Wanderling (Spirit Seeker Book 1) (13 page)

Tobin
nodded. “No one knows better than me how dangerous they can be. I will watch my
back.”

Burano’s
promise for good food did not go unfulfilled. That night Adala, Ollie, and
Tobin dined on fresh bread, a rarity in the village, with butter and a bucket
of berries. Much more flavorful than the usual dried meat with stale biscuits.

Adala
had hoped to get a moment to speak with Tobin, but instead they were treated to
Ollie’s life story before he was banished from Gerstadt.

Ollie’s
pale blue eyes focused into the distance. “Ah, those were the days. You see, I
was a strong lad, eager to build myself a name from thievery and popularity
with the women. My first love, Nadine was her name, told me I had to buy my own
cabin before she would have me. So I traded myself as a sailor aboard a pirate
ship to earn my wealth and earn her love.”

Adala
dug into the food, not listening from that point forward. Ollie spoke mainly to
himself as he ate, spouting exaggerated escapades on islands she was certain
did not exist. Tobin withdrew to his own thoughts as well, sipping at his cup
of water and rhythmically sharpening his sword, carefully keeping the blade
outside of her reach.

“Do
you know of Burano’s plans?” Adala said in a low voice to Tobin. “You sometimes
guard the door to his room. Have you heard that he seeks to make my brother
part of a desert-dweller prophecy?”

Tobin
froze, sharpening rock paused halfway down the edge of his sword. “Is that what
he believes?” he whispered.

Ollie
continued telling his stories. Adala thought he might be deaf the way he
remained oblivious to their conversation.

“He
seems to think my brother is prophesied to unite the desert clans against the
western shore. Against my home town. Have you heard of any prophecy about a
spirit guide leading the desert dwellers back to conquer the seaside?”

Tobin
sheathed his sword abruptly. “That’s his game with the desert dwellers? To get
them to take back Gerstadt? The man is insane!”

Adala
met his gaze, puzzled by the anger in his voice. “His scrolls tell of a spirit
or warrior guide who is supposed to unite the clans and help them take back the
fertile lands on the other side of the mountains. Does Burano want the desert
people to destroy Gerstadt, as some sort of vendetta against his banishers?”

“I
doubt he wants Gerstadt destroyed,” Tobin said. “More likely he wants to rule
it. That’s why he was banished, you know. His brand says H for hubris, which
can only mean that he was too ambitious. That’s what they say anyway. He either
bedded a woman far above his rank or he sought to assassinate the leader and appoint
himself Lord.”

“I
thought so,” she whispered. “He intends to use my brother as a tool to build an
alliance with the desert dwelling warriors and use them to overthrow Gerstadt.”

“But
how would he really get them on his side?” Tobin thought aloud. “They are
scattered, and they tend to hate outsiders even more than other clans.”

Adala
shrugged. “Do you know anything of the prophecy? Do you think they will believe
that my brother is some sort of uniting force, a sign that they will defeat
Gerstadt?”

Tobin
shook his head. “The desert people are always talking about returning to the
seaside eventually, but I don’t recall any specific prophecies about it. I
don’t think Burano believes in that sort of thing anyway. If he thinks your
brother fits into the prophecy, it’s for reasons of manipulating the desert
people, not because he has faith in the cause.”

“Will
it work?” she wondered, as much to herself as to Tobin. “Will the desert
dwellers rally behind him?”

Tobin
paused. “I really don’t know,” he said. “They are very spiritual people, and
incredibly superstitious. But as much as they may believe their prophecies,
they may decide that they hate Burano more. He does often infringe on the water
supplies and hunting regions of the nearer clans.”

“And
what if they decide they hate Burano more?” Adala asked.

“Then
they rally against him,” Tobin said. “Hope for the first option, trust me. It
would be ugly for everyone if they fight us.”

“That’s
encouraging,” she said. “So option one is they side with Burano to destroy my
home town. Option two: they kill us all.”

Tobin’s
dark eyes looked to the floor. “It doesn’t bode well for anyone, you know. I
will either die at the hand of my mother’s people, or be an accessory to
manipulating them and leading them into battle.”

Adala
had never before realized the complexity of Tobin’s position. She knew without
saying that he was sorry about her and her brother’s situation, even if it
enraged her to think that he did nothing to help them. But his hands were tied
more than she imagined, between two cultures at odds with one another. She
could see the weight of the stress in the lines on Tobin’s forehead, the way he
frustratingly sighed and ran his hands roughly through his dark curls as if
that would pull some sort of solution from his mind.

Ollie
slammed his jug on the table, jolting her out of her thoughts. “Have more
grog,” he hiccupped, “m-m’lady. You’re our guest tonight.” He took off his hood
to give a short bow.

Adala
pushed the drink away grimly. “Not tonight, Ollie. I don’t want a headache for
our journey tomorrow.”

Tobin
nodded. "We should all take it easy tonight. The good thing for you,
Adala, is that I don't think they will be able to keep you and your brother
separate, since we have to travel in a relatively small group. Probably fifty
or a hundred men. Burano will keep you with us, because Shem probably won’t
cooperate if you are not allowed to come as well. He's remarkably stubborn, for
such a gentle child. Something he must have gotten from you, I suppose."

"We
both get it from our father,” she confided. “He was an immovable authority
figure aboard the ship. No one could change his mind when he had it set.”

A
moment of silence passed as they were both lost in thought. "What is the
sea like?" Tobin's voice asked, hesitantly.

"It's
wonderful," she said immediately, surprised at her own words. "I miss
the open space and fresh air of the sea more than anything. In the ocean, you
have the spray of water and rocking of waves, not the dusty gale of the hills.
There are no paths to restrict you in the ocean, no real boundaries. No one to
tell you who you can and cannot be. You're just free."

"I
used to dream I would go to sea one day," Tobin said. "I was baffled
when I found out that it was a real thing. That there could be so much water in
one place. I think if I went there, I'd drink a barrel of water!"

"From
the ocean?" Adala burst into laughter.

"Don't
laugh," Tobin said. "You don’t know how scarce water is out here. We
have to ration it."

"It's
not that," she said, clutching her side from the pangs of laughter.
"You can't drink seawater."

"Why
not?" Tobin said. "Where do you get your water then?"

"We
have wells, just like you do here,” she said between gasps of laughter.

"Yours
must be an awfully wasteful people if they insist on digging for water when it
laps at their doorsteps," he said indignantly.

"If
you ever come to Gerstadt, I will take you to the wharf to drink the water. You
will know what I mean." She barely attempted to stifle her amusement.

Silence
hung between them. Adala thought about her words, about the idea of returning
to her town of origin. She liked to avoid thinking of her return, with the
future so uncertain.

"If
Burano succeeds in forging an alliance with your mother's people, the desert
nomads, what will become of my brother and me?" she asked, Jarod’s words
from earlier that day haunting her.

"Your
brother will be safe," Tobin reassured quietly. "The desert people's
allegiance would depend on his presence, assuming they believe in the prophecy
at all."

"And
me?" she whispered, her voice holding a hint of fear in it. "Will
Burano keep me around in order for Shem to cooperate?"

Tobin
cleared his throat. "I don't know what Burano has planned for him, or if
you will be needed for it."

Adala
licked her lips, mouth suddenly dry. "I thought so," she said.
"How long do you think we will be traveling in the desert?"

"Weeks,
maybe more. However long it takes to find a clan leader who will hear Burano's
claims about your brother. Then they will have to assemble all the tribes. I
don't know how many there are or how long it will take for them to unite. They
are scattered and don't usually form alliances with each other, much less with
Wanderlings. But they do take their prophecies very seriously."

She
was not a pious person, but right then she said a silent prayer for her
brother’s safety in the days to come. Her usual indifference towards the gods
was cast aside in light of the impending dangers of the future.

The
next morning, Tobin woke Adala before sunrise and thrust a bundle of clothing
into her arms. With weeks of riding ahead of them, she would need to do away
with modesty and just wear a man’s breeches and tunic.

"What's
this for?" She glared at the pile of material through sleepy eyes.

“Riding
clothes. We’re departing shortly.” He left to wait for her to change.

She
emerged dressed in the loose tunic and trousers, and Tobin was pleased to see
his choice of clothing from the soldiers’ supply shed fit her surprisingly
well.

When
they emerged outside, the street was packed with the bustling of men saddling
horses, filling giant water flasks, and embracing their families in a final
farewell.

About
a hundred men were in their travel party, each of them mounted. Sometime in the
night, the men had filled barrels of water and loaded them onto wagons pulled
by oxen. Another wagon was stocked with food. Other than that, the men carried
their supplies in packs tied to their saddles. No one carried armor, just the
clothes on their backs and some food and water.

"You
will be hard pressed to break away from the party and out-run us on your
steed," Tobin hollered to Adala over his shoulder, leading her to Dusty, a
malnourished looking burrow whose withers came only to his waist.

"You're
jesting, surely," she said with disgust.

"Not
at all," he assured her. "I have instructions to chain you to the
saddle for the first two days."

The
donkey lazily opened one eye to peer at them. Its fur was tan in color, but
patchy and dull. Its rat-like tail swished from side to side to keep the flies
away from a few blisters on its hind-quarters.

Adala
threw her hands in the air. "That animal is going to collapse of
exhaustion. If you chain me to the saddle, it will squash me when it
dies."

Tobin
grinned. "Nah, good old Dusty won't squash you," he paused, eyes
twinkling with mirth. "At the most, you may break your leg. But afterwards
at least I won't have to worry about you trying to escape."

"That's
what you think," she seethed, angrily shoving her foot into the stirrup
and settling into the saddle.

“The
pack behind you has your waterskin and blanket,” Tobin informed her as he took
iron shackles and clasped one end to her left ankle, then ran the chain beneath
the donkey's belly and latched the other end to her right ankle.

"My
weight is too much for this animal," she protested. “This donkey is barely
fit to carry a child.”

"Do
you ever stop grumbling?" he asked through an amused smile.

"Do
your people ever feed their animals?" she retorted.

"Only
when they can find food in this wasteland where your people banished
them," he shot back, turning to his own mare and climbing into the saddle.
Leyenne perked her ears at the excitement around her, trying to take in
everything. He patted her neck, then pulled out his scarf. “When it gets hot,”
he explained to Adala, “you will tie a scarf like this to protect you from the
sun.” He wrapped the light material around his head and then over most of his
face, leaving only room for his eyes to peek out. It was a wrap he had done
many times on long journeys, both with the Wanderlings and with the Roharian
people.

"You
look ridiculous," she said.

“Here’s
yours,” he said, tossing her a lightweight brown shawl.

"Why
can't you use a hat or something to keep the sun off your face?"

"Hats
blow away in the desert wind. You really should use that scarf, you know. Your
skin is going to burn if you don't cover up." Even his own browned skin
couldn’t take the sun in the heat of the day. Not once they got out of the
hills anyway.

"Please,
Tobin. I have lived under the sun my whole life. There's nothing the desert sun
can do to my skin that the ocean sun hasn't prepared me for." She stuffed
her shawl into her saddle bag.

"We'll
see," Tobin said, shaking his head.

“Tobin!
Adala!” shouted Boggs, trotting up on a broad gelding with Hal and Trigg close
behind.

“How
did you get stuck on the desert brigade?” Tobin asked, surprised to see them.

“We’re
coming along to care for the animals and help with cooking,” explained Trigg,
smiling so wide that his dimples showed.

“If
we do well, maybe we will be trained for combat soon, like you,” said Hal. “If
you’re a soldier now, we can be too.”

Tobin
thought about what Adala had said, about Burano wanting to make an alliance
with the Roharian and overthrow Gerstadt. He hoped for their sake that Trigg,
Boggs, and Hal would not become soldiers just in time to die in a siege battle.
He kept quiet, however, as the riders collected in the wide street. Burano
mounted his horse, standing in his stirrups and shouting, “Today we make history
and reach out to our desert brothers to make peace!”

Everyone
cheered, and the travel party began slowly riding out of the village, waved
onward by men, women, and children who were staying behind.

“It’s
like we’re heroes,” said Trigg, waving back.

Adala
sullenly muttered, “Yes, heroes setting out for their own slaughter
potentially.”

They
traveled slowly, following a narrow road that led over several hills heading
east. The sun shone in their eyes, and within a few hours, Tobin and the rest
of the men had to cover their faces to protect from the heat. The hills leveled
out into plains, and even Trigg grew too tired to speak much on the dusty
trail.

Tobin
made sure Adala drank enough water. He knew she wasn’t used to the desert. He
could see her shifting uncomfortably in the saddle and swatting away the flies,
and noticed that despite the sweat soaking through her tunic,  Adala
surprisingly refrained from complaining too much. He could almost see her
physically restraining herself from remarking about the heat or the pain from
riding in the saddle.

“Your
cheeks are getting pretty pink,” Tobin said as the sun rose in the sky. “Are
you sure you don’t want me to show you how to wrap the scarf? It will keep you
cool, too.”

“I’m
fine,” she responded mechanically, staring straight ahead with dull, glazed
eyes.

In
the late afternoon, she begrudgingly tied the thin linen shawl around her head
and face in a rudimentary wrap. The skin on the top of her hands blistered, and
when they stopped to make camp that night, Tobin and Boggs had to take her by
the arms and help her slide painfully from the saddle.

Tobin
winced to see how she struggled to straighten her legs after all day in the
saddle. His legs weren’t in wonderful shape either, but he had spent more time
in a saddle than her. Around them, soldiers gathered dried brush to feed to
their animals and to start fires. They led their horses to the water wagon at
the rear of the group or wiped the sweat from their coats with strips of stiff
leather.

"You
can rest here," Tobin said, laying a blanket on the ground and dropping
Adala's supplies onto it. "Boggs will start a fire while I care for our
animals."

The
sun sank below the horizon, and Tobin kept one eye on Adala as he removed the
saddles from Leyenne and Dusty. She sat in a heap and fixed her eyes towards
the center of the group, where five or six of Burano’s men tugged at ropes to
erect a tent, the only one in the encampment. Tobin knew that Burano would be
staying there, and likely Shem.

Over
Leyenne’s withers, Tobin caught sight of Shem being guided into the tent with a
bedroll under his arm and four guards behind him. Burano followed, with a stack
of maps and candlesticks.

Tobin
turned away from the camp, trying to think about anything but Burano and his
plans. It made him sick to think of it.

He
breathed in the fresh night air, relishing the open space around him. There
were still slight hills behind them, but flatter land lay ahead in the east.
Wide open spaces, wild and untarnished, with nothing to stand in the way.
People in the Wanderling village always talked about the desert as a wasteland,
but Tobin could see the life wherever he looked. A lizard darted behind a rock
in his path as he walked away from camp to make water, and he saw a beetle
crawling on a half-withered weed sprouting from a crack in the dirt. Little
shrubs and cactuses were everywhere, and even a withered tree here and there.
The desert was harsh, that much was true; difficult to survive off of. But it
was also wildly beautiful, and to Tobin it felt like home.

After
tethering Leyenne and Dusty to nibble on a shrub for the night, Tobin made his
way to the camp, where the men were beginning to gather around campfires. He
wound his way to where Adala sat staring into the flames of a fire with Ollie
at her side.

"Take
my flask, girlie," Ollie was saying in a slurred voice. "It will keep
you warm tonight."

"Keep
warm?" she said. "It's the desert!"

Ollie
just laughed, and Tobin allowed himself a faint smile. He leaned in so only
Adala could hear him. “There’s another blanket in your satchel, if you need
it,” he said. “And I will refill your water in the morning. It will be another
long day.”

"I
don't think I can stay in the saddle tomorrow," she confessed reluctantly
in a low whisper.

"Fold
one of your blankets and use it as a cushion in your saddle," Tobin
whispered back. "It will help a little."

Around
them, Boggs, Trigg, and Hal were debating how the desert dwellers find water.

"I'm
telling you," Hal was saying on the other side of their fire, "the
desert dwellers store water in humps of fat on their backs."

Tobin
held back a sigh.

"I've
seen one before," Trigg argued. "He didn't have a hump on his
back."

"That's
because you're looking in the wrong place," Ollie interrupted. "They
store the water up their arses, the same place where Hal gets his information
from."

Laughter
erupted in the group, and even Tobin chuckled. He appreciated Ollie’s natural
gift of lightening the mood while shutting down Hal’s ignorance.

"What
about you, Tobin?" Asked Hal. "Do you have any insights into your
people's savage lifestyle?"

"Not
at all," Tobin replied carefully. He had never wanted to draw attention to
his past and was not about to start now. "I share a bit of blood with them
and not much more.” Changing the subject, he added, “I need to go check on our
horses before I sleep. Ollie, aren't you supposed to be on first watch?"

Ollie
scrambled to his feet, and Trigg said, "I'm ready for sleep anyway. I'm
rightly sore from our ride!"

Adala,
next to Tobin, let out a short, exasperated laugh. “Sore,” she said. “That’s an
understatement.”