prissi

Even though, they only ride during the days, I suggest listening to Lorenna McKennitt's Night ride across the Causcasus.

The next day was like the day before. We broke camp at the crack of dawn and followed the faint trail, eating our breakfast on the move. A double challenge for me and Larina, breathing and eating, not to mention the time it took for the sore muscles to dull to just heavy legs. I was worried about how much I was going to buff out from this exercise. But there was nothing I could do about it, only the hope that my body had its final shape by now.

There was no source of water all morning. And midday passed. The horses could go no further and I was parched too. So I finally resorted to the dreaded waterskin. Vinegar-like wine was added to kill the germs. It did not help the taste. Stale, lukewarm, vinegary water, which still tasted of dead animals from the leather, provided little relief from the torturous trek. For the horses, a leather sheet was laid on the ground and water poured over it so that they could drink as well. I wondered how we would cross a desert if we had to carry water for the horses.

And this was no desert. The heathland had slowly given way to savannah, grassland with occasional large trees. A few times I saw some deer-like animals far away in the haze. Flocks of birds were the only other animals, no squirrels or other rodents, at least during the day. Still, there must be water somewhere. How else would the big trees and the occasional flock of deer or birds survive?

And there was no more trail: We were simply heading southwest.

The savannah meant an end to the thickets, its softer, smoother ground was warmly welcomed. Compared to the uneven roots before, it felt so much better on my paws. Larina was less fortunate, her heavy body stood on smaller hooves than my broad paws and so sank a little more into the ground: She had to work harder on the grass. The same was true of the other horses. I was also happy with the slower pace. Soft ground and a slower pace, it was almost a tiny bit relaxing.

In the afternoon, we came to a stretch of forest that ran from east to west. After a short search, we followed a deer path, Prince John, Larina and the guard with their swords drawn. In less than a hundred paces, we reached the bank of a shallow, half-dried river. A shout of joy escaped me. Everyone looked at me as if I were mad. But they smiled too.

The guard and Prince John slashed at the muddy water with their swords as they crossed in front of us, scaring (or killing) any predators that might be lurking in the yellow water. Of course, the water did not taste good and was full of sand. But it was water, so we filled all our waterskins. When we drank from them later, the sand would have settled on the bottom.

On the other bank, there were two hundred paces of muddy forest and then back to the savannah. In the forest, I picked some leaves, following the horses' example. They were thick, but rather bitter, even after chewing for a while. The grass in the savannah was a little better but not filling.

In the evening we camped under one of the mighty trees. Flocks of birds flew up from its branches, protesting loudly at our arrival. That evening everything tasted of sand, water, carrots and even cabbage leaves. The fine dust was in my claw sheaths too, itching and burning. But I was so tired I fell asleep before I had swallowed the last cabbage leaf. As punishment, I woke up with a sour taste in my mouth.

Today's morning was not as bad as the days before. Whether it was the slower pace of yesterday afternoon or just the routine settling in, whatever the reason, I was happy to start the walk without any pain, no stiff legs and no aching muscles.

Larina was not so lucky, the savannah was more demanding for her and the other horses. She groaned and even hobbled at first, but then carried on normally.

The landscape remained the same all day, a gently rolling savannah in all directions. Deer tracks had led us to a waterhole in the morning, just a literal hole with muddy water. I hoped the diluted wine would be strong enough to kill whatever was in the awful-tasting water.

Soon, a hot wind came up, enough to raise the fine dust. The savannah got a reddish mist which burned in my eyes.

The water in my waterskin ran out in the early afternoon and I had to ask Prince John for more. He also gave me two more empty waterskins to carry for the next time. I was again worried about crossing the desert when water was so scarce even here.

We rested in the late afternoon near another muddy waterhole. The prince and the guard made a small fire to roast their jerky, and the clerics roasted their vegetables. I contributed a few carrots. More important was the tea, which tasted so much better than the water from that waterhole.

The wind had died in the night. In the clear morning air, hills appeared in the distance. We would have to cross them to reach the desert.

Soon after sunrise, the warm wind picked up again and grew stronger as the sun rose. The dust made the hills disappear and sucked all the water out of my body. It was a day of walking, sweating and searching for water. Before lunchtime, I had run out of water and my tongue was swollen and stuck in my mouth. I was already having second thoughts about Tarik's rescue and we were not even halfway there.

Finally, Brother Tsuwangli found a muddy hole that only gave water after you removed some mud from it. It took a long time to fill all the waterskins and water the horses. But the break was good for us too.

When the wind died down in the evening, the contours of the hills slowly emerged from the haze. They too had grown into mountains. And it would take us another day to reach the foot of them. But they were soon vanishing in the dusk.

I was still too tired to dream. The last sounds I heard were a night bird hooting and the horses eating their grass.

The morning was the new normal. Instead of sore muscles, itching from sand everywhere, really everywhere, was the main complaint. Followed by too little of the barely drinkable water.

Not much later we found another waterhole, more like a real spring. The water was clear and without any questionable aftertaste, as good as it gets. I could even wash my face and cool my head. The horses drank as much as they could, and we carried on with renewed energy. The small brook that fed the spring soon disappeared into muddy sands.

We would reach the foot of the mountains tonight. Their lure had taken hold of everyone and we picked up speed. Then trees appeared in the distance. They belonged to the banks of another stream, a real river, more than 100 paces wide. Prince John explored it, and it was so deep that even the head of his black stallion was barely above the water.

We rested before attempting to cross. Prince John, the guard and Larina ate their last meat pies, the clerics their vegetable pies. I was also offered a pie. The filling had gone a little sour. Still, it was a nice change from cabbage and carrots. With all the pies gone, there was no food left to spoil with water. Now it was up to Larina to carry all the saddlebags on her head to the other side. No challenge with her now strong arms and big warhorse body.

She took off her uniform for the crossing. Despite the tan line, her breasts were the most conspicuous. I think they had swelled in response to Larina's body image. They looked very exotic with their black nipples from the fusion with the horse. And I was not the only one ogling them.

At the deepest part of the crossing, the water came up to Larina's neck. That meant the white cleric and I would have to swim.

The guard and the prince took off their uniforms and put them in the saddlebags that Larina would carry next. The rest of us were happy to have our clothes washed while crossing. I swam and dived, happy for the chance to wash away all the sand and some of the stress. The others waited for me at the other bank, impatient, pressed by the upcoming dusk.

On this side of the river, the land was greener and thick forests covered the hills. And parallel to the river was a faint trail running east-west. We followed this path westwards.

We spent the evening by the river. Even a few horseflies did not dampen my enthusiasm, the water was more important. Plenty of water meant an evening swim for me, the others stared or looked doubtfully.

I was in a good mood that evening after the swim and decided to share my bottle of wine. Prince John had already opened his barrel at the last village and used the rest to kill the germs in the waterskins. So my wine was much appreciated and even blessed by the clerics. It certainly raised that sour, vinegary liquid above its proper rank.

* * *

As usual, we started at sunrise and followed the path westwards, the mountains to the left and the river to the right. Sometimes the river came very close and the path was just a narrow ledge.

I had one cabbage left after breakfast and chewed one of the last carrots. Dried and wrinkled in the dry climate, they looked more like chewing gum. But the trail had to go somewhere. After mid-morning, the hill receded a little further from the river, and we reached irrigated fields. Soon there were even flooded fields, taking our path further away from the river. And then we saw the village.

Many fields were freshly planted or recently harvested. But nobody was around. Even closer to the village, at the point where I could clearly see the small, low huts with their whitewashed mud walls and small window slits, there was still no one between the houses. I began to wonder if this village had also been abandoned recently.

Finally, as we walked between the houses, the first villagers heard us and rushed out, curious to see who had travelled in the heat of the day. But their reaction was surprising. "Sheb'ets," shouted the first, throwing himself on the ground, sitting on his knees, his head resting on the back of his palms. The rest of the villagers followed suit, children being forced to the ground. I wondered if we were seen as bandits, ready to plunder the village. But their pose was rather submissive.

We stopped. Everyone looked to Brother Tsuwangli, who knew these lands best. He shrugged just enough for us to see, dismounted and looked around for someone who might be the village elder. Then he knelt beside him and whispered. The elder pointed to me. So I sat on my paws next to Brother Tsuwangli and bowed as well, even getting down on my hands close to the head of the village elder. "Hello, I am Countess Kiara of Earth and Litra," I said, pretty sure that my words did not matter since no one in this village would understand Kren.

The elder raised his head and stared straight at my best smile. He looked frightened.

"Yal'gal," Brother Tsuwangli said, and I repeated, "Yal'gal." After these many language lessons I did a very good imitation.

"Yal'gal al glad'is el kalal!" The elder spoke a strange language, certainly not Kren and not Kwal; it was melodic, but with guttural sounds. I pointed to Brother Tsuwangli, "Brother Tsuwangli speaking for me," and nodded to him, hoping that this would be understood here.

Brother Tsuwangli was not very fluent in their language. Even I could hear the difference. But he got the message across. The elder raised his head slowly. I kept mine as low as his, trying to appear as non-threatening as 40 stones of an overgrown, fanged squirrel could appear.

"Hold out your palms," Brother Tuswangli whispered.

So I did, and then I turned my forepaws out as well. The hind paws were needed for balance.

The gesture had a great effect. The elder turned his hands in the same way and soon all the villages were still kneeling but looking at me with their heads and hands turned palm up.

"What?" I whispered to the brother. He shook his head just enough for me to see. Great, clueless too. Well, first I took the elder's hand lightly between my thumb and index finger. He flinched a little but did not take his hand away. Now I raised my upper body and nudged him to join me. He looked at me questioningly but rose nevertheless. Now we were both standing, facing each other, while I was still holding his left hand. Then I let go, not sure if he would kneel again. He looked down and stepped back a little, still very frightened. This would not do!

So I turned to a mother with three children nearby, still kneeling like the others, their heads on their palms. She was trembling, but the only relief I could offer was to act quickly. I picked up the middle child, maybe four or so, and sat her on my back. She sat there very still, but with her eyes wide open, not daring to make a sound. I picked up two other young riders and walked with them through the village in complete silence and back to the others. There I sat them down, let them hug my foreleg and walked them back to their parents.

Then I picked up three more children and took them with me. When the second round was over and the children were with their parents and smiling, the villagers relaxed. I was clearly so far off script that any further deviation from whatever script they were following did not matter.

I chose an older girl, close to adolescence. I took her hand and gently pulled her to her feet. "Yal'gal," I said, pointing at me, "Kiara.

The girl understood. She bowed, "Yal'gal al glad'is," and pointed at herself, "Kis'lal'gla.

"Kis'lal'gla," I almost bit my tongue, I had too much tongue for this language. But my mind was well trained in parroting new words by now. "Riding," I said, nodding and lifting her onto my back. By now she knew what was going to happen and cooperated. I signalled for Brother Tsuwangli to follow. We stopped just outside the village. "Kis'lal'gla," I repeated her name, smiling. "Brother Tsuwangli speaking and asking what happening."

On my back, she towered over Brother Tsuwangli. I stood still (well, my tail moved to cool me off) and the brother spoke to her.

Finally, he turned to me: "They think you are a mythical creature, a Sheb'ets. Returning to kill the last immortal god and punish the sinners. And those who haven't sinned."

"Religion?" I asked, having only gotten a little from the brother's quick explanation. The brother sighed, answer enough for me.

"And still thinking?"

The brother spoke to her again.

"I have persuaded them that you are not a human slaughtering Sheb'ets," he sighed, "but that is all I can do. I asked her to ask if we can stay here or if they want us to leave."

"Thank you." I turned to the girl on my back and smiled carefully, not showing my fangs. I sat down and motioned for her to get off me. She understood and jumped off my back. "Kis'lal'gla," I smiled, "Kiara waiting here." And then I pushed her gently towards the village, nodding.

"Kiara - al glad'is," she said smiling at me, then turned and ran back to the village.

Now we had to wait and hoping she had got the right message. The brother explained that indeed he didn't speak the local language. But it was close enough to Loma to make himself understood. And then he tried to explain to me again what he had learned, but in simpler words. Arriving with clerics played well with the myth of the Sheb'ets. And choosing children underlined the aspect of punishing sinners, because children were generally considered to be free of sin. You cannot be punished for something you do not know better. But then, taking the children was not what a Sheb'ets was expected to do. This had confused them, hopefully enough to believe me that I was not here to kill everyone. Or at least be confident enough to host us since we were talking about a religious myth.

In the distance, the villagers slowly rose as it became clear that I would not return without their consent. Prince John and the others still stood by their horses, not moving, waiting as well.

The villagers slowly gathered, as far away from the rest of our party as possible. They had finally come to an agreement as the girl ran towards us. I took it as a good sign.

Panting, she knelt and rested her head on her palms. "Sheb'ets Kiara, al glad'is." But then she lifted her head, and encouraged by my smile, stood up and spoke quickly. "We can stay," the brother whispered a short summary.

"Kis'lal'gla al gladis," I smiled and patted her on the back, inviting her to ride back. She hesitated, but then came and rode me back to the village. The rest of our group was happy to see that something had changed for the better. Brother Tsuwangli gave them a brief digest, and then we went to the real village elder for a formal introduction. The girl had apparently been promoted to Sheb'ets wrangler and was standing between me and the elder the entire time.