," Rathen quickly interjected, "but Eyila overheard us talking about it and confirmed our suspicions."
"And you would have come out here, to this desert, on a hunch?"
Rathen couldn't tell how this discussion was going. "Actually, we were passing through anyway to get to Enhala. The desert's safer than easier terrain."
The chief grunted and took a step to one side, casting a deeply speculative glance over the others. "Yes...your conflicts." His eyes flicked back to Rathen. "I hope you've not trailed them in here with you." Rathen didn't miss the grave weight to his eyes.