Caravanserai - The Awakening

The line of wagons picked their way through the rocky pass tenously.  Unscaleable walls on either side hampered the drivers view.  Dirt crunched  as the malek pulling the rickety wagons set ponderous foot upon foot down in monotonous regularity.  Each covered wagon was driven by a man or woman who employed a switch to keep the great beasts in line.  Ahead in the distance lay the wagon's goal for the day, a sinous switch of the Dvorr River. 

Here, the wagons were laid in a rough semicircle to keep  night hunters at bay.  The malek were hobbled near the river itself.  As the daylight began to fail, several cooking fires sprang up, smoke whisking around in the stiff breeze that blew off the golden river. 

At one of the these, a motley crew gathered to cook a meagre meal of challot cakes.  Tegra reached up and pulled down the rough-hewn bag of rolled challot, dug out a few handfuls and mixed it with the water Arlen had scooped out of the river earlier.  Her gnarled hands swiftly shaped the cakes and laid them out to cook on the frying board suspended over their little fire.

Arlen sniffed appreciatively as the nutty odor of the cakes wafted over to the wagon where she was helping Divy settle the malek and arrange the sleeping quarters for night.  Divy, Tegra's husband would sleep by his malek and the two women would share the wagon.

Divy squinted as he examined his malek's hooves.  An untreated sore or a set-in pebble soon festered in the blistering heat , so a careful examination and cleaning was necessary every night.  Divy said little as he worked, grunting and holding out his huge hand now and then for another piece of equipment.    Little conversation was necessary, this nightly ritual had gone on now for more days either could count. 

At length, satisfied with the condition of his malek's feet, Divy gave the huge shoulder an affectionate pat, and nodded to Arven.  "All right, off you go," he chuckled, his deep voice even hoarser because of the accumulation of a day's dust on little used vocal cords.  Arlen gave a hoarse whoop and flinging a backwards thank you look at Divy trotted off to join the rest of the children playing on the river's shores.

At the river's long bend here grew great tall clampsia trees.  Their long tendrils drooped and swayed in the breeze like graceful dancers.  There was a scrap of bronze sand on the shore and this was used by the children to scour. Jania flung a handful at her as she charged up.

"Shiska." she laughed, "finally!" 
"Well, if you'd helped I could've been here sooner" Arven replied cheekily,  knowing full well that the malek scared the other girl.

Scrubbed, the two friends played blithely in the bright dappled water unaware that glinting eyes were upon them.  Overhead flew a solitary tial, one of a huge number that occupied the largest series of plains on the planet.  This one was different, however, from his million other brethren.  He had been raised by humans and trained to report troop deployment and numbers to his master.  The tial were semi-intelligent and highly valued as lookouts.  The tial had seen enough, he flew off swiftly to the west.

After dinner, the rough dishes were washed and stowed away for the continued journey tomorrow.
Breakfast would consist of flatbread and a mouthful of water.  The carts would be on their way before the dawn broke, their destination a mere handful of days away now.  Jania and Arven sat close together sharing girlish secrets, occasionally chucking a quick glance at the boys who were playing a game of firmin with round stones gathered up from the river's shore.  "We're almost to Middick, I can hardly wait," Jania whispered excitedly.  "We're both five summers now, maybe we'll be picked as bridepay"  "Shh," Arven replied, "You know very well that Tegra and Divy can't spare me."  "Well, they'll have too, won't they" Jania rejoined, "after all what did they do before you came along?"

Like the rest of the wagoneers, Jania knew that Arven had not just "come along". The wagonneers had happened upon the scene of an ambush by bandits.  A dozen or so bodies lay strewn haphazardly about.  That it had happened at least a day ago was evident because of the ripe odor and state of decomposition.  Others might have been revolted and ridden quickly away but Jania's people were scavengers, among other things, and picking through dead bodies looking for valuables missed perhaps, by the thieves was looked upon as an opportunity.

It was Divy who had found her, Arven knew, hidden beneath the body of what must have been her mother.  Hungry and too weak to do anything but mewl she had squirmed in the unaccustomed brightness.  He had stood there indecisively for a moment, then stooped and bundled her unceremoniously into his cloak.  Tegra had lost yet another babe just a few days previously and they both knew it was probably the last.  If he could get her interested in this one, hopefully she would stop her infernal weeping at night. 

The nomads were a loose collection bound together by tradition and some loose blood ties.  There was no real leader, hence no one had to be consulted.  If Divy wanted to keep the strange child, it was his, as long as he could look after it.  Tegra had snatched up the little girl like an answered prayer, and put her to breast immediately.  It was enough. 

Although no one in the group ever openly objected to her presence, Arven knew she was there only on Divy's provenance.  As soon as she was old enough to understand, the circumstances in which she was found were explained to her.  She had already realized that she was different from the others in their small group.  Taller and fair skinned , with white blonde hair and icy blue eyes, she stood out from her swarthier dark haired companions.

There was another outsider, as well. Chelse, a woman from the far South of their huge continent.  She had joined the group a couple of handfuls of days ago, paying passage as far as the sprawling city of Middick.  She spoke only rarely, her people spoke with their fingers.  Arven had been curious about her, and the woman welcomed her enquiries, telling her much of the lands to the south.  She had even taught Arven some of her finger language, enough to get her by if she found herself suddenly transported to Rakk, the woman's home. 

Jania was her only other friend.  Young enough not to worry about censure from the others of her group she was drawn to the aloof girl.  Through many campfires, they had grown close sharing the dreams and desires of young girls.  They parted company that night reluctantly,  "See you in the morning, silly" , Jania smiled as she tossed back a look "don't let the grublets get you".

Arven sighed, she still had chores to do.  She put out their little cooking fire, shivering a bit in the cool night, and taking the frying platter to the river, scoured it clean with sand.  Now she was ready for bed.  It had been a busy day, she was tired.

Tegra was already snoring away when she lifted the flap of the wagon and crawled to her sleeping mat.  The woman would awaken early and disassemble the tripod that held the frying platter, and stow it away.  She would then perhaps poke around the oasis looking for  herbs for seasoning her various dishes before the others awoke.

Arven snuggled into her sleeping mat, and drifted off.  In her dream, she was flying, and in the distance she saw a black fortress atop a steely crag.  She tried to fly closer to see what was in the fortress, but something was stopping her.  She beat her wings futilely, she must go to the fortress, it demanded.  She beat her wings so fast, they burst into flames, she was burning, falling....Smoke, she smelled smoke.

A rough hand shook her fully awake.  "Get up, bandits" Divy yelled.  Arven could hear screaming now, thuds.  "Run, girl and try and get away!".  Arven flew out the open door flap not far behind him.  Smoke and fire were everywhere, she couldn't make out anything, it was dark still.  Panicked, terrified she ran in some random direction or other.  Someone clouted her from behind making her dizzy and bringing tears to her eyes, but she kept running.

Her breath coming in gasps she found herself crawling into a nearby grosebush.
Heedless of the pricks of the thorny vines she panted and squeezed her eyes shut as she lay there listening to the sounds of horrendous violence being carried out.  She tried to still her breathing, but it was impossible.  The smoke reached her hiding place, making her rasp and cough.  Panic flooded her.  They would find her for sure

A footfall, she instinctively stiffened, expecting  the blow that would end her life.  Instead the bushes parted and Chelse's face appeared.  Arven gasped, but Chelse motioned her to keep quiet.  Quickly pulling the little girl out of the thorns Chelse made a semicircle with her fingers.  "You must calm yourself" she whispered to Arven.  "I'm going to put  a guise on you", she continued.  Arven gasped again. Chelse was a sorceress.  "But, but.." , Arven went.  " Shhh, yes, you have the magic within you, it has just not arisen yet", Chelse responded.

Even while speaking, her hands had been flashing in a complex ritual and Arven began to feel strange....smaller, the ground had suddenly gotten a lot closer.  She looked down at her feet and saw..paws!  A flash of insight! She had been transformed into one of the thousands of furry creatures that scuttled the endless plains.