Chapter 2
The next day, the Spicans woke early to bid Cane farewell. His father and brother were solemn, embracing him swiftly and with very few words. Pyxis gripped his hand, only letting go after much coaxing.
“Be careful,” Boötes said gruffly, giving him a gentle slap to the side of the head.
Pyxis scowled. “Why do you have to go, Cane?”
He knelt, trying to smile. He had taken care of her for all her eight years, soothing her nightmares and sacrificing his own time for her. While the other boys had been out playing with sticks and stones, he had been teaching her how to walk. While Boötes watched over a herd, Cane watched over their sister. While the other young men went out on hunts, Cane stayed home to instruct Pyxis on how to build a fire.
He had endured taunts throughout most of his adolescence. They had been cruel, they had been underhanded, but, worst of all, they had struck him deeply. He had often resented the burden placed upon him. But now, looking at the frustrated and sad expression on her face, he wondered how he could ever have thought badly of her.
Placing a quick kiss on her forehead, he stood. Andromeda pushed through the crowd, eyeing him like a lioness watching a gazelle. “You remember the way?”
“Yes.”
“Just walk west.” She placed a cool hand on his cheek. “We will await your return very…eagerly.”
He was lost for a moment in her eyes; they seemed as deep as the night sky.
“Son,” Hamal barked. “The day is wasting.”
Andromeda removed her hand and stepped back. “Good luck.”
He turned and left, passing the remains of last night’s fires.
For a while, the only sound was the soft thunk of his heavy walking stick hitting the ground. Every now and then, he used it to shoo away a rattlesnake or a scorpion. He was thankful for the thick leather boots on his feet; he would have been dead within an hour had he worn his sandals.
It was always windy in the desert; the cloth wrapped around his head and neck gave some protection, but he still had to squint his eyes to shield them from the blowing sand. The night before, his father had told him that the walk to Kaitos was a five-day journey, which puzzled him. The pilgrims always seemed to be gone for long periods of time, sometimes for years—a few had never returned at all.
He soon passed out of the harsh scrubland. Cracked, dusty ground gave way to coarse sand. Small dunes made waves on the horizon. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the vast butte. His village was miniature now. It struck him as odd that he could have traveled so far in so short a time. Before long, he would traverse the first dune and lose sight of it completely.
Pyxis would probably be helping the other girls with chores by now. There were chickens to feed, eggs to collect, homes to clean.
Cane had been wishing for a chance at the pilgrimage since he was a child, but now that it had been given to him, he was absurdly reluctant. Part of him just wanted to go back home to his family instead of undertaking such a lonely trek.
Of course, even if he had been seriously inclined to do so, that would have gotten him branded as a coward—literally. He had only seen it happen to two pilgrims in his lifetime, but it looked very painful.
He took a deep breath and kept walking.
After two hours of walking, he stopped and stared in surprise at the thing in his path.
His brother was a herdsman in the village, and his main charges were goats; however, there was no way one would have wandered this far. Besides, he didn’t recognize this one.
She was a young female, pure white with a streak of black down her spine. She stood looking back at him, chewing her cud calmly.
Cane walked around her, keeping a safe distance; there were stories of djinn living in the expanse, keeping an eternal watch over their herds. From what Cane had heard, they were neither forgiving nor negligent.
There were some in the village—his friend Baham included—who scoffed at these stories, passing them off as tales to keep the children safely within the village.
However, Cane very much believed them and had no intention of being killed by an angry djinn who thought he was planning to roast one of its charges.
He continued walking and, as soon as his back was to the goat, he was struck hard from behind. He fell face-first into the sand.
Rolling over, he came face-to-face with the goat. Her breath nearly made him retch, but he didn’t dare move. She sniffed a little, nosing at his rucksack.
He sighed. Pilgrimage barely begun, and already he was faced with a hungry desert-goat whose presence was undoubtedly a bad sign.
Getting to his feet again, he waved his hands at her in what he hoped was a non-threatening shooing motion. “Go chew your cud elsewhere.”
He turned to go, but felt a tug at the hem of his tunic. Then there was a harsh ripping sound, and he turned to glare at the goat as a chunk of fabric disappeared into her mouth. Djinn’s goat or not, he aimed a kick at her shoulder. She ducked her head and backed away a few steps. Feeling triumphant, he shooed her with his walking stick and continued on. When he looked back, though, she was following at a safer distance.
Curse it, let her follow.
Concentrating on the ground ahead, he hummed a few verses of the song Tejat and Wasat had played the night before. But he could still hear his newfound traveling companion stopping to nibble on the sprigs of harsh desert grass.
After a few minutes, she bleated in pain. Turning with a sigh, he watched her limp up to him. She held out her right front hoof, looking at him expectantly.
Kneeling to inspect it, he found a sharp sliver of rock embedded there. He carefully pried it out with his knife, then scratched between her horns. “Be more careful, you idiotic doe.”
That evening, a storm blew in. Lightning crackled overhead, charging the dry air. Every flash illuminated the desert for a brief moment, outlining cacti with startling suddenness, and they looked like demonic sentinels watching over the dunes. There was no rain, as was usual, but the wind had gained a savage edge.
Need to find some shelter...
Cane pulled the cloth tighter around his head; little grains of sand were slipping in. He felt like he was going to become one with the dunes. A small white shape slipped past him, then slowed to a walk. Reason told him that it was the goat, and she was probably heading for wherever she made her home.
He considered his options as he trudged along behind her, trying to keep his eyes on both her and the ground.
If she really was a djinn’s goat, he obviously hadn’t evoked their wrath yet. If it turned out she was leading him back to her home, he wasn’t sure he wanted to take that risk.
Then again, if she was just a lost animal instinctively seeking shelter, it would be foolish to stay out here in the elements just because he was afraid of a possibility.
He then realized that he had lost sight of her in the swirling sands, and felt a moment of panic. It was short-lived, though, because when he took his next step, the ground wasn’t there. Panic was replaced by pure terror as he plummeted forward.
His arms shot out, and the cloth was nearly torn from around his head as the wind caught it. His fall was cut short, though. His hands hit the ground hard enough to crash his teeth together, and for a moment he thought he had bitten his tongue clean off. His forehead collided with something, sending out sparks behind his closed eyelids.
“Dammit,” he growled. Everything in his body seemed to be taking an eternity to respond, but his first triumph was slowly curling the fingers of both hands into fists. His tongue was still intact, though very sore, and he thought he tasted blood. Inching open one eye, he found that it didn’t help much; the storm had blocked out any remaining sunlight, leaving it dark as night. However, the wind seemed to have lessened—or at least been blocked out.
So it was only by feel that he discovered he was kneeling at the mouth of a small cave. It was a narrow entrance, but once he was through, it opened up into a wide cavern. At least, that’s what it sounded like.
Hooves clopped across stone, the sound echoing around a seemingly vast space. Something furry brushed against his hand. He felt the distinctly bony spine, and knew that this was his companion. She seemed to be comfortable here, so he assumed there was no immediate danger.
Still completely blind in the darkness, he felt his way along the wall until he was a safe distance from the entrance. He slipped the pack from his shoulder and felt through it until he found the pyre plants resting at the bottom. He broke off a branch from one, located the large stone he kept for starting fires, and pulled his knife from his pocket.
The pyre plants were treasured for their flammability, making them especially useful for travelers who might need to strike a fire quickly. He struck his knife against the stone until a spark flew out. The plant’s glossy brown leaves ignited, and Cane watched the blaze for a moment to make sure it was going to stay lit.
When he finally looked up at the now-illuminated cave, he jerked back and gave a high shout of surprise.
. The scene really held my attention.
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