Chapter 9
November 20th
The second thing Zechariah noticed, was the increase in temperature, when a drop of sweat fell from his brow. It was almost imperceptible at first, and he had not given it much thought. However, as the day went on, and the lands became more rocky and sandy, and the vegetation became more sparse, he had slowly begun to sweat. Wiping his brow, he noticed also how uncomfortable he had begun to get, especially wearing his leather jerkin. It was horribly uncomfortable. He silently admired the caravan guard wearing not only leather, but chain also. Zechariah pulled out a shirt from a pack on Baylee and through the embarrassment of looking like a lady in waiting, began to fan himself to try and cool himself off. It didn't work. In fact it just seemed to make it worse requiring more energy to cool himself off than the cooling actually produced. After several minutes of vain effort, he gave up, but just when he was about to resign himself to misery, when someone dismounted with a pack and began to strip down. In quick and practiced motions, he disrobed entirely and then donned robes similar in design to those the Dustmen wore.
This began to repeat itself more frequently as the rises continued, and Zechariah noticed the guards doing the same though he was impressed by their efficiency by which they disrobed and redressed in pairs so that as few as possible of them were distracted at any moment. As he rode by a couple of guards changing robes one of them called out saying, "You'd better get your robes on sooner than later or you'll quickly become a nice crispy treat for a ghaalb out here." He followed their advice stopping for a few moments to don his gear, securing the veil over his head as he had seen the Dustmen wear it, and though it was a lot of cloth, he found it surprisingly cooler than he had anticipated. He felt sorry for Baylee, not being able to do anything to help her with the heat of the Barrens.
Eventually, the land ended up loosing almost all vegetation, and the soil upon which they walked became packed sand, and dunes began to rise before them, demanding many laborious trips either up and over or long detours around, depending on their size and incline. Nawfa navigated the maze of dunes well, always keeping them to the shadows of the dunes to alleviate as much heat as possible. As the rises turned into days, the dunes became more coarse, and soon the sands gave way to rocks, and the landscape became far more treacherous than it had before. Razor sharp rocks began to peak out of the thinning layers of sand, and large stones jutted up from the ground like massive teeth and then Zechariah saw it. The chasms.
A massive spiked rip in the surface of I'athos that was hundreds of feet across and thousands more deep if it even had a bottom. Though Zechariah knew about them, he had never before laid eyes upon one. As the caravan moved further into the Barrens following along one the first of the fissures, Zechariah dismounted Baylee and scrambled up one massive stone that jutted like a tooth over the edge of the crevice. There were hundreds of such rocks. It looked like a massive maw with thousands of gigantic teeth running for miles in either direction. When he reached the top of his 'tooth' he clung to the edge as he was suddenly struck with dizziness at the perspective. They were huge! Incomprehensibly so. Spanning from the foot of the Spine to half way into the Barrens, some times even more, these massive fissures were awe inspiring to behold. He looked down, down into the inky darkness below him. He could see for seemingly miles and still could not make out their depths, and he shuddered. What had caused these rifts? He wondered. What tales does I'athos have to tell? What wonders could it sing if it had but a mouth through which to speak?
Baylee called out to him in anxious worry. He turned around seeing that the caravan had moved on a fair ways and he reluctantly made his way back to Baylee. As he crawled back down the rock he heard a distant clacking, like stone striking stone. He paused, looking back over the stone to try and see what had caused the sound. The blackness of the maw looked back. He couldn't see anything, and leaned further over straining to try and see a bit underneath the stone upon which he stood. He shifted his feet to keep his balance, and knocked a loose stone off the edge, and watched it fall, striking a jutting rock on the way down, ricocheting off and hitting another before being flung into the depths of the maw. He lost sight of it before hearing it strike again from a long way down. But there was only silence after that.
He took Baylee's reigns in his hand and walked hurriedly to catch back up to the caravan, ignoring the protests of his poor horse. At least he wasn't riding her. He was trying to be considerate of her old age.
November 21st
Catching back up to the caravan he continued on in silent contemplation of the maw to his right. It was eerie with its dark stone monolithic teeth jutting high into the sky. He knew that this was one of the lesser fissures, based on the stories he had heard, and that the largest ones were further along the spine. They wound along the fissure for several miles but it seemed to never get smaller, speaking a silent testimony to it's grandeur.
Eventually, the caravan was brought to a halt, and people began to unload the wagons and pack animals. He hurried up to a guard and asked what was going on. Apparently, they've come upon a 'bridge' and Zaki is determined to try and cross it instead of taking the longer journey around the fissure. A bridge? He didn't see anything of the sort. Moving forward further, Zechariah approached Zaki who was talking with a group of people looking at a rough sketching and making a series of notes and arguing about weight distributions and how long it might take to cross. Zechariah decided that it was probably better to not bother Zaki whilst he was planning things, and so instead returned to the maw dismounting once more to get a good look within, and he located the 'bridge'.
It wasn't a bridge at all. It was one of the maw's teeth that had fallen into and gotten wedged between both sides of the maw. He saw a thin winding path, if it could be called that, leading down towards the tooth on his side, and winding up the other side. This was impossible! The tooth didn't even look wide enough at the far end to be able to support a wagon, and beyond that, being well weathered it was smooth and rounded. It would be treacherous enough for a human to cross, much less a hoofed animal or even a wagon.
"Zaki!" Zechariah called out noting the glare upon his face as he turned to regard him. "Zaki this is crazy. You can't bring the caravan across that bridge."
"Zechariah. I am a well traveled and experienced caravaneer. I know the dangers and I say they are worth the time saved in travel. Now do not question me further." Zaki said turning back to his crowd of people.
"We could die!" Zechariah exclaimed.
"If you are too frightened to traverse the bridge then you can take your feed and remaining drops and leave on your own. You are here of your own accord." Zaki said not turning back to him.
Zechariah threw his hands up in frustration and went to find Nawfa blindfolding her steed with a wet cloth. "Are you serious about this? This is the path you want to lead us on?" Zechariah demanded.
Nawfa just shrugged. "We Dustmen travel these bridges all the time. Well...maybe not ALL the time, but quite frequently. We carved the path you see at least."
"Path? That's not a path that's an accident." Zechariah protested.
"Zaki knew the dangers ahead of time. I told him it would be precarious but he insisted that this was the path he wanted to take. It's fine. You just have to carry everything across by hand and not loose your footing. Unless your particularly interested about knowing what's at the bottom." Nawfa said with a challenging smile.
"Your crazy. Your all crazy." Zechariah said disparagingly.
"Oh don't be so dramatic." Nawfa said reprovingly. "Just follow my lead and you'll be fine." She paused and gave him one of her looks before adding, "I lead well."
Zechariah scoffed at her rolling his eyes and just succeeded at making her laugh. "How does this work then."
"Well, I usually try to be more subtle about it, but if you're that eager I don't mind." Nawfa said twisting him meaning.
"I'll ask Zaki if your not going to be any help." Zechariah said turning away.
"Not who I thought you would choose as your first choice, but if you prefer him then let me know how it goes." Nawfa said laughing to herself.
Bloody frustrating. Instead he went and talked to some other caravan followers and learned that in order to cross the bridge, they had to do several things. First was to unburden all the pack animals. In a series of teams, the goods would be carried across the bridge by hand and deposited on the other side. Then, the pack animals would be blindfolded and led across the bridge and up the other side. The blindfolds were to stop them from panicking at the heights they would be crossing at. After that would come the most dangerous part. The wagons would have to be manually let down the side of the maw, pulled across the bridge and hauled up the other side. It would not be easy.
Against his will and better judgement, Zechariah followed suit, and did as the other caravan followers did. He unburdened Baylee and tied a cloth around her eyes. She seemed quite happy to do so, enjoying the lack of sight. Then, as by orders of Zaki, he had to carry his load across the bridge himself. Not only his belongings but Baylee's feed as well. Hefting the heavy loads onto his back, he realized he would have to make two trips at least, he headed down following the trail of heavily burdened workers. The guards were paid extra to help in the manual labor, though only one team of them would work at a time, always allowing the other team to keep watch. Zechariah descended the precarious switchback and though it was wide enough probably three men to walk abreast comfortably, they went single file. As they went the workers kicked stones and sand off the path and down into the maw, clearing the path of debris for animals and wagons. Zechariah joined in, kicking a stone here or some slick dust there. Down they went for several hundred feet until they finally came across the bridge.
At this end the bridge was a good thirty feet wide. Plenty wide to be able to support a wag, but it was smooth, and Zechariah found it disturbing slick though his foot never actually faltered. Though wide at this end, as he crossed the tooth following the others before him, it narrowed rapidly. The furthest point was only a few feet across. Not wide enough for the wagon wheels by any measure, and the curve was much steeper. This was madness.
Climbing up the other side, he set his packs down and took a deep breath. Steeling himself, he returned across the bridge and back to Baylee. He made the second journey more confidently, but no less carefully, and within only half a rise, they had their goods across the bridge. Then it was time for the pack animals. Zechariah waited before taking Baylee down, watching how the other caravan workers calmed their animals and guided them one step at a time across the bridge. This was a slow process, occassionally requiring the workers to physically grab and animals legs and pull it forward to get the animal to resume crossing. One horse was particularly stubborn and the workers ended up tying two ropes around the horses foreleg knees literally puppeteering the animal across the maw. They made their way across the bridge, one unsteady step at a time. These poor animals. They have no idea the danger their in, but they can sense the tension in the air, and Zechariah could see that it was making them skittish.
Zechariah took Baylee's reigns in his hand, whispering quiet encouragement to her, began to lead her down the switchback, one careful step at a time. He kicked aside a rock here, some dust there, and slowly guided Baylee down into the shadows of the maw. It was eerily quiet again, only the clacking of hoofs on stone and the whispers of owners to their animals, like everyone was holding their breath, afraid that something might happen at any moment.
Baylee began to snort softly in anxious worry and though Zechariah was doing his best to keep her calm, it appeared that the comfort of the blindfold was wearing off. Though she didn't cry out loudly, he could see the tension in her body as she began to nervously put one hoof in front of another. Then, there came a clacking, of falling stone, but from above. A stone, carelessly dislodged by another worker came hurtling down and before Zechariah could act, it struck Baylee on the flank. She freaked out, crying in terror and baying wildly rearing up. Zechariah stepped to the side trying to avoid her hooves, but heard the panic in her baying begin to spread terror among the other animals. Cries of alarm arose from the other caravan workers, and the puppeteer-ed horse, nearly across the tooth, slammed its foot down in protest, on the smooth curvature of the stone and lost it's balance. In a moment of terror, the horse scrambled neighing in terror as it began to topple. The two men towing the horse tried to steady it, to pull it back into balance, but one of the men saw that it was hopeless, and let go of the rope before the other, and with the sudden full weight of a horse in his hands who had succumbed to the draw of the depths, was launched off his feet and into the depths of the maw screaming a blood curdling cry as he fell helplessly to his death. Those around worked furiously to keep the other animals from bolting as the screams of both horse and man echoed up from the depths of the maw and Zechariah watched them tumble together directly onto a sharp stone that stuck out from the edge and broke man and beast in two, mercifully putting an end to their cries.
It had all happened in a matter of moments and though the cries had stopped, they could still the occasional crunch of bone against stone echoing up from the depths. A loud and angry cry came from above the maw as Zaki demanded to know what had just happened. One man quickly answered saying "Zechariah lost control of his horse and it spooked the others. Irfan was pulled into the maw with his horse."
"Zechariah! Explain!" Zaki commanded.
"A stone fell and hit Baylee. It wasn't her fault." Zechariah called up but the other man said, "I saw and heard no stone."
Zaki cursed in Krulnac's name before saying "Get across the bridge! We'll sort this out when we're safe."
Zechariah glared up at the man who had accused him. He didn't know his name, but he was sure to find out. Sure, it was Baylee who screamed, but who had knocked that stone off? He had been down that path three times now, and was sure it was clear of rocks.
Managing to calm Baylee down with some sugar cubes, he managed to lead Baylee across the maw without further incident and was thankful at least to learn that he would not be required to help with the wagons. Although Zaki did not not like him very much, particularly after being blamed for Irfan's death, in his eyes, Zechariah was a 'passenger' and as a result was only responsible for his good and his part in things. Everything else was Zaki's problem. Therefore, Zechariah took the time to feed Baylee and brush her down, encouraging her. She was bleeding from where the rock had struck her...he cleaned the wound out as best he could with some water, but couldn't do much without some tools. Baylee whinnied in discomfort at having her wound cleaned, but would likely be fine if it didn't get infected. After Baylee was cared for, he went back to the maw and sat upon it's edge indulging himself with some hardtack and water, and he was glad he did not have to help with the wagons.
It looked like hell. There were only three wagons in total, but each one required almost all the available workers to manage. They rigged the wagons with ropes and almost twenty men above the wagon holding the almost the entire weight of the wagon while two men either side worked the wagon's wheel locks, slowly letting roll down the switchback, and five more workers with ropes on the harness guiding the wagon's direction. It looked like exhausting and grueling work.
November 22nd
The remainder of the crew was on Zechariah's side of the maw working pitons and ropes into the rock and over the teeth to create anchors with which they could ensure the wagon didn't fall at the narrowest end of the tooth. Once the workers had the wagon onto the bridge and mostly across it, the workers hooked up the wagon to the anchored ropes and having half the team above hauling on the wagon, they managed to take most of the weight and allowed the team below to practically swing the wagon into place safely on the other side side. They then had to simply...though Zechariah knew it wasn't simple, haul the wagon up the other side. It was a slow process, and when they finally had the wagon safely on the other side, they reluctantly went back to start the process all over again.
Zechariah couldn't but feel bad for them as they heaved and hauled, and as he saw them struggle and sweat to bring the second wagon down, he gave a heavy sight. They do look they could use every hand available. 'I'm just a passenger though, I'm not expected to help out. I'm not getting paid for any of this.' Zechariah thought to himself, but guilt just followed those thoughts as he knew, thought technically right, that that's not what people did. Or at least, that's not what people worth any salt would do. With reluctance he stood up and pulled his veil back over his face as he prepared to go back down into the maw.
Something fell to the stones behind him. He swung around looking for danger, and saw...nothing. What had fallen? Why had it fallen? A cold chill crept into Zechariah's spine. A deep fear that he was not alone. He took a step backwards, pausing, wanting to flee but suddenly afraid to turn his back. But nothing was there. Crates, sacks and packs littered the floor, and a little ways off stood the pack animals pleasantly enjoying the break from labor. Except Baylee. She stood, head up and ears forward, eyes wide. Something had spooked her as well.
'Your sword idiot!' His rational mind cried out. He fumbled for it, drawing it awkwardly and only felt more vulnerable with it in his hand. He had no idea how to wield it. Can't run. Can't run. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward and entered the small maze of crates and packs that lined the rocky floor. One step, then another. Nothing to the left, so he went right. Then, he heard a soft rushing of...wind? Breathing. Something was here. Zechariah steeled himself and began to creep more quietly toward the sound. It was just behind that crate in front of him. He crept slowly forward, bracing himself for a moment before he flung himself around the corner with sword raised! A man cried out and scrambled away from Zechariah on the floor, food and a water skin falling to the stones dropped from his hands.
"No stealing! No stealing!" The man cried as he cowered before Zechariah. Zechariah felt foolish. A caravan worker had just wanted to take a break from the next wagon load. He looked to be a slightly older gentleman, and though Zechariah didn't recognize him, he wasn't surprised. What with all the veils, he didn't know what half of the crew looked like.
"You should be helping with the wagon, not sitting here stuffing your face." Zechariah said lowering his sword.
"Sorry. Sorry!"
"I supposed I shouldn't be criticizing you though. I'm not doing anything either." Zechariah sighed and awkwardly sheathed his sword. "Stand up. We should go help the caravan."
"Yes, yes." He said in a thick accent and stood up taking Zechariah's hand. The man pulled the veil back over his face and folded his hands inside his sleeves.
"So what's your name?" Zechariah asked as he began to walk towards the wagon with the 'not thief' in tail.
"Radnuj." He answered catching up to Zechariah.
"That's an interesting name." Zechariah said pulling his own veil down as a gust of wind began to kick up some dust. "Maybe they'll forgive us for our laziness if we put in some good work."
Zechariah had known the work was hard from watching the first wagon, but he had no idea just how difficult it was. He was used to hard labor, having worked with his hands his whole life, but almost a full fall of tugging on ropes was back breaking and exhausting work. He and Radnuj worked next to each other and though the man was a fair number of years older than Zechariah, he pulled more than his weight of the work, heaving and hauling with such vigor it would have put a bull to shame. When Zechariah found him he had thought that maybe he was just aging badly and needed a break, but now saw that he was just a lazy not lacking in competence. However, even whilst working along side such an efficient team, it was still hard work and by the time the third wagon was being hauled up the other side of the maw the workers along with Zechariah looked haggard. But the day was not yet over.
They packed up the wagons and horses and camels and once again, began on their way further into the Barrens. Zechariah wasn't convinced that it wouldn't have been better to go around the maw. Regardless, they resumed making good time. However, the troubles of the day were not yet over.
"You did well working today. The men and women appreciated your help." Zaki said as he rode up beside Zechariah.
Zechariah sighed inwardly but answered, "I couldn't just sit by and watch them struggle with all that. My father raised me to not fear or avoid hard work."
"I'd have preferred not losing a friend today." Zaki said ignoring Zechariah.
"It wasn't my fault." Zechariah stated stiffly.
"No, I presume your going to blame your horse?" Zaki asked.
"I'm going to blame whoever kicked a stone down on me without thinking to kick it far enough into the maw! Whoever is at fault is that one. Not I." Zechariah said firmly.
"I've spoken to everyone, and I believe them all." Zaki sighed.
"I'm not to blame!" Zechariah exclaimed.
"I said I believe them all. That includes you." Zaki said with a flat expression on his face.
"Then...what happened?" Zechariah asked.
Zaki shrugged. "Perhaps the Gorgoth, the God of Death, was simply hungry today." Zaki rode away with a pained expression on his face. It was strange to see emotion coming from him beyond annoyance. Zechariah wasn't sure he liked it, but beyond that, sorrow was never a fun expression.
They set up camp as usual that evening, however Zaki asked everyone to face the Sun Peak and toast Irfan's passing and wished him luck in the journey to the heavens. They prayed, each in their own religion, some to the gods that Zechariah knew, others to gods that he did not know. After a short time of prayer, they went about their usual evening routines. Cooking dinner or brewing tea, beating out the dust from their clothes for the day, and drawing lots for first watch. As they gathered around their fires, Zechariah found Radnuj joining his circle and he made space for the older man though he kept his veil up.
"You not going to beat your clothes?" Zechariah asked the older man, but he gave no response. "Why don't you take your veil off? It's getting dark." Zechariah asked.
"Irfan." Radnuj said drawing his gently over his veil.
"Oh, that's how you morn him?" Zechariah asked. Radnuj just nodded his head. They cast their lots and Zechariah groaned having drawn the first watch again.
"Second." Radnuj said holding up a stick that meant he had no watch at all. Someone objected saying that he had the second watch. Radnuj extended his stick and baffling the other man, swapped watch with him. There was a brief cry of protest as other people objected the trade of watch but Radnuj just turned his back on them, propping his back up against a wagon, outside of the circle. 'Probably feels better to be out there than here in the circle.' Thought Zechariah as he prepared his watch logs. harasscoincidence
He frowned to himself as he put away his carving in the last dying embers of his watch. Getting up from his seat, he went and roused Radnuj before climbing into his own bedroll and drifting off into an more comfortable sleep than he'd had for a while, the exhaustion from the days work wrapping his muscles and body in a peaceful aching warmth.
It was cold. Why was he cold? Was this a dream? He cracked his eyes and saw the dim light of morning beginning to illuminate the desert. No, this wasn't a dream. At least, not as far as he could tell. He glanced at the fire, and saw it completely burned cold. It hadn't been alight for who knows how long. He heard a crunch next to his head and looked up to see other people beginning to move around. It...wasn't peaceful. Zaki was up and in a storm shouting "Who was on watch? Who was on watch!? Who let the fires die?" Zechariah snapped to consciousness and sat up quickly looking around. Something was terribly wrong. "Zechariah!" Zaki called, "Did you not wake someone up for watch?"
"I did. I woke Radnuj up."
"Who?" Zaki asked confused.
"Rad...nuj?" Zechariah asked confused. "You know, older gentleman."
Nawfa cursed loudly to a god Zechariah did not recognize, and kicked at the sleeping guards rousing them immediately. Zaki crouched down next to Zechariah and said, "I never hired a man named Radnuj. Are you sure that was his name?"
A chill crept into his spine...the same chill he had felt the day before. He nodded slowly.
"How long have you known Radnuj?" Zaki asked studying him carefully.
"I just met him yesterday. I don't know many people here. I thought he was one of you." Zechariah said. As Zaki cursed and began to stand up Zechariah added, "He helped us out all day. He pulled the wagons he hauled the crates. He worked as hard as the rest of us."
"Nawfa!" Zaki called and she hurried over. "Your verdict?" he asked. Nawfa simply nodded curtly and Zaki cursed further. "Lets get out of here. Quickly." Turning to the camp Zaki bellowed, "EVERYONE UP! No breakfast, no cleaning and no questions. MOVE!" The camp jumped to life and everyone began moving at once.
Zechariah joined them and grabbed Nawfa's arm before she could leave asking, "What's going on? Who is Radnuj?"
"Later. Now's not the time." She said and hurried off to get dressed. Her expression and body language held no flirtation in it, for the first time Zechariah had seen, she looked terrified.
Zechariah followed suit, packing up everything he could quickly and even then was still one of the last ones to mount up, the caravan already leaving their camp site. Zaki drove the caravan hard demanding a fast pace and relentless drove the caravan, directly away from the maw as quickly as he could, practically galloping his wagons across the rocky desert as fast as he could without endangering his wares. They wove between spires of rocks and cliffs in this treacherous terrain between the fissures led on by Nawfa who knew the way well until Zechariah heard a scream from the front of the caravan and it was suddenly brought to a halt. Zechariah rushed forward with the others in the caravan, nervously eager to see what had caused the caravan to stop. Zechariah first saw Zaki throwing himself from the lead wagon and vomiting aggressively on the floor. The next thing Zechariah saw...
It was Irfan and the horse, or what remained of them. The meat had been eaten off the bone but the skin had been preserved and draped back over carcasses as a mock imitation of what they once looked liked. Except, they were mounted on stone spikes and displayed in a horrific effigy. The horse took center in the decoration, legs splayed wide and head drooped forward though it's ribs had been removed and displayed like wings behind the horses shoulders. Beneath the horse was Irfan, his head between the horses hind legs, his arms holding his head up and his spine and legs folded like a crown.
A horrific tremor ran up through Zechariah and his stomach twisted in gruesome horror and he leaned over Baylee as he retched up what little was in his stomach. Nawfa comforted Zaki and took command calling out, "Move on! Quickly! Do not stop until the Zenith! GO!" It took a moment for people to snap out of the stunned horror they found themselves in but they jumped to and drove the caravan onward, leaving Irfan to his grizzly fate behind. Zechariah rode up to Nawfa and Zaki.
"What's going on? Who did this?" He asked wide eyed.
"Your friend did." Nawfa said getting Zaki back into his wagon.
"What? How, why?" Zechariah asked confused.
"Spell it backwards Zechariah." Nawfa said climbing upon her own mount. "Radnuj is simply Jundar spelled backwards."
Zechariah sat, stunned for a moment. No, that can't be. "That's impossible." He said. "Not the spelling side of things, but Jundar are monsters, terrors of the night. Radnuj was just an older gentleman!"
"Have you ever seen an Jundar Zechariah?" Nawfa asked.
"No, but the stories say that their multi limbed monsters who devour you in the night." Zechariah protested.
"They are monsters, but they look just like you or I. That's what makes them so monstrous. That, and they're many times stronger than a real human."
The wagon...the ease at which Radnuj worked, tirelessly. By Almaran God of Protection, keep them safe. Zechariah joined the others in riding as fast as the wagons could, and they did not slow pace until late that day.
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