After Oasis promised to kill me, Geraln and I joined up with Davod and the two men we’d met in the pub.  Together we took the road towards Carthia so we could all die there instead.

For several hours, we hiked as the road led us up, then down, then up again, twisting around the side of a mountain, then leveling off again as it led us through forests thick with pine trees broken by huge piles of dirty snow.  We crossed an old stone bridge that arched over a deep ravine with the sound of crashing water below us.  We climbed up some more, and the road beneath our feet was strewn with rocks of a multitude of colors and shapes, only to return to the glittery gray-gold dirt with tufts of yellow grass that filled the air with mountain sage.

Ales found a nice piece of pyrite with several tiny, golden cubes growing out from a marbled mass of white and beige.

We came to a gully on the right with a roaring creek in the trees just beyond and a steep incline on both sides.  Several trees had been torn to shreds by snow drifts from ages past and left there, bleached gray by the sun, with piles and piles of white-and-black speckled rocks strewn about.  Up ahead, the road climbed sharp above the treeline, where rocks were broken up by ice and snow in the jagged peaks beyond.  Above us, the sun had passed its apex some hours prior, and the wind coming off the high ground was cold.

“We should camp here,” I said.

Ales looked at Faren, then turned to me and spoke.  “We’ve still got hours of daylight left.”

Davod stopped and looked around.  “Caleb is right.  Fresh water, ample wood, shelter from the wind, enough forage around here to support game, it won’t get no better than this.  Geraln, you and Caleb go find us some dinner, I’ll teach these two how to set up camp.”

Ales protested, “I know how to set up a camp, man!”

Faren laughed and spoke through an easy smile.  “It’s alright.  We’re going to need a lot of wood, so there’s three of us to gather it up.”

Ales sucked his teeth.

Geraln and I set our packs down, strung our bows, and set off up the hill to the left of the road through a thick grove of pine trees.  The hill wasn’t too high, and we began our descent into the valley beyond before climbing up the other side.  I passed my fingers along the soft leaves of a dmusu, whose delicate purple flowers showed no sign of being chewed recently.

“What’s gotten into you?” Geraln said.  “You’ve been morose ever since we left.”

I shrugged him off.  “It’s nothing.”

He stretched his arm out and waved it across the empty forest around us.  “It’s just us, man.  Are you scared of what awaits us in Carthia?  We all are; you knew about that when we left Gath.  Something’s changed.  Is it Oasis?  You know she’s not coming after you, right?  She’ll probably calm down, realize it wasn’t your fault, and move on.”

“It’s not that.”

“Well, I know you didn’t get anywhere with her.”

I squinted my eyes and gazed at him.  “Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t.  You don’t know that.”

“Hah!” Geraln huffed.  “I do know.  Sage told me a few things; trust me, you never had a shot with her.”

“What did she tell you?”

“Private things I’m not at liberty to repeat.”

“I see,” I nodded.  “Well, it’s not that.”

We resumed our trek through another pine grove before coming to a small clearing with tall green-yellow grass just below a steep rock jutting out of the dirt.  At the base of a giant boulder I found another patch of dmusu and knelt to get a closer look.  Teeth markings on the stalks had dried, but there was no sign of new growth buds yet.

Geraln looked at it and nodded.  “It wasn’t your fault, man.  You did the best you could.”

“I know that!  Dune’s own stubbornness cost her her life.”

He looked away as though talking more to himself, and I was merely there overhearing him.  “I’m just going to say this, but those people in Ulum killed her.”

“What do you mean?”

He turned to me.  “All the doctors they went to, they all turned them away.  She could have… should have gotten care days before we found them.”

“I’m sure if they’d had more money…”

Geraln spat.  “Yeah, the money.  Keep telling yourself that.”

I was about to respond when he stood still, pointing at a nearby pine tree.  There, caught in the bark were a few strands of white hair about knee-height.  We looked around and saw, trailing off to the right and up a steep hill, a few leaves looked as though they’d recently been disturbed, so we followed that.

“I was looking her over,” I confessed.  Memories of being scrubbed down in the bath while Anyanna gazed longingly at my cock flirted with my mind.  I couldn’t tell him.  That was a precious secret that belonged to me and her alone.  So, I kept it on Oasis.

Geraln laughed.  “You and everyone else, man!  She’s not allowed to have a body like that and hold it against every man who notices; it wouldn’t be fair.”

“It’s not even about that.  I just… it’s not fair to Sarina.”

Geraln stopped and looked at me wide-eyed.  “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Look,” I said.  “When I was in Kyoen, I… misbehaved.  A little.”

Geraln laughed.  We kept walking.  The hill climbed sharply as it wrapped around a pile of giant boulders, leading to a small recess filled with islands of pine trees amid waves of yellow grass and dirty snow drifts.

“Look.  When I got back, Sarina… couldn’t… with me.  Not anymore.  It’s taken me years to try and build that back with her, and I can’t put her through that again.”

“If that’s true, why did you kiss Zania?”

“That was…” I shrugged.  “I mean…”

“Why did you kiss Melyce last winter?”

“Look…”

“Why did you go down on Juliara?”

“OK.  So that was… I really hadn’t intended…”

“Why did you let Talys stroke your cock, while you were kissing her, with everyone watching, including Sarina?”

“You know, you get caught up in the moment…”

“Why did you kiss Gueneveive while Sarina was waiting for you to make love to her?”

“That was a mistake.”

“Look, man.  I don’t know how else to tell you this, but Sarina is done with you.  Learn from it, let her go, and move on.  Think about it this way, you get a clean slate.  Start fresh.”

Up ahead, in the meltwater pool of a pine island, I saw another patch of dmusu that looked freshly chewed.  My heart dared let a pang of hope slip through, and I knelt in the shady mud to examine.  The stalks bore teeth marks, and the wound on the plant was still moist.  “This is fresh.  And there are prints in the mud, look.”

Geraln scanned the hill around the island, then squinted as he studied the far side.  “That way.”

A faint trail of pressed grass wandered off from the island of pine trees, with the occasional clod of mud clinging to stalks of yellow grass and still moist.  We followed that to a small pile of black pebbles.  I knelt to investigate, then looked up at him and smirked.  “Here, pick one of these up.”

“I’m not picking up that shit!”

“It’s your turn.”

He shook his head.  “This is our first droppings.  We haven’t taken turns yet.”

“Well then I get the first shot.”

“Why do you get the first shot?”

“Come on and test the poo, then.”

Geraln threw his hands up and looked away.  “First shot is yours.”

I pressed one finger into a small pebble.  Geraln winced.  “That’s disgusting!”

“It’s still warm,” I whispered, then wiped my finger on the grass.

We stepped quietly along the embankment until we came to a ledge.  Down below, sparse trees dotted a small basin where a trickle of meltwater gurgled as it tumbled over rocks.  Just beyond, beside a steep drop, a small, fluffy white ram was busy tugging at a worn canvas sack that had snagged in a dead tree.

I whispered, “about two-hundred-twenty yards would you say?”

“Looks about right,” he whispered back.

With that, I nocked an arrow and drew.  I took careful aim when Gerlan whispered, “look at that crosswind!”

Before his words could register in my mind, I loosed, only to watch my arrow fly upwards, then take a sharp left-hand turn and disappear down the ravine on the far side.  I’d missed so badly that the goat didn’t even notice he’d been shot at.

“Amateur!” Geraln smiled.

“I didn’t see it!”

“Whatever, man.”  He nocked an arrow, drew, and took careful aim.

“Watch out, there’s a crosswind.”

“No shit!” he laughed.  “Where do you want it?  The heart?”

“Nah, he’ll jump down that ravine.  Get him right in the back of the skull.”

Geraln smirked.  “That’s extra.”

“In that case, shave his balls while you’re at it.”

At that he cracked up laughing.  The ram continued to tug at the bag, nearly ripping it from its place, unaware of what awaited him.  Geraln finally calmed down, let out a few more chortles of laughter, then took a deep breath and loosed.  His arrow went up and to the right, following the mountain slope before catching the crosswind and falling on top of its mark.  I could tell even from where we stood that the broadhead had split the spine right at the base of the skull, felling the beast in an instant.

We climbed over the ridge and saw how steep the drop was.  Geraln jumped down while I stood with my next arrow nocked, looking around.  He turned and looked up at me.  “You coming?”

“You go.  I’ll watch for cougars.”

He nodded and made his way across the basin, stepped over the creek, and reached our ram before I followed.  By the time I made it to where he was, he’d already tied the beast’s hind legs and hoisted him up a tree branch.

“You want to know what Sage told me?” he said.  “About Carthia?”

No.

“She said that two summers ago, they called up five men from her village.  Five.  The letters came one by one.  One guy didn’t survive the road in, she said.  Then another two weeks later was killed in battle.  Then another, then another, and then another.  By winter, they’d all been killed.  You want to know what else?”

“Not really.”

“You remember that one Sarina told us about where she was being chased through the forest by giant lizards?  That.  Sage said that before he died, one of the men wrote saying they had giant fucking lizards in Carthia.”

I shrugged.  “Probably just alligators; they have them in Kyoen.  I can’t imagine a Saeni had ever seen one before.”

“OK, sure.  Point is, I don’t want to go to this fucking place.”

He wasn’t alone in that.

Geraln and I worked together to prepare our kill.  He slit the belly open and gutted the carcass, while I peeled the hide away, being careful to keep it in one piece.  Then, he reached into a pocket and pulled out a small, brown paper bag.  “Close your eyes.”

“Wha?” I did as he asked.

“Smell this.”

Right away, my nostrils lit up from the fire of hellroot, the leading instrument in a symphony of spices.  I looked.  Inside the paper was a generous amount of red powder intermixed with a healthy array of spots of colors.  “Is this the same stuff Melyce showed us?”

“Hell yeah, man!  Sage said they mix it right in her village.  It’s got hellroot…”

“Of course.”

“Garlic, oregano, dmusu, nice pepper, salt, and believe it or not, powdered tomato.”

I spoke in a solemn and dignified tone and bowed to the ram we’d just killed.  “And with this, we honor our dear friend.”

Gerlan laughed and began to slather the seasoning all over the meat.  We worked together, pressing in, rubbing the spice all over, in-between muscles, inside, outside, along the neck, until the whole carcass glowed a ruddy shade of orange with globs of moistened spice throughout.  We made deep slits into the large muscles to ensure it was incorporated through.  After that we washed our hands in the creek and wrapped him up in a canvas bag, dumping in the remnant of the spice before tying it shut.

“You’re carrying him,” Geraln said to me.

“Why do I have to carry him?”

“Because you missed.”

I sucked my teeth.  “Fine.”

In the distance to the east, a snow-capped triangle of a peak dominated the horizon, painted a bright amber by the late-afternoon sun.  To the west, that same sun crept beyond a giant set of molars leaving them in the muted blue of shade.  With the sun promising to dip below the horizon soon, night had reached its fingers through the prison of daytime to catch weary stragglers in its icy grasp.

It was a good half hour for us to make it back to camp.  By the time we got there, the others had assembled a circle of stones for a campfire with a generous amount of wood piled up.  Around this, they’d arranged some logs padded with blankets and covered the ground with woven mats.  Beyond this, three tents had been pitched.

Davod emerged from behind a tree with a generous heap of branches, and set them in a pile beside where we would rest, then looked up at us.  He took note of the sack I’d slung over my shoulder and nodded with a satisfied grin.  “What did we get?”

Geraln answered for me.  “A young ram.  Your boy Caleb here can’t shoot through a crosswind, either.”

I turned to face him.  “You had to tell him, didn’t you?”

He laughed.

We set up the meat on a spit, and we all settled down to relax.  I leaned back against a log with a blanket over my body, allowing my toes to peek out from under the cover and reach all the way up to the campfire.  Geraln gave the spit a good half-turn and poked at the meat, and the thought passed through my mind that he could very easily die when we got to Carthia.

Davod asked him, “how’s it coming along?”  He could die, too.

“Got at least another hour.”

So could I.

Ales lifted up a blanket to cover his shoulders and shook his knees, and Faren went into his backpack.  I watched as he rummaged through, then pulled out a small burlap bag tied with a string.  He opened it and pulled out a small, wooden sculpture in the shape of an orca, painted in black and white lacquer, with its tail wrapped around a tiny, wooden bowl.  He then reached into the bag and pulled out a mass of fuzzy green florets, holding that in the palm of one hand while breaking it apart with his fingernails.

I leaned in to get a look.  “Is that what I think it is?”

“What is it?” Davod looked.

Faren grinned and glanced at him through droopy eyes.  “Happy cabbage, my friend.”  He then picked up a tiny black seed and tossed it away.

“What if that grows up here?” I said.

Faren glanced over his shoulder, then turned back to his work.  “Then future generations will be sent to die with something to ease their journey.”

Ales nodded.  “How thoughtful!”

Faren laughed, filled up the pipe, and packed it down with his thumb.  Then, he plucked a twig from the blazing fire, put the orca’s mouth up to his lips, and lit.  He took a long, slow drag from it, then sat still for a moment.  Smoke began to pour out from his nose as he passed it along to Ales, who did the same before passing it to Davod.

Davod reached out and took it, then studied it for a moment.

Ales leaned in.  “Put this end up to your mouth, and just suck it in.”

“Right here?”

“That’s it.”

Davod did.  He didn’t last but a few seconds before erupting in a violent fit of coughing.  The smoke spurted out of his mouth.  “Gods!”

Ales began to laugh, and Faren smiled at him.  “Go easy; it’s your first time.”

At last, Davod shook his head vigorously and blinked several times to try and regain his senses.  Then, he looked up at me and passed it along.

The front was warm, and there was a faint orange glow in the bowl.  I brought it to my lips, kissed the orca, and took a long, slow drag.  The flowers crackled and glowed bright orange, and the hot smoke burned the back of my throat on its way down.

Faren smiled at me, “someone’s done this before.”

I could see the smoke exit my mouth, feeling its smooth texture as I spoke.  “A girl in Kyoen introduced me.”

Ales’s eyes perked up at me.  “You’re from Kyoen?”

As I passed the pipe to Geraln, Davod chuckled and elaborated for me.  “Our boy Caleb, here, got caught playing around with Sarina.  The old friar sent him away to Kyoen as punishment.”

I tried to gaze at him with daggers, but he didn’t see me.  It didn’t feel good to have my personal history blurted out like that, but there wasn’t much I could do.  Ales asked further.  “Who’s Sarina?”

Geraln explained.  “She’s a friend of ours.  Apparently, he and her used to do these ‘experiments.’”

Faren answered.  “That’s real nice, man.  There was a girl I used to experiment with back home in Suuya.”

“Trini!” Ales smiled wide.  “Damn, she liked you!”

“Gods, I miss her.”

A gust of wind brushed its long fingers through the trees around us, barely strong enough to be heard over the rushing creek and the crackling fire.  Faren leaned forward to turn the spit, and a drop of fat fell down and fizzled as it landed on a bright red coal.  By this time, the world felt like it was at the end of a tunnel, and I was watching from within.  Davod stared at the fire, and as Faren passed the pipe back to Ales, Geraln asked him, “what happened to her?”

Faren stared at him and blinked for a moment before asking, “to who?”

“To your girl.”

“What girl?”

“You said you had a girl back home.”

Faren continued to stare as he tried to reconnect to the conversation.  It was Ales who reminded him, “Trini.  He’s asking what happened to Trini.”

Faren laughed and shook his head with a smile.  “Moved away, man.  Her parents loaded up the boat with everything they had, and they sailed off to somewhere, I don’t know.”  He then turned to Davod.  “What about you, man?”

Davod’s eyes lingered on the flames and his whole face was frozen.

Geraln called out to him.  “Davod?”

He spoke slow and steady.  “It’s dancing.”  He pointed at the campfire.  “It’s dancing, and that creek over there is the music.  It’s soooo beautiful.”

Ales began to chuckle, and soon Geraln broke out laughing.  I couldn’t help it either.  Faren laughed and took in a deep breath, then let out a sigh of satisfaction.  “Gods, what is that glorious smell?”

I answered.  “Hellroot.”

Geraln took a deep drag from the pipe and passed it along.  “There was this kid in Heralia City, I offered him five kren to eat one.  He refused, so the rest of us chipped in.  Poor thing was staring down all of thirty-eight kren.  Poor thing.”

Faren laughed.

Ales laughed and shook his head.  “Would I eat a fresh hellroot for thirty-eight kren?  Hmm.  I’d have to be really, really drunk.”

Davod spoke up at that.  “What about nice pepper?  How much would you charge to eat one of those things?”

Geraln answered instead.  “Hellroot’s worse.”

Ales added, “that’s debatable.  I’m not saying it isn’t, just… debatable.”

I had to get into that conversation.  “OK, so thirty-eight kren.  You have to eat either a nice pepper or a hellroot.  Which do you choose?”

They all looked at me.

I looked at Geraln first.  “Which do you choose?”

He shook his head.  “That’s tough.  I think hellroot burns much worse, but nice pepper burns for longer.”

Davod added, “it also burns your arse on the way out.”

We all laughed.

By this time, the meat was looking decent on the outside, but by a poke it wasn’t quite cooked all the way through.  No less, the spice gave off clues of what it would soon deliver.  We threw some more wood onto the fire, and the night’s air began to bite hard.  I snuggled under my blanket and closed my eyes for a moment, allowing the smooth sounds of the creek rumbling to massage my ears.

A drop of fat fell from the meat and caught fire as smoke rose from the rest of it.  Ales gazed into the fire and spoke.  “I don’t want to go die in some fucking war.”

I hadn’t wished to rue my decision to leave the church in Ulum behind.

“You know,” Faren answered first, “I bet there’s not even a war.”

Davod huffed.  “Everyone says it’s a fucking death trap…”

“Nah, man.  It’s a paradise.”

Geraln furrowed his brow.  “What?”

“Carthia is so nice that they all say, ‘tell everyone I’m dead.’  That way they don’t ever have to leave.”

I chuckled a little to myself, while Ales shook his head in disbelief.

“Listen,” Faren sat up and looked at each of us in turn.  “They have this spice mix in Carthia.  They also have smoke-salt, and they put it in mashed gyeza and they also have that syrup beer we had at the pub.  Anything you like.  Then for breakfast, they make a smoked-salmon-and-nori omelette, and they serve it with fresh sour bread so hot it melts the butter as soon as it touches the thing.”

Davod looked at him skeptically.  “Where, exactly, did you hear all this?”

“Listen,” Faren continued.  “They have wine of all kinds.  You want dry, sweet, aged, reds, whites, sparkling, plum, blackberry, grape, whatever kind of wine you’re in the mood for, they have it all in Carthia.”

Davod furrowed his eyebrows and turned to me, while Faren continued to gaze into the fire.

It took me a minute to understand what he was saying, but it was beginning to make sense.  I decided to play along.  “You know what else they got in Carthia?”

They all turned to me.

“Gorgeous, absolutely the most beautiful girls you could imagine wait on your every wish.  You wake up, and they give you a massage before breakfast, then they bring you that omelette, along with anything you desire.  You’re going to have a hard time focusing on your food because of those girls.  And they’re everywhere.  At night, they bathe you.  They get a rag and lather you up, scrub you down, and they don’t miss a spot.  And, if you’re nice about it, they do a little extra while they’re rubbing olive oil into your skin.”

Geraln shook his head and looked at me strangely.  “OK, so no more happy cabbage for you, man.”

Ales leaned back with a big smile on his face.  “I bet they fight over you, too.”

Geraln turned to look at him.  Davod still didn’t understand the game, either.

Ales continued.  “In Carthia, you got the wind on the way out and on the way back in.  A good, strong one that nearly knocks your boat over; you’re standing out over the edge with the tiller in one hand and the main sheet in the other flying.  Just flying.  Then they got fish that’ll fight you for twelve hours straight.  When you come back, those girls, you can hear them.  It’s my turn to bathe him.  No, it’s my turn.  No, it’s my turn.  The only way out of it is to let them all have a go at you at the same time.  Then, after the bath, you curl up in a big chair by the hearth with a warm beer while your favorite girl sits on your lap and feeds you janju cakes.”

I nodded.  “I hear they’ve got high mountain passes that no one has ever breached, and whitewater rapids that’ll kill a man.”

Faren smiled, and we looked at Geraln, who still stared at us in confusion.  “What is wrong with you guys?”

Davod nodded.  “You gotta watch out for them cakes, man.  ‘Cause it's way too easy for you to eat too much.  They got this one girl, in Carthia, face like Runya but tits like Orenya.”  He turned to me.  “That’s the barmaid in that pub we just left; her name’s Orenya.  Anyway, this girl in Carthia, glorious fucking tits, man, like an ancient goddess, walks around completely naked with a silver tray full of cakes.  Roll cakes, minicakes, maple cakes, milk cakes, cakes filled with candied fruit, slathered in whipped cream.  And she bends over, got that delicious accent, ‘vould zhu like a treat?’  And her tits drop right into the whipped cream.  You just gotta lick them clean, you know?”

Ales shrugged.  “Well, she’s got to get clean somehow!”

I laughed.  

“It’s important,” Davod concluded.

I sent a quick glance over to Geraln.  He had his head tilted to one side and he blinked a bit.  I could tell he was teetering on the edge of playing along, so I decided to help him out.  “You know, the library in Carthia is four stories high and goes on for miles.”

Geraln opened his eyes wide and stared at me with a still face.  He was almost there.

I decided to push a little further.  “They got cats that curl up to you and purr while you’re reading, hot tea, and the librarian is this cute Goloagi girl with curly hair down to her shoulders.  She’s a bit of a bookworm, but those fucking legs, man!  Anyway…”

“I see what you’re doing.”

I smiled wide.

“The problem is…” he shook his finger.  “The problem is I've been asking her for one book or another just to get her to turn around again… you know… and I’m running out of books to ask for.”

I offered him a solution.  “You remember Zayueshawani?  She’s got every book he's ever written, and others like him that you’ve never heard of.”

Faren spoke into that one, “you know he’s got another one coming out.”

Geraln and I perked up at that and spoke in unison.  “What?”

“It’s going to be called The Role of Government.”

Geraln shot his words at him, “wait, you’re not playing.  Don’t play with me on that.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re serious?” I added.

“I’m dead serious.  Apparently he finished it a while ago but the publisher dropped it.  He’s looking for a new publisher.”

“Well,” Geraln concluded.  “They’ve got an advance copy in Carthia.”

“Absolutely!” Faren smiled.

The fire cracked, the creek rumbled, and the wind blew through the trees.  The dizzying effects of the happy cabbage laced through my veins, and I was cozy beneath my blanket.  Stars filled the night sky, and the air was bitter cold just beyond the reach of our camp.  

It was Ales who finally said what we were all thinking.  “Is that meat ready?  I’m starving!”