"This
sucks!", Majan said as her mother lead her to the waiting group.
It was the third year in succession she would have to travel to the
summer camp. "If you would finally start to behave like a girl,
a young woman now, you wouldn't have to go, you know that. But if you
insist on running around like a boy and try to be better than them
with a bow, you will be go north every year. And you will never find
a husband!" Her mother sounded exhausted. It was an argument
they had had in the past. "I. Don't. Want. A. Husband! I want to
do what I like. And that's not keeping a house clean and cooking."
"I don't think anyone will ever accuse you of liking either of
those things.", her mother replied, her expression grim. "And
that's a good thing!", Majan thought, but she kept her mouth
shut and tried to prepare herself for weeks of travel and months of
being away from her home - again.
They
crossed the narrow bridge over to the main square, where the other
delinquents who were forced to go were already waiting. Scanning the
waiting crowd, Majan found a few familiar faces. Some of them people
she didn't like, others people who didn't like her.
The carts
and the horses the tribe had prepared for them was the same as every
year. Old, close to useless. Another thing designed to remember
everyone they were being punished by being sent away from the tribe.
Only a few of the older people joined voluntarily, they brought their
own equipment and held delinquents like Majan in contempt. Old Yara
was one of them. She would be responsible for the girls and would be
in charge of teaching them womanly things and proper behaviour and
the traditions of the tribe. Majan despised her and she was certain
the feeling was mutual. When they entered the square, her mother
turned to her: "You know I love you, Majan and I hope nothing
bad happens to you, but please make this the last time I have to see
you off like this. It is a disgrace and it doesn't do you any good."
It was a speech Majan had heard before. "I will do my best.",
she replied, as she had done the years before. Then her mother kissed
her on her cheek, whispered "I love you." and left her.
Majan watched her leave the square and saw her cross the gorge and
walk towards their home.
When she no
longer could see her mother, she turned towards the carts. One of
them held her belongings, clothes and some other provisions. She made
sure everything was still as she had left it the day before and then
sat down on one of the stone benches that lined the square. She would
miss the town, with its terraces and the waterfall and its dozens of
bridges. As far as she knew, the town was unique among all tribes.
The other tribes lived in their tents all year long and they went to
the summer camps as a whole. For her this was unimaginable. Never
having the comfort of a proper home seemed terrible. She knew that
the other tribes considered the gorge tribe as weird, but didn't both
the angels in their realms and the humans of the Kingdom live in
towns like theirs? The last terimag incursion had been over a century
ago. These days, sending a few warriors to patrol the plains should
be enough.
A shadow
looming over her made Majan look up. It was Old Yara. The woman was
ancient, her eyes almost hidden behind wrinkles, her skin weather
worn and her hair was almost pure silver. As one of the few who
preferred to travel to the summer camp every year, she lived at the
edge of the town in a house that was little more than a hole in the
cliffs the town was hewn into. Her clothes were probably about as old
as the woman who wore them, a worn out skirt made from heavy wool and
a shirt and waistcoat. All of them would have been colourful once,
but they had lost most of that and now only showed a pale red and
green. It wasn't even as if the old woman couldn't afford better or
newer clothes. She was one of the better seamstresses in the town and
still was keeping herself busy making embroideries. Old Yara just
didn't care. If it didn't serve a purpose and helped with something,
she didn't do it or use it. This applied to items, animals and
everyone she interacted with. It would be a tiresome journey, getting
lectured while underway, having to do all kinds of sewing, cooking,
whatever the old woman fancied at the moment Majan would have to do.
"Everyone
come here!" The call came from Haro Minar. He would probably
lead the warriors and thus the whole caravan. "You better hurry
up, Majan.", the old woman said. Saved by Minar, Majan thought,
at least for a while. She wouldn't be able to escape Yara for long.
"We
have a slightly smaller group this year than the last years. There
also are more youngsters among us than usual, this means we will have
a hard time if we encounter any bigger terimag. I want all of you to
be vigilant." One of the warriors said what most people probably
thought: "We haven't encountered any terimag at all in years.
Green Mountain will travel nearly the same path as we do, as every
year and clear things out for us."
"There
have been reports from Clay that angels have made an attempt to
conquer Sormech Valley. They expect more terimag to enter the plains
because of that. Clay already left their camp, so we can't expect
much cover from the east. And since we have to defend the town, the
farms and the mines, no additional warriors can be spared. We might
even try to catch up with Green Mountain and join them if the threat
becomes more than we can deal with."
"Great
news.", Majan thought and made sure her knife was sharp. She
noticed more than a few of the warriors do the same with their
weapons.
Minar
hadn't finished: "I'll call everyone's name once, and I expect
you to respond immediately if you are present and have made sure your
belongings are on a cart and you are ready to leave." He enjoyed
this. A mean spirited man, quick to anger and incredibly ugly, he
probably saw it as revenge to command the people who didn't like or
respect him.
An hour
later they started moving out of the town. From the main square, a
long ramp lead down into the valley. It was one of the most beautiful
sights fro Majan. From the ramp you could see the cliffs at both
sides and in front hills covered with farms, vineyards and some small
forests. While she liked, even loved the town itself, situated in the
gorge created by the waterfall, the view of the surrounding land was
even more beautiful.
As she
walked next to a cart, trying to evade old Yara, she thought about
their numbers. thirty seven warriors, about twenty traders, who
joined the caravan as it passed their houses, a dozen families and
thirty-one delinquents. The traders, who had their own wagons filled
with iron tools and weapons, also brought some apprentices. All
together, they were one hundred and seventy two people. Not much more
than a big clan. As they left the cliffs behind them and followed the
road north, the group got more lively. As per tradition the
delinquents had to walk as much as possible, while the others would
ride on their horses or wagons. Some of the families had smaller
carts drawn by mules, with their children on the cart and the parents
walking. The soldiers split up in groups, chatting with each other
and having a laugh. As they passed the last villages and left the
hills behind, the warriors would split off the main group and scout
the surroundings. Often conveniently comming across some game they
could hunt. In the evening, they would share it among themselves. The
rest had to make do with what they had brought along. Majan started
talking to one of the traders, who was far away from the wagon she
knew to be Yara's. Some of them had a lot of experience travelling
and almost all of them had interesting stories to tell. Some of them
even went to the Kingdom on their trips.
"Have
you ever been there?", she asked. behind her she heard one of
the man's apprentices groan: "Oh please no." Apparently
there was a story the youth had heard too many times already. His
master remained oblivious to the comment and plunged right into his
story: "I have visited the kingdom a few times. There are other
traders who have been there more often, but I think I am maybe the
one who travelled through it the longest. When I was younger, before
I inherited my father's business, I decided to go and see if I could
find more opportunities for trade in areas the other traders didn't
go. The journey through the mountains isn't easy, but alone, just
with a backpack it is easier than with a wagon. For the first part I
joined a colleague of mine and we crossed the border together. The
land itself doesn't change much. Here we have the plains, then the
hills, then the mountains. On the other side, the mountains also
become smaller and turn into hills and eventually, much slower than
here, the land becomes flat. You will find most of the same trees
there as you will find in any forest here, they have the same
animals. When you go farther south, that changes. If you think it can
get hot here over the summer, you are mistaken. The people who live
there are used to it, though and they just stop working in the middle
of the day and only continue when the temperatures go down again."
He paused for a moment, then added with a smile: "They have
amazing wine there. Better than anything I ever seen from any tribe."
Again he stopped his story for a moment, probably thinking about what
to say next and continued: "The people there have a very
different way of living. Here, we are the exception with our town and
villages. There, they have towns many times bigger that Gorge. It is
amazing. They build their houses in the open, not in the side of a
cliff or a hill. Some of them are made out of wood, but most of the
buildings are made of stone or clay. There are so many people there.
And so much demand for almost anything we can find a way to carry
there. And all the uses they found for magic! It makes you wish we
had our own mages. We only ever see them when they come to kill and
destroy, but there is so much more they can do. They have roads where
they can travel faster than you could on any normal road. They light
the streets in some cities with lights that don't need wood to burn.
I've also seen them build houses with the help of magic. Things that
would take days or weeks without can be done in a matter of hours
with their magic. And better!"
He went on
like that for a while and Majan could see why the apprentice didn't
want to hear that again. So
as he droned on, she was listening with half an ear, watching the
landscape and her fellow travellers while occasionally nodding or
asking a quick question to keep him talking. This went well for
another half an hour or so when her luck changed. One of the warriors
called her name and she probably would have gone unnoticed if she
hadn't turned her head and looked at him.
“The old
hag wants you.”, he simply said, waving his hand in the general
direction of where Yara's wagon would be. She sighed, and asked her
trader-friend: “Promise me to finish your tales sometimes?” “Of
course! It is nice talking to someone who hasn't heard the same words
half a dozen times already.”, he replied, nodding towards his
apprentice as he winked at her.
As she
carefully made her way towards her fate in the person of Yara, she
watched a horse slipping on the wet ground. “It must have rained
here last night”, she thought to herself. As an unlucky warrior
sailed through the air, she saw one of their scouts galloping towards
the caravan, shouting
something that got lost in the distance. One by one people started to
notice him, but still nobody could understand what he was yelling.
Then, as he came closer to meeting the caravan at the foot of the
hill, someone picked up what it was: “Terimag!”.
Immediately
some people started to panic, while others froze. The day had turned
into chaos, and it would only be the beginning. Minar started
questioning the poor man, at one point shaking him to get him to talk
faster. Majan couldn't make out what was being said, but it couldn't
be good as everyone who could hear it turned very, very pale. Majan
noticed she was holding her breath and forced herself to slowly
breathe in and out. It helped, a little bit, but she still felt
helpless. The whole caravan had gone eerily quiet, even the horses
seemed to know something was going on.
It was
Minar who broke the silence: “Ok everyone, listen now!”, he
yelled at the top of his lungs. If he had been a better looking man
he probably would have appeared more inspiring. As it was, his shaggy
hair did a bad job of hiding his crooked nose, the huge mouth full of
bad teeth and his
patchy beard. “A
large group of Terimag are about half an hour from here. Waller will
take half the warriors to get word to the villages and to Gorge. The
rest of us will leave the cart and get as many people as possible on
the horses. We will turn north and try to find Green Mountain. They
have to be warned and we will have a better chance of getting there.
Keep only what can be carried on horse and only what you absolutely
need. Leave the rest, if we're lucky we can get to it at some point.”
In five minutes we leave. Get the horses ready. I know we don't have
enough of them, so find someone who has one and team up with them.
Now get on with it, time is precious!”
What he had
just said took a moment or two to register for Majan. Then she ran to
grab her bag. She slipped and slid down the hill once, but with the
grass dampening her fall she only got wet and dirty. There was a
throng around the cart where her belongings were, but eventually she
managed to get a hand on them and started emptying it. Most of her
clothes had to go, but she grabbed a blanket she found on the ground
and made sure some food was in the bag as well. Then she shouldered
it and went looking for someone with a horse. Around here, the
families had readied the horses that had carried their wagons and
carts. The traders and their people had
sorted themselves as well. As she watched, she didn't see anyone who
was alone on their horse. She felt a deep and black desperation
spread. Around her a few people were also standing, bags and
rucksacks in their hands or on their shoulders and they all seemed to
have come to the same conclusion as she had. They would be left
behind. From what she saw, all of them were the delinquents who were
here as a punishment. One of them, a young man a few years older that
Majan grabbed Minar as he walked past him: “What about me?”, he
looked around him and swallowed. “What about us?”, he then said.
Minar shoved him back and said: “We don't have enough horses.
You'll have to make make your own best speed. I can't do anything.”