Shattered Destiny (35 page)

“No fair eating while the rest of us wait!” Jon said jokingly. The camel merely looked placidly at Jon, closing a lid rimmed with long lashes and clearly enjoying its dinner.

“Well, you go on and have your nasty old grass. Soon, the rest of
us will be eating fresh game.”

The camel snorted and shook its head.

Jon and Saemus walked back to camp. The girls had taken some of the vegetables Cook had given them and were cutting them up.

“What's wrong, Kaelin?”

Gwen noticed the girl just staring off into space. “I was just thinking about Moira. When we came back here, I was hoping she would be waiting for me.” She shook her head. “It's complete nonsense, I know. The little thing would have starved if she had done that.”

“You left her with your family. She is probably playing with little Malory as we speak.”

“I know. I was just hoping to see her.”

“When we are done here, there is no reason we can't go back to Heart Stone.”

“That's true! It will be so good to see everyone again. I bet they have repaired things in the village so well that it's like new by now.”

The Volgons returned with several rabbits each. They were disappointed by the scarcity of larger game.

“The climate is different here. It is drier, and it doesn't get as much rain. When we get closer to the Mishrae Hills, we will find bigger game,” Saemus explained. Taking charge came to him as naturally as breathing. Although he couldn't say exactly when it happened, he had taken on the role of instructor. The other Astran Chosen had always looked to him for answers while they had been under the tutelage of Master Brok. He was the most studious of all of them and always knew the answers to Brok's most obscure questions.

The smell of the rabbits roasting over the fire soon had their stomachs growling. They pulled the meat off the bones, hissing in pain but unable to wait for the meat to cool. It was juicy and succulent, flavored with the smoke of the fire. They helped themselves to the shoots and peppers Cook had provided. He had even sent along a whole sack full of his fluffy biscuits. They took two each, wanting to save the bulk of the food for their journey.

“I'm going to miss eating food of this kind.” Voilor looked longingly at the bones of the rabbits thrown to the side of the
campfire.

“Perhaps now that you are able to live above ground, the numbers of animals will increase,” Jon said around a mouthful of biscuit.

Voilor shook his head sadly. “You don't understand. The war with the enemy has killed off everything but the melgor, and even their numbers are few.”

“What sorts of animals did you used to have?” Gwen was saddened. She couldn't imagine Astra without all of the various species of wild life.

“No one remembers exactly. The tales we hear sound almost too good to be true. And it is difficult to explain what the animals may once have looked like. We have seen nothing like them, and therefore we don't have the words to describe them.

“Why not have the Kromins bring you some?”

The group looked at Jon as though he had grown wings and flew in the air like some giant bird.

“If they can use their craft to bring weapons to this world, why can't they use them to bring animals to your world?”

“How will they find them? They are all gone,” Voilor said.

“Those telepaths have been to a
lot
of worlds. Maybe they even know what wildlife you used to have and know of some elsewhere out there where they can grab some.” Jon gestured vaguely at the sky.

The Volgons were nodding slowly. Feeror grinned at the thought of hunting something other than the slow-moving, armored melgor.

“It's worth asking. Even if they say no, you're no worse off than you are now, right?”

“I wonder how close they are to us,” Gwen said.

“The telepaths? Hard to say. But hopefully they will be in the desert soon after we get there, if not before. I want to kill those blasted machines and be done with all of this,” Jon said grimly.

The sun set, and the group sat around the fire, lost in their own thoughts. Many were remembering their fallen comrades, wishing they could be there to share in the glory of defeating the enemy. Some were thinking of the future, which now seemed brighter and
full of promise. Gerok and Forka were hopeful that once the Mekans were destroyed, life on Gentra would get back to normal. Though they had been away from their home world for some time and had somewhat shaken the hold that the prophecy held over most Gentrans, they understood the fear and trepidation of the Masters at being unable to see the future.

Forka sat and watched the twin moons rise. His heart was torn. He missed his home world and part of him wanted to return. But a larger part wanted to return to Earth and continue to serve the Jhinn as their General. He smiled when he thought of his little mare. She had become such an important part of his life, and he felt lonely without her.
What do I have to go home to? My sires are dead, and my littermates don't know me.

“You should sleep. I will keep watch.” Gerok sat next to Forka on the partially rotten log.

“I was not keeping watch. Merely lost in thought.”

“Wondering how to tell the Masters you wish to live the rest of your days on Earth?”

Forka gave Gerok a sharp glance. He had not realized he was so transparent. “I had thought about it.”

Gerok grinned. He rather enjoyed this opportunity to gain the advantage over his friend. Forka was an enigma and had been most of their lives. The man had never complained during their arduous training. The others had thought him cold and heartless; in truth, he was quite the opposite. For all his outward calm, he seethed, worried, and fretted just as much as the rest of them.

“I have given thought to returning to Volgon. They will need help rebuilding their world.”

Forka snorted. “Wouldn't have guessed that would be your goal, as much time as you spent whining about getting back to Gentra.”

Gerok reddened. “The deaths of the Chosen rattled me. I thought the prophets would have figured things out. But it appears that we will have to win this battle without the prophets.”

“The Volgons will need a good leader. They have a long road ahead.”

“As will your people on Earth.”

The two sat in companionable silence until exhaustion drove
them to their blankets.

ASTRA

THE GROUP WAS UP EARLY
and began the journey to Yis. The Volgons were amazed by the vast expanse of grasslands before them. The amber stalks tipped with purple swayed in the gentle breeze and stretched as far as the eye could see.

“Do your people use this for food?” Voilor asked.

“No. The seeds are toxic. Only the steppe horses can eat them and not get sick,” Saemus explained.

Gwen hated walking through the grass. It was much taller than she was. She feared losing sight of the others and wandering lost for days amongst the tall stalks. She knew the prairie cats that lived in the Mishrae Hills often came down to hunt the steppe horses.

Gwen's heart raced, and she quickened her pace, certain she could feel their predatory eyes watching her.

She used the power to push the grass aside as she walked. It made her feel safer having a wider view of the surrounding area. But she envied the others their height. It would have been nice to see far into the distance.

The group reached Yis just as the sun was setting. The girls wanted to stay in an inn, but Saemus reminded them of their shortage of gold. “We need to save it for the return trip. We can stay
in the countryside nearby.”

“But we could use a bath,” Kaelin grumped.

“Bathe in the stream. We do not have the gold to stay at an inn.”

Kaelin groaned and stuck out her tongue at her brother. She knew he was right, but she wanted a bath all the same.

“Let's go find some freezing water to bathe in, girls.”

The other girls followed Kaelin to a nearby stream. There were no pools so they couldn't use the power to warm the water. In the swift-moving stream, the warm water would be carried downstream as fast as they could heat it up. They plunged in, the icy water taking their breath away as it prickled their skin like knives. Even Moylir sputtered and shivered in the frigid stream.

“I have been too long in this body. The cold should not be enough to affect me,” the Volgon woman said disgustedly.

“Oh, hush and hurry with the soap!” Keera shouted, giggling through her chattering teeth.

When they were dressed and had brushed their hair, the girls headed back to camp.

“How do we find a guide?” Forka asked as he and Saemus unloaded the camels for the night, giving them a good rub down. The beasts shook themselves vigorously and began ripping up the prairie grass. They chewed slowly, their heavily-lashed eyelids half-closed as they ate their dinner.

“I'm not sure. I only know this is where to find guides. I have never actually had to do it before.”

“We shall go into town tomorrow and see if we can hire a Nomad to lead us where we need to go.” Forka hoped they would find what they needed. He did not like the idea of attempting to cross the mountains and brave the desert. But he knew they would have no choice if they could find no one willing to lead them safely through the Blasted Lands.

Forka, Jon, and Saemus left for Yis at first light. The vendors were setting up their carts and wagons near the edges of town to catch travelers. Saemus used some of their money to buy some roasted meat and fresh bread. The men shoved the steaming meat between the bread and wolfed it down.

“There are Nomads everywhere. I suppose all we have to do is
start asking.” Saemus licked the juices from his fingers.

Saemus introduced himself to one Nomad. As soon as he mentioned they were looking for a guide into the Blasted Lands, the man shook his head, put his hands up, and left hurriedly.

The same was repeated for a dozen others that the three men approached. The minute they mentioned wanting to go into the desert, the Nomads ended the conversation and left without another word.

“Why won't they help us? Blast them back to the desert!” Jon was frustrated and tired of standing in the growing heat of the day.

“They're scared.”

The three turned to face a beefy man leaning against the side of the blacksmith's barn. His bare arms rippled with muscle. He spit in the dirt, then continued to chew the wad of tobacco in his lip.

“Scared of what?” Saemus asked, fearing what the man would tell him.

“There is something strange going on in the Blasted Lands. More and more of the Nomads come each day. Most won't say why they have come, and others speak of things that no one here understands.” The man spit again. He wiped his arm across his dirty face.

The three shared a look. They knew what had the Nomads so frightened.

“Surely there is someone who will take us for the right price,” Saemus said firmly.

“I wouldn't count on it.” The blacksmith walked back into his barn.

“We have to keep looking. We can't leave here without a guide.” Saemus sighed and started querying again.

It wasn't long before word of the three strangers and their request spread through the village. Where once there were Nomads everywhere they turned, suddenly they were nowhere in sight.

“Where have they all gone?” Jon was ready to give up and head back to camp. He thought that with the help of the Kromins and perhaps the use of magic they could find the oases.

“They're avoiding us,” Forka said in a tone that said he spoke the obvious. “Why can't we just wait for the Kromins to arrive and
simply have them direct us to where the Mekans are? They should be able to see the oases from their ships.”

Saemus shook his head. “It's not that simple. It is a rule that no one enters the desert without a guide. If we get caught without one, the Nomads will kill us. Even people that have knowledge of where the oases and outposts are located must always have a guide when they travel.”

“That rule may be the death of them,” Forka said.

The three continued to ask for a guide until near dark. The Nomads continued to refuse their request and the villagers refused to help. Just when they thought they were going to have to go back to the campsite and tell the others they had failed, a Nomad stepped from between two buildings, giving them quite a fright. He refused to speak. He indicated that he would follow them. Saemus shrugged at the others and started for camp.

The Nomad did not say a word. The three men tried to get him to answer simple questions, but he stayed silent and kept the cloth covering his nose and mouth in place. He maintained his silence until they arrived in camp.

The man unwound the cloth from his face. His skin was tanned dark from years in the sun. It was difficult to tell what his body might have looked like since he was covered head to toe in yellowish cloth robes.

“Why do you wish to go to the Blasted Lands?” His voice was soft and yet the tone was authoritative and demanded an answer.

No one spoke – instead they all looked to Saemus. They were not sure if this was part of some ritual, or how to best answer without offending the man.

“We can stop what is harming the Blasted Lands,” Saemus answered. The time for hiding the truth was past. He knew that if he tried to lie to this man, the Nomad would leave and they would never find someone to take them into the desert.