Path of the Wind

For Cara: Thank you for your motivating words. I know it is still a bit confusing. Currently all characters are being positioned. Too understand this I should propably explain what this world looks like. The Eastern Kompanje is in the middle of the eastern coast of a rather large landmass. On its western border is a almost impenetrable mountain range, beyond which lies the grass plains of the Gerenti. Keep reading and please let me know if there is anything I can do to further improve this brainchild of mine. HI

4
It is still dark when Gerdon rises. He pulls his dagger from beneath his pillow and hastily gathers his things. He slips quietly from the room, a process aided greatly by the loud snoring of some of the other occupants. On the stairs he stops to put on his shoes and belt his sword to his side. He quietly slips out the kitchen door and slowly approaches the barn. He doesn’t see or hear anything suspicious in the dark as he stops outside the big doors. He stands for a moment and then moves through the doors. Inside he has to wait for a moment as his eyes adjust to the torch light. In the straw lies the young stable boy, fast asleep. Gerdon smiles as he looks for his saddle, another reason for quiet, the poor boy must be exhausted. In the half dark he saddles his brown gelding and fastens his bedroll to the saddle. He leads his horse outside, pauses as the boy stirs in his sleep, then move through the doors. He walks the horse to the street, where he mounts, carefully wrapping his cloak so that it doesn’t obstruct access to his sword. He turns his horse’s nose towards the west and slowly sets out towards the mountains, a dark figure in the moonlight.


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Sariandra drinks deeply from her water skin, then turns slowly to observe her companions. Most are exhausted. They have been running for five hours, carrying the children for the last three. Even the Marahandra are showing signs of tiring. It has been a long day. She slowly moves to where the Kuriken are huddling together. They turn as she approaches, their faces drawn with fatigue. “We should rest now, while we still have enough people able to stand guard.” Most of the group look at her with resentment; she has no authority in this goya. She quietly stands her ground, maintaining eye contact with Kuriyana. The older woman stares back, then slowly nods her head. Before her clan members can voice their objections she says: “Sariandra is right and you all know it.” Grudgingly they nod and soon the message moves through the goya. Lie down close together and get some sleep. If you can stand guard, tell Kuriyana. Sariandra draws first watch and carefully moves out to the perimeter with one of the Kuriken. She finds a shadow in the grass and sits, facing back along their invisible trail. The night breeze is faint and cool against her cheeks. The feint light from the sickle moon has turned the plain into a patchwork of shadow. The Kuriken settles next to her, his soft breath barely distinguishable from the rustling of the grass. They keep each other quiet company as the moon makes its way across the heavens. After two hours they rise, move back to the camp and wake their replacements. Carefully they take their places amongst the other sleeping bodies. Sariandra closes her eyes and quickly falls into a deep slumber.

The goya sets out again just before dawn. Their pattern has changed now. Three parallel lines set out from the hollow in which they slept two Kuriken next to the outside lines and one following the middle. Three Marahandra stay behind and try as best they can to disguise the tracks left by their goya. For an hour they each follow the trail and either disguise it or lay false trails. Then they run to catch up, as they reach their group another Marahandra stops to resume the process. Five hours later, when they stop to rest there is still no sign of pursuit. There is no relief from the tension, if there is no sign of the Pakrash by nightfall, they will worry about their friends travelling with the other half of the goya. As they set out again Sariandra has another turn at being a sweeper. It is not hard, her people are wise in the ways of the plain. They follow outcrops of rock and animal tracks where they find them and even the children know to disturb the grass as little as possible. An added advantage is the fact that the growth is still young after the spring rains and the grass quickly bends back to cover most of the trail. Every now and then the young woman stands, shades her eyes and studies the horizon behind her. Once, she catches her breath as she spots movement, only to let it out slowly as she recognises the bulky shapes of a herd of dendos. She smiles as she realizes they will cross their path and obscure the trail even more. Then she turns her attention back to the task at hand.

By midday both young and old falls to the ground, exhausted. Although their people can run for long periods of time they rarely do it at this pace or carrying extra weight. They huddle around a small pool, resting, drinking and eating a meal of dried meat and vegetables. When they set out again an hour later there is still no sign of pursuit. By necessity the goya now moves at a slow jog. The air is stifling, even the breeze seems to have evaporated under the blaze from the two orbs high in the sky. The small amount of dust raised by the goya’s stamping feet seems to rise straight into the air, scratching their eyes and obstructing their lungs. Sweat carves light paths across their faces while accumulating in dark stains down their backs. Soon they are slowed down even further as they are forced to take tired children on their backs. This job is shared by all but the Kuriken. Their rhythmic steps coupled with their exhaustion seem to force the group into a state of trance. Eyes begin to glaze over as they stare at the ever lengthening shadow of whoever is in front of them. Finally they stop. Some of the Gerenti simply collapse where they stand. It is sunset. And while they have seen nobody behind them and they should be safe, Kuriyana realises that she has made a mistake. Nobody will be strong enough to stand watch.