Four days passed quickly and an atmosphere of anticipation had spread throughout the Yeshmari. Many hands set to work in preparation for what was seen as the Greenwalker’s pilgrimmage to the Shrine of the Water-Bringer. Dense cakes of dates mixed with grain and butter were baked and packed for the journey along with goat meat dried over the fire. Eirik and Ruefin were given fresh travelling robes and headscarves woven from a deep green wool. Larger than their own robes, these new garments fitted comfortably over their armour without impeding their movement or restricting access to weapons.

  On the fourth day, the camels were retrieved from the village corral and the freshly cleaned and repaired saddles strapped back on. Ruefin’s beast – whom he stubbornly refused to name – endured the process with aplomb. Lady Latrine, however, disliked being manhandled by strangers and expressed her distaste with echoing bellows and occasional outbursts of surprisingly accurate violence. By the time Eirik arrived to calm her down, two men had been brought to their knees by her hooves, a third had a nasty bite on the forearm, and a fourth had a face-full of semi-digested cud. The Yeshmari handlers stood back in a loose circle around the angry camel and took great pains to stay out of striking distance. Upon spotting Eirik, the shrieks subsided and were replaced by soft grunts as she approached him.

  “Here now, that’s enough of that,” Eirik said, pulling treats from a small bag.

  Her nostrils flared as she sniffed out the fresh dates in his outstretched hand and the liquid sounds of noisy chewing drowned out the groans of the injured men.

  “That’s better,” Eirik said, wiping his slobbery hand dry on the fur of her neck. “You’d best get it all out now because we’ve got a long way to go.”

  The camel yawned widely, exposing large yellow teeth, and shook herself vigorously before allowing Eirik to lead her to where Ruefin and Hataya’s mounts were waiting. Supplies and equipment were strapped to the saddles and the last of the rations were being squeezed into satchels. Eirik made a final check of the waterskins before returning the the village centre where a crowd had gathered.

  Jabari stood on the centre of the circle and raised both hands to the setting sun. Words flowed from him in a stream of rising and falling tones in a chant handed down through generations. Periodically he paused and the villagers responded, their voices combined to become the collective voice of the Yeshmari. From the ground between his feet, Jabari picked up an oval bottle of fired clay the size of a small melon and held it up to the sun. Hataya stepped forward and Jabari placed it in her hands, then took a step back and bowed low. She returned his bow and the assembly watched her walk alone to the river and dip the bottle into the water. With the stoppered vessel in both hands, Hataya returned to Jabari and he placed his hands over hers. Together they sang quietly in lower, more reverent tones until, with mutual bows, Hataya returned to the circle.

  Jabari faced Eirik and Ruefin, and beckoned them forward. They glanced at one another and approached. The Custodian spoke aloud for a few minutes in the Yeshmari tongue before switching into Galti.

  “This journey you make on behalf of the Yeshmari people is momentous and historic. For this we hour you and claim you as our own. From this day forward there will always be a place for you among us.” Jabari bowed low.

  Eirik felt the eyes of the village upon him as both he and Ruefin returned the bow. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Yadiru at Hataya’s side, staring at him.

  Jabari took two braided cords from his belt and pointed at Eirik’s headscarf,, gesturing for him to unwind it.

  “Wear it as we do,” he said.

  Eirik bent forward and allowed Jabari to drape the fabric over his head and fasten it with the cord around his forehead. Ruefin did likewise, although he had further to bend.

  “Go forth with our blessing,” Jabari said, a gentle smile creasing his face, “and may the Court of the Winds blow you back to us.”

  His hands reached into the sky and the villagers began chanting and moving in a circle, their feet beating out a rhythm on the compacted earth. Three times they circled before coming to a stop and opening up a path to the waiting camels.

  “Looks like that’s our cue,” Eirik said, nudging Ruefin and walking across to the waiting Hataya. She’d placed the clay bottle in a thick woollen bag for safe keeping and slung it across her shoulders. One hand held a twisted wooden staff and the other idly scratched the Emissary’s ears.

  “Let’s be going,” she said, leading the way to their mounts, “there’s a spot I’d like to reach before sunrise.”

  With a minimum of fuss, the three of them climbed about their camels and turned their backs to the setting sun. The villagers waved and bid them farewell as they rode off into the twilight.

  The waxing moon rose early over the scrubland, throwing the undulations of the land into sharp relief and glimmering on the surface of the lazy river. Alongside the riverbed, pacing steadily over baked earth and loose rocks, three camels and a skinny dog made their way east in the cool air of the night.

  Eirik gazed up at the sky, stunned and awed by the brilliance of the stars against the blackness. He pulled his robes around the chilly night air and allowed his eyelids to droop. The combination of a busy day and the rolling gait of the camel was slowly sending him to sleep.

  Moments later he snapped awake as something bounced off his head. One hand was already reaching for a weapon when he heard Ruefin laughing. Turning to his right he saw Ruefin eating dates with a big grin on his face. In the darkness, a shadow darted behind him and the subsequent chewing noises sounded very much like a dog eating a date.

  “Best stay awake,” Ruefin said around a mouthful of fruit, “it’s a long way to fall.”

  The words sounded too loud and Eirik stared into the trees on either side of the river. It was an automatic movement – he already knew that nothing other than local wildlife had noticed their passage. Occasional groups of antelope peered out of the treeline, and small rodents scuttled through the dry undergrowth out of sight of night predators. At the thought of predators, Eirik wondered if anything dangerous lurked in the trees. When he and Ruefin travelled the forests and jungles they’d learned to be wary of wild animals. Big cats roamed such places, and snakes large enough to swallow a man whole made their homes in the ancient trees. His knowledge of drylands wildlife was limited to the venomous spiders and scorpions that would occasionally inhabit unattended boots.

  “Are there any carnivorous animals around here, Hataya?”

  She turned in the saddle to face him, her headscarf pulled to one side.

  “Plenty, but none big enough to trouble us,” she replied, breaking off a small piece of date bread. “Foxes and small cats mostly. Wild dogs sometimes, but that’s mostly near the towns and villages. They wouldn’t bother us, though. Not on camels.”

  “Biggest danger to us will be other people,” Ruefin remarked as he washed the dates down with a great gulp of water.

  “Yes, I would say so,” Hataya said, “especially further east. We have other settlements out that way where we saw more passing travellers, and there were many stories of Umriah soldiers taking towns and villages by force. It was one of the reasons we moved west earlier than usual.”

  “Were the raiding parties getting too close?” Eirik asked. From what he had seen of the Yeshmari, they would be no match for armed mercenaries.

  “They were getting closer to our ancestral land, yes. You’ve spent time with us. You’ve seen we’re farmers, not fighters. Jabari wanted to move because he thought the risks were too great to stay put. I consulted the Court and they approved,, so we packed up and moved to the place you found us.”

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “Was the river bigger when you arrived?” Ruefin asked.

  “A little, but still lower than the last season we lived there. At first I thought it was a phase of the natural cycle of the land, but when the harvests grew smaller, I knew it was something else. Something wrong.”

  “Then the time has come to find out and put it right,” Ruefin replied with his usual enthusiasm.

  They rode on through the night, the camels’ broad hooves covering the miles at a steady pace. In the far distance, a thin line of gold glossed the horizon against a sky now changing from black to a rich, deep blue. The moon had long since set but the pre dawn light showed a change in the riverbed and, for the first time, the sound of lively splashing water could be heard.

  Eirik squinted into the shadows and could just perceive a change in elevation up ahead. The camels’ feet now picked their way around rocks and boulders as they approached what was once an impressive waterfall. Hataya halted her beast and turned around in the saddle, pointing to the south bank.

  “We’ve made good time, she said with a smile. “We cross the river here and move into the trees. The spot we’re looking for is close by.”

  Without waiting for a reply she guided her camel through the knee-deep river and out of the watercourse. The trees and undergrowth were interspersed with rocky outcrops and threaded with narrow paths made by the local fauna. Finally they reached a narrow ravine cut into the rock by the waters of long ago. She dismounted and led them to a cluster of trees nestling between the rocky walls.

  “This is where we rest,” she said, planting her staff in the ground and setting down her bags.

  Eirik dropped down from Lady Latrine’s back and cast a critical eye over the proposed campsite. The rock walls loomed high enough, but the trees were thinly-spaced enough that any reasonably competent scout would spot them. Whilst Ruefin made one of his more dignified dismounts, Eirik drew his axes and ventured into the trees. The rising sun cast dappled shadows and he’d long since learned to distrust shadows. He moved slowly though the copse, eyes and ears straining for the glint of armour or the rasp of a blade. Birds began to greet the dawn in the branches above, and a small group of wild goats moved through the low shrubs. Nothing triggered his senses. As far as he could tell, they were unobserved.

  Back at the campsite he found Ruefin already setting up his bedroll and Hataya digging a fire-pit. He unpacked his own bedding and laid it alongside the cool rock, making the most of what little shade there was.

  Hataya rose from her haunches to the loud cracking of her knee joints and reached for her staff, leaving the fire unlit.

  “We need more cover,” she said and walked out of their nook to just beyond where the camels had settled.

  Starting at the rock, she began to walk in a semi-circle dragging the end of her staff through the dirt and dry leaves. With every deliberate step she took, a green imprint appeared in the earth and began to pulse with a dim light. Eirik nudged Ruefin and they watched together, their eyes riveted to the trail the Greenwalker left behind. The hand not holding the staff was extended, palm upwards, and emitted a green glow. The narrow trench completed, Hataya kissed her palm and pressed it to the ground, muttering unintelligible words under her breath. There was a pause and Eirik realised he was holding his breath.

  Shoots burst from the ground and began spiraling upwards from the earth. Limber tendrils wound around each other and reached for the trees, thickening into vines where they grasped the rough bark. The living net sent forth a rush of grey-green leaves until the view of the landscape was obscured by a barrier of fronds and foliage. Hataya wasn’t quite finished, though. She return to their refuge and tapped her staff against the rock, sending a filigree of finer vines from one side to the other. In a matter of minutes, a green canopy hung above their beds and blocked the rays of the risen sun. Heaving a great sigh, Hataya lowered her staff and sat back down at the fire-pit. She placed a hand on the pile of dry sticks and two points of brilliant green light shone in her eyes. Flames licked around her fingers but she showed no signs of pain and simply withdrew her hand as the emerald faded from her eyes. A heaviness showed in her posture as if her work had taken a great deal of physical effort.

  “The power of the land,” Ruefin whispered, his eyes and mouth wide.

  Hataya raised her eyebrows and glanced at him, exuding serenity.

  “Those who are connected to the land have the power to shape it. Protect the land you walk and, in turn, it will protect you.”

  As she spoke, Yadiru sat down beside her and nudged her, pushing his narrow head under her arm. She scratched his chest and gazed into his orange eyes.

  “The power of the Court is great, my friend. It is an honour to be granted it.”

  Eirik smiled and watched her petting the dog. Or at least, an entity currently being a dog. Something in the dog’s expression conveyed more than the simple affection of a animal. Perhaps this was the Court’s way of having an observer close by rather than just watching from a distance.

  A hearty meal filled their empty bellies and Eirik developed a healthy respect for the Yeshmari’s version of travel rations. The goat meat had been dusted with fragrant spices before hanging over the fire, and Hataya produced at pot of honey to sweeten the date bread. She set a pan of water over the fire and began spooning a yellow-white powder into it from a tightly fastened pouch. Round and round went the spoon and the liquid began thickening to a creamy consistency.

  “Pass me your cups,” she said, and shared the pan’s contents between the three of them.

  The flavour was reminiscent of yogurt with a faint tang of salt, but pleasant none the less. Eirik dipped a piece of date bread into it and found it delightful. A chuckle came from Hataya and he looked up to see her doing the same thing.

  “The ways of the Yeshmari come naturally to you,” she said. “The Court of the Winds chose wisely in sending you to us.”

  “When in the desert, do as the desert people do,” Ruefin replied as he attempted to fish a stray lump of bread from his cup. “I’m not too proud to learn from people who know more than me. It’s a good way to live longer.”

  With a strip of dried goat to chew on, Eirik relaxed against the rough wall and contemplated their destination. The idea of a shrine in the mountains intrigued him especially since he’d seen so little architecture during his time in the wilds of Divarim.

  “Have you visited the Shrine of Tsumaqui before, Hataya?” he asked.

  “I haven’t. This will be my first visit.”

  “But you know where it is on a map, right? You do know exactly where we’re going?”

  “The Court of the Winds showed it to me in a dream. I saw it from above. It’s less about knowing and more about feeling my way. Don’t worry, I know where I’m going.”

  The doubt in his mind subsided. He understood what it was like to know something but be unable to explain how or why.

  “I wonder what it’s like,” Ruefin mused, half to himself. “Will there be anyone there?”

  “Yes. There’s a group of Greenwalkers who live there and attend to the needs of the shrine. They’ve lived there for generations, preserving the history and traditions of Divarim and offering help to those who need it. It is a great honour to receive a summons to join their circle.”

  “Would you like to join them?” Eirik asked.

  “As I said, it would be an honour, but my heart belongs with my people. I can do more for the Yeshmari by being with them than I could from a distance.”

  As soon as he asked, Eirik knew what her answer would be. Her personality leaned more towards a revered wise woman among the people than a distant priest on a mountain.

  “We’ll rest until dusk,” Hataya said whilst arranging her bedding to her liking, “then we’ll press on. May all of our nights pass as peacefully as the first.”