must trust. She ran down the steps and along the gorge towards the slowly lumbering animal, the others following anxiously. Across its back was a vast leather blanket made from many oothen hides, with knotted straps hanging down which allowed the slaves to climb up onto the creature. It walked ponderously on four thick legs, its two smaller arms beneath its massive head shaking with fear.
“Climb up!” Phoran shouted, using his little strength to lift Beva, pushing her up the side of the animal. Others followed pushing the two other children up ahead of them and then climbing up. Phoran grabbed a strap and tried to pull himself up, but his legs gave way and he fell to the ground.
“Get up!” Yona yelled at him, pulling at his arm. Back up the gorge, the fighting continued, and she could see spears and arrows flying backwards and forwards, and hear the angry screams of the other calliston. Phoran struggled to his feet and Yona, with the help of another man, pushed him up the side of the beast, the two of them scrambling after him. She looked around, panicking. Everyone had made it, somehow. Suddenly the beast rumbled beneath them and broke into a fast trot, huffing and puffing its way down the twisting gorge.
“You think he knows where he is going?” Phoran yelled. He was collapsed down on the hide and was being held tightly by Beva and another woman to stop him sliding off.
“I don’t care!” Yona shouted at him, and then smiled as the beast crashed faster and faster down the gorge, and suddenly emerged onto the endless, stony scrub of Great Plains. Yona burst out laughing as she hung on desperately. “I really don’t care!”
The wind picked up as the large calliston trotted south with the freed slaves hanging onto its back, fearing where the animal was going, but fearing more being left behind on the barren plain.
“It is a Dummerhole!” called out Beak, a wanderer who had been captured in the west.
“A what?” Yona shouted back. She had worked her way carefully towards the head of the calliston, looking for reins or anything that would control the animal. She had already tried shouting at it but to no avail.
“A Dummerhole,” Beak said, moving up next to her. “It is a calliston that has been captured young. They drill into its head and scald its brain with a fiery sword, making it dumb. They grow very big.”
“Do you know how to control it?”
“No, sorry. I have only heard of them, and never seen one. You think we should get off?”
“I don’t know. It is running very fast!” Yona peaked down at the ground from the broad shoulders. The powerful calliston was trotting at the speed of a cantering horse, but it was a much smoother ride; it’s four, clawed feet padding like a large cat, not thundering like a cow or an oothen. She shivered and looked behind them towards the towering wall of the North Hoar Ridge where dark clouds were being whipped into dramatic forms by the wind. “There is a storm building.”
“Storms here are bad news,” Beak told her, looking north. “They can go on for days and the wind and sand can cut your skin.” He looked back at the slaves, huddled on the oothen hide. “We are not dressed for it.”
“Then we hang on,” Yona decided. “We are heading south, so we hang on.”
Yona did not mean to take charge, not really, but for some reason, she had stayed stronger than the others, apart from Beak. The small, tough-looking man with dark weathered skin, seemed hardly affected by their ordeal though his eyes were haunted. Mostly he had been keeping apart from the others. He smiled once at Yona and made himself as comfortable as he could. He might not know much about callistons and dummerholes, but he knew animals, and nothing could run forever.
As the evening started drawing in, the storm caught up with them and the humans lay flat on the callistons back, shielding their eyes. Yona was sitting high up on the great neck, peering through the gloom and the dust. Beneath her, she felt the calliston rumble and then it made a pathetic whimpering sound, surprisingly high-pitched for such a great beast. Without thinking, Yona stroked the thick neck. The skin was not rough, but smooth and covered with short, fine hair.
“Hush,” she said as the calliston complained again. Ahead she could see a small copse of stunted trees, the first she had seen on this barren land. The calliston turned towards them and slowed. She could feel the tiredness in the huge body beneath her like she could with horses. As the animal reached the trees, it slowed to a halt and collapsed, shielding itself from the wind.
“Off!” Beak commanded the others and they slid from the hide. He jumped down and helped the weakest of them to the ground. Yona slid down and walked around to the front of the calliston. It had laid its wide, dragon-like head down on the stony ground and was panting with exhaustion, curling its smaller front arms under its neck. Yona put her hand on the side of its face.
“Thank you,” she said. The calliston breathed out and shut its eyes.
“I don’t think it can understand you,” Beak said.
“Can callistons talk? Like in the stories?”
“Yes, callistons can. Not dummerholes, though.” He looked around and shivered. “I don’t think we dare stay here long, but the river is close and we all need water.”
“We need food too,” Yona said, sitting down by the big head. “So does our friend here, I would think.”
“Maybe it is like a dragon,” Beak said. “Some say they are related. Dragons can go several days without eating.”
“I had never seen a dragon before,” Yona said. “There were none in the south where we lived. Will you try to get home?” She knew nothing about the small man other than he said he had been wandering.
“I have no home. Nor do most of these here, I think. You and your man are different. The girl is homeless and parentless now.”
Yona nodded. They hadn’t seen the capture of the others, but she knew that three women and three children, including Beva, had come from a tiny village the slavers had burnt down. They had only taken the women and the girls and killed the rest. She suspected that story was true for nearly all of them. If you have nowhere to return to, you are less likely to escape, perhaps. She huddled down on the ground, shivering as the wind whipped around them.
“Wake up,” Phoran said, shaking Yona. “The storm is getting worse!”
Yona shook herself awake. It was still dark, but there was light in the far east. The wind was battering and howling through the thin trees, and the calliston raised its head and groaned. Yona touched it on the cheek and it blinked at her.
“You are making a friend, I think,” Beak said.
“She does that with horses too,” Phoran said, smiling.
Yona looked up at him. “You seem a little better.”
“Just a little. The river is just over there. I had a long drink. You should too. Take Beva; she is scared.”
“Okay.” Yona struggled upright, found the young girl and took her to the river, the two of them drinking greedily with their hands from the rushing, cold waters that flowed down from the ridge. Behind them, she heard a loud grumble, like a deep yawn, and the calliston heaved itself heavily to its feet.
“Is he going?” Beva asked.
“Come on, quickly!” The two hurried over to the calliston as Beak and Phoran made the others climb onto its back. Yona pushed Beva up and was about to climb up herself when she heard the calliston rumble again. She turned and realised it was looking round at her. “Oh, this might be risky,” she told herself as she walked up to its head and touched it again on the cheek. Then she started walking on ahead to the south, along the banks of the river Cor-En, bracing herself against the wind. Behind her, the beast grumbled a little then slowly started following her.
“What are you doing?” Phoran called down from the calliston’s neck.
“We need him to go south. I don’t know how else to tell him.”
“Him?”
“Oh!” Yona laughed. “I don’t know!” She looked back at the calliston, following slowly behind her. “I think so, though.” She smiled
at the huge beast and started trotting, encouraging the animal to follow her. The calliston lengthened its stride, easily keeping up with her short, human legs. The wind blew harder and Yona put her hands over her eyes. In a beat, the calliston moved alongside her, shielding her a little and rumbled at her. “You are right; I am slowing you down.” She smiled once, then grabbed a strap and pulled herself onto its back. Immediately the calliston broke into a trot, its great head kept low, and ran unerringly south. Perhaps her encouragement was unneeded after all, Yona thought.
The storm followed them most of the day as the calliston kept to his southerly course, his head low and his eyes half closed. By midday, they discovered another of their number dead, this time from hunger, and they held the thin man on the hides rather than let him fall. By later in the afternoon, they were leaving the storm behind. They had been travelling along the banks of the river Cor-En and the desolate plane was changing slowly to grassland with the occasional small grouping of trees leaning over the rushing, milky-blue water. Beak made his way to Yona where she was sitting on the calliston’s neck.
“Look behind,” he said to her. Yona turned and looked north. Stretched across the plain was a wall of dust reaching to the sky, dark, foreboding, and impenetrable.
“Did we come through that?”
“Only the leading edge and that was bad