Sea of Death (17 page)

"Now do the Thuffi people go into the ash often?" the half-elven girl asked.

"Well, not frequently," Achulka admitted, "but my uncle has been there and returned with a big gold coin and shield of bronze to prove it!"

On that note, they dismounted and made camp in a shaded sward just off the path leading up to the nearest village on the ledges above. In a few days' time, they would be in the waste to the south, and much more than gold coins and bronze shields was at stake.

NO CHEPNOI WOULD JOIN the expedition into the desert – not after Gord told the mountain warriors that it would take them out of sight of the Grand-suels. That is death, Gray-Lion," said the Chepnoi hetman solemnly. "Even if one stays close to the safety of the mountains, a storm can bury you alive in minutes. To trek out of sight of the peaks is to invite death in many ways, but surely from being smothered by ash – never a week passes without the wind blowing that powder into a scouring fury."

Achulka took the lead at this point and tried to shame his mountain-dwelling kinsmen. "You have stout silken covers and hollow poles for that. What is a little dust storm when one is safely burrowed beneath the very stuff you fear? We will find enough water, surely, and much treasure too! Old women and young boys might fear the dangers of the Ashen Desert, but are you not Chepnoi warriors?!"

"We will live to fight, thank you," the hetman replied laconically, not even taking the nomad's response as insulting. "All but crazed ones shun the interior of the Ashen Desert."

"Then we men of the Thuffi, plus Farzeel and his woman, are crazy," Achulka said with a sneer.

"Yes, you are," was all the Chepnoi chieftain said in reply. That was the end of the discussion.

The mountain folk would not go with them, but they did cooperate in other ways. For a price, they provided the travelers with provisions, gear that would help them negotiate the ash and dust, and they allowed Gord to make a copy of their sketchy map of the Ashen Desert, which vaguely marked out some of the land's major features and indicated the location of the City Out of Mind. Whether or not this latter aspect of the map – or any part of it – was accurate, Gord had no way of knowing. But he supposed the information was better than none at all.

Gord and Leda remained confident and determined despite the Chepnoi leader's negative words. However, the Thuffi nomads grew glum after hearing what the hetman had to say. Even though the prospect of wealth was a strong motivator, the warnings about deadly storms and lurking death from their mountain-dwelling kinsmen had severely dampened the enthusiasm of the five warriors. When Gord paid in silver for what they had obtained from the Chepnoi, the young adventurer took the opportunity to hand each of the Al Illa-Thuffi several nobles, too – all he had remaining, in fact, with Achulka getting the odd extra silver piece. That brought cheerfulness from the steppe horsemen only for a brief period.

"Why not just loot the ruins off to the east?" Achulka suggested, indicating a spot marked on the map. "We know there is much wealth remaining in that place, there is only slight peril in the journey we must make to get there, and we can keep the mountains easily in sight for the whole distance."

"Those ruins must have been visited by many over the years – but the treasure is untouched where the two of us intend to go," Gord said in counter to that plan. He didn't know that for a fact, but he was quite willing to stretch the truth to keep Achulka and his men in the group, for now that the Chepnoi had given him a clear idea of what had to be faced, it seemed unlikely that he and Leda could succeed without the help of the nomads.

Achulka was in no mood to argue the issue. He shook his head, then sat tight-lipped with his arms folded across his chest. Gord tried taunting the Thuffi leader, just as Achulka had done earlier with the Chepnoi hetman. "If you five no longer desire such riches, and if you have decided that the Arro-den charms I would give you no longer have power, then perhaps you should stay safe at home with… those who are not daring."

Achulka lowered his gaze, remained silent, and was getting more sullen with every passing second. Clearly, the man would not be influenced by a tactic that had failed to work when he had tried it. Things looked bleak… and then Leda spoke up.

"In my mind," she said bitterly, "there is one kind of man lower than a coward, and that is a hypocrite. I listened to you cajole and insult the leader of these mountain people, which was fine. But now, by your inaction, you are proving yourself to be an empty shell – one from which words flow, but which contains nothing of substance. It is easy to talk about being courageous, isn't it, Achulka?"

That was all it took. Leda's scathing words, coupled with Achulka's attraction and admiration for her, turned his thinking around. The nomad leader lifted his head to meet her steely gaze, then turned for a brief, hushed conference with his cohorts. When he looked at her again, it was with a combination of respect and anger in his eyes. "I am glad I have never met any of your people, warrior-woman," Achulka said in a dry tone. "If your men fight as well as I suspect you do, and if their tongues are as pointed, then they are surely more fearsome than a band of Arroden warriors in the charge. We will come, and may the fates be kind to us all."

Gord was a bit taken aback by the whole affair. Using words the likes of which he had never before heard her utter, this beautiful and mysterious woman had accomplished something he could not do. Just what was this warrior-woman, anyway?

After several more days of traveling through mountain passes and then along the craggy fringe that bordered the Ashen Desert, the seven treasure-seekers bade farewell to the Chepnoi men who had accompanied them this far. As part of the bargain Gord had struck with his silver, the mountain tribesmen would care for their horses and gear for three months. By then, if they had not come back for their property, the whole would belong to the Chepnoi. It was a fair enough arrangement, under the circumstances. Gord hated to part with Windeater, but the powdery wastes were no place for horses, even the finest of stallions.

The travelers wore white tunics and robes, so that the heat of the desert would be reflected away from their bodies. They each carried their own provisions and other needed materials in large backpacks. They walked on strange, flat shoes made of woven-leather strips held fast in circular frames of tough wood. Each held a long, hollow pole with a little shoe at one end and a plug in the other. With the shoe end down, the pole could be used for support and balance while walking. By reversing it, the pole could be used to test the depth of the dust.

The shoes were large and strong and distributed the wearer's weight over a good-sized area. But the Chepnoi had warned the group about places where the powder was so fine that even their dust-walkers, as the wood and leather shoes were called, would prove insufficient to keep a man above the surface. To sink was to be smothered and dead within a minute or two, as the tiny abrasive particles would fill ears, mouth, and lungs immediately. By temporarily removing the shoe and the plug, each pole could be used as a breathing tube if someone found himself being covered. This tactic would only succeed if the user also had time to bind small pieces of finely woven silk over both ends of the pole to serve as filters. Even this would not assure survival, but any chance was better than none.

Each of them carried a cocoonlike tent – bulky, but light, and absolutely essential. The only way to survive in a serious storm on the Ashen Desert was to get below the surface, out of the wind. Otherwise the flying particles would tear cloth from body and flesh from bone, in as little as a few minutes. The proper procedure was to take off the dust-walkers, get oneself and one's equipment into the sack, and then hop up and down in the powdery stuff. This would cause one to sink, and as this occurred, the cloth was pulled higher and higher about the body. Once a person had worked himself down to below the surface, the pole-tube came into play – along with prayers that the storm would not pile up a dune of dust and ash that was higher than the tip of the breathing device.

The heat was terrific, and although he did not like the look of them at first, Gord was soon glad for the white garments that swathed him. The Chepnoi had directed Gord to take his group along a route that was not the shortest path to the City Out of Mind, but was in all likelihood the safest. Because of the rolling terrain of what was once the Suloise Empire, there were places where the dust was fairly thin on top of the old landscape – and others where it was so deep as to be immeasurable or even impassable. So Gord took their advice, which was to go east for a short time to begin with, keeping the mountains on their left shoulder until they became accustomed to moving on the dust and otherwise coping with the environment.

Gord saw evidence of life in the wasteland almost as soon as their trek had begun. Of conditions farther out, he was not sure. The evidence of strange plants and small life here at the edge of the desert, however, made him suspect that tales of the area's absolute desolation were not wholly accurate. Then, when they came upon an actual pool of water, his suspicion became a known fact.

Dark-leafed plants grew low around the place where the blackish water spilled forth and ran into the powdery ground to the south. Here and there, wherever some crack or fissure permitted, trees and other normal-looking sorts of vegetation thrust upward. "It is said that the leather-leaf palms have tasty fruit," one of the nomads remarked as he gathered up several handfuls of hard, wooden pods. "Soak these for an hour, and see what happens."

They all followed suit, and then set about getting a supply of water to replenish their stores. The pool was filled with tiny particles of dark ash suspended in the water. A cloth quickly filtered the stuff out, however, leaving clear, drinkable liquid. Even the unfiltered water was not harmful, but removing the particles gave them more room for liquid in their containers. Everyone was glad for a chance to pause in relative comfort and unstrap their dust-walkers, even if only for a short time. As they relaxed, Achulka gave Gord and Leda a summary of his tribe's lore concerning the flora of this place.

The low trees which grow near the place where the brook disappears are called deathvision trees," he began. "One leaf chewed will give strange and portentous dreams and visions. Two leaves can kill, and three are deadly always. The deep green plants which grow around the edges of this oasis we call fatleaves. Singe them, and they provide food, although it is waxy-tasting and will make you sick in the belly if you eat too many. There are hairs on the leaves which make the skin itch and burn, but flame removes them quickly – just be careful not to char the whole leaf."

There were various sorts of cacti, brushy growths, and varieties of other plants here as well. Living around and among the plants were several kinds of insects, little birds, lizards, and jumping mice. All were colored in tones to match the area, ranging from pale gray to sooty black. "There is plenty of life here, Achulka," Gord said, looking around. "What is the great danger in going on into the middle of this waste? Anyone wise to the ways of such arid places can survive easily."

"Not so, Farzeel. Directly to the south, beyond this rocky area, the dust deepens, and there are no waterholes such as this one. Storms and thirst can easily kill all who venture out there."

"Nonetheless, yon are going," Gord said, voicing this partly as praise and partly as a point of fact.

The nomad shrugged. "You and the warrior-woman seem capable and determined, and you might be lucky as well. The welfare of me and my men is now a matter of kismet-"

A shriek broke up the conversation. One of the Al Illa-Thuffi warriors had walked over to examine a striped-leafed bed of little plants that had silvery fruit dangling beneath their leaves. As he approached these shrubs, the ash beneath him had suddenly shifted, and he sunk as if in quicksand. His cry brought the others, but without their special shoes they had to step gingerly to avoid suffering the same fate, and by the time they got to the site, the nomad had disappeared into the stuff.

"Poor Hammadan! He should have been more careful," another of the nomads cried, sorrow written plainly on his swarthy features. "I have never before seen such a terrible thing. Let us not go on!"

This tragedy brought on another round of doubts from the nomads, countered by arguments from Gord and Leda. Eventually the four remaining men agreed to continue accompanying the pair, but it took more promises of gold and gems and much convincing besides. And, instead of turning south at this point, the nomads demanded that they continue eastward along the mountains' edge to a southern arm of crags and hills where, according to Gord's map, another pool could be found. When they ran up against this finger of rock that thrust into the Ashen Desert, then they would turn and head in that direction – but they would not go south until they had to.

Although the easterly route would take them away from the supposed location of the City Out of Mind, Gord rationalized that it made sense to follow the high ground for as long as possible. First and foremost, of course, the nomads would have it no other way. But also, they all would gain more experience in desert travel during the diversion, and before they headed away from the mountains they would be able to replenish their water supply. Perhaps most importantly, the terrain around the spur of rock seemed likely to provide a means of relatively easy access to the heart of the desert. From the information the Chepnoi had given him, the young adventurer thought that there would be hills running southward from this area. Recalling the advice of the mountain people, Gord had noted for himself that the dust and ash was indeed much like water. The powdery stuff flowed and ran, filling low regions and lying thinly on high ground. So, the six survivors trekked east.

"If I could, Gord, I would turn back now," Leda said quietly one night. "Even now that I am fairly used to it, walking on these platters is murder."

Gord put his arm around her shoulders. "You handle the dust-walkers better than I do, Leda," he said, "and you're as tough as the leather they're made of. Whatever reason you have to be here, you'll make it. Why, girl, even your skin has darkened and become like part of the dusky world we travel in."

Leda snuggled closer to him. "I know, Gord. Even with my body covered in this cloth, I am getting darker and darker. My dreams are getting more vivid each night, too. 1 think that soon I'll recall everything – and that frightens me more than anything." Then she put her arms around his neck and kissed him. "Will you be here with me when I need you?"