"Why would he do that?” Tye protested. “He has just saved me and bought us here to protect us from the Boreas!"
"Don't be a fool!" Yac spat. "He's a Wizard. He is going to sacrifice us and use our bodies for magic. Or he will sell our souls to the spirits in return for favours. Or he will turn us into Iffrits and make us do his bidding. Whatever it is, we are done for!”
Could this be true? He had not seemed threatening, but now Tye thought about it he couldn't be sure.
"Look," Yac continued, "If we are going to survive this, then we are have going to have to work together. What do you say?"
"I think we should do as he says," Tye replied cautiously, but he wasn't sure. Perhaps the old man did mean to kill them.
Just then there was a sound like moaning outside. "What's that noise?" Yac asked in a high scared voice.
"It's the Boreas," Tye answered him. "It's a wind that blows for days. If you are caught in it, you can easily die." He paused. “They say that the Boreas is haunted by the spirits of all the people that have died in it.”
"That’s it,” Yac suddenly decided. “He is going to sacrifice us to the spirits in the Boreas. Well, I am not going to stay here and be murdered by that old wizard." He jumped up as quickly as he could, and looked round the hearth. "Ahhh!" he picked up a small knife that the old man obviously used to cook with. "Now we have got a chance!" he said exultantly.
There were voices outside the door, and Yac quickly positioned himself behind it. As it opened, he barged into the figure coming in, knocking it to the ground, and plunged the knife down.
"STOP!" Tye shouted, for too late, he had seen that it was not the old man, but one of the other robbers.
Chapter 5 – Supper in the Storm
"Yac, no!" the robber called out as the knife flashed down towards his throat. At the last moment, Yac managed to avert the blow and the knife banged on the floor. He sat astride the robber, panting.
"Doran!" he said, "I thought you were dead!"
"What are you doing Yac?!" the other robber, Doran, struggled to get out from under him, but Yac was too exhausted and shocked from the encounter to move. Now he could see the other robber, Tye could see that he was even younger than Yac, probably only a year or two older than he was and not much bigger. He too looked bedraggled, skinny and underfed.
"I'm saving our lives from the wizard!" Yac eventually puffed out.
"You fool," Doran said. "Ham has saved our lives. We would have perished in the wind without him."
"Well where is Davor? Has he killed him?" Yac asked.
"Don't be silly. They have gone to get water," Doran answered. "Now, will you get off me?"
Just then the door banged open and the old man came in quickly in followed by the other robber. "Quickly, close the door Davor," he said as he entered. He then caught sight of Yac sitting on top of Doran, the knife still in his hand. For some reason he seemed to find this very funny and burst out laughing.
"Be careful little robber boy who you rob from,” he said after a moment. “Sometimes your friend might be your foe, or," he paused and turned serious, "those you think are your foes are actually your friends." He waited until Yac had reluctantly got off Doran before carrying on.
"Now," said the old man, whom Doran had called Ham, "seeing as you are so good a thief, and so good with a knife, why don't you rob these vegetables of their skins." He threw a sack of what was presumably vegetables at Yac. He caught the sack, and looked confused. "The pot is over there," Ham gestured at the back of the cave. "Now you two," he turned to Doran and Davor, "lay the fire and then see if you can get it started. There is wood just outside. And you," he beckoned to Tye, "can pluck this." From somewhere in his robes he produced a dead chicken. "Quick now lads, this storm has worked up quite an appetite."
There was such authority in his voice that the boys instinctively did what he told them. Yac started cleaning and peeling the vegetables, Davor fetched the wood, whilst Doran started assembling the tinder and then small splinters of wood in the fire. Tye started plucking the chicken, a job he had done a hundred times before. "Put the feathers in here," the old man said, not unkindly, to Tye and handed him a sack. "It makes good bedding." Whilst they worked, Ham sat back in an alcove not far from the door and watched them shrewdly.
Before long, the fire was blazing, and the pot of vegetables and chicken was simmering gently, filling the cave with delicious smells. Tye felt his tummy rumbling and realised that he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast, and that was just a stale hunk of bread. Yac, Davor and Doran looked longingly at the pot. Ham, got up to stir it a couple of times, added some salt and herbs, and when finally satisfied, grunted. "OK, I think it is good to eat."
He took some bowls from a shelf, filled up them up with the stew and then handed them round. The four boys all wolfed theirs, had seconds and thirds, but he seemed only to pick at his. By the time they had finished, the old man was sipping a cup of tea and watching them carefully having put his portion down barely touched.
"So then, Yac, Davor and Doran, and Tye?" he looked over him. He nodded yes, but he didn't remember ever telling the old man his name. Maybe he was a wizard after all.
"My name is Hamric, but you can call me Ham. What on earth were three incompetent robbers doing out in the Boreas? Not to mention going down the haunted gully? I think it’s time for some stories.”
Chapter 6 – The Attack on the Caravan
"We are not robbers!" Yac answered angrily.
"No?" Hamric raised an eyebrow sceptically. "Well what were you doing threatening young Tye and trying to take his goat?"
The three exchanged guilty and uncomfortable looks. Davor spoke up first looking at Tye. "Forgive us, we were desperate."
"We were lost and hungry," Doran added.
"We wouldn't really have hurt you," Yac said quickly.
They all looked pleadingly at Tye, hoping for forgiveness. Tye stared at them back. He wasn't sure exactly how he felt; part of him wanted to forgive them, and since they had got back to the cave, he had actually felt a kinship to them. But another part of him could not forget the memory of Yac coming towards him with the knife. He was not sure that Yac would not have hurt him if Hamric had not stepped in.
Before he could answer, Hamric's deep voice interrupted. "Why don't you tell us how you got to be lost and desperate?”
They once again exchanged uncomfortable looks. "Tell them Yac," Davor said quietly, "tell them everything."
Yac took his time to start, as if he was psyching himself up or practising his lines. Inside the cave it was still but outside the wind was starting to howl eerily. When he did speak it was in a slow deep voice.
"We come from a land far away, far to the East beyond Oea. Our people are mostly traders, dealing in silks and spices and sometimes jewellery from the East.
"It is customary that when a boy reaches manhood, he travels with a caravan, and only comes back when he has made enough money to support a family. This was the first trip for Davor, Doran and I." He looked grimly round at his two friends. They nodded and he continued.
"We travelled west for many weeks, following in the footsteps of hundreds of trading caravans before us. We stopped at cities and towns, buying and selling goods on the way. It was an interesting life, always something new to see, or someone different to talk to.
"At night we would always stay away out in the deserts though. We never really trusted the people in the cities and preferred to keep our own watch.
"Three nights ago though, we were attacked. Out of nowhere, hundreds of savages, Berbers I think, stormed the Caravan. We were completely unprepared. They..." Yac stopped, overcome by the memories. Davor and Doran both hung their heads too, lost in the horror of what had happened.
Yac swallowed, and then continued. "They killed everyone. They killed everyone and then set fire to the caravans. They did not even take anything, they just wanted to de
stroy."
"How did you escape?" Hamric's deep voice questioned him.
"We.... we....." Yac couldn't complete the sentence and Tye could sense that he was very close to breaking down completely. It took him a few moments to pull himself together.
"We were supposed to be on guard duty, me and Davor and Doran. It was my watch, but I must have fallen asleep. It was my fault, it was my fault......" and then he broke down completely. Sobs wracked his body and tears flooded down his face. Both Davor and Doran came over to him and put their arms around him to comfort him.
"It wasn't your fault," Davor said. "We are all responsible," said Doran.
"No," Yac shook them off. "It was my watch, it is my fault."
"What happened next?" Hamric asked.
Davor continued the story. "Because we were on guard duty, we were outside the camp. When the attack happened we managed to conceal ourselves in the sand."
"The next day," Doran picked up the story, "we fled. We didn't dare go back to search for anything to take with us or bury the dead as the savages might have come back. We have been wandering round ever since."
Yac looked up again, tears streaking his face. "We ran away like cowards. Three days wandering in the wastelands, with no food and only one waterskin. That is why we tried to take the goat from you, we were desperate. We never meant to be robbers. I never want to be like those savages who attacked us. I am sorry." He hung his head again.
Tye watched the three of them huddle in misery, lost in the horror of what had happened and the guilt of their own cowardice. Almost without thinking he went over to them and put his arms round them. "It's ok, I forgive you. You were desperate."
Hamric spoke up again. "It's late and time for sleep. We will talk again in the morning when our heads are clear.” He pulled some rough blankets off a shelf, handed them out, and then kicked some sand over the fire, turning the cave dark.
Chapter 7 – Questions over Porridge
As he lay by the embers of the fire, still not ready for sleep, Tye could not help but wonder about Hamric. Who was the mysterious old man and what was he doing here? What did he want with them? Why had he saved him from the robbers but then befriended them too? How did he know his name? Was he, as Yac suggested, a Wizard? Did he have something bad in store for them?
Despite being an absolute mystery, Tye didn't think so. Although he wasn't very open or forthcoming, there was something about him that seemed trustworthy. Doran and Davor seemed to trust him as well. It was only Yac that was not convinced about him. Tomorrow they would probably find out one way or the other. There was no use worrying about it now.
He cuddled up to Little Bear. Hamric was too mysterious to fathom, he just didn’t have enough information. Maybe tomorrow he would learn a little more. Instead he thought of his family back in the village; would they be worried about him? Would they even notice that he was gone? His Aunt Teá might miss him, but he didn't think his Uncle Jaya would care. He would be more worried about the missing goat and probably be glad that there was one less mouth to feed, Tye thought. The other shepherds would have made sure that the rest of the flock were all back in the village, safe from the Boreas. It would be only him and Little Bear that were lost. One thing was for sure, whether he was missed or not, he was bound to get a beating when he returned.
With a sigh, he closed his eyes and tried to go to sleep, but it was a long time before he got any rest.
****
The morning came very gradually; the storm was still blowing hard, and the light coming in from the high windows had a strange yellowish quality, probably because of all the sand in the air. They were designed very cleverly though, because hardly any sand came in. Yac, Davor and Doran were stirring at the same time as him, but of Hamric, there was no sign.
"Where do you think he is?" Davor asked when they had all come round.
“I thought that going out in the storm was certain death!” Doran said.
“It usually is,” Tye answered. “No one from the village would dare go out.”
"That is because he has made a deal with the Djinns and Iffrits," Yac snorted. "He will have bargained away our lives so he will be safe. When he comes back, we'll be finished." For some reason, he seemed almost cheerful at the thought.
"Yac," Doran said. "Shut up."
Just then the door banged open and Hamric came quickly in, slamming the door closed behind him. Despite being swaddled in a cloak and his s face covered in a cloth to protect it from the wind, Tye recognised him immediately.
"The storm is still raging," he said a bit unnecessarily when he had unwound the face protector. "It will blow for at least another day before it is safe to move. We will stay here until tomorrow. I have bought some water for porridge," and he unslung three big water skins from around his neck. "Perhaps you can get the fire going?" he asked.
Doran and Davor immediately started fussing over the fire, banking up smaller bits of kindling and blowing on the embers, trying to get it to light, but Yac sat back still apparently sulking. “What’s the matter with you son?” Hamric asked him kindly.
“How did you survive the storm?” he suddenly spat out. “Have you made a deal with the Iffrits? Are you going to sacrifice us?”
Hamric’s laugh boomed out. “Nothing like that. I only went to the store; it is in a little cave just round the corner. I have strung up a rope between here and there so you cannot get lost. I didn’t go far. Don’t worry,” he added, moving in close to Yac, “I’m not going to sacrifice you,” he paused dramatically, “yet!”
Yac flinched, and Hamric moved off to the other side of the cave, chuckling to himself. After a while, he beckoned Tye over. "So, tell me about your home,” he asked when Tye sat down next to him. “Tell me about the village. Tell me about your family.”
Such was his air of authority, that Tye could not but open up to him. He stammered for a second, but then it all came out in a rush. He told the old man about his family, and about how the village was still recovering from being all but destroyed by soldiers just before he was born. He also told him that he had no father, that his mother had died when he was very young, and he was fostered by his Aunt and Uncle. He said how poor they were and how he often had to go without food. He told Hamric how he became a shepherd as soon as he could to get away and that he felt more at home with his goats than he did any of the other boys. And he told him about he wanted to leave the village and seek his fortune.
Hamric sat back, and let him continue without interrupting him, nodding occasionally. When Tye had finished, out of breath and exhausted, he leaned forward, his eyes unexpectedly warm. "You have had a hard path, and it will be harder still in the future. Be careful what you wish for, because it may come true. You may find yourself wishing one day that you had chosen a quiet village life instead.”
He stood up suddenly. "Boys, all of you listen. I need to go out for a while. I will return later with more game; there is always something to find if you know where to look.”
Davor and Damon agreed immediately, but Yac said nothing, still sulking, unable to look at Hamric. The fire was blazing merrily now, and the porridge was just coming up to the boil.
As he was putting on his cloak, Hamric turned to the four boys. “The storm is still deadly outside, but you are safe in here," he fixed them with his eye, staring particularly at Yac. "Do not, under any circumstance, leave. It will be the death of you!" And with that he wound the scarf round his face, and swung out through the door.
Chapter 8 – The Voices in the Storm
The day seemed to go very slowly as there wasn't much for the four to do. They listened to the wind howling outside, eerily like voices. Yac tried to convince the others that they should try and escape until Davor told him to shut up and then he sulked again. Doran cleaned up as much as he could, and Tye fed Little Bear with some grass at the back of the cave. They talked for a while, swapping stories
about their lives, and when they ran out of tales, they stretched out for a sleep. At least all the bad feeling between them after the attack the day before seemed to be over now.
Late in the afternoon, the door banged open, and Hamric came back in. This time he was holding a small rabbit by the ears. "Supper!" he grinned, and threw it at Davor. "Can you skin this?"
An hour or so later, as they were eating their meal, Hamric spoke. "The storm will start to blow itself out tomorrow. It will still be fierce, but we need to leave. There are things we must do. It will be dangerous, but I think we can make it." Everyone looked relieved. As dangerous as it would be out in the storm, they were all feeling claustrophobic in the cave.
"Have you any idea what you will do next?" Hamric asked the boys. They looked around uneasily.
"No, not really, we have nowhere to go," said Davor first. "We could go back East and try and find another caravan," said Doran. "We'll be alright, don't worry about us," scowled Yac.