Back to the Source - Part VIII

This is part 8 of a longer story. To see what has already happened, check this out:

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The bard added:

‘I won’t turn you in. I have personal reasons not to be too keen on upholding the King’s laws.’

He didn’t offer any further explanations, just raised his hands in a strangely helpless gesture. The boys saw intricate patterns tattooed on the inner sides of his palms. It was Darien who finally spoke:

‘It all started with a bard who sang something that offended the King. My brother helped the bard flee and was punished by exile. He was given no means of transport or provisions to help him leave the country though... So I stole both. And now we’re both on the run.’

The bard sat in silence for a long while, his gaze on the ground. When he looked up, there was a decisive glint in his eyes.

‘I can see why you thought that going south was a good idea. But you have no clue what you’re signing up for. My advice is to hide among the free tribes. I can give you directions to a camp of tribal fighters one day’s journey away.’

Zaric turned to Darien, but the prince spoke without looking at his friend:

‘We would endanger the whole tribe if we did that.’

‘Others have done it before you, boy,’ said the bard. ‘No need to be afraid. Tribal life may not be as comfortable as what you’ve been used to in the Fortress but it means you keep your freedom and your life.’

‘Not for long,’ said Darien. ‘As soon as the King learns where we are, it won’t be that hard for him to hunt us down.’

‘Why would the King be interested in hunting down a simple thief?’ The bard smirked. ‘There have been others who were accepted by free tribes and still live among them. You might even get a chance to do something good for this land there.’

Darien pursed his lips.

‘What do you mean?’

The man waved his hands dismissively, as if to erase his last words from everyone’s memory.

‘I’ve said too much. Think about my offer and decide.’

The prince didn’t hesitate. His eyes were fixed on the bard when he said:

‘We’d rather go beyond the border. My brother has been exiled and will be in danger as long as he stays within the kingdom.’

Zaric nodded in agreement. The bard shook his head slowly and sighed.

‘Look, you need weeks to get there. You may know your way around the desert but what about the steppes? Flat terrain all the way to the border so you will have nowhere to hide. Grass and small shrubs are the only plants to be seen for days. Nights can be cold at this time of the year, your travel blankets may not be enough. You might think it would be easier to hunt but animals that live there are most likely to run away before you get close enough to shoot. However, the most important question of all is: how much water do you have?’

‘Enough to cross the desert,’ said Zaric.

‘Not enough then,’ the bard concluded. ‘I could give you some more but not enough to last until the border. You’ll be better off taking my advice.’

‘Is there anything else you can do to help us cross the steppes?,’ asked Darien.

The man snorted.

‘Have you heard what I’ve just told you? Let me tell you more then. Even if you could cross the steppes, do you think it would be the end of your problems?’

Darien said quietly:

‘I’ve read stories about the forest but don’t know which of them are true.’

‘Stories are written by those who have managed to survive because they hadn’t seen the worst dangers. The reality is probably worse.’

‘We must go south.’

The bard sighed and rubbed his face with both hands. He looked up as if searching the roof of the cave for inspiration.

‘Who am I to force you to survive?,’ he said at last. ‘Fine. Do what you must. There is one thing I can tell you, maybe it will help.’

He leaned forward.

‘There is a small lake in the middle of the steppes. If you manage to find it, you may have a chance.’

‘Where is it?,’ asked Zaric.

‘This is the difficult part. I can mark the area on your map but the lake itself is not easy to spot from a distance. The steppe is vast, you may go past it and never notice. If you find it though, approach it from the east. The other sides are inaccessible or at least this is what I’ve been told. And now, it seems that the sandstorm is passing. Time to be on my way.’

Indeed, the mad howling of the wind could no longer be heard. The three travellers worked together to remove stones and retrieve the belongings piled up at the entrance. The opening was almost completely blocked with fine sand. It took a while to dig through it.

Outside, the night had already fallen and the first stars were twinkling on the dark sky. A light breeze stirred the bard’s robes when he turned towards the boys for the last time.

‘You’ve saved the skin of a fellow artist, for which I’m grateful. I can only wish someone would do the same for me in a pinch. I don’t have much hope that we will meet again but I wish you luck in your journey. You will need it.’

With these words, he bowed and walked away taking long, brisk steps.

When the boys got everything ready and the gryplions were finally persuaded to crawl out of the cave, Zaric said:

‘You were quick to trust the man. Are you sure it was a wise move?’

Darien was already in the saddle.

‘He’s a Pelori.’

‘What?’

‘You might not have heard, it was me who had to endure hours of history lessons after all. The Pelori tribesmen had the inside of their palms tattooed at the age of fifteen as a sign of reaching adulthood, it was the easiest way to recognise them. We were both babies when the Pelori openly spoke against the King and declared themselves independent. In the three lunar cycles that followed, royal soldiers wiped out each and every of their settlements. Those who managed to escape were hunted down like game. No Pelori survived. At least this is what I've been taught.’ Darien smiled sadly. ‘Apparently, at least one of them is still alive. How likely is he to uphold the royal laws do you think?’

Zaric didn’t know what to say to that. He checked the tightness of the cinch one last time and settled in his saddle.

‘The man genuinely wanted to help us but there was definitely something strange about him,’ Darien continued. ‘Have you noticed how the gryplions reacted when he came in? They were anxious.’

‘He said it was his mount’s smell.’

‘How many animals do you know that might make two gryplions afraid?’

Zaric frowned. Wild gryplions were kings of the desert, roaming wherever they wanted with no fear of anything and anyone. No other animal grew that large around here. Their mounts might have been born in captivity and used to being taken care of by humans but still, he couldn’t think of any desert creature they would see as anything other than prey. What could they be afraid of? He had no answer.

The prince sighed and shook his head.

‘I have an inkling that there are mysterious things going on in the kingdom behind the King’s back.’

When Darien’s mount moved forward, Zaric motioned his gryplion to stand up and follow. They accelerated to a gallop as soon as they left the shelter of the rocks. The sandstorm might have impeded the search parties just like it had impeded them but the soldiers would not stop for long. The fugitives knew that speed was their main advantage. So they sped south and didn’t look back.

They were small specks in the distance when a huge shadow rose gracefully from among the outcrops like a darker chunk of the night and glided towards the east.

(to be continued...)