Chapter 10
November 23rd
They fled for the rest of that day, in a nervous, solemn silence. They doubled the watch that night, and the next day resumed their furious pace. On and on they ran, exhausting themselves but never daring to slow down. Through one day and into the next they threw themselves across the great expanse of the Barrens, trying desperately to lose a pursuer they weren't even sure was still after them. At the dawn of the fourth day, they were forced to slow their pace as several of their pack animals were developing bruises upon their joints and swollen limbs. The workers took care to massage the animals and tightly bind the legs to help reduce swelling, and they were forced to slow their pace to a crawl. Everyone was tense that day, looking over their shoulders as they rode, and Zechariah heard many whispered prayers for salvation, and that evening they tripled the watch.
All their work was for naught.
The morning of the fifth day, there was an effigy just outside their camp. The man who had accused Zechariah of killing Irfan. He was displayed like some kind of grotesque spider, his limbs cut in two and protruding along his spine.
"Guards!" Zaki shouted turning away from the gruesome sight. "Get everyone in a line." Nawfa, get a wagon to block this horror from view. Everyone else, make sure you have a weapon in hand."
Everyone lined up obediently, weapons drawn from swords to knives to clubs. Just what was going on. Guards standing around them, Zaki ordered them all to remove their shirts. Hesitantly, they all complied Zaki and Nawfa following suit. They inspected each other's throats for a time before seeming satisfied, and then they went down the line, first disarming the person they were inspecting, and then closely examining their neck. When they got to Zechariah, he shivered at the touch. It was just his neck, but it left him feeling so vulnerable being closely inspected like that. It was extremely unpleasant. Eventually, the end of the line was inspected, and Nawfa and Zaki consulted each other quietly, Zaki running his free hand through his hair in stress. He turned back to the caravan workers and shouted, "Clothes on, stand at the ready." The crowd complied, some changing out their daggers and swords for short bows and crossbows. Taking a deep breath, Zaki turned to the guards and said. "Line up. Prepare for inspection." The guards looked nervously at one another, uncomfortable, but their captain repeated Zaki's order and they complied.
Lining up, they removed their helmets and their coifs, before removing their chain shirts and their leathers, finally removing their shirts. They stood, bare chested in a line, and the Captain was the first to be inspected. After he was cleared, he ordered the other guards to disarm, and they complied tossing their weapons to the floor before the captain. Then he, Zaki and Nawfa inspected the troops. Zechariah observed from a distance, and then saw what they were looking for. On one of the guards, in the centre of the group, was a soldier who had a faint but discernible line close to where his neck met his shoulders. It was jagged, as though the flesh had been torn, and was faint, only a faint tone difference between the skin of his torso and the skin of his neck. It wasn't the same skin. As Nawfa and Zaki approached, Zechariah saw something glint in the soldiers hand.
"Nawfa! Look out!" Zechariah cried as they approached the man with two shades of skin. He snarled snapping his hand forward and throwing a broken piton with incredible speed at Zechariah. He tried to throw himself out of the way but took the sharp piece of metal in the right shoulder and cried out as he fell to the ground. The world twisted around him, and exploded into chaos. As he landed on his side, Zechariah looked up to see the man leaping forward to pick up a sword from the ground and spun it around severing a man's legs as he tried to grapple the Jundar. As the man tumbled upon the Jundar the monster reached up and, grabbing the man by the throat and crushing it causing blood to spray from his mouth, he hurled the dead guard toward Nawfa, Zaki and the Captain, causing them to barrel out of the way though it caught the captain square in the chest. Zechariah saw something horrible then. As the Jundar stood, he saw the toes of his feet begin to split and rotate around, morphing into horrendous talons as glittering bones that shone like opals began to protrude from the flesh. Using his newly formed feet, the creature grabbed up a sword in one foot and with the other bit into the stone below solidifying his stance as the guards rushed in.
With his free hand he threw one to the ground, with his foot he parried an attack with joints that were no longer human legs, and ran the guard through and he hurled his sword in his other hand at a caravan worker who was drawing his bow back. Three men fell in the blink of an eye and the creature smiled ruefully as he delighted in the death. As he bent to pick up more weapons however he was assaulted by a barrage of arrows, most of which broke against the hardened bones inside his body, one though ripped into his neck causing him to splutter hideously. Though his neck was pierced the beast hardly seemed to notice save for the coughing that ensued. As he took up more blades, Nawfa leapt in close. She was crazy, not even fully clothed, she spun with in the reach of the Jundar who stabbed a blade in response. Instead of attempting to parry it and risk being knocked off balance, she instead stepped expertly inside the Jundar's stab and, anchored as he was he was unable to dodge the attack Nawfa swung at his anchored leg. She aimed for the tendons and cut cleanly into the leg, but the blade jumped wildly at is struck the Jundar's bone and a loud clang sounded as her sword ricocheted off the of incredibly strong bone.
Using the momentum of the swing, Nawfa deftly stepped away from the Jundar's reach as it began to topple to the floor, but Zechariah could see it's severed ligaments already mending. As it fell to the floor it threw out a blade at Nawfa who was anticipating it and she flung herself to the floor to dodge the sword which sunk several inches into a wagon. Zechariah struggled to stand, and tried to grip his scimitar in his hand but his fingers protested as an angry sharp pinching sensation flowed into his arm and he dropped his sword. Damn it! He was useless!
As the Jundar stood again, furry upon his formerly joyous face, he was hit again with many arrows. He hissed an angry laugh before casually reaching down and picking up two dead guards and hauling them like nothing more than a stuffed doll, crouched low and leapt into the air with incredible strength, jumping a full thirty feet high, across the campsite and landing heavily upon a crate shattering the wood below. He grinned cruelly before taking a bit out of one of the guard's necks and spitting it at the crowd of people all bristling with weapons and then leapt away.
Everyone stood in tense silence save for the injured or dying who groaned or screamed in pain and terror. One guard ran out of the ring of wagons to ensure that the Jundar was leaving, and saw it leaping from one standing stone to another, now having formed multi jointed limbs. Several workers began to break down in tears of shock, some in relief. Zechariah's own eyes were filed with tears of pain as he griped his shoulder trying to stop the bleeding. Seeing that the threat had passed, Zechariah fell to his knees and let out a cry of pain. There were several others, particularly the archer who had taken the thrown sword in the stomach. The caravan workers hurried about grabbing medical supplies and set about trying to save as much as they could. Two guards were dead, two guards were taken and one caravan worker was run through. It was horrible. The cries, the blood, the smell of iron mixing in with the dusts of the desert. It was so foul.
Nawfa knelt beside Zechariah as he fell to the floor, rolling him to the side as she inspected his wound. She called out for bandages and some were quickly brought to her. She heard him cursing above him as she poured some water onto his wound. "Heat this blade!" The piton was almost entirely buried inside his shoulder. The force at which it had penetrated meant that it had almost punctured straight through, though it was lodged fully inside. Fortunately, it had not hid any bone, otherwise it likely would have shattered his shoulder. All things considered, he was lucky, or so Nawfa said. He certainly didn't feel lucky.
She poked and prodded until she understood the position the piton was at, and then presented a cloth wrapped stick to bite down on.
"Your going to need this." She said, pressing it into his mouth. He tried to protest and wasn't thinking straight. She held him down, and using the heated blade now cooled enough not to burn, cut into his shoulder. He cried out and bit down hard on the gag weeping uncontrollably. Great, he was crying like a child. Nawfa used some tools from within the package that the caravan worker had brought her, looked like a small pair of tongs, and jammed them inside Zechariah's shoulder. Damn it! Did she have to be so rough? Though, his rational mind was trying to tell him that she was being extremely careful and gentle, his pain wracked mind thought she was trying to kill him. She got hold of the piton and carefully pulled it out from his shoulder. She cleaned out the wound again, this time with some alcohol from the kit, and began to stitch him up. Zechariah cried the whole time, but to his credit, he never lost consciousness, though he wished he had.
"Your going to be okay." Nawfa said soothing, placing a wet rag on his brow. "Try not to move much, I have to go help the others."
Zechariah lay there, propped up against a stone some cloth under him and wet cloth upon his brow. He saw Nawfa hurrying here and there, trying to help out where she could. By Aleen, she was quite the woman. Perhaps he shouldn't be so cold to her? Despite her best efforts and the efforts of all those around, being pierced by a sword through the guts was not something one recovered from on the road, and though they did their best to make him comfortable, it quickly became apparent that he would die before long. Rather than waiting out the last Rises of his life, Nawfa stepped forward and said a prayer over him, before gently stabbing a dagger into his heart. He convulsed violently for a few moments, before lying still. As she stood, and went about cleaning up herself and this mess, he could see the hardness in her eyes. Not a lack of love or caring, but a need to act despite her love and caring. She was strong in more ways than Zechariah understood.
They hadn't the time to rest or morn. As soon as the wounded were tended to, and the impossibly wounded were dealt with, Zaki ordered caravan to move out, and though there were some who protested, they were quickly silenced by the imposing danger of the Jundar returning. Zaki had the dead tied to the back of the further most wagon, and a corpse ordered to be cut free at the Zenith of each day. Baylee was tied to the back of one of the wagons and Zechariah was laid inside upon the remainder of the feed he had purchased for Baylee. It was not a very comfortable ride, but was a whole lot better than having to ride in the saddle the whole day. He lay there, in the shade of the wagon his shoulder throbbing angrily at him at every bump and jostle. He lay there, hating how useless he had been to help or defend himself. He lay there, wondering what he was even doing.
Why was he doing this again? To chase a woman he didn't know. Like that was a smart idea. A woman, that he wasn't even sure existed. Now here he lay, with a gaping wound in his shoulder, in the middle of the Barrens, with no comforts to speak of. He shouldn't have left home. It was better there. He might not have been liked but at least he wouldn't be on the verge of dying. He could have made it to Amir's wedding, could have helped him build his house, a mini mansion for him and Calnda. It would have been good. It would have been peaceful. But no, the shadows were coming for him, and they wanted him to leave. He didn't have a choice in the matter. He had to flee Hyran. Unless they to were just a figment of his imagination. He hadn't seen or heard anything from the shadows in over three cycles. What if it had just been another dream? What if he was out here, in the middle of no where, injured, because he couldn't tell reality from fiction any more?
No. No he couldn't think like that. Even if it was true that it was nothing more than a dream, he couldn't entertain the idea of his own insanity. If he did, he would truly break. He had to believe it was real...or he had to believe he was insane, and he couldn't admit that. It couldn't not be real.
"How are you doing?" Nawfa asked interrupting his thoughts as she climbed into the back of the wagon veil lifted.
"I've been better." He said hoarsely. His crying earlier had worn out his throat. He blushed, embarrassed by his earlier weakness and turned his head away in shame.
"Undoubtedly." She said as she crawled up next to him. "Here, sit up a bit. Let me redress the wound." She removed the loose sack that he was wearing in place of a real shirt, and frowned at the extent of the bleeding that had taken place. His bandages were soaked. He looked away, dizzied by the sight of all the blood. He could hear the congealed blood breaking away as she removed his bandages. She placed the mass carefully in another sack, and went about cleaning his wound again, applying more ointment and then bandaging it up again.
"Thanks for saving me today." She said breaking the silence.
Zechariah looked at her like she was mad. "Saving you? Did you see what happened? I got dropped like a sack of potatoes. I wasn't able to help anyone."
"Your warning. The Jundar would have killed both Zaki and I before we could have even flinched. You saved us by drawing it's attention." Nawfa explained. "And you managed to dodge it's attack."
"Dodge it's attack?" He said incredulously pointing at oozing wound she was currently re-bandaging.
"It was aiming for your heart no doubt. Taking it in the shoulder is better than anyone else managed." Nawfa said.
"You managed to dodge it's attacks entirely. I was useless." Zechariah said.
"I've fought Jundar before, so I knew where it's attacks would come from." She lifted her shirt exposing herself. "I took a blade just below the shoulder, similar to where you got hit. See?" She said casually pointing to a ragged scar upon the inside of her right breast. "Pierced my lung. I barely survived that attack, and I barely survived the pneumonia that followed. This one," She said pointing to a cut across her belly, "was where nearly got disembowelled by a Jundar when I attempted to parry its swing. it was too strong and knocked my blade aside. Had I not used the momentum from having my attack knocked aside so easily, it would have killed me. As such, I only have a deep scar instead." She lowered her shirt and resumed binding his wound. "Point is, I'm not only a trained warrior, but I know what to expect when fighting a Jundar. I'm under no delusion that I would actually be able to defeat one, but I know how to avoid some attacks. You don't know how to fight a Jundar, and yet you managed to escape with, although a very painful wound, a fairly minor one."
"So I managed to survive. I still did nothing." Zechariah said.
"How did you know the Jundar was about to attack? How did you know that he was a Jundar?" Nawfa asked looking up at him.
"I...I don't know. I was looking at their necks just like you were, and I just saw something that seemed odd, and then I saw metal in his hand and figured that he must be the one we were looking for." Zechariah explained.
"But you must have been fifteen paces away at least, and how did you know what we were looking for?" Nawfa asked.
"I didn't I guess. Not really. You were inspecting people's necks, so I was looking at their necks as well. I saw a faint difference in skin tone between his neck and his shoulders. I didn't know what it meant but it was the only thing I could see that you might be looking for, and when I saw the metal in his hand...Well, who else would it be?" Zechariah shrugged then sucked air in through clenched teeth as his agitated his wound. Nawfa smiled and shook her head at him.
"It's impressive to say the least. No one else saw it." Nawfa said.
"What does it mean? The different skin tones?" Zechariah asked.
Nawfa tied off the bandage tightly making Zechariah wince again. "Jundar are able to piece themselves together, and craft bodies for themselves. The discolouration of skin, meant that the Jundar had...attached the severed head of that guard onto his body. The only clues as to whether someone is a Jundar or not, is to look for the 'seems' where they attach parts to themselves. Sometimes however, with enough time and careful work, the seams are almost non existent, looking more like a thin whips of hair rather than even a scar."
Zechariah shuddered. "How are you meant to stay safe from that?"
Nawfa looked away. "The sacrifices that I mentioned before. The Jundar feed on human flesh and, the sacrifices satiate their hunger. We feed our weak to them, and they don't massacre us. At least, that's the unofficial agreement. Jundar don't all live in one community and being such fearsome predators they often travel alone." She rearranged the 'bedding' upon which Zechariah lay and helped him settle down again, before she reclined next to him elegantly, gazing at him.
"What are you doing?" Zechariah asked looking at her.
"I may be a warrior Zechariah, but I get scared." She shuffled closer and curled up next to him. "Sometimes everyone needs a little comfort."
"Nawfa, I thought I was clear before..." Zechariah said trying to sit up but she stopped him pressing him back down.
"I know Zechariah. I'm not going to try to take advantage of you. I just want to rest here for a moment." Nawfa said closing her eyes but keeping her hand on his chest.
Zechariah laid back taking a deep breath and wincing. "Don't you need to guide the caravan?" He asked.
"I gave Zaki directions. He's a competent navigator, and we're coming up to another maw. He'll just have to follow it till he finds the next bridge. It's an easy path." Nawfa said closing her eyes.
Zechariah pulled a blanket over him just in case Nawfa saw his discomfort and tried to ignore the beautiful woman who was falling asleep next to him, with her arm wrapped partially around him. But he found it difficult to find rest when in so close proximity. Sometimes he just hated himself and he lay there, staring up at the top of the wagon for hours, stiffly trying not to move or disturb Nawfa as she slumbered. He felt like a thief who was sneaking into a dragons den and found himself paralysed by fear lest he accidentally awake the dragon. Or...perhaps he was more like an idiot who didn't know how to act or behave. Ya...that sounded more accurate.
By Aleen she was beautiful though. As much as he wanted to take her up on her advances, he feared her and feared other things more so. He feared her, for she was far to promiscuous for him. Not that he particularly minded what she do with her time, but he wanted something more than frivolity, and he didn't believe that she could provide that, what with three other husbands. Additionally, he couldn't help but feel like he was meant to be with the Red Haired woman. It infuriated him, that he was 'keeping himself' for a dream which may never actually be true. But he couldn't help himself. Should he give up on his dreams? But what if he gave up? What if he gave in, and then the next day found the woman he had dreamed about his whole life? But then, what if that day never came, and what if the Red Haired woman didn't exist, and he lived his whole life as a bachelor because he kept chasing a dream that would never be.
No, she did exist. He had seen her. Perhaps, when he finally found her, she wouldn't want him. Though he didn't like to entertain that thought, it was a real possibility. If that day does come, then he'd move on. Nothing else to it but till that day, he had to pursue her. He had to find out if it that future could even be a possibility, and not just a dream. That was why he couldn't be with Nawfa. He had a dream, and she didn't fit that dream. It wasn't anything particularly against her, just that their dreams didn't align. That was it, and that was fine.
The Zenith came and the first corpse was cut loose. They rode further for a full Fall before stopping to rest the animals. Nawfa roused next to him and groggily looked about, stretching out the stiffness that had settled in. She checked his wound and re-bandaged him again, before giving him a quick peck on the cheek and hopping out of the wagon. Zechariah followed and tended to Baylee as best he could with one hand. He shouldn't probably have been moving so much, but he to needed to stretch out his limbs, and Baylee was happy to see him. She whinnied softly as he fed her and groomed her. She nuzzled him with concern smelling the blood on his arm and he comforted her quietly assuring her that he would be fine. He talked to her for some time, before getting some food and water for himself and climbing back into the wagon to continue resting, and to continue counting down the Falls in that suffocating wagon. By Shimara the goddess of winds, he hated being cooped up...it made his feet itch.
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