The Eye of the Hunter (54 page)

But always they came back into dunes, the sands of the Karoo, the face of the mighty Erg.

Late in the morning of the fifth day of travel the normally reluctant camels began eagerly surging up a long dune ’mid unmistakable grunts of urgency. And when they topped the rise, the comrades could see why. “Green!” squealed Faeril, for in the near distance ahead rose a sweeping arc of low, stony mountains, and cupped in its embrace was an extensive palm grove: they had come at last to the Oasis of Falídii, some sixty leagues south of Sabra.

Hronk, rrrunk
, bellowed the camels.

“They smell the dates,” called out Reigo, “but I would have a bath.”

Thwacking his mount with the riding stick,
“Yallah, yallah!”
cried Reigo, then, switching to a dialect of Sarain,
“Tazuz et h’tachat shel’cha!”
and down from the dune loped the dromedary, pack camels running behind, needing no urging; and so ran all the camels, racing for the grove, as if afraid the ones in front would get there first and eat up all the dates.

As they galloped closer to the palm grove, Faeril could see that there were several mud-brick buildings clutched against the side of a broad, boulder-laden hillock. When she pointed them but to Reigo, “I see them,” he replied.

As they drew nigh, she could see that the buildings were relics, their roofs fallen in, some walls collapsed, the site abandoned. Though she knew not why, this revelation caused Faeril’s heart to hammer loudly in her breast.

* * *

As the hobbled camels grazed on fallen dates, the comrades wallowed in the great watering hole they found partially hidden under the solid-rock hillside, a pool sheltered by a broad overhanging ledge of stone. The basin was some eighty feet long and perhaps half that wide, the water ranging in depth from a foot or so to perhaps eight feet…and it was cool and crystal clear and pure. Spouting and diving down, Urus discovered a hole in the deepest part, and they speculated that the pool was fed by underground springs flowing down from the surrounding arc of low mountains.

“Perhaps the entire grove is fed by water from the hills about,” hazarded Halíd. “I can see the tracks of
oueds
threading on the surface. When the seldom-rains come, water is funneled down into this valley, disappearing into the thirsty soil. But the pool itself, I would guess that its water flows down underground slopes from the mountains above.”

“Yah hoi!”
called out Gwylly, splashing, “I don’t care
how
it gets here. Simply that it does is enough for me.”

* * *

They pitched camp, and as the afternoon began to wane they strode up to the ruins, ancient dwellings rising up the slope above. Made of mud brick, most of the buildings had collapsed walls, and none had other than a hole where a door frame once was, their lintels fallen, the walls above tumbled down. The same was true of window openings, their structures but a memory. Open to the sky, no remnant of roofs remained, and sand had blown in and collected. It was apparent that no one had lived herein for countless ages.

Up through the ruins they explored, finding nought but wrack. Higher they climbed, seeking an answer as to why the dwellers had abandoned the oasis, finding none. At last they came to the topmost structure, and peering through the fallen-down doorway, a sweeping glance showed nought but another sand-laden ruin. Yet in one comer—“Hoy!” called Gwylly, stepping inward. “What’s this?”

Lying half buried in the sand was a piece of curved metal.

Taking care that no scorpions were lurking beneath, Gwylly gingerly pulled it free.

The buccan turned about, showing his find to the others. Aravan stepped forward. “’Tis a vambrace.” At Gwylly’s puzzled expression, Aravan explained. “Armor worn on the forearm. And from the look of it, ancient.”

The others had gathered ’round, and Gwylly relinquished his find, returning to the comer to poke about in the sand as the vambrace was passed from hand to hand. When it came to Reigo, he looked at it carefully, then started to pass it on, but then jerked it back and held it at an angle to the sunlight streaming inward through the place where a window once had been. “
¡Oiga!
See the scrollwork. This is Vanchan!”

“Perhaps so is this,” said Gwylly, holding up a yellowed length of shattered forearm bone.

* * *

That night, as Reigo prepared to stand the first watch, Aravan handed the Man the blue amulet. “Wear this, Reigo, and pass it on to the next warder as well, and have them pass it on to the next and the next.”

Reigo slipped it over his head, then held the stone out to see, the leather thong threading through a hole in the small blue stone. “What is it, Aravan?”

“A stone of warning, Realmsman, and a stone of warding as well. Should it get icy cold, wake the camp.”

Watching the exchange, Halíd’s eyes flew wide, and he breathed,
“Magic!”
and Gwylly at his side nodded.

Reigo, on the other hand, raised a skeptical eyebrow. Nevertheless, he tucked the stone inside his
brussa
, next to his skin. “Why, Aravan? Why now? I mean, we’ve been standing watch all along and never needed it before.”

“This grove is too rich to be abandoned without cause, Reigo. It has all desirable things: water, date palms, forage, shelter. Too, I deem that the vambrace Gwylly found came from one of Prince Juad’s Men, or one of the Men of the expedition which came searching for him. And all disappeared.

“And there are the desert tales of haunted oases, perhaps with good foundation.

“For those reasons I give thee the stone, to wear and to pass on to the others.

“I will rest now, as Elves do, watching and sleeping at one and the same time. Yet thou wilt be the first line of warding…thou and the stone.” Aravan moved some distance away and sat with his back against a large rock, easing his mind into gentle memories.

* * *

When Gwylly’s turn came, the night was cool, but not as cold as in the open desert, where the temperature plummeted with the setting of the Sun. But in the grove the trees somewhat ameliorated the chilling effect of the coming of the dark, releasing heat into the surround. Yet Gwylly did not notice, so uneasy was he from Aravan’s words to Reigo, words that conjured up inchoate visions of a terrible threat that had led to the abandonment of the oasis….

Throughout the rest of Gwylly’s watch he paced about
the camp, his thoughts racing. In his mind’s eye he saw a lone Vanchan fleeing upward through the ruins, seeking shelter, a place of safety, a place to hide from the pursuing…
what?
No matter, for “it” or “they” found him, huddling in shadows in the corner, and they—
Stop it! You incredible fool! Next you know, you’ll go running screaming out across the desert, pursued by nought but bogles of the mind!

Gwylly tried to settle down, but several times he thought he heard noises out in the dark, and twice did he deem that the blue stone grew cooler, though not icy cold.

When he wakened Faeril for her turn at guard, he handed over the stone on the thong, reminding her of Aravan’s words as well, telling her to take special care, and should the stone chill, call for aid immediately.

Faeril smiled at his concern, yet she nodded in agreement, kissing him good night.

Lying down, Gwylly wondered how he could ever get to sleep, but next he knew, Urus was rousing him awake in the dawn.

* * *

As they rode from the grove, Aravan called from the rear. Turning about, the others saw the Elf commanding his camel to kneel, Aravan dismounting. He strode a step or two to a small mound, and scooping sand aside he revealed an ancient toppled obelisk, faint carving upon its flank. Casting a handful of sand back on the stele and then carefully brushing it away so that whatever sand remained lay in the groovings, Aravan revealed its message.
“Djado!”
he called out to the others. “It is a warning—
Djado!”

Halíd sucked in his breath between clenched teeth.
“Cursed!”
he hissed.

Gwylly twisted around to peer up at the Man. “What do you mean, cursed?”

Halíd looked down at the buccan seated before him. “It is said that at a place of
Djado
, Lord Death himself comes on his black camel, and if any are found at his
guelta
, at his watering hole, they will forever ride with him through the endless dark.”

A chill ran through Gwylly. “Oh, Halíd, how frightful.”

The Gjeenian reached out and squeezed the buccan’s shoulder. “Let us be glad, wee one, that the black camel was not thirsty last night.”

Aravan remounted his dromedary, and soon the place of
Djado
was lost to sight.

* * *

Far across the
Erg
they went, endless dunes of sand, the world a torrid furnace by day and a frigid waste by night, the ’scape ever changing, never changing, as across dune after dune they trekked. Pasturage became nonexistent, and the only water to be had was held in their
guerbas
, their goatskins. They fed the camels grain, but even so, there was not enough to sustain the grumbling, complaining beasts, and so, the animals began to draw on the fat stored in their humps. Faeril and Gwylly became concerned, and even though Halíd and Reigo and Aravan each assured them that the camels could bear up under such conditions, still the Warrows fretted. Yet onward they went across the sands, aiming for their next destination, marked only by a tiny spot on the reach of Riatha’s map.

Each day they rode till late morning and rested till mid-afternoon, then rode again until after dark. They camped on bare sand and spoke of grass and shade and running water and fields of green growing things, reminiscing. Too, they continued to pass Aravan’s blue stone from warder to warder throughout the night, and although occasionally it seemed to grow cool, it never became icy cold.

Five days they fared, crossing endless dunes, seeing nought but creeping waves of sand, but on the morning of the sixth day, once again the camels surged eagerly forward. “They smell water,” declared Reigo, giving his dromedary its head. Onward trotted the camels, and within a mile they came to a vast, shallow depression. Scrub grew in the wide hollow, and in the distant center were a handful of threadbare palms, parched, the fronds yellowish and sickly, among which they could see a mortared stone ring: it was the Well of Uâjii.

* * *

At Halíd’s nod Reigo dropped a pebble down the well, Gwylly and Faeril watching as it disappeared into the blackness below. It seemed an endless time ere they heard the
plsh
of the stone striking water.
“Waugh!”
exclaimed Halíd. “Five heartbeats deep!”

“How much rope?” asked Reigo.

“Two hundred sixty-six cubits,” Halíd answered, “four hundred feet.”

Gwylly looked up, astounded. “Four hundred— Who dug this well? Who would set mortared stones that deeply? Even beyond! I mean, if it’s four hundred feet to the water, then the bottom of the well is deeper still. Who would do such?”

Halíd and Reigo both shrugged, and Aravan turned up his palms.

“That much rope will be heavy,” commented Faeril, “even without a bucket of water at its end.”

“I will draw the water,” rumbled Urus, knotting together several lines.

Riatha gazed about as if seeking something. “I wonder…if a traveller came unto this well and had no line, no way to draw up the water, would he die of thirst at well’s edge? Look about: See ye winch, line, bucket? See ye a cover capping the well to keep the water from evaporating? Nay! Here is a riddle to read.”

Down went the bucket into the well, and Halíd’s judgment proved to be accurate, for Urus payed out one hundred and six ells of rope ere the bucket struck water. Weighted on one side, the bucket overturned, and Urus gave it suitable time to settle, then drew the filled bucket back to the top of the well. Time and again did the huge Baeran draw up water, replenishing first the goatskins and then pouring bucket after bucket into the trough at well’s edge. Each camel drank its thirsty fill, downing nearly twenty-five gallons apiece, taking considerable time to do so. Then bloated and grumbling, the animals were hobbled and set to grazing, for other than a small amount of grain, they had had nothing to eat in the past five days, and their humps were flaccid from lack of food.

Several more times did Urus draw up water, refilling the trough to the brim. Strong as he was, Urus was wearied, for he had hauled up bucket after bucket of liquid. “Last one,” he grunted as he started to hale up the final bucket. But it did not rise. “Caught,” he growled.

“On what?” asked Gwylly, peering downward into the blackness, seeing nought but the rope dwindling out of sight.

“Mayhap on the masonry, or on a rock.” Urus moved to the far side of the well, paying out slack. Then he drew upward, but it did not yield.
“Garn!”

Again Urus moved, then setting one foot against the well top—
“Unh!”
—he wrenched up and back, the bucket coming
free, the Baeran stumbling hindward, landing on his seat yet retaining his grasp on the line.

Gwylly laughed, and Aravan, smiling, said, “Here, Urus, let me.” The Elf took the rope from the Man and stepped to the wall of the well. As he hauled upward, his eyes widened at the weight of rope, bucket, and water, and he glanced at Urus in surprise. “Hai! Thou art indeed a strong one, Urus. Better had we dragooned a camel for this work.” Yet hand over hand the slender Elf continued to pull up the rope, the final bucket coming to the top at last, the side holed, water running out.

“Hoy!” exclaimed Gwylly. “Good that this was the last.”

* * *

They pitched camp near the well in the tattered shade of the shabby palms. As the seven rested, Aravan studied Riatha’s map. “We have come another sixty-seven leagues on our journey, one hundred twenty-seven leagues from Sabra in all. There are but twenty leagues left ere we reach the place where
kandra
was said to have grown, a day and a half of travel.”

“Dodona,” breathed Faeril.

“Let us hope,” added Gwylly.

Urus nodded but said nought as Riatha kneaded his back and shoulder muscles, for the labor of drawing water had been difficult.