Banishment has its rituals. The tribe would allow me to say good-bye to anyone I wished to this final night, but I had to summon them to me, as my jailers would not allow me to leave my confinement tent. A designated tribal member would visit the residences of those I wished to see, and they could accept or decline the invitation as desired. The following morning, an escort would see me south to the desert. Left there to fend for myself, I could never return upon pain of death. A skin of water to last three days and a leather bag would be the only items allowed me. The bag would contain dried fruit from the wettle tree and salted meat, along with an assortment of nuts. I could bring no weapons. If I survived, it would be the will of Ra-ta. However, I could never return.
I asked to speak to Lillatta. As surprising as it might seem, I wanted to tell her I held no anger toward her, that I understood her predicament and that she should not blame herself for what had unfolded. To my dismay and sadness, she declined to see me. I could understand why. How do you face the one you betrayed?
The thought of never seeing her again brought a sudden tightness to my chest, and for an instant it was difficult to get a full breath. All I kept coming back to was that long ago moment in the forest when I tried to eat the starfen and she totally lost it. It was a time I felt we were at our closest. Now, I would never hear that irrepressible laugh again. It wasn’t fair.
There was no one else I wished to see. I had not been close to anyone but my father and Lillatta. Losing both was a cruel blow, and I could think of no other who mattered to me. Satu? I barely knew him. Semral? I would have enjoyed a visit from the great hunter one last time, but did not know his disposition toward me. He pushed for banishment over death, but was that an indication of anything more than gratitude for saving his life?
Bratar I would certainly not miss or ever want to see again. I had once saved his life, too, but now wished I hadn’t, for I knew he would come after Satu upon my departure. I hoped the boy was as smart as he seemed to be and would find a way to survive and adapt. There was a chance Pilkin would accept him as an apprentice and thus spare him Bratar’s revenge, for an apprentice is holy and off limits. However, that was unlikely. A new shaman prefers choosing disciples based on compatibility or an ability to control, and unless friendly with those previously his rivals, there was little chance he would retain any of them.
A sense of sadness and dread passed through me. I had a strong feeling something bad was coming for Satu, and that his misfortune would have a direct connection to Bratar.
As I mused about lost friends and friends who never were, the flap to the tent parted and the guard informed me I had a visitor. My heart leaped, expecting Lillatta had changed her mind and we would have our final chance to set things right.
It was Semral.
“Are you displeased to see me?” the old hunter asked, noticing my crestfallen look.
“Oh, no, forgive me Semral. I thought you might be my friend, Lillatta.”
Semral smiled. “You still call her friend? You must have no fire of anger within you.”
“My anger is there,” I said without conviction, “but it will never be for her.”
“I have news,” Semral said, getting around to his visit’s purpose. “Kalor has been cleared. It seems Balsar stole some items from another’s tent and placed them in Kalor’s when he feared discovery. Balsar confessed and it is certain the executioner’s blade will visit him tonight. I felt you should know.”
Balsar. That did not surprise me. I was grateful for Kalor’s exoneration, but it came too late for me. My sentence remained the same. Semral knew my thoughts and was sympathetic.
“I am sorry your secret was exposed. I had not known you trained as a shaman under your father. It is a lot for an old man to digest. I was taught that only men could be leaders, that only men could know the secrets of Ra-ta. Yet you—you, Sanyel, continue to astound me. Your skill with weapons and now this.” Semral chuckled and added, “I suppose you will tell me next that you have a spirit animal, too.”
I smiled at the old hunter and the smile’s implication was clear. Semral’s eyes widened in that familiar way.
“Don’t tell me,” he said, holding up his hands and laughing. “My poor old head is full enough.”
Semral’s expression then changed and he continued in a serious tone.
“I wish I could have prevented this from happening to you, but my hands were tied. Receiving banishment over death is but a small victory, I know, but I saw no other way.”
I interrupted Semral to thank him for accomplishing even that.
“There is no need to thank me. You saved my life—twice. I had to do something. Still, there is another reason I came to see you. There are rumors water exists in the Desert of Bones. I have heard if you head west, you will find it. The truth of this I do not know, but perhaps it will give you a chance.”
“Thank you, Semral. I will keep that in mind.”
With that, the old warrior took his leave.
In the morning, Barkor summoned me to his tent. As I lifted the flap to enter, a nauseating, high stench assaulted my nostrils. My eyes watered from the intensity of the rank odor even as they adjusted to the gloom of the tent’s interior. The stink was worse than that of a raffer’s carcass rotting a week in the sun. It was apparent that Barkor and his wife never bathed. I picked out the form of Barkor’s wife, a plain, squat woman sitting in a corner, working something with her hands. The grubby man himself was standing, awaiting my entrance. He wasted no time.
“You will be given food and water for three days,” Barkor spoke, betraying no trace of interest or compassion. “After that, it is up to the will of Ra-ta if you survive. Semral will accompany you to the desert edge. You must never return. If you choose to defy this ruling and we spot you in our lands, we will put you to death. You will speak to no one as you leave. You do not exist for us now, and from this moment forward no one will ever again speak your name. I declare you banished. You are a Sakita no more.”
With that, Barkor dismissed me from the fetid tent and I could breathe again. There was no one in view but Semral. All others were under strict orders to remain in their domiciles until I left, which was the first step in a deliberate process to strike me from memory. Semral hefted his spear and approached. I saw he also carried a sheathed knife, several water skins, and had three leather packs filled with food. The journey to the desert would take only a couple of weeks as we were already well south of the Raso and presently camped along one of its branches. Semral had packed enough to feed us both, satisfy our thirst, and still have enough for his return journey, as well as my three-day’s desert supply.
I looked around one last time and felt an urge boiling up inside me—an urge to scream. I wanted to let everything out I had bottled up since my father’s passing. I wanted to shout and curse and throw a tantrum fit for a two-year-old. I wanted to take a knife and stab and slice everything that crossed my path. I wanted to tell off Barkor and his brat, Bratar the Brave, and all the narrow-minded, self-righteous, empty-headed, soulless excuses for human beings that this tribe had become. My father was not wrong. My father was not a criminal. The laws were wrong. The laws were criminal. I wanted to scream it, to scream it all.
However, Semral was waiting. So I took a last sweeping look over the camp, over the only life I’d known, and prepared to leave it to the past. A tent flap opened, a face appeared, and then the flap closed. It was Lillatta, offering a last farewell.
For me, it was enough.
Semral and I headed south. These summer days were idyllic, with Ra-ta blessing us with his warm touch throughout our passage. We encountered several smaller porse herds along with the occasional sartel, and I knew Semral was itching to unleash his spear. However, he was under strict orders to deliver me to my destination in a timely fashion, and he was a man accustomed to obeying authority. For a while, I was ambivalent about my fate.
With your whole world ripped from beneath your feet, it takes time to adjust to even the notion that there still exists something upon which to stand. Now, I began to wonder what was out there. A degree of excitement was building in me, and I grew eager to view the dreaded sands of the mysterious Desert of Bones.
On the fourth day of the second week the grasslands ended and we entered the low, rocky foothills of the southern Kodor range. There was little vegetation. No trees grew on these slopes, only scattered tufts of thorel and thin patches of weeds. I looked up to where white-capped peaks were tickling a pale mass of passing clouds. The towering height of these mountains astounded me. Their near-vertical inclination verified for me the accepted belief that these peaks would be impossible to scale. Our yearly traverse of the land did not normally lead us to this proximity to the mountains. The richest grazing lands fell more to the interior, so that’s where the herds congregated. The grand peaks, up close, were enthralling, and I swore someday I would attempt to conquer them.
Of course, I would have to survive the desert first. We arrived at the guarded entrance to the bowl fracture. Two hunters stood watch against intruders, as this was the only access to our lands from the south. No one expected there was anything living out on the desert to fear, for no one had ever invaded us from that direction, but it never hurt to be careful. The guards’ other duty was to make sure no banished tribal members attempted to return to Sakita lands. Semral told me the guards regularly rotated with others and that there was always someone on duty at the fracture.
The fracture itself was a bit disappointing. I had expected a straight, wide mouth opening up into a vast landscape of sand. However, this was a narrow passage bounded by high, rocky sides and the path itself was more winding than straight. This path was not more than thirty paces wide, and though its floor was sand, I had no view of the sand’s source, the desert. I knew if I were observing this rift from above, it would appear that someone had taken a huge knife and sliced a twisting cut into the mountain rock. Though deep, the cut was not that long, for I soon discovered that the Kodor range had thinned out considerably in width at this southern edge, even though the height of the peaks was still substantial.
Leaving the two guards behind, Semral led the way in. After an hour of walking and one final twist to the path, we emerged—and there it was. I stood for a moment scrutinizing my future home. My view swept left to right and it was all the same, an endless, rolling expanse of sand ridges. It was drab and uninviting scenery, with only scattered brown shrubbery to spruce up the blandness.
We were now on the other side of the mountains, standing at the southern edge of their foothills. To my surprise, another line of mountains extended both east and west. This line of peaks crossed through the southern tip of our bowl at the point where I was standing. It was like a straight line intersecting one point on a circle. This straight range acted like a high fence, blocking from view the entire circular mountain range behind it. These mountains were as tall and precipitous as the ones forming the bowl, and as far as I could see they bordered nothing but desert on this side.
I wondered if that was why no invader had raided from these sands. All they would see before them was a desert pushing up against a straight line of impassable mountains. The final twist of the passageway effectively hid the entry to the fissure. That twist caused this last section of the rift to run parallel to and overlap the mountain background, giving the illusion that there was only solid rock before you. Facing the mountains straight on, you could be standing but a few paces away and not know the fracture was there!
I also noticed a drastic change in temperature. How could one side of the mountains be so mild and temperate and the other consumed by the fires of Ra-ta? On our side existed verdant lands with ample rain and flowing water. On this side, there was nothing but dryness and desolation.
I glanced over at Semral and saw his confliction. During our journey he had expressed his thoughts on the injustice of my sentence, and now he seemed reluctant to abandon me unceremoniously to the harsh whims of the desert. He reached inside one of the leather bags and withdrew a blanket I had not known he carried.
“Take this,” he said, handing the spread to me. “There are cold nights and possible storms ahead of you, and I would have you protected.”
I accepted the gift with gratitude, knowing the law prohibited such gestures, and that Semral had purposely crossed a line. We were both awkward at farewells, so as the old hunter handed me a water skin and pouch of food, we did not speak. Then, as Semral turned to leave, he said, “I would have been honored to have hunted beside you.”
Why he said that I don’t know, but as Semral exited back through the divide, I felt as proud as I have ever felt.
I was alone in a foreign environment. There was no sign of life outside of the pitiful brown fingers that passed for vegetation. So now what? In which direction was water, for I had only a three-day supply, give or take, depending on how I managed it. I could live without food for a longer period, but without water I was finished.
So, which direction? I could head east or west and follow the mountains that seemed to extend forever either way. Or, I could head directly south into the heart of the desert, or even some direction in-between. Semral had told me water might exist somewhere to the west. With that being the only lead I had, west I would go.
I slung the straps of my water skin and food bag over my shoulder, with the blanket from Semral tucked inside the food case. There was nothing else to carry. I was wearing thick-soled leather sandals to prevent the hot sands from burning my feet raw, but my short tunic was not ideal for the desert heat as it extended only to mid-thigh and was sleeveless. My meager dress left my legs and arms bared to the sun, and I had no covering for my head save the sun-bleached hair that streamed from it in all its matted wretchedness.
My first mistake was traveling during the hottest time of the day. The sun had already peaked in the sky when I began, and as Ra-ta drifted his way slowly west, his rays tormented my skin and stole my energy. The afternoon heat penetrated every pore until I felt the fire was burning inside the very organs of my body. My head ached and I was constantly stumbling.
My second mistake was walking in the sand instead of maneuvering among the barren outcroppings of rock that rimmed the foothills of the mountains. My progress would have been greater, even if forced to navigate boulders and climb on occasion, than what I was achieving by slogging through the sand. To add to the misery, my sandals often filled with lumps of fine grit that would form between my foot bottom and the sandal surface. Forced to stop, I would spread the blanket, sit, remove the sandal, empty the sand, and rub off any that clung to my sweating feet. After a few hours of this pattern, I was looking directly into the setting sun, and my sore eyes, head, and feet could take no more.
I made my way to a large boulder among the rocks bordering the sands and sat on its shady side. My lips and skin had cracked and blistered. My head screamed. My dry throat felt as if someone had twisted it, wringing out every drop of moisture. I grabbed the water skin and began to guzzle. I told myself to stop as the precious water spilled from the raw corners of my mouth. Stop now. No, just a little more. Stop. Stop now! No, just a few more swallows. At last, a measure of satiation. The water skin was a third empty.
I could not afford to let that happen again. Walking the sands had been a stupid plan. I needed a better one, but for now exhaustion clouded my mind. Maybe tomorrow I could think more clearly. The sun was setting, so I set my blanket out and was asleep before Ra-ta settled into his bed.
In the middle of the night, I awakened. The oppressive heat of the day had diminished, leaving a pleasant warmth. I glanced up at the stars. I never tire of this nightly exposition of lights, each one with its own unique qualities. Why do they come out in the darkness to gaze upon our world? Are they living beings? I stretched out my hand and could sense the enorm
ous distance between my fingertips and the twinkling lights.
To my left, the twin moons Numa and Nima were rising. They were full tonight and would be for a few more nights to come. Numa was the larger moon and its glow was brighter. As always, it was slightly in front of Nima as both prepared to race across the sky. I was wondering why Numa always appeared to win these races when something diverted my attention—a star was hurtling from the heavens. I saw it flash for an instant and it left a trail on its way down, only to vanish. A falling star was a sign, my father once told me. It augured changes to come, with Ra-ta offering a light from his domain to any who would accept it and show others the way. I wondered how many were watching the skies tonight, and if any would accept Ra-ta’s challenge.
An idea struck me as I gazed at the stars. Why not travel at night? Avoiding the heat and not having to consume as much water seemed reason enough to try this. Not being able to see would be a major concern, but with both moons full, the light would be more than adequate. Another benefit was that I did not have to wear sandals. The desert sands would be cooler, which would allow me to travel barefoot.
Feeling that there was no time like the present, I ate my first meal, then hoisted my gear and set out across the sands. I still traveled west, hoping Semral’s information about a water supply was not bogus. The sand was still warm beneath my feet but more than comfortable. Having eaten for the first time, I felt my energy level was back up and my body ready to go. I wished I could have used some of my water for a quick wash-up, for the grit of the sand and salty sweat had left me feeling grimy. I knew, however, that it was too precious to waste on that.
As I walked, I gazed up at the crests of the mountains to my right. I stopped for a brief moment, startled to observe no snow, no whiteness captured in the moonlight. Snow always lay near the summits of the mountains that ringed our lands, and when some of it melted in the high summer, it refreshed the rivers and streams. So did this explain why there was no water here—no snow on the mountains? That worried me. Was Semral’s notion of an adequate source of water a fantasy?
I trudged on through the night, stopping on occasion to rest, sip water, and eat. A soft wind blew and was the only sound I heard. Toward morning, I found another boulder to shade me from the day’s heat, but this was getting tiresome. My water skin was less than half full, and much as I desired it, there was no sign it was going to refill itself. I bedded down after allowing myself a few more swallows of the diminishing liquid, along with a bite of fruit. Before drifting off, an image flashed through my mind—an image of cold water rushing over human bones.
That night, I was back on the move, and how far I traveled I didn’t know. Several times an animal scurried in front of me. I could make it out only as a dark shadow and not very large. I needed a weapon. My survival might depend upon eating the flesh of whatever inhabited these wastelands. I might have to drink their blood, for total depletion of my water supply was an approaching certainty. I also didn’t know what other creatures might be lurking out here, perhaps ones that would require offering up some sort of defense. I would—wait! A fair-sized animal had just crossed my path, and only now did the significance of the animal's presence register. An animal that size needed water. There had to be a water source somewhere nearby. Maybe I was closer than I thought!
A lightening of the eastern sky behind me indicated Ra-ta’s awakening. Soon, I would need to find shelter from his punishing rays. I was dead tired. Still, walking in the warm air of the night and sleeping during the suffocating heat of the day was a strategy for survival that might work—if I didn’t run out of water before I found the animal’s source.
In the foothills, where the desert sands ran up against the rock outcroppings, I noticed an ancient slide had caused a massive sheet of rock to slip downward. It came to rest like a plank across a natural u-shaped dip in the stony surface. The u-shaped furrow’s closed back was the side of a hill, with the open end facing the desert and me. The slab of rock resting on top formed a cozy little cave.
The cave opening was only chest high and a buildup of sand obscured a portion of it, but with a little digging I managed to wedge myself inside. The interior was well lit, thanks to the generous opening, and I saw the sloping sides met a soft, sand floor that extended about four paces to the back hillside wall. The width across measured about three paces, and the shelter seemed adequate to protect me from the sun, along with the fact that it retained a surprising coolness. I spread my blanket, took a long drink from my water skin, and curled up to sleep.
When I awoke, it was midday. I could feel the warmth beginning to penetrate my sanctuary. I reached for my food bag and water skin . . . They were gone! Frantic, I searched every corner and crevice of the shelter. My heart pounded and my mind was in a panic. Where are they? With growing disbelief, I realized both containers were simply not there, that they had vanished.
Then, I saw the tracks. Creases in the sand indicated something had dragged both the water skin and the food bag, on separate trips, out into the desert. I followed the clear trail and glimpsed something dark against the white sand about thirty paces ahead. I exhaled with relief. Both containers were there, abandoned.
I rushed over and panic flooded through me again. No. No! The bladder holding my precious life’s liquid lay ripped apart, with its contents spilled onto thirsty sands that would never give it back. A wedge of dried wettle fruit lay near the open food bag, all that remained of the fruit and nuts and salted porse it had failed to protect.
I had to think. I had to think! Where was the animal heading? It needed water as much as I did, so in time it would seek out a source. I located the tracks and they ran south, south into the endless sands, south into the wicked heat. I had no choice. I had no water and no food; that animal was now my sole hope. I followed the tracks.
The trail meandered a bit, but always readjusted itself back to its southern course. The path skirted a wide drift, and as I followed it around, I came upon the grinning man. He was slightly off the animal’s trail, reclining on his side in the sand. His white limbs of stubborn bone lay in defiance against the wearing efforts of sand and sun, refusing to follow into oblivion the man’s long ago decayed and now vanished flesh. His bleached skull, with its leering, toothy expression was lying on its ear upon a low drift, as if he had just taken a moment to rest, to lay his head down for a brief respite. Over the years the pillow drift had grown and now sand covered one eyehole. The clothing he once wore lay in tatters over a sand-filled rib cage, and his sandals were half eaten by decay and hungry desert nibblers. Who was he? Another Sakita outcast who had long ago counted his last sand hill? Whoever the man was, he had died on that spot and was now ageless; and if I did not find water, I knew I would soon enough find my own gritty bed of eternal rest.
I carried on in pursuing the creature over the scorching sands, knowing it might be leading me closer to my death, while praying to Ra-ta that it would lead me to salvation instead. Then, in the middle of nowhere, while still on course across the pristine powder, the tracks ended. I stared, dumfounded, examining how the footprints abruptly stopped, as if the animal had simply vanished.
A sharp cry sounded above me. Shielding my eyes, I spotted what appeared to be a razok arcing lazy circles in the otherwise empty sky. A razok! Would a razok pass up an easy meal when all it had to do was swoop down and grab it? Would it abandon a chance to lift that meal away from the earth, to carry it to a gory destiny in the high mountains as food for its nest of hungry young?
No, it would not. I stared at the tracks. Good-bye creature of my salvation—whatever it was you were. If only I had gotten around to adding a razok bone to my bracelet. If I had, I would now be summoning that razok to me and commanding it to lead me to water. By such random decisions are lives either preserved or lost. I was alone in a land of no reason, in a land as pitiless as that razok. It was a land determined to den
y me even a minuscule chance of survival. At least that’s how I felt as the razok circled and I stood unprotected, letting Ra-ta hurl his burning spears into my weary body and torment my battered spirit with his continued indifference to my needs.
I made my way back to my shelter, following again the tracks of the animal thief. I wanted to retrieve my food bag and blanket, though the water skin I knew to be useless. I needed a new plan to replace the old plan that had turned out to be no plan at all. I sat upon my blanket beneath the rock shelter, rested my back against a cool wall, and contemplated my situation. I had no water or food. I had no tools or weapons. I had no means to start a fire, though I hadn’t needed one so far. I had a blanket and an empty pouch. I was in great shape. Now, if only one of those storms Semral had mentioned would blow up, my world would be perfect.
Never imagine something happening you don’t want to happen; there is a lesson there. Within an hour the wind was howling, the sun and sky had vanished, and driving sand stung my flesh inside my too open shelter. I covered myself head to toe with the blanket, but that offered little relief. I was miserable, thirsty, hot, dirty, suffocating, cramped, and generally not having fun. Yet somehow, amid the relentless pummeling of the desert grains and high moaning of the harassing wind, I managed to fall asleep.
“Wake up, Sanyel. Wake up!” My eyes snapped open. Someone had spoken. I removed my sand-encrusted blanket and looked around, trying to get my bearings. Where was I? Oh, that’s right—desert—shelter. Wait. There was a storm. Was it over? Yes, it appeared so, for the sand and wind were gone. Still, why was it so dark?
“Sanyel!” I jerked from the sound of a voice close in my ear and was now wide-awake. A light appeared to my left, and as my eyes adjusted I could not comprehend the miracle I was seeing. My father was here! He shimmered and hovered and smiled, glowing in a light so bright it hurt my eyes, even as it stole my breath.
“Follow me, Sanyel,” the light that was my father ordered. Then, just as I was about to obey, the light disappeared. Frantic to learn where my father had gone, I crawled out from my rock abode. To my astonishment, I exited into a clear, starlit night. The brilliant sky sparkling overhead distracted me for an instant, but I quickly refocused on locating my father. I found him floating above the desert a short distance away.
“Follow the can-rak,” he said, and then he pointed across the sands.
“What can-rak?” I asked, confused. Then, I saw it. The creature was the young animal that had appeared to me as a child. It was slowly heading away from my location and was already some distance away. When I turned to ask my father what this all meant, I found him no longer there, having dissipated like smoke in the wind. I was alone with the night and the twinkling sky. I looked for the can-rak, but it had disappeared as well. As I puzzled over this, my body jerked.
Again I was awake and again the blanket covered me. I pushed it away, spilling sand to the shelter floor. It was daylight and the storm had passed. I realized at once that I had been asleep and that the night scene had been a vision. The vision was fresh in my mind, my father in white, pointing into the desert. I crawled through a buildup of sand at my shelter’s entrance and out into the blazing heat of a late afternoon. Again, I had to think. What had just happened?
My father had come to me and stood—or, more accurately, floated—outside this crude stone sanctuary, and he had exhorted me to follow an animal into the unknown. I remembered my father's location and the direction he had pointed. I stood for the longest time, gazing south. It was the direction the small animal had gone, the young can-rak, too. I saw nothing to suggest anything other than more sand, more heat, and a certain death rudely hastened. Yet what had I to lose? I believed in my father, alive or dead. With no food or water, my doom was certain anyway, so I decided to obey my father’s wishes. Tonight I would follow the can-rak, wherever that might lead.
**
~~TEN~~