they were fed a porridge of cereal and fermented goats milk, and Han-so-Terena helped Beak improve his map.
“There is no road through here,” he told them. “To our east are the Eastern Plains. When you reach the river Al-ne-Kelaine, you will cross one of the few roads. It is a trade road from An-Hellern, the seat of the Keffra-See, into Desson, and is the only trade route into the southern half of the Plains. The Eastern Plains is a troubled land and those that trade together also sometimes fight each other. The Pharsil-Hin are often attacked by the Keffra-See as we travel, and the Draig yr Anialr with their riders help to protect us. This has been true for hundreds of years.”
“Do you know this village of the Callistons?” Beak asked. “I remember it from my travels many years ago, I believe. I found ruins in the Kelaine hills and I think that must be the place, though I did not know what it was.”
“It is,” the nomad confirmed. “We in the So tribe sometimes hunt in the hills and we know them well. I do not know how long it has been abandoned, but it is nothing more than a few broken walls now.”
“That is how I remember it too. Yona is certain that Eldola is heading there.”
“I believe she is right. As far as we know from our tribal memory, that was the only Calliston village in this part of Bind, most being much farther west. I see no other reason why your friend should be coming here.”
Yona looked up at the sun. “We should go soon,” she said. “We are all so very grateful for your kindness. We have been so cruelly treated, and yet in the last few days we have met two peoples who have put their daily lives aside for us.”
“As I told you yesterday, you are kin to our kin enslaved. We would celebrate your freedom. Now, we must also arm you, as much as we can. Where your friend is taking you is most beautiful, but you will need to hunt and there may be other dangers, as with anywhere on Dirt. The Keffra-See have no interest in the hills, but you should still be wary of them. None of you will ever be able to pull our great bows, but we have a few smaller bows and shafts that we can offer you.” The nomad stood and took them to the village centre where others of the So tribe were sorting out bows, some knives and an impressive heap of thick but soft hides. Yona, who could not use a bow, went to help pack their few things and check on Beva and the other children who were playing with Eldola.
Phoran looked at the pile of hides. “This is too much, Han-so-Terena,” he exclaimed.
“The winds and cold at night are as much of an enemy as any man, Phoran,” the nomad explained. “The hides are your weapon against that foe. Now, we would see which of you can use a bow, make sure you are armed and we will give you a little training. We are the best archers on Dirt.” It was not a boast but a simple statement of fact, as with all their conversation. Phoran did not doubt for a moment that is was true.
Five of the former slaves stepped forward and were given bows and the nomads helped them with their skills. All could shoot and two of them with some expertise.
“You are not a bowman?” Han-so-Terena asked Beak. “That surprises me.”
“Yes, I can use a bow. If we need, I will use one.”
“Please, select one and we shall see how well you shoot. You look stronger than the others.” Beak had lost much weight during his incarceration and, unknown to the others, his treatment when first captured had been particularly cruel, but the wiry muscles on his small frame had somehow kept their strength.
“It is alright; I know how to fire a bow.”
“Please, this is important,” the nomad insisted.
“I only use one when I really have to,” the small man protested angrily, turning away. The tall nomad grabbed him by an arm, stopping him
“I suspect you have some skill, but if others do not know how skilled you are, then how are they to know how to fight? Each warrior must understand the skills of the others; this is the only true way to win a battle.”
“You do not understand,” Beak growled.
“I only understand your need now, friend. I have no need to understand the trials of your past.”
Beak span around, pulling his arm free and snatched up a bow. Without taking his eyes from the nomad he notched two arrows at once and sent them dead centre into the furthest target. The Nomad raised an eyebrow and bowed a little.
“You are truly an exceptional archer. You should not hide it.” He looked at the simple bow that Beak had used and then pulled a beautiful longbow from his back. It was not one of their great bows, but it was powerful and wonderfully made. “Here, this is more suited for you I think, warrior.” He handed the bow over to the speechless man and walked to the others to offer a little more instruction. Beak stared at the wondrous weapon in his hands.
“What the hell was that about, Beak?” Phoran hissed. Beak shook his head slightly. “Tell me, or tell Yona. I can see you are fond of her.”
Beak looked up at the tall man. One of the tribal women had applied an ointment to Phoran’s scarred back the previous night and he was standing straighter and stronger today. “Your Yona is like my sister of many years ago. Nothing more.”
“And the reluctance to fire a bow?”
“My father was a cruel man who beat my mother. I killed him with his bow when I was fifteen to save her life, but she never forgave me. After I lost my own family, I spent most of my life as a mercenary until I was sick of the death. I use a bow because I am good with one, but I hate them too.” He looked at the beautiful bow again, then put it over his shoulder. “Am I too old to change, Phoran?”
“You have decided to stay at the calliston village when we get there, haven’t you?” Phoran asked Yona as they left the nomad village on the back of the calliston.
“I shouldn’t have decided that on my own, and we will ask the others when we get there. I am sorry, my love.”
“No, don’t be. Your large friend needs a home and I do not think the cliffs and sea of our home would suit him well. You need a home too.”
“We have our village, isn’t that our home?” Yona was feeling guilty, but for some reason, the place of her birth seemed even farther away now, even though they were heading south towards it.
“It is, but I think that has changed.” Phoran looked back along the hide where their friends, their new villagers, were sitting, now well rested, though still weak. The calliston was wide with a long, long back, but there was not enough room for them all and they were crammed together. “Home is where your people are. These are your people now.”
“And you?”
“I have always been your people!” The tall man grinned.
Yona loved him so much that sometimes it hurt, even after all the years they had been together. They had always known each other of course, as their fishing village was small, and they had been in their teens when they first walked along the cliffs, bathing in the warm wind from the Missing Sea, and had decided to try kissing. They had been in love ever since.
“I do not know about Beak, though. I am not sure he can settle.”
“I believe he wants to,” Phoran said. “But I think he might be too set in his ways. Is he really so old? His face looks old, but watching him with a bow, I just cannot believe it.”
“I spoke to Golla when we left Markon Vale. She says he really is that old. Called him a long-lived, though I am not sure exactly what that means. I think he will stay a while, and we desperately need him. He is the strongest of us.”
“No, he isn’t,” Phoran said with a smile. Yona braced herself for some more praise she was fairly certain she did not deserve. “That would be our big friend here!” Phoran patted Eldola on the neck and was rewarded with a grunt of annoyance. Yona roared with laughter and gave her man a very wet and thoroughly embarrassing kiss.
Although they were now much clearer about the route, Yona still felt they were in the hands of the large calliston as he carefully made his way down from the hills to the heathlands below, and immediately set out southeast, alm
ost as if he had been part of the map discussions. The previous night he had eaten two roasted goats which had been flavoured with herbs and bulbs of garlic, and Beva had been left giggling as he rumbled and almost hummed as he ate. It was a small reminder that his kind was intelligent and cultured, and not merely another beast of the plain or forest. Sometimes Yona wished he was not from such a background as it made his life seem so much harsher.
The land here was flatter than it had been since they crossed the Cor-En, and as it neared dusk Beak called out that he could see where the tributary of the Al-ne-Kelaine that they had been following for the past few hours met the main river. Almost immediately Eldola started to slow down, hesitant of another river crossing.
“We will stop here for the night then cross in the morning,” Yona called up to Beak, as she leapt down from the calliston and ran to his head to tell him to stop. As she patted her friend on the cheek to thank him, from behind her, she heard a shout and she span around to see eight horsemen charging towards them.
“Keffra!” Beak shouted. “Get you bows out,” he ordered the other five archers, as he quickly swung the beautiful nomad bow off his shoulders and, standing straight on Eldola’s shoulders, notched an arrow, holding five more in his right hand.
“Everyone off!” Yona shouted, looking around wildly. “Daintine, take the children behind those