Chapter 12: Bad Omens on a Lonely Trail

Astiah

Day three on this treacherous, winding trail. My frozen joints and feet ache. The horses are so exhausted they can barely raise their heads. We are all tired, hungry, and thirsty.

We have no choice but to follow Solis. Does she even know what she’s doing?

Why are the Drakdarekam so hard to find if they are supposed be our protectors?

I’ve slept poorly and barely eaten with the burden of two children outside the protection of the hearth. Did I do the right thing leaving Sarvastiah in the Hearth Yaartah?

I knew Sarvastiah would leave the hearth one day, but I’ve deserted Sarvastiah in the company of Stacia, who is still a child herself. How would my hearth sisters react to the decisions I’ve made on this trek? Am I a bad parent?

I should have kept an eye on Hanasorsha at the feast…

I can’t stop seeing that night in my mind. I can’t help feeling that I’m at fault. Perhaps it was the last moment that I will ever see my sweet hearth daughter.

Children and their safety are the primary concern within any hearth. They carry our memories and our culture within them. In our collective society, no one really owns anything, but we all feel a profound sense of responsibility for the safety of the children in our home hearth.

She wanted to sit at the table with us. I told her to play with the other children and stop bothering the adults. I should have kept her with me.

Since we were young, Granye has always been the one I could confide in. As children, we were inseparable when people saw one of us, they would invariably ask where the other was. My mother called Granye my out-hearth twin, and I was always proud to be associated with her. I want to talk to her now, but we ride single file and talk little during the day. At night, we huddle near the fire, too exhausted for conversation, and I never find a moment to talk to Granye in private.

Solis bears some burden, but she only speaks of it to Granye. It’s as though Granye is both her student and confidant. I keep waiting for Granye to invite me to join them, but she never does. I feel like an unwelcome guest. Three is an unlucky number.

Today Solis says we much try to reach the river. We have already ridden since sunrise. As we climb higher into the mountains, the snow becomes heavier. The trees become scrubby, and we enter an unfamiliar rocky landscape. There will be no jaguars here. They have nowhere to hide. 

We stop for a midday meal. I start a fire and melt snow for the horses. Solis hikes to the top of the trail while Granye unpacks dram and honey farr.

“Do you know how much farther?” I ask.

Granye shakes her head. “That’s why Solis climbed to the top of the rise. She’s looking for landmarks.”

“Are we lost?”

“Why would you ask that?”

“You trust her more than I do. We barely know her.”

“Astiah, you’re the one who wanted to follow her on this journey. I would still gladly be home, bringing the sheep in.”

“I think you care about those stupid sheep more than you care about me.”

“What are you talking about? You are my closest friend…”

“Really?”

Granye places her hand lightly on my arm. I smack it away.

“Don’t!”

She steps back, knitting her eyebrows together. “Astiah, what’s wrong with you?”

I’m so tired, and cold, and frustrated with not reaching Hanasorsha yet. I want to scream at everyone who has gotten in my way. I don’t say that, though. I turn away and resume shoveling snow into a bucket.

Solis returns from her inspection. She looks at both of us, seemingly aware of the tension.

“The river on the far side of the valley. We’ll arrive after sunset…but…”

I haul a bucket of snowmelt for horse to drink. He empties it quickly and looks at me expectantly.

“… But?” Granye says.

“Come and I’ll show you.”

I tie my horse to a tree and follow after Granye and Solis, who have already started up the trail.

We climb to the crest of the peak. A massive green valley stretches out below us. A ribbon of blue water cuts through a green waving sea of trees.

I sigh. “It looks like a long ride.”

“Not that.” Solis says, “This.” She points at an unmistakable track of a massive griffin. They are rare near our hearth. Here, in the wild, with only three of us, they could be very dangerous.

Granye shakes her head.

Solis says, “These tracks are fresh.”

I turn, sweeping my eyes around the bush. It could be anywhere. They hunt by stalking or by diving at their prey from the sky. It is said if attacked by a griffin, you’ll never see it coming.

“They’re probably more interested in the horses than us. We’re a small meal for a fully grown griffin.” Granye says, but that is no comfort.

We hear something heavy crashing through the scrub. Solis steps in front of us and unsheaths her short sword. After a moment, my horse lumbers through the brush and nuzzles my neck. I think he's still thirsty.

We all laugh, relieved, and possibly embarrassed.

“I guess I didn’t tie him up well enough.”

Solis sheathes her sword with a swift, practiced motion. I sometimes forget because of her age that she’s a warrior. 

She says, “We have to get moving, but be wary.”

She heads back down the trail. Granye follows her like an obedient puppy. I lead my horse down behind them. I dreamt of wandering, but I never thought it would drive a wedge between Granye and me.

##

After a long discussion, we bed down in a copse of trees so the horses are hidden.

After we eat, Granye produces four straight sticks, an invitation to play Four Sticks.

I smile and stand to collect a pile of sticks. I’ve always preferred sticks with character that are bent and gnarled. Granye likes a straight, long, lightweight sticks.

Solis sits cross-legged, wrapped in a blanket, sipping a cup of twig tea. She sets down her tea on a flat rock.

“Can I join?”

Granye says, too quickly in my opinion, “Yes, of course!”

As children, we played the game Four Sticks endlessly. It’s a simple game. Each player starts with four sticks for use in building a structure. The purpose is to build a stable structure as tall as possible with the least number of sticks. Granye always had a genius for creating structures. When the structure falls, we light it on fire. As children, we then would play pretend games of cooking and washing over the fire. It was really ingenious how our parents managed to teach us the basics of building structures and doing chores as a form of recreation. Still, the game is beloved and universal.

We settle. Granye opens, four sticks pushed into the dirt. Solis studies for a moment and adds four more poles outside of Granye’s poles. I see immediately that she is establishing a foundation for a larger structure. It’s a move I’ve never considered. I’ve always built inside of Granye’s box. Solis sits back, watching us, assessing our moves. The structure evolves, simple, but huge, in comparison to our normal structure. I have a childish impulse to knock it down. I’ve never been a good loser. Solis glances up at me, places a stick lightly atop the structure, and it collapses. It seems as though she has done it on purpose. She exceeds me, even in her skill to knock things down.

I take the first watch. The woods are silent except for the horses settling in. I can see the stars and the now waning, wandering moon. It casts an eerie light through the trees. I nod off to sleep and then I startle awake, something lumbers through the woods nearby. I stand and creep closer to the sound.

In a gap between the trees, I see it moving. I creep closer and crouch behind a tree. In the dim light of the moon, I see the griffin’s massive haunches. I take my hunting knife from its sheath, though I doubt it will penetrate the skin of a griffin. The griffin turns, perhaps catching my scent, stands motionless, staring in my direction. I can’t tell if I’ve been spotted or not. Then it spreads its massive wings and in leaps into the air, soaring into the darkness. Seeing a griffon is lucky, however, I’m still uneasy. In the distance, it lets out a long, screeching cry. I hear the horses stir and I return to the fire. I want to wake Granye and tell her what I’ve seen, but I know she needs sleep and she might not believe me.

#

The morning is clear and crystal cold. We begin the long trek to the river. We all dread the possibility of the griffin swooping down on us when we have to cross a clearing.

When the trail widens, Granye and Solis ride side-by-side, talking in low voices. Whatever I believed being on the road would be like, this isn’t it. Hours of boredom followed by uneasy sleep. I thought Granye and I would grow closer, but it’s almost the opposite.

Solis’s face looks hollow and drawn. She has been eating less and sleeping poorly. There’s a mean part of me that hopes she’s ill so that we can leave her behind soon. I’m ashamed of my own thoughts.

Midday, the trees begin to thin, light breaks through the trees. We approach a clearing. My horse tosses its head and flares its nostrils. All the horses stop suddenly, paw nervously at the ground.

Solis turns and says to me, “I think they smell the griffon. They don’t want to cross into a field where they will be unprotected.”

“So, what do we do?” Granye asks.

Solis says, “It’ll take hours for us to go around. We’ll have to encourage them to go forward.”

She slides off her horse places her forehead against its face. She walks back to the pack horse and retrieves a quiver of arrows, which she straps to her back. She remounts with ease.

She nudges her horse into a trot and the other follow. Soon the horses are knee deep in golden grass.

The griffin screeches overhead. The horses break into a gallop. It swoops down and its wing tip slices my face. My horse rears up in the air and I just manage to hold on. Solis pulls her horse to stop and leaps down, kneeling and pulling an arrow from her quiver simultaneously. She shoots and reloads three times in rapid succession. The griffin circles higher in the air, out of the reach of Solis’ arrows.

My horse rears again and I grab at it’s neck, but this time I can’t hold on. I fall backwards through the air until I hit the ground with a thud.

My horse squeals in terror and runs back toward the woods with the pack horse trailing after. Granye turns sharply to chase my horse.

It is weirdly quiet in the tall grass. I stand feeling a little dizzy.

The griffin soars overhead, turning its sharp gaze on the two riderless horses. It swoops down and snatches the pack horse, but the horse is heavy and ungainly. The griffin drops it, but I can see it has a bloody gash on its side.

Solis stands motionless with her arm drawn back, ready to shoot. Moments ago, she was a tired old woman, but now she is a warrior in her full strength. The arrow lands hard in the griffin’s haunch. It screeches in fury, turning its attention on Solis. I watch in speechless horror. She ducks down in the grass, hoping to evade the griffin’s massive talons.

Suddenly the griffin is hailed by a shower of arrows. It screeches and, with a beat of its wings, soars into the air. It shakes its head and spins trying to dislodge the arrows. I can see that at least ten arrows found their mark. It flies towards the horizon and vanishes as quickly as it appeared.

I run to Solis, shouting, “Are you okay?”

She stands and laughs out loud, brushing dirt and grass off her chest and legs.
Granye returns with the two horses.
Solis cups her hands to make a low, birdlike call.
Slowly, at least two dozen warriors dressed in simple ochre robes rise from the grass. Their faces are masked and have hoods pulled over their heads. Each person holds a bow and quiver similar to Solis’s.

“Who are they?” I whisper.

Granye whispers, “They must be Drakdarekam.”

More of them appear and slowly close around us. They move as one, all at the same deliberate speed. The horse stamp nervously and throw their heads.

As they draw closer, one steps forward and bows, “Solis the Crore. Long have we awaited your return.”

Solis, though usually formal and reserved, reaches out and hugs the speaker. They both laugh.

“Manna, I am so glad to see you. Perfect timing, as always.” Solis sounds uncharacteristically cheerful. Her perpetual grim determination seems to float away.

She gestures toward the surrounding warriors. “These are the Drakdarekam.”

We all nod and bow. They bow in return.

Dozens more join us, some with strings of small, light horses trailing behind them. Their coats and manes nearly match the color of the robes the Drakdarekam wear. They all blend into the background so that they are nearly invisible. The Drakdarekam mount quickly, by using a short loop on the horse’s sides. The single strap that winds around the horse’s neck and back. Their equipment makes ours look cumbersome. They move swiftly toward the river, as though they are a single organism.

Manna and Solis talk quietly and the rest of us mount our horses.

Slowly they surround us like a pod around a shell bean. As they move forward we move with them. Manna and Solis climb on to their horses and move to the front of the pack.

I can’t decide if I threatened or secure in the midst of these silent, enigmatic warriors. They all sit perfectly still and upright on their mounts. I reach for the pouch around my neck, feeling the tiny twig inside that represents home to me. This adventure is nothing like I imagined while cozy in my bed at home. This adventure is full of uncertainty and dread.

We ride at a steady trot as the sun settles on the horizon. We finally reach the river and cross easily on a sandy spit where the trail terminates in the river. We all cross the icy river.
Solis and Manna turn to face Granye and me.
Manna, a surprisingly low voice, stated, “The Drakdarekam’s home remains a secret to uninitiated. With apologies to you as our guests, we most blindfold you here.”

Two riders sidle up next to us and tie thick, soft, black fabric over our eyes. I feel disoriented and fearful about riding without being able to see. My instinct is to flee.

I feel a hand touch my back gently.

Granye whispers next to my ear, “Don’t be afraid, Astiah. They won’t hurt us.”

I no longer trust Granye, yet I don’t have a choice. I hear the other riders begin to move. My horse lurches forward and I snatch at the straps on my horse’s shoulder to catch my balance.

I have always hated surrendering to anyone.