Читать бесплатно онлайн книгу Elinor. The Deserted Valley. Book 1автор Mikhail Shelkov
Mikhail Shelkov
Elinor. The Deserted Valley
Book 1
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© Mikhail Shelkov, 2019
Elinor… a huge continent, situated in the middle of a boundless ocean. The nature of this world is rich and diverse — high mountains, deep forests, endless prairies, severe snows of the North and arid deserts of the South. Eight nations, originated from the Valley of the Ancestors, created their own governments in different parts of the continent: wise Djunits, reckless Guawars, fearless Itoshins, elucidated Ulutau, discreet Vedichs, mighty Taurs, inventive Tausmatus, careless Chekatta.
ISBN 978-5-4496-1345-5 (т. 1)
ISBN 978-5-4496-1346-2
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Contents
- Elinor. The Deserted Valley
- Table of contents
- PROLOGUE
- Part 1. THE WAYS AND THE PATHS
- CHAPTER 1. Lion constellation
- CHAPTER 2. The essence of the warrior
- CHAPTER 3. FROM THE WILDernesS TO THE LIGHT
- CHAPTER 4. THE DEPRIVED FROM THE SKIES
- CHAPTER 5. the LILY PEARL
- CHAPTER 6. THE SECRETS OF GOLEMS
- CHAPTER 7. Airy DEER
- CHAPTER 8. THE JUSTICE CLAN
- Part 2. THE SECRET OF THE DESERTED VALLEY
- CHAPTER 1. OLD Owl
- CHAPTER 2. the IRON SOULS
- CHAPTER 3. THE vambraces OF INNOCENCE
- CHAPTER 4. MIN-MIRIF
- CHAPTER 5. ON THE WAREHOUSES
- CHAPTER 6. THE CONTRABAND
- CHAPTER 7. TAKE THE DEAD
- CHAPTER 8. THE DARKNESS above THE VALLEY
- CHAPTER 9. the FIFTEEN brave ones
- CHAPTER 10. ADEJ’E-VINOMES
- CHAPTER 11. FIRE AND ASHES
- CHAPTER 12. THE THUNDER RUMBLED
- CHAPTER 13. THE CARAVANS STOPPED
- CHAPTER 14. The Hidden and The Obvious
- CHAPTER 15. THE TREASURE OF ALDEGO
- CHAPTER 16. UMAR AMATT
- CHAPTER 17. to EACH HIS OWN
- CHAPTER 18. THE FLesh OF THE DEMON
- CHAPTER 19. THE BLACK SHAMAN
- CHAPTER 20. SHOULDER TO SHOULDER
- CHAPTER 21. THE HEALERS
- CHAPTER 22. CALM AND FREEDOM
- EPILOGUE
- Elinorpedia (AN ATTACHMENT TO THE DIARIES OF JUMANNA AMATT)
- General Information About Elinor
- A short description of Elinor from Jumanna Inaiya Khaniya Amatt
- Measuring the time of year by months
- There are six times of day
- Six Sides of Light
- Old Rose of the Winds of Elinor
- Djunit-Guawarian Rose of the Wind
- The language
- Great People
- Junits
- Guawars
- Itoshins
- Ulutau
- Vedichs
- Taurs
- Tuasmatus (Mechanicum)
- Chekatta
- OTHER PEOPLE
- Metises
- Inhabitants of the Ancestral Valley
- Bronze Chekatta
- Snow Chekatta
- Nomads of the desert
- The Vedas Tribe
- Detailed information
- General Information About Elinor
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The Deserted Valley
Author: Mikhail Shelkov
Table of contents
Prologue
Part 1. The Ways And The Paths
Chapter 1. Lion Constellation
Chapter 2. The Essence Of The Warrior.
Chapter 3. From The Wilderness To The Light
Chapter 4. The Deprived From The Skies
Chapter 5. The Lily Pearl
Chapter 6. The Secrets Of Golems
Chapter 7. Airy Deer
Chapter 8. The Justice Clan
Part 2. The Secret of The Deserted Valley
Chapter 1. Old Owl
Chapter 2. The Iron Souls
Chapter 3. The Vambraces Of Innocence
Chapter 4. Min-Mirif
Chapter 5. On The Edge Of The War
Chapter 6. The Contraband
Chapter 7. Take The Dead
Chapter 8. The Darkness Above The Valley
Chapter 9. The Fifteen Brave Ones
Chapter 10. Adej’e-Vinomes
Chapter 11. Fire And Ashes
Chapter 12. The Thunder Rumbled
Chapter 13. The Caravans Stopped
Chapter 14. The Hidden and The Obvious
Chapter 15. The Treasure Of Aldego
Chapter 16. Umar Amatt
Chapter 17. To Each His Own
Chapter 18. The Flesh Of The Demon
Chapter 19. The Black Shaman
Chapter 20. Shoulder To Shoulder
Chapter 21. The Healers
Chapter 22. Calm And Freedom
Epilogue
PROLOGUE
A wise man, whose name unfortunately has been forgotten, said that the journey of a thousand leagues begins with a single step.
My journey started well over a month ago, and nobody knows when it will end — not a single person. Perhaps it is only the sublime stars on the canvas of the night sky that know — those stars which I wholeheartedly love. But even if they do know, they will hardly reveal it.
I left my family, my home… and my heart tells me that this time, I’ll be gone for a long time, perhaps forever.
Great Asters! What nonsense, indeed… I keep telling myself. I am no longer that same impressionable girl who admired the wide and many-faced world. The world that carries the name Elinor. Now I am a teacher and mentor to such girls. But for some reason (it might be that my hunch is awakening, a hunch that has never lied to me; or that old childhood dreams never died, but only subsided), I believe that my journey will not just be long, but great. And… yes, I’ll write it. It will end at the Edge of the World.
Oh, sandy depths! At last, I admitted it to myself…
Well, it is likely that in half a century, this diary will be read by my grandchildren who will smile to themselves, although not in the open — for it is indecent — about the erstwhile dream of their grandmother, who at the time will be quietly rocking in her chair, trying to embroider patterns on their robes with a large needle in her shaking hands.
What am I talking about? As though I don’t regret wasting neither ink, nor paper, nor my time! It is better to get to the point!
Today turned out to be a day off. The owner of the caravan is unwell — he probably overate again in the heat. Therefore, everyone — merchants, warriors, and my students — are spending the day under the shelter of the tents, set up in a small oasis.
There are a few trees here, but there is a stream and a rocky ridge, so the heat is not felt, and the break is truly enjoyable. It is strange that no one has built an outpost next to the oasis with a camel yard and teahouse yet.
As though we are not following the main tract!
But according to an astronomer’s calculations (a real astronomer!), in a couple of weeks we will reach our final destination.
I will finally contemplate the Valley of the Ancestors — the heart of Elinor!
The Valley of the Ancestors or, as many say, the Valley, is where life began. It was from the Valley of the Ancestors that the new people of the Third Race dispersed throughout the lands of Elinor and settled there. It was then that a man named Tosho, who became emperor and subsequently acquired immortality, led likeminded people to the north; it was then that the Valley’s migrants went into the deep forests where they met the Ved tribe and founded the Vedich nation; it was then that the father-founder of our glorious Djunitian people, the great Marawie, led people into the endless desert.
And now the people of the desert are returning to the Valley. It is like a time rotation.
Emperor Tosho founded the Itoshinian nation, from which came two more races, the Ulutau and the Tuasmatus. The Taurs evolved from the Vedichs, and the Guawars evolved from the Djunits. Only the carefree Chekatta remained in the prairies near the Valley of the Ancestors.
The Valley itself and its Great Cities of Dalaal, Konolwar, Eavette, and Mata-Mata were fragrant with life in the heart of the Elinor, at the crossroads of trade routes, at the junction of customs and cultures of people who had become so different from each other, so unique. Though the Valley had always been a separate state, it would nonetheless welcome any visitors from distant lands. Every inhabitant of the Valley now associated him/herself with some nation, still primarily remaining a resident of the Valley, a sort of representative of the Ninth nation, a collective image of all the people of Elinor.
Perhaps this is the essence of existence? Parents raise their children, care for them, protect them… but they eventually lose their power, become senile, and then the grown-up and established children must take care of their parents.
Similarly, the Valley gave birth to and brought up eight nations. But at a certain point, it died. The Valley had become deserted. And now the children of the Valley, the representatives of the eight nations, have hit the road to resurrect their mother — to fill her with life. Our caravan is heading north to bring to the Great Cities the necessity — people. Many caravans took off several months ahead of us and many will follow.
From distant lands, from the remaining seven nations, other envoys head to the Valley. Soon, I will meet again the Taurs, Guawars, Itoshins, and Mechanicum, who I haven’t seen for a long time. I look forward to getting to know the Ulutau and Chekatta, who I have never seen in my life, and so much more! And the Vedichs! The Vedichs themselves! The people who can shape-shift into the beasts of the forest! However, none of the venerable scientists have confirmed this, and those sources that even the most distinguished historians have relied upon seem quite dubious. But that’s how the legends go, and I myself am not sure if I’m inclined to believe them or not.
Here I write about what I am waiting for, what will happen in the future. I write about the future, as it is meaningless at present to write about the present.
Tomorrow, if Khatum Tangut wins over his indigestion, a procession of camels, which belong to him, will once more stretch towards the horizon through the yellow sands carrying with them, warriors, merchants, and myself with my students.
In the desert, interesting things rarely happen; all the days are alike. To come across an oasis is great luck, but hardly can such a meeting be equated with an extraordinary event. Now, meeting the scorpio-angler or a school of sand dragons — that is a whole different story! Every night I pray to the stars for these meetings not to happen on our way. The soldiers guarding the caravan are arrogant and conceited, and the desert does not forgive such attitudes. It is unlikely that their strong bodies hold as strong a spirit.
Fortunately, both the anglers and dragons have long ago ceased to dwell near the trade routes. People, though slowly, are beginning to prevail in this war that has lasted for many centuries.
I do not know what else I should write about.
As I said before, writing about soldiers, merchants, and cameleers is silly.
About my disciples? They are ordinary children. Sometimes they bring me joy; sometimes, sorrow. Sometimes they delight in things, other times they upset themselves. They try to endure the hardships of camp life in the Great Desert. To some, it comes easy, to others it is difficult. Almost an adult, Calif constantly helps me and Lamis. It’s so good that he is near. He is no longer a boy, almost a man. The other students can be left to his care for a while. The girls have to be soothed every day and be told about the beautiful life in the Valley. Then they cease to moan and require so much attention. I understand them, although I have never been like them myself. They are the girls of noble families, used to houses with light walls and green gardens nearby, and not to the eternal heat and fiery air of the day and tangy cool of the night. In this regard, the boys are simpler, but with them there are other problems. One runs around all day long with a miniature sword, killing scorpions; another picks up all the prickles on the road to investigate them; and someone tries to start a fight with a peer… But I’m used to them. And I love them; I love them as their mentor.
Maybe I can become a good teacher. Mother is sure to approve the idea of school education becoming the main profession of my life. But then I’ll go mad from boredom. My path is different.
Then what else should I write about?
I’ve said enough about myself in the preceding pages.
I am trying to keep a diary the way it should be done by any Djunitian researcher who has self-respect. So I was taught by my father.
Father, Father…
You would’ve been proud of me…
I know that you are proud of me!
I believe in our impending meeting!
I am definitely not in the mood to write more. That is all for today!
Jumanna Inaiya Khaniya Amatt
J. I. Kh. A., 4th day of the Elephant month, the year 531, era IV…”
This History of Elinor is an appendix to the book. Both the author of the book, and compiler of this diary strongly recommend that you read it before reading the main body of this book to learn more about the history, geography, life, and culture of states in Elinor and people inhabiting the continent.
Part 1. THE WAYS AND THE PATHS
CHAPTER 1. Lion constellation
Our way lies among high dunes, and worse
That under scorching Eternal Aster flying,
But leads us forward with his rabid force
He who is always young, the Sandy Lion!
From odes by Samir Korzun “Sand and Wind”
1
Lamis finished writing. A sharp gust of dry wind broke in, throwing a handful of fine sand on the pages of the diary. The young woman shook off the sand, blew on the manuscript, and shut the diary. She closed the jar of ink and hid the writing feather. Tired from writing, she stretched her beautiful long bronze fingers as Moualdar, a gloomy boy of twelve years, ran into the tent. He came up close, hanging his head.
“I’m bored,” he grumbled.
“You can go feed the camels. The caravanners are always happy to be helped.”
“I don’t want to… I’m scared of camels,” his voice squeaked, reminding the young caretaker that the apprentice, despite his visage, was still just a boy.
His facial features are of an adult, yet he asks for attention enough for three kids to share.
By then Calif had also appeared under the canopy of the tent.
Calif was tall and stately. From the first glance, it was obvious he was a future warrior. Something in him was reminiscent of the young caretaker’s brother, only her brother’s hair was short and straight, while Calif’s was long and curly. Moreover, Calif’s eyes were not as stern. His figure was still one of a strong young man, but not yet a weather-beaten warrior.
It would be great if one day Calif came to learn the art of war from her brother!
But now Calif was headed to the Valley with her. And it was with him that the caretaker was pleased the most. As the eldest, he was always ready to help; he respected her and helped to monitor the disciples.
“Honorable Tangut Khatum said that he is better, so tomorrow at dawn, we are advancing!” said Lamis.
“Do you need any help?” Calif immediately blurted out.
“Yes!” All the minor problems were solved at once. “Collect the totes!” she said to Calif, then looked at Moualdar. “And you go help!”
The boy snorted discontentedly. Obviously, this was not how he wanted to dispel his boredom.
During the encampment, the disciples were allowed to devote the day to the classes of their choice, and completely unpack their hiking knapsacks. Yet the sun was already swiftly rolling towards the horizon; its rays no longer carried as much of the sizzling heat. Evening was approaching. It was time to get ready for the journey, so as not to bustle about during the morning gathering, but rather, after having leisurely broken their fast, to pack up the caravan and set off without delay.
Lamis, the faithful assistant, withdrew, dragging with her the disgruntled Moualdar. The well-mannered Calif turned to his caretaker and just before leaving made a traditional courteous bow. The canopy of the tent swung closed.
A smile lit up the young woman’s face.
He’s an absolute miracle!
Now it was necessary to bring all the disciples together, announce that the encampment would not be prolonged, and remind everyone to fill their waterskin bags to the brim with water.
Though I’ll still have to check before we set off… these are children. They see the world differently. Some still don’t understand what a dangerous place it is, they don’t understand there are no parents here who will blow the sand off them, or that though their caretaker is strong and brave, she is not unlimitedly sturdy — I will not be able to carry a separate bota bag for each of them. It will be useful if, from this passage through the Great Desert, everyone learned a certain lesson for themselves. The lesson that no school can give, the lesson that only life teaches.
It was also necessary to get everyone to bed early. Even a short respite is a knockout from the working rhythm. Hence, tomorrow’s wakening would be that much harder.
Therefore, for today, the essential thing was sleep! Sleep… a dream!
The young woman remembered last night’s dream. In it, she saw the Valley of the Ancestors in all its glory, and it was exactly the way she had pictured it from her father’s stories.
The four great cities of Dalaal, Konolwar, Eavette, and Mata-Mata were located on the shores of the Lake of the Ancestors and the Huma River. A burgomaster ruled each city. The Valley had always been considered a separate state, but it would be more correct to see it as an association of the four Great Cities.
The Great Desert of the Djunits did not fall under the single authority of a particular ruler. To be perfectly precise, that was how it was before, at the beginning of the Fourth Epoch. Over time, rulers realized that every city-oasis in the midst of endless sands lived its own life, and if self-government was granted to these settlements, the entire trading system would benefit. Since then, the cities of the Djunits were governed by the izirs. The clan of Djunitian kings, originating from the Marawie Sandy Lion, became part of the clan of the izirs of Kay-Samiluf, the largest and most powerful city in the Great Desert. This family was later overthrown, and nobody knows in whose veins the blood of the founder-father of the Djunits now flows. Nonetheless, all the cities of the Djunits are subject of the will of the council of the Kay-Samiluf Academy, which retains the right to interfere in the affairs of the izirs. Hence, in a way, the Great Desert can still call itself a state.
In the Valley, everything is done differently. In extreme cases, the Council of Four convened, where the burgomaster conjointly solved economic and political issues. If no agreement was reached, the popular assembly entered the disputes, where absolutely every inhabitant of the Valley could defend his point of view.
Clans were factions united by a common idea and were an important social force in the Valley on which burgomasters and other officials relied. Most often, clans were economic or political conjunctions. The famous Justice Clan long stood on the side of law and order. Clans of scientists and researchers rarely participated in the machinations of officials; however, they were always revered and even received money from the treasury of each city.
Extending both over the inhabitants themselves and the representatives of all eight nations, there was a single law in the Valley of the Ancestors, regardless of the laws proclaimed in their lands. All trade routes converged in the Valley. There was even trade with the severe Ito Empire in the north. The valley supplied provisions, ore, and even fabrics for the emperor Tosho, and he, having only bare stones and dank fogs in his lands, paid with the best that he could offer — a military force to ensure order.
Trade was not the only thing that supported the Valley of the Ancestors. The praise for its fairs, theaters, circuses, and tiltyards never stopped. The works of the writers and poets of the Valley were dispersed throughout Elinor. The Valley gave the people a Common Language, which foreigners used to communicate amongst themselves. As a result, the Guawars, the first sea merchants, were the first to completely switch to the Common Language, soon followed by the Djunits, who retained their language only for historians and scribes.
The Valley was also a den for charlatans, thieves, and other rascals. Some great adventurers also found themselves in it, those who, from vagrants, became burgomasters.
The Valley was the heart of Elinor, and the heart of the Valley was the Stone of the Ancestors — a mighty relic, probably preserved from the First Race. The Stone of Ancestors emitted Power. The Djunits called it special energy, the other nations called it magic, but its nature was inaccessible to understanding. The Stone of the Ancestors could predict the future, could heal illnesses, and could confer a part of its power on the pilgrim. But not always. Not for all… The Stone of the Ancestors lived its own life and used its magic at its own will. It could even defend itself. A gang of vandals who wanted to break it into pieces, thus intimidating the Valley, was simply incinerated alive by he Stone.
The Valley! The eight nations!
The colorful cities, the markets, the performances, the sounds of music and foul market language from the motley crowds, the beautiful house chambers and the stench of dirty taverns filled with both military clashes and peaceful human life, the green forests and prairies surrounding the Great Cities, the sky-blue water of the Lake of the Ancestors, and the Stone itself — all this happened last night in a dream, as though it were all truly there!
And then… this multicolored mess was at once covered by a black cloud.
This was the end of the dream…
The young caretaker shuddered. She realized she had dozed off, remembering the dream. She shook her head and looked around. The tent was still empty, only the air was not as stuffy as before — it meant that sunset was coming.
But instead of hurrying to her students, the maiden paused briefly. She opened a diary, which she had kept in her hands all this time.
She started flipping from the first page. She made these records a little more than a month ago in her parents’ house in Kay-Samiluf, the night before the caravan left. That night she could not manage to fall asleep.
2
“Midnight. The beginning of the sixteenth day of the month of the Wolf, the year 531, era IV…”
As an ancestral researcher, I start the diary before the beginning of my journey. I would like to write “the Great Journey,” but can’t know in advance how it will turn out. I can only know how I feel about myself.
About myself.
My name is Jumanna Inaiya Khaniya Amatt. I am a descendant of an ancient and noble family.
The Amatt clan became famous throughout Elinor during the construction of the cities of Min-Mirif and Til-Mirif. The construction was supervised by one of my glorious ancestors, a great engineer and thinker, Mirif Amatt. Built at the very end of the Third Era, Min-Mirif became the southernmost city of the Valley, denoting its southern boundary. Further away, the endless desert of the Djunitian began. The riches of the mines near where my ancestor built the cities were truly inexhaustible. Gold, silver, semi-precious stones, iron ore for the best, most solid steel… Soft metals, meanwhile, were useful on farms, and clean flint could be taken from the earth with bare hands.
The cities were quickly populated by people, and on the outskirts of Min-Mirif, in the shadows of majestic palms and sycamores, on the shores of ponds with water of extraordinary blueness, grew the Amatt estate.
When I was six, I visited my family estate. As soon as I was old enough to leave home, my father took me on my very first trip. My birthday was celebrated on a grand scale, but the day itself I cannot remember — I remember only that I yearned to begin the journey! Despite my age, the road was my strongest passion, and there was nothing I could do about it.
My dear mother, the noble Khaniya Haliya Mufa, by marriage an Amatt, the granddaughter of the izir Doyno-Kash Kharun Mufa, was distinguished by her strict views, moral purity, and undoubtful placement of the family above all else. She believed I could leave home, though only to go to school at the Academy of Kay-Samiluf; and this school was but two blocks away from our house! I did not want this… I wanted to see the desert, the endless expanse. I wanted to see caravans, people of other nations, other cities and faraway lands… Mum tried to hold me back until the very end, but I knew she would give in eventually.
Despite her strictness, her weakness was my father, Umar Amatt, who had recently become the leader of the Old Pages Clan. Mother’s love for Father knew no bounds; she could not oppose him. And my father could not refuse me, as he saw my passionate interest in everything new and everything unusual. I was growing up much too like him… dreamy, windy, and thirsty for discovery.
So, my first trip was to Min-Mirif. At the end of the day, the Great Desert impressed me, but much less than the ancestral estate. What is the desert? Delight is present only at first, when you realize that there is only you and your caravan surrounded by the sand, the sky, and the horizon line between them. I watched this landscape one day, then another, and it didn’t change. Yellow-reddish barchans, endless dunes, plain blue sky without a single cloud and the white circle of the scorching sun. My interest quickly died away as I sat in a small armchair on the hump of a huge camel under a velvet canopy, drinking cool water and fanning myself.
And then one night I could not sleep. I left the tent once I thought my father was asleep (as it turned out, he did not sleep and had seen everything), and found myself under the black dome of the night sky, dotted with countless glowing stars. It was the most beautiful thing I had seen in my life! Many years have passed, but I still can’t forget how, even though I was a clever, albeit young, child, I stood right before the cosmic abyss, as the distant, delightful stars seemed to wink at me.
And the Amatt estate… Oh! It seemed to me a city within a city! Of course, Min-Mirif itself seemed boring to me after Kay-Samiluf. But the ancestral nest Mirif Amatt had clearly been built with great enthusiasm and inspiration, with greenhouses full of flowers and fruit trees from all over the continent, fountains spurting beyond the roof of the mansion, halls with statues and columns. The underground part of the estate turned out to be several times larger than the mansion itself. There was everything — cabinets, a library, an alchemy laboratory, even a secret passageway to the mine. The underground halls were entirely decorated with precious metals and gems found in the local mines… I squealed with delight when night fell on Min-Mirif and my father guided me into the observatory tower and taught me to position myself on the map of the starry sky.
I had many teachers in my life. My father hired the best ones so I would receive a good education. But he taught me astronomy himself because he didn’t entrust it to anyone else. It was a little strange… Umar Amatt had gained fame as an explorer and writer. Other learned scholars taught me literature and history… But astronomy — only my father!
Yes, obviously, he saw me that night when I left the sleeping tent, so small and defenseless before the whole universe.
I did enroll into the high school of the Kay-Samiluf Academy and graduate with honors. My enrollment happened when I was twelve. Before that, I spent six years on a family estate. The best sages of the Valley came to teach me the basics of science. But the best teacher remained my father… I am grateful to him for his lessons on astronomy, but the most valuable lessons were those about life, which, maybe, my father gave me without even knowing it.
The Old Pages Clan had its own museum in the mansion of Amatt. There was a collection of rare peculiar things, which were brought from different corners of Elinor, that I hadn’t even seen in the Kay-Samiluf Academy museum. Many relics emitted special energy; I felt it. My father didn’t, but he believed me. He said that people react to special energy and magic differently.
Indeed, our scientists agree on the idea that this energy exists, but none of them can explain its origin. Even if some of the alchemists managed to equip objects with magical abilities, it only happened by the experimental method or by the long arm of coincidence. There is no scientific theory about obtaining this special energy. The Mechanicum (Tuasmatus) do not reveal their secrets to anyone. But our scientists aren’t sure that the force with which many of their mechanisms work is the same magic that, say, the Ancestral Stone and other antiquities emit. I believe that special energy, controlled by the Mechanicum, is more explicable by science than the special energy of the First Race.
Azir Amunjadee wrote in his works that the secret of special energy was mastered by the Ulutau — mastered through self-knowledge and self-improvement. But is this the same inexplicable energy that I’m talking about? The whole world still questions the role of special energy (magic) in the bodily transformations of the Vedichs. If, of course, those transformations are true…
But I do feel magic! I know it…
I constantly asked my father to take me to The Stone of the Ancestors in the Valley. But he always flatly refused… Father, who had only ever encouraged my curiosity, refused me! He said that I wasn’t old enough for the Valley.
It seems he considered traveling through the desert, where there was a small, but still existing probability of meeting a scorpio-angler or dragon, less dangerous than living in the Valley. My father had always spoken of the Valley reverently and thus had only aroused my imagination further, but at the same time refused! Perhaps that’s why I still think about the Valley with some apprehension, but nonetheless with admiration also.
I traveled a lot, indeed! After all, I already mentioned this is the greatest passion of my life, and it is impossible to satisfy a great passion! I visited the Golden Ruins twice… I visited the outskirts of the Nanol-Mo forest. I saw the powerful Taurs and their settlements made of logs in the middle of forest glades. And for my twelfth birthday, before entering high school, my father gave me a gift — he took me to Bandabaze! Yes, to the largest city of the Guawars!
From the port of Chail, on the light and high-speed ship “Lightning”, we arrived in Bandabaze in four days! Four days! A caravan of camels from Kay-Samiluf to Min-Mirif sometimes takes up to two months. And here — four days! And then we spent another week on a ship from Bandabaze to Doyno-Kash. Incredible! To this day, my mother doesn’t know that I’ve been to Bandabaze… My father and I agreed not to tell her. If she knew, then probably in a fit of anger she would have killed both of us. I’m exaggerating, of course. Mother is kind. It’s just that the Guawars are looked upon as dirty robbers and pirates.
My father still preferred a trip to Bandabaze to a journey to Valley. Why? I don’t believe the Valley markets are more dangerous than Bandabaze!
By the way, the Guawars do seem wild and scary at first. Especially for those brought up in the noble Djunits families. But I had traveled enough to understand the beauty of these sea people. And I fell in love with the sea! It was then that I decided that, one day, I would sail away on the Guawarian ship to the east… To the Edge of the World!
I thought Kay-Samiluf was a noisy city, and no other will surpass it. I was mistaken! The buzz of commercial areas, complemented by music from taverns and street chants, cannot be drowned out, even if you stuff your ears with Ayno-Sufic cotton wool. Your nostrils are always tickled with the sugary smells of fruit and hot spices, which are mixed with the aromas of fried fish and the stink of foul fish. To the rhythm of the Guawarian gulps, tamed beasts tingle from all-around — screeching monkeys, small fluffy tics, and huge talking parrots shimmering with all the colors of the rainbow.
In the middle of the city, opposite the Royal Bay, towers the palace of the Governor of Bandabaze. The palace of our izir is a yellow-golden hue like the sandy djunes. On the contrary, the Guawarian Governor’s one is snow white! A snow white palace, with azure sea and evergreen forests all around.
Thank you, Father! I will never forget that journey! It was the best birthday of my life!
My father and I returned to Kay-Samiluf from the port of Doyno-Kash. And since then, I haven’t seen him… Father went to the Valley. Later he visited the caravan in the Shohan, the capital of the Ito Empire, and the kingdom of Reyro, a Tuasmatus abode. He was going to visit the Vedichian.. Oh, he would have definitely discerned their secrets.
He wrote and wrote about his travels… About the fact that he visited the reception of the Emperor himself, that he saw the golems in the Mechanicum (and, by the way, didn’t feel any magic) and rode mammoths, the huge shaggy elephants of the north. Meanwhile I dissolved into melancholy in the stuffy walls of my school in Kay-Samiluf. I dreamed that one day, I would go on a new fascinating journey.
My father didn’t make an appearance in Kay-Samiluf. At first, this upset mother greatly, and then she became angry with him. Day and night, all she did was berate him. I was sad too, but I didn’t reproach my father. I was melancholic, lonely without him, but I knew that if he hadn’t returned in so long, it meant he was on the path of a very important discovery. I was eager to graduate from school and join my father as quickly as possible; I could not wait to join the Old Pages Clan myself.
I have an older brother, Khasim Umar Amatt. His full patrimonial name includes the first name of father; mine is from mother… Perhaps this is a mistake — whilst I’m exactly like father in everything, Khasim is a copy of our mother. Home means the world to him!
Khasim is a sand dragon hunter. A fine hunter! Though he is young, he already has a high rank. Khasim is a noble man and a mighty warrior. He has a harsh temper, same as mother’s, but I know that he loves me. Now I know.
Hunting dragons is an ancient and honorable craft. It emerged in the time of the first Djunits, and it was the Marawie Sand Lion himself who proclaimed dragon hunting as part of the military doctrine. In ancient times, it was difficult to even call it hunting; rather, it was a struggle for survival. Having arrived in the desert, the settlers faced a great misfortune in the form of these vile, treacherous creatures. And even Marawie fell in battle against the sand dragons. But his people stood firm. Scorpio-anglers and dragons have not attacked the city for a long time. And, thanks to such hunters as Khasim, these creatures are less and less likely to attack commercial caravans. On large paths, at least, they haven’t been seen in a long time.
I turned eighteen the day after I graduated from high school. On my birthday, I was waiting for a message from my father… not such a gift as a trip to Bandabaze, of course, but at least some note. I entered the age of maturity and now I could go anywhere by myself, on any trip. But I wanted to see my father.
The year passed by and there was no news from him.
My birthday was coming to an end, and I was sitting alone in my room, crying. I was more alone than ever. My mum and brother… I felt their love, but I couldn’t trust them as I trusted my father.
Khasim entered the room. He asked why I was crying. I stayed quiet. After all, it was so obvious! He was silent for a long time. Then asked one more question, “What can I do for you? I don’t want you to cry…”
“What can you do for me, brother… " I replied with a sigh.
He stood above me, very still for a long time, which irritated me. I wanted to snap at him, scream. I’m glad I restrained myself. Now I can imagine what inner conflict he was going through!
“Get ready!” he finally told me. It was an order. “We are leaving at dawn!”
“Where to?” I was a little taken aback.
“I’ll show you how they hunt sand dragons…”
Oh, Khasim! How could I ever have expected such a thing from him? I jumped off my bed, rushed to him, and hugged him tightly. Throughout my eighteen years, I had never been close to my brother. And he, as it turns out, had always understood me. For some reason, he hadn’t shown it. Is it that stiffness is a sign of noble families?
It turned out that Khasim wasn’t a total copy of our mother after all. Father’s adventurism flowed in his veins, even though it manifested in a very peculiar way.
“And not a word to mother!” Khasim added. But it was needless, I understood everything perfectly myself.
When, in childhood, my brother made comments like, “Do not go there!”, “Stop fidgeting!”, “Be modest!”, “Speak quietly!” I was very annoyed. I did the exact opposite just to spite him. But that day, I listened to every single word of his.
He left me on the furthest barchan. Two tall warriors were assigned by him to protect me. What if a lonely dragon flew in our direction?
My brother divided his troop into three groups: left flank, center, and right flank. Naturally, he himself stood in the center. Behind him stood archers and spear throwers. These were the tactics of fighting monsters used for centuries, I knew that from history lessons.
Khasim led the soldiers to a sandy hill, where he expected a dragon’s lair. The soldiers carefully moved their feet along the sandy surface, almost gliding.
At any time, the flock could break out from under the ground, and then the solid surface would turn into a deadly funnel. That was how Marawie sunk into oblivion, having fallen through the quicksand into the dragon’s cave, and that is how hundreds of thousands of soldiers ended their lives…
A long spear whistled through the air and buried itself in the hillside. The sand began to fall off the slopes at once and soon a hole of the size of a human formed in the hill. Khasim was not mistaken — it was a lair!
Literally in the same moment, a scary head appeared out of the black hole, and then an ugly dragon’s body. A small spear dart, thrown by a warrior from the rear rows, pierced the dragon in the mouth. The first one had been dealt with!
Khasim suddenly gave the command to retreat, pointing his hand back. Again, the experienced commander predicted the situation. The hill quickly began to sink into the depths of the desert, the sand began to pour into the empty space, and new dragons came out from the smaller sandy mounds.
The first to close the formation were the warriors of the left flank. They shielded themselves, pointing forward long spears, and pressing the monsters back.
I could already count forty dragons in the pack.
First, they looked puzzled, but then, all of a sudden, in a wave, they rushed toward the soldiers. All three groups were attacked. The warriors covered their heads with shields and sat on one knee.
I knew that my brother was waiting, luring the dragons into a trap, trying to convince them of their own victory. But I stood still, on top of the barchan, dumb with fear. It was only in that moment that I understood what a great danger my brother had been exposing himself to all these years. For a night, a brother with whom I had never been able to find a Common Language, became so close and dear to me.
Two of my guards continued to stand quietly, all this time remaining unperturbed, as though watching an auction in a square, and not a deadly battle.
Suddenly, Khasim and two loyal fighters broke out of formation. With a sharp twist, they rolled under a flock of dragons hovering over the troop and rushed towards the biggest. This one was almost black in color, while the rest ranged in shades from muddy-green to the color of beige sand. The leader, I realized. One fighter clung to the tail of the dragon, the second pulled on a clawed rear paw. At that moment, Khasim jumped as high as he could, and struck the shell of the leader with the tip of his sword. After a wild yelp, it collapsed into the sand. My brother jumped to him and severed his head with one swift stroke.
It is difficult to convey into words what happened next, as wild confusion arose in the pack. The soldiers began spearing the dragons with their lances. The creatures didn’t even try to rise higher into the air, as though they had immediately agreed to the carnage. Their dead carcasses kept falling and falling. The fighters only had to dodge them.
In a few minutes the flight of dragons was killed off…
I ran from the barchan, stumbling over the motionless sand waves, my feet tangling. I wanted to hug my brother as quickly as possible.
Never again did I ask him to take me on a hunt. I longed for adventure, but that day I realized I could not stand and watch someone dear fight between life and death. I just couldn’t. Perhaps my mother still thinks that hunting for sand dragons is just a hunt, akin to hunting a deer or antelope… Let her continue to think so! She does not need to know the truth!
Since then, I’ve become different… quieter, calmer. How the life of a little girl could be changed by one sleepless night in the desert!
Khasim got married and moved to Ayno-Suf with his family. Now he teaches young fighters and rarely goes hunting himself.
In the meantime, I turned twenty-four. Mum began incessantly talking about how I should have a husband and a family. I listened to her calmly, protesting silently…
And, suddenly, a letter! From father!
My father spent several years with the Vedichs and was now returning with a “heap of discoveries”, he wrote.
Mum was angry. She already resigned herself to the fact that father was not around; considered him not as someone deceased, but gone forever. She learned to live without him. I understood that she was so angry only because she loved him… I also loved him madly, but it was a different kind of love, without demanding anything in return. I was jumping with happiness! The separation, which had lasted thirteen years, was about to end.
My father wrote from the Valley. He had to run several errands within his clan. This meant that in two months he should be in Kay-Samiluf… and if he boarded a ship through Doyno-Kash, then it would be even sooner!
A happy month of waiting had passed. I already imagined how I would join the Old Pages Clan, how I would again begin to travel with my father, being not a burden to him, but an astronomer! Again, I would see Bandabaze and Nanol-Mo. I might visit Reyro and the prairies of Chekatta. And finally, I would see the Valley with the Ancestral Stone.
On one truly dreary, rainy day, an envoy from the north arrived to Kay-Samiluf. The man was incredibly weak from the long road, but even more so he was frightened.
“The Valley is deserted!” He declared.
“What do you mean deserted? Completely?” The questions poured in.
“Completely” was the answer.
Whether it happened in an instant or in a week, no one knew. The fact is that the newly arrived caravanners found no one in the Valley. Empty houses, untouched belongings, markets full of goods, shops, and taverns — everything stood completely abandoned. The people disappeared!
In Kay-Samiluf, the council of the Academy and the izirs of free cities was held. It was decided to send numerous caravans to settle the Valley again. I told my mother that the Academy appointed me as an astronomer in a large caravan and that I couldn’t refuse. I lied,… it’s easier for a woman astronomer to join a Guawarian naval crew. In the desert, a woman astronomer, especially such a young one, isn’t welcome!
But there was no way for me not go to the Valley. I knew that if I just sat in Kay-Samiluf and waited for news from my father or about my father, I’d go mad. Besides, it’s hard for me to write about this, but a premonition arose in my chest that he would not be coming back. For thirteen years, I knew he was somewhere on the road, on his eternal search. But suddenly I felt that he was no longer… it’s hard to explain.
My intuition had never let me down before; it is why I was so anxious.
I met with Khasim and asked him to return to Kay-Samiluf with his whole family to look after our mother. He is a man, so duty called on him to help his people. Going to the Valley was both an adventure and a life gamble, and Khasim treasured his home. Adventures, as I wrote before, were somewhat different in his understanding. War with the dragons was his duty. I, on the other hand, eagerly awaited this hour. Everyone should get what one aspires to. Khasim understood me. We parted very emotionally as I promised to write him regularly; to him and mother. To mum — what was necessary to say, to him — only the truth.
I’ll keep my promise.
Mum, if you ever read my diary, then… please forgive me. I’ve always despised lies. And even more so I think that it is lowly lying to such a dear person. But telling you the truth would have made you suffer… And I didn’t want that.
Once again, the road was calling!
I didn’t join the caravan as an astronomer, but I was taken in as a teacher instead; more accurately, as a caretaker. I would accompany a group of students of the Academy’s high school to Konolwar’s school.
This was their first caravan journey — their first way through the sands. Mainly these were the children of merchants and shopkeepers. There were also the children of scientists and representatives of the academy. Their parents traveled to the Valley with the first caravans, each motivated by their own goal. All of them were surely well-off, or they had risked everything for the sake of a new life in the Valley, for not everyone could pay for a well-equipped caravan with security.
And then there was the protection of the Academy! In truth, the Academy shifted its protective duties onto my shoulders. But it was my duty. Nobody forced me to do this. That meant I was responsible for my students with my head and with my heart — Not just for their parents, first and foremost, for my own conscience!
If I had any authority at all, I would forbid children from going to the Valley. No one knew why it emptied and where its people disappeared to.
Lamis helps me, although she is from a poor family and still almost a child at the age of eighteen. She recently graduated from the high school and entered the Medical Faculty of the Academy so for her, accompanying these students is a chance to earn money for her further education.
For me, crossing the desert had long since become equivalent to a walk. True, I had not travelled with caravans in a long time, but once committed to this journey, I felt good again.
With only the longing to see my father eating at my heart, all I knew was I had twenty-two students to take care of and bring to the school of Konolwar in good health and good spirits.
I will help the children of the Academy to endure the burdens of camp life. In two months, we will be at Konolwar!
And after that I will go to Min-Mirif… to the Amatt Estate…”
3
The next morning was incredibly hot.
For a month, the caravan travelled under a sparing sun, which is quite common for spring. Now dawn rays burned mercilessly since morning, immediately announcing the approaching summer! Were it Jumanna’s will, she would lead the caravan in the morning and evening hours, breaking sleep into day and night stages. But who was she to say? Here, experienced caravanners made the decisions.
The luggage was tied onto the camels’ backs, and the students, flasks full, unanimously declared they were ready for a new transition. All that remained was taking down the tent.
Jumanna was passing the bustling merchants when the fat owner of the Khatum Tangut caravan, only last night so affected by stomach pains, hurried towards her. Tangut’s skin glistened with moisture, sweat dripping down his forehead from under the heavy turban. Despite this, the owner of the caravan seemed sure that if he shared a couple words with the young Djunitian lady before the caravan’s departure, he would make an impression on her.
Jumanna was irritated by this. When she was a little girl traveling with her father, no one hovered around her. Now they frustrated her with their cunning courtesy. What a turn of events! She asked to join the caravan as a caretaker for the Academy’s students, and usually the Academy sent decrepit old people as caretakers, but she was young and beautiful. With bronze skin, typically a little lighter than the Djunits, piercing brown eyes and dark chestnut, but not black, slightly curly hair.
She wanted to be perceived first of all as a caretaker of the Academy. However, the increased attention to her person was something different.
“How did the noble Jumanna Inaiya sleep? How does she endure the hardships of the trip?” enquired caravanner in a misleading pleasant tone.
“Thank you, Tangut, I slept beautifully. I do not feel the burdens, I’m used to them. Look! I did not even sweat!” Jumanna liked the way she spited Tangut, whose face was already hot with streams, his rich clothes dampened. “On a side note, allow me to ask as to why you are primarily interested in me, the caretaker, and not my students?”
“Hmph! The caretaker!” Tangut smirked. He turned and hobbled in the direction of his elephant, nothing more to say.
What a wonderful way to start the morning!
Jumanna was sure that a similar conversation would take place in the evening, and the next morning, and throughout all the subsequent days. It had been this way for a month, ever since the launch of the caravan from Kay-Samiluf. It was as clear as day to Jumanna that Tangut would, until the end, hope that she would say it was hard for her, that she was tired, and then offer her patronage…
Well, never in her lifetime!
The caravan consisted of camels alone, and only fat Tangut rode a desert elephant. These animals were half the size of ordinary gray elephants, but, like camels, they could go without water for two weeks at a time. The desert elephant’s skin was light beige, covered by a multitude of cracks, resembling the scales of a sand dragon.
No sooner had Jumanna come to her senses than the huge figure of Khallan, the commander of the military detachment accompanying the caravan, appeared before her.
Another one!
Khallan was simply huge, with impressive muscles easily discerned under his robe and thin mail. But something unnatural could be read in his movements. Khallan walked slowly, like a lion in a menagerie that growls only to amuse the crowd.
Jumanna knew what real warriors looked like. Inconspicuous, quiet, silent. But as soon as there was danger, their spears flew with the speed of lightning. She doubted the swords and spears of Khallan and his companions were as fast.
“Well, is it difficult?” Khallan inquired with a grin that resembled a scowl.
How tired I am of this!
“No,” she cut him off, and turned around defiantly.
“I wanted to help,” the warrior spoke to her retreating figure, evidently displeased.
“How?” Jumanna turned her head.
Khallan pondered. The young woman, meanwhile, set off once again to where her students were already taking down the tent.
“Jumanna! Jumanna! I killed a huge scorpion!” Makacash, one of the youngest boys, but incredibly lively and agile, told her joyfully. His favorite toy was the sword. Of course, one big enough only for child’s play, but rather weighty for a boy his age. As soon as he grew up, the sand dragons would face a great threat.
“Have you not tired of your great feats yet?” Jumanna patted his head gently.
“Oh, this isn’t a poisonous scorpion!” the inquisitive Astramed was already squatting beside the scorpion, cut by the sword. The scorpion, it must be noted, was really big, the length of three palms.
Astramed could be distinguished by his scientific, childishly funny, inquisitiveness. Upon encountering a plant or animal in the desert, he would immediately begin discussing it, much more rarely enquiring about it, if he did not know something. Jumanna herself had learned many new and interesting things from him.
Calif, who had employed several younger students to help him, was completing the work on the folding of the tent.
“Do you not wish to help?” Jumanna addressed Mulaf, who was lying in the shade of the barсhan, looking at the sky. He stood up reluctantly and went to Calif.
I say, some people are lazy by nature!
Half an hour later, the long string of hunchbacked animals, set off, burned by the cruel sun of the Great Desert.
Jumanna did not want to mount, and led her camel by the reins. She was caught up to by a mounted astronomer, Umal Al-Dassay. At first, he rode a little further, then easily dismounted his camel and began leading him.
“I see that you do not feel very comfortable here?” the astronomer began with an inquisitive tone.
He was an old man. An old man by years. Wrinkled, with a snow white beard and same colored hair, which peeped out from under his turbot. His purple robe with silver stars sewn onto it fluttered in the wind. It was unlikely this outfit was intended for a journey through the desert.
He’s going there too!
“I feel exceptionally well on this journey!” Jumanna looked into his eyes.
“I’m not talking about this… " the astronomer continued apologetically. “I’m sure that you will easily cross the Great Desert on your own… I’m speaking in regards to the increased attention you are receiving from the men accompanying the caravan… it annoys you!”
“It does annoy me!” agreed Jumanna.
“Understand, you are young and beautiful”
“I’ve been on many different journeys since I was a child!”
“Hear me out and do not interrupt!” the astronomer chastised, raising his voice a little. “You accompany the children. And no one even cares about how they are handling the journey. Certainly, no one was interested in you when you traveled as a child. But you are a caretaker. Do you remember a time when caravans were ever accompanied by women? No, most definitely not. There exist male crafts and there exist female ones, it is not necessary to mix the two. Do agree with me? The world would look ridiculous if men begin to weave carpets, while women hunted scorpio-anglers.”
Do you think your purple robe does not look ridiculous in the sand?
“I do not want to offend you or your age… " Jumanna began cautiously. “You are cheerful and strong in spirit; you sit perfectly in the saddle. But have you seen whom the Academy usually sends as caretakers? These are elderly people who struggle with the journey. Would I not be more useful? I do not want to dragon hunt… It is truly a man’s craft… But why should a woman not be a caretaker? An astronomer?”
“An a-stro-no-mer!” the old man stretched each syllable. “Never have I in my time ever met a woman astronomer!”
“Then look at me carefully!” Jumanna could not restrain herself.
“You?”
“I’ve done more than a dozen voyages as an on-board astronomer!” the young woman appeared to be trying to justify herself.
Al-Dassay only shook his head.
“What do you want from me? For me to turn around and leave the caravan?”
“You have already chosen your path,” the old man said calmly. “You are full of enthusiasm and determination. However, you should be more attentive and understand that this is not accepted. Yes, you are more useful in the journey than the decrepit old men of the Academy, but this cannot be explained to the other members of the caravan who see a woman caretaker for the first time! Since you agreed to this journey, be ready for such unhealthy attention!”
With the same ease, Al-Dassay jumped onto his camel and nudged it on towards the front of the caravan.
The mood for the day was completely ruined, making the walk difficult as the sun scorched them mercilessly.
For some reason, the sun felt gentle in any city, as if it were soothing, sending kindness with its every ray. In the desert, it simply scorched everything in its path, filling its beams with all the anger and malice it had accumulated against people. Now, it punished them.
What did the inhabitants of the deserts do wrong?
In the south of the Djunitian land, there is even a small port — the Bay of the Evil Sun. It was necessary to build a port near Darif, a mining town with fine iron ore, and the shore was completely unsuitable for this. It was decided to lay the settlement on the only somewhat suitable location, a small streamlet near a small cove. During the construction of the port, heat and dehydration killed more than a thousand people. That was how the port got its name. Although the port was a necessity for traders, she wondered, had the merchants ever dwelled on the price paid to create this harbor?
The sand was ready to melt beneath the hooves of the camels. Tangut’s elephant trailed at the back of the caravan and its owner was barely breathing, yet remained in the saddle. Jumanna knew if the caravan arrived a few days late, money would be lost, and Tangut would rather die on the road than lose his profit.
He is not at all fit for camp life, but dares to offer me help! If someone here cannot cope with the hardships of this journey, it is him. I hope he is lonely!
The fleeting thought of Tangut once again being affected by a series of stomach problems, or something else, amused her. Jumanna had never harbored any malice, but desired justice for his treatment of her.
On the way, we saw the skeleton of a huge lizard, probably the size of a camel. Giant lizards were not predators, but they were incredibly dangerous. If frightened, they could knock you down from an elephant or camel and trample you to death. The smaller lizards scurried along the sand in the morning, then in the afternoon, life in the desert simply disappeared. They were only djunas that went to the horizon, and the same blue sky and white sun.
Jumanna rode on, still unable to find a place for her ire. Only by the end of the day did all her anger go away, leaving the desire for a cool drink to quench her thirst in its place.
As the white sun became yellow, and then bright red, and swiftly rolled over the horizon, the whole caravan rejoiced.
The caretaker, together with Lamis, Calif, and tireless Makacash, unloaded the mattresses from the camels and set up the tent. The rest of the students were so exhausted they fell to the ground as if they had been knocked down. While they were putting up the tent, Jumanna felt the gaze of Khallans’ warriors, but pride prevented her from asking them for help.
They ate supper and went to bed. Some did not have the strength for dinner.
Jumanna thought that sleep would instantly come to her because the day had been incredibly tiring. But she could not fall asleep. Overcome with anger and annoyance, thoughts kept creeping into her head. She even thought that she should not have asked to join this trip, that it had not been worth lying to her mother. Then she remembered that if her brother had approved of her decision, she was right to go. She imagined how Khasims’ powerful blow to the jaw would overturn Khallan; how he would come to her to apologize for the indecent behavior on the journey.
And then suddenly her heart seized with fear, filling Jumanna with a familiar emotion. She not only acutely felt magic, but could predict the terrible events of the future. The last time she felt uneasy at night, the next morning a messenger arrived in Kay – Samiluf, announcing the Valley was empty.
What will happen tomorrow?
Jumanna left the tent and looked upward at Jumann Khayat (Pearl Deposit), a star cluster after which she had been named. With her fingers, she felt the chain on her neck that carried her talismans — a big pearl bought by her father at the market of Bandabaze on her memorable birthday, and a golden key that unlocked secret locks in the Amatt Estate.
In the Common Language, Jumanna meant “pearl” and Inaiya meant “golden.”
The big pearl and the golden key were all that remained of her father.
“Help me, oh stars,” whispered Jumanna, looking at the night sky, “Take the troubles away from me. Help me, Father.”
4
A sleepless night was making itself known, as morning turned out torturous and getting up had been a feat. Lamis rose first and went to get some water. When she drew back the canopy, stuffy air swept in as though the tent had been mistakenly put into a giant oven overnight and now burned ferociously. Jumanna quickly realized that today would be even hotter than yesterday.
The rest of the caravan’s population was coming around even slower than the children. The feeling was that there was no need to go anywhere today and a two-hour passage (probably at the peak of heat) would be far enough.
Breakfast passed in silence. Despite the sluggish actions of the caravanners, everyone understood they faced a tedious passage ahead of them. There was not a single person inside the tent who looked pleased at the prospect.
After breakfast was finished, some of the children parted. As usual, Makacash, typically the most energetic, ran away to kill scorpions, Astramed went to explore nature, and Calif took three strong boys with him to teach them fencing.
It is only he that brings me joy!
Looking around the tent, Mulaf collapsed onto the blankets and continued his morning sleep. Another younger pupil, looking at his older and lazier comrade, followed his example. Jumanna didn’t say anything. Several girls whispered quietly in a corner. Lamis took a book and began to read. It was meaningless to send them all out of the tent and pack it up without the command of the caravan.
Jumanna opened her diary. She took a feather and opened a jar of ink. Having dipped the sharp tip, she brought it over the paper and froze.
What should I write about?
She did not wish to talk about the fact that the caravanners, the warriors, and even an astronomer believed that a woman did not belong on such a journey.
What else can I write about? My sleepless night? About the responsible Calif? The lively Makacash? The inquisitive Astramed?
Jumanna was sinking into a reverie when suddenly the earth shook beneath her. A thick drop of ink fell onto the page and spread over it, distracting her thoughts.
What is happening?
The answer came in an instant.
“A scorpio – angler!” The air was filled with a piercing shriek.
Dropping the feather, Jumanna raced out of the tent as chaos ensued the camp. Camels bleated and floundered wildly as the ground shook. Sand flew in different directions, and beneath it the black body of a scorpio – angler had already emerged. It was absolutely enormous!
Once before Jumanna had seen a scorpio – angler, when she was young, and even that was from afar. Father, who would always protect her, had been nearby and quickly led her away. Although Jumanna had not seen the battle with the filthy creature, she knew what a small and a big scorpio – angler could look like from the stories told by her brother and old campaigners. This one was probably the largest that could exist in the world.
I thought scorpio – anglers aren’t found in the north of Kay – Samiluf.
But he appeared before Jumanna’s caravan! Her premonition had not deceived her.
Her brother’s stories hadn’t been told in vain. Jumanna knew that when a scorpio – angler attacked, you had to urgently look for elevation, or even better, a stone ridge. These monsters didn’t have eyes and felt the movements made on the sand. But if you found firm ground, you were saved! She looked around and to her joy, she saw one some two hundred steps away! Everything developed rapidly after that.
“Quick, get out!” She pulled the tent’s canopy aside, but quick-thinking Lamis was already pushing Mulaf, his companion, and the girls towards the exit. “To those stones! Run for all you’re worth!” Jumanna ordered, pointing at the ridge with her finger.
The boys ran fast by themselves, while Lamis literally dragged the girls along with her.
Jumanna’s eyes found Calif, who was driving about a dozen more kids toward the tent. She pointed him towards the stones. The young man understood her from first glance and nodded.
The scorpio – angler was now fully emerged, smashing people and camels with its deadly sting. Its terrible weapon circumscribed the arc and pierced Khatum Tangut. Jumanna immediately felt a lump in her throat as just yesterday she wished for some malicious incident to happen to him. Though she wished for something, she could never have imagined such a thing.
I must pull myself together! I can grieve for Tangut and reproach myself for damnation against him at some other time, not now!
In the chaos of the panic-stricken caravanners, Jumanna saw the young Makacash holding his childish sword forward, frozen in a fighting posture. Her heart sank. She believed he was about to charge at the scorpio – angler with the same rapidness he lashed out at its younger brother – scorpions. But fortunately, at that exact moment, the student turned toward her.
“Run! There, where the stones are!” Jumanna shouted at the top of her voice. Her cry merged with the roar that reigned around her. However, the boy understood his caretaker and with his usual speed, rushed to the other students.
Jumanna looked again at the ridge and quickly counted the people.
Twenty – two with Lamis… one is missing! Who? Astramed! Of course, Astramed!
For a long time, her eyes searched the surroundings where fear and panic triumphed, resting on a pile of white bales. Astramed was bent down under them, his head clasped in his hands. It was impossible to reach him with a cry so Jumanna rushed to the bales with full force. Two strong men, the soldiers of Khallan, fled towards her, nearly knocking her over. The warriors rushed away from imminent death while she ran directly toward it; to where a deadly sting was dissecting the air. Jumanna grabbed the child’s hand as he instantly recovered from his petrifying fear. She pulled him to the grey ridge of rocks with all her might, as an inner voice prompted her to duck. Jumanna pushed the boy forward and then fell to the ground herself. The tail of the scorpio – angler whistled right above her head and met the body of a fat camel. The animal roared with pain and immediately fell silent. The torment didn’t last long. Holding Astramed’s hand, Jumanna rushed forward to the lifesaving stones. She had a stitch in her side, her breathing was uneven, and hot air burned her lungs. Astramed breathed even more heavily as the scorpio-angler was finishing off the caravan amidst the sounds of retreating battle.
Jumanna gave the student a leg up and then climbed onto the rocks herself as Calif’s strong hands grabbed and lifted her without a problem. After that, she fell limply onto her back, inhaling several deep breaths.
She closed her eyes and sank into a trance. Maybe she lost consciousness. But not for long.
The young woman shuddered and woke up. After a while she was able to raise herself on her elbows and see what had become of the caravan. The commotion had subsided, but Jumanna could not see a living thing.
Where are the people who had wanted to escape by fleeing?
No one could be seen… only the corpses of caravanners and camels. The scorpio-angler himself had also fallen to his side. Near his jaws lay the carcass of a desert elephant. Lamis said that the animal had either become mad with fear or, on the contrary, having gained courage, simply took off and rammed itself into the scorpio-angler’s head. The elephant was dead, but whether the scorpio-angler was actually dead was a big question. Jumanna knew that these monsters were incredibly tenacious. Perhaps it was just tired and resting. Perhaps it had decided to postpone its planned meal for the evening.
Silently, they sat on the rocks under the scorching sun and when it seemed safe, moved into the shadow which roamed around the ridge. A malodorous stink whiffed from recent battle scene.
Finally, dusk had fallen. Dew fell on the boulders, which had saved the lives of the Academy’s students. Jumanna showed everyone how to collect moisture from the rocks using one’s lips, just as Father taught her. If it hadn’t been for him, with all probability, Jumanna and her students were destined to have died of thirst that very night.
Darkness fell. The stars were luminous in the sky. Darkness reigned near the gigantic silhouette of the scorpio-angler. The monster did not ignite the deadly light on its tail. This meant only one thing — the scorpio-angler was dead!
Jumanna descended from the rocks and overcoming her fear, went around the terrible place. Her head was spinning, and she felt a lump rising in throat. But she had to hold on. Dead camels… Dead people… And then Jumanna heard a hoarse voice! She rushed to the sound. The astronomer Umal Al-Dassay lay crushed under the corpse of a camel. The young woman tried to get him out, to no avail. She thought of calling Calif and a couple more of the boys, but the old man stopped her.
“Leave it, it is needless… I don’t have long…” Jumanna was silent. She didn’t know what to say.
“Forgive me… Forgive all of us!” Al-Dassay continued. “We were wrong. Experienced caravanners have been killed… Warriors… And you survived and saved the lives of your students. You… You are a wonderful caretaker.”
“What should I do now?” Jumanna asked almost inaudibly. “You are in charge now, so you must decide… " the old man croaked and rolled his eyes upward. “Look!” His tone changed dramatically. “The constellation of the Lion!”
Jumanna lifted her head upward. Indeed, just above her shone the constellation of the Lion.
The constellation of the Lion. The Marawie Star, which pointed the way to the migrants from the north during their dangerous passage from the Valley. But what did the astronomer mean?
And then it dawned on Jumanna! How could she? She was so proud of her knowledge of astronomy, yet she hadn’t noticed the elementary changes in the sky! Even yesterday, when she had been fascinated by Jumann Khayat.
Perhaps the increased attention from the male-caravanners and the reminders that this journey had no place for a woman had confused her and forced her to forget the basics of astronomy for a while.
Of course. After all, there was another astronomer… a real astronomer!
But he had been mistaken!
The month of the Camel has already come and, relative to the road from Kay-Samiluf to Ayno-Suf, the constellation of the Lion should have been significantly more towards to the east!
“Have we gone off the track?” though it sounded like a question, it was actually a statement.
“Forgive me… forgive me once more,” The astronomer’s voice began to weaken again. “Ah, anility… I confused the cards. I killed everyone! On the road to Ayno-Suf there are no scorpio-anglers, and I took you into the depths of the desert…”
Damn it! That’s all there is to life experience! All the wisdom!
Jumanna was no longer worried about the fatal error of the scattered astronomer. She ran her finger along the starry sky, measured the way to the north of the constellation of the Lion, where the Star of the Marawie, the brightest in the constellation, sent its rays.
“But if we go to the northeast we can reach Muo. We’d find ourselves in the Valley by coming out onto the Dalaal path!”
“You are a good astronomer. You will manage to lead a caravan better than I have.” It was the last thing Umal Al-Dassay said.
5
Jumanna returned to her students about half an hour later. Everyone was asleep, even Lamis. Only Calif had waited up for her. Jumanna handed him a few flasks of water and a saber.
She had unbuckled the flasks from the belts of the dead. It was terribly disgusting, but she had to restrain her feelings, for one cannot survive in the rough desert otherwise.
Jumanna had taken the saber from the belt of Khallan. He hadn’t even had time to take the weapon in his hands. A sting had pierced him from the back as he was trying to flee. Even touching his stuff felt nasty! What a truly unworthy person! But the steel of the blade was painfully good, and a weapon was a necessity.
Jumanna’s father hired a fencing master for her in Min-Mirif. Later, while studying at the Observatory, she took lessons herself. But that had been more for the sake of interest. She never imagined that one day she would take the handle of a saber in traveling conditions.
It will be a blessing if on the road to the Valley I won’t need to use Khallan’s blade!
Jumanna counted the corpses. Khallan, ten of his warriors, fifteen caravanners, and seven merchants, including Khatum Tangut and Umal Al-Dassay. No one else had survived. She found the two warriors who fled and nearly knocked her over a little farther from the place of slaughter. They had managed to distance themselves from the deadly sting, but, like the astronomer, were crushed by the body of a camel that collapsed on top of them.
By now she no longer felt any disgust while retrieving their weapons. It is necessary! Jumanna thought, searching the lifeless bodies.
After returning to the rocks, she immediately fell asleep. Surprisingly, this time, dreams struck her in an instant; no nightmares haunted her. Everyone awoke at sunrise. The sun began to bear down, or, to be more precise, burn up the air.
Jumanna, along with Lamis and Calif, returned to the place of slaughter. They began to search the surviving trunks. Calif found a saber for himself and parted with his harmless training weapon. Jumanna decided it was too early for the other children to look at such scenery. However, a few minutes later, Makacash could no longer resist the temptation and rushed to help them. The sight of the corpses of people and animals did not frighten him at all. Nothing was left of their tent. However, on the spot where it had stood, Jumanna found her diary and the only surviving book — the first volume of “Travel to the Skies” by Azir Amunjadee.
They managed to save a solid piece of dense fabric, from which the boys made a canopy on the stones to hide from the sun. Without any superfluous conversations, everyone got busy working; even Mulaf did not shirk. By noon, all the useful belongings were transferred to the stones. Their food supplies would last them a week or two, but their water supply was not sufficient. Jumanna counted the empty flasks and gave the students the task of collecting dew from the stones in the evening, so they could fill everything.
“Try to squeeze the stones, because we need full flasks!” she commanded in such an imperious voice that she surprised even herself.
Of course, she knew that with evening dew, you could hardly fill a sixth of a small wineskin. But to tell the children this would bring them into a state of despair.
It’s better for them to be motivated!
Then there was a short conversation with Lamis. It was necessary to understand where to next lead the group. Not that Lamis was any good at this, but Jumanna needed someone mature to talk to. The fact that the decision had to be made by her alone was unavoidable.
Jumanna was on the brink of turning back. However, after delving into the maps, she realized it would be easier to reach Muo, a city in the southeast of the Valley, than return to Kay-Samiluf or to try to return to the Ayno-Suf path.
Their salvation lay in the north!
Salvation in the north...hmm… The book of Azir Amunjadee. Only the first volume survived. In it, the text speaks about the Ito Empire. The Ito Empire! The north! It’s probably silly to think in this way… it’s just a coincidence. But, again, my foreboding! It tells me this is no accident. It’s as though an unknown powerful force is leading me in the right direction.
The sun had passed the zenith and the children fit under the tiny shadow of the handmade awning. They kept close together as there wasn’t much room. A couple of girls cried quietly, desperately wanting to return to their mothers. The older girl tried in vain to cheer them up. Moualdar also babbled something parent-related to himself, but it seemed more out of habit than from fear. Jumanna noticed that the other students seemed to be glaring avidly into her eyes and waiting for her decisions. Loyalty, devotion, and readiness followed wherever she commanded — that was what she read in those eyes. Only at that moment did Jumanna understand what exactly she had done for her students.
“In the evening, we are setting off to Muo!” she announced, now no longer just the caretaker, but also the head of the caravan, the astronomer, and the commander of the warriors.
The warriors, as such, were absent, really. It was only Calif and the restless Makacash, but what were such warriors against the scorpio-anglers and sand dragons? And what is a caravan in the desert without camels?
A doomed caravan.
But Jumanna pulled herself together and immediately drove away the black thoughts.
6
They slept until evening. As soon as the sun set, they filled the flasks with water and set off towards the northeast, in the direction of the rays of the Star of the Marawie in the constellation of the Lion.
Jumanna was strict: the procession would walk only at night! Firstly, it was easier for her to navigate the stars, secondly, a longer distance could be covered. Crossing the desert with children during the day could end very badly. And, thirdly, it would be easier to distinguish scorpio-anglers at night! With the onset of twilight, the scorpio-anglers got out of the sand, and the light the monsters lit on their sting was visible from afar. On the other hand, at night it was easier to fall into the underground cave of a sand dragon.
Jumanna led the procession. Behind her trotted the deft boys, encouraged by Makacash. Calif walked in the middle, holding his new sword on his shoulder, ready for battle. Lamis and the other girls closed the procession. They constantly lagged behind. As a result, Calif had to take the baby Munu-Aiya on his shoulders and with that, the group went a little faster.
At night, the desert filled with sounds. Insects came out of their hidden holes and filled the boundless space with their buzzing. Astramed, with an intelligent look on his face, distinguished each sound and identified each insect: a cicada, a rattler, a desert mosquito, a blowfly, a sand eater.
The caretaker moved progressively at a controlled pace, but at a certain moment she was overcome with turmoil. She felt pressure on her shoulders, pressure that grew stronger and stronger with every step. This inner voice that had tanged yesterday about their impending doom now got louder. It was as though the inner voice was dampening the other voice, the one commanding to fight until the end and move towards their goal. At some point, the voice of doom filled her whole consciousness, and she was ready to surrender, powerlessly collapse into the sand and accept fate. But when she turned to look back, in the flickering starlight she caught a glimpse of the faces of twenty-three people. For each of them, even for Calif, this passage was even harder than for her. For them, she, who was ahead, remained the only hope.
“If you give up, you will ruin them and ruin yourself!” a more confident voice now sounded in her head, opposing the voice of despair. It reminded Jumanna of her father’s voice.
The dawn’s rays highlighted the outline of a new stone ridge. Fortune favored the travelers!
They collected the morning dew, put up their makeshift cover, ate, drank water, and went to bed before the sun began to scorch the Great Desert. Jumanna looked at the students as everyone fell asleep. Then she sat on a rock, clasped her hands on her knees, leaned her head against them and sobbed violently.
The last time she had cried was when she turned eighteen years old.
7
That night there was another march. It was becoming harder. The moisture from the dew was negligible and the flasks were empty. The water had to be saved.
The girls began to be more erratic; the boys mumbled under their breath. The pupils perked up when Jumanna reprimanded them angrily.
“We’re in the desert! In the desert, do you understand? If you barely drag your feet, you face death! You can cry, but it won’t help! Walk on! Walk as quickly as possible — this is our only salvation!”
It was dawn, but this time there was no rocky shelter. A rag canopy had to be established right on the sand. Sleep was torturous! Everyone was thirsty, but their water supply was decreasing further and further.
When the evening twilight came, the students who had nervously tossed about in the afternoon finally fell asleep together. Even Calif succumbed to it. His strength, bravery, and height helped Jumanna forget that he was only sixteen.
She left the canopy and climbed to the high barchans to contemplate the endless expanse, and as she had done eighteen years ago, plunged into the black abyss. Feeling alone in the universe as the bright Star of Marawie infused hope inside of her, Jumanna took hold of the chain with the pearl and golden key.
“Father,” she whispered. “Where are you now? I feel that that place is somewhere far away… not with Itoshins, not with Vedichs, but there, among the distant stars. Help me! Help me, oh stars! Give me and my students the strength we need. Help us, Star of the Marawie, the brightest star of the south! Help me, the ancient hero of the legends! Help, Sand Lion! Once you brought our people out of the Valley, and now help us return there! I, your descendant, Jumanna Inaiya Khaniya Amatt, I beg you of this!”
And it seemed that the star winked at her, for a moment flashing many times brighter.
A trick of the senses, or not?
She had gotten too carried away and was daydreaming, as a fatigue like none before manifested itself in her body.
Jumanna did not remember how she returned to the students and fell asleep.
She woke up with the first rays of dawn, these rays outlining a new stone ridge in the distance. It was a bit off their route, but it was necessary to get to the ridge by evening to fill the flasks with dew.
8
They made it. And there they waited, in a drowse, for the evening. That night they made quite a big transition, and by morning came upon a giant boulder, which served well as a shelter. At twilight, droplets of water appeared on it.
We are lucky! But we can’t always be so fortunate… or can we? Maybe my prayers have been heard? In any case, thank you, my starry patrons!
9
About seven days passed. Jumanna couldn’t say for sure. She had lost count because she wasn’t thinking about that. Rather, she dwelled on how to survive and how to save the lives of the students. The map of the starry sky changed and she knew they had definitely walked north. But it was difficult to say how far.
One night they once again slept on the sand. In the morning, they noticed new lifesaving stones, or something similar to them, on the horizon. At first, Jumanna decided to go to them in the afternoon, but her mind resisted. Her inner voice, which she had learned to trust without hesitation, said that it was necessary to advance right this second!
The start was cheerful and the goal was clear. But after about an hour the enthusiasm faded. The daytime sun incandesced the air and the sand, but cooled the travelers’ enthusiasm.
Jumanna, with jaws set hard, continued to hurry her students. Sometimes with cheers, sometimes with gentle persuasions, and sometimes resorting to scolding similar to what rude caravanners used towards their most stupid camels. Jumanna herself was surprised that she knew so many curses. She never imagined she would ever use them, especially addressing children.
The most important thing is that they don’t use them in Konolwar’s school and don’t tell anyone who taught them. Or whatever. Is it really all that important? No! The primary goal now is to get to Konolwar! The most important thing now is to stay alive!
The new ridge was already close, but it did look really strange. A confident voice inside grew quiet, and the bad premonition returned. Jumanna took a step forward, but her foot immediately fell knee-deep into the sand. The young woman felt herself start to sink underground. She squealed from the suddenness. It was clear that it was a burrow of a sand dragon!
The ridge, as it turns out, had covered this burrow.
How could I have been so mistaken! What kind of delusion dragged me forward?
Several hands caught her from behind and managed to keep hold of her. Calif arrived almost immediately and pulled the caretaker out of the deadly funnel.
Jumanna looked around. Two hundred steps away was a high barchan, ahead — a treacherous ridge. The sand finally fell into a black abyss and the huge predatory face of a dragon appeared from the sandy depths.
“Take the children away!” she managed to shout to Lamis as she pointed to the barchan.
She pulled Khallan’s blade out from her belt and thrust it forward. She did everything the way Khasim instructed her to before leaving, in case the caravan was attacked by a dragon. But Jumanna couldn’t have ever imagined that she would actually have to encounter it like this, face to face. The dragon was already hovering over her. It was enormous! One and a half times the size of its relatives.
An outcast!
In a way, this could be considered luck. Dragon-outcasts always lived alone, outside the pack. However, they were the most cunning, the strongest, the most insidious representatives of the dragon family.
Suddenly, Calif and Makacash appeared on either side of Jumanna, and took up a similar fighting stance, swords forward.
Jumanna turned around. The others, even the girls, stood behind, with Lamis spreading her hands, if only to say, “What could I do?”
“What?” Jumanna literally yelled at them. “To face a dragon without weapons? To the barchan, immediately!” This had an effect. They obeyed, turning and running away immediately.
“And you,” Jumanna quickly glanced at Calif and Makacash. “Move closer to me! Bring your swords to my saber! As a triangle! And aim for the dragon’s throat!”
But the outcast was even more cunning than Jumanna had imagined. Instead of attacking them with his jaws, his tail swept the feet of the trinity, scattering Jumanna, Calif, and Makacash in different directions.
Jumanna fell on her back, and the dragon rose above her, opened its jaws and plunged down sharply. The only thing that Jumanna thought at that instance was, “Forgive me, Father! Forgive me, beloved brother! Forgive me, my dear Mother!”
As the dragon nose-dived at Jumanna, something powerful and heavy struck, pushing it away, allowing her time to jump to her feet. She couldn’t believe her eyes! Next to the dragon stood an enormous lion, baring its teeth. It appeared out of nowhere and knocked down the winged creature in one leap!
“Sandy Lion,” whispered Jumanna.
The dragon rose from the ground and tried to fly up. But Jumanna, driven by instinct (she wasn’t the sister of Khasim Amatt, a skillful dragon hunter, for nothing) rushed towards the monster and slashed its throat with the saber. She couldn’t have thought the dragon’s head would fly off so easily. The body collapsed to the ground, having never fully risen into the air, conjuring a great pillar of dust around it.
The lion looked Jumanna in the eye. She had never met an animal with such a piercing stare! No, there could be no coincidence. That night she had appealed to the constellation of the Lion, the ancient hero and the star of the same name… and the Marawie Sand Lion himself had come to her aid!
It was he who ordered me to advance immediately this morning!
And how after this could one refuse to believe that the Chekatta could speak to the dead, and that Vedichs turned into animals?
The lion let out a growl, not an angry one but rather a calling one, and rushed off to the north, making several mighty jumps. After a while he stopped and turned back to look at Jumanna.
“He’s calling me to go with him,” she said out loud and turned to the barchan. “Hey you! C’mon! Follow me!” Jumanna lifted her saber again as if she was leading her pupils to battle.
Calif and Makacash had already caught up to her.
Jumanna just ran. She ran after the lion until he disappeared on the horizon. With her last ounce of strength, she screamed, turning to the children behind her, screaming only one word, “Faster!” She shrieked until dryness finally scorched her throat into silence.
The lion disappeared, but she kept running after him. The lion left no marks on the sand, but Jumanna knew exactly where he had run to. Sometimes she wondered if she made it all up. But then who, if not the lion, had saved her from the dragon?
Due to dehydration, perspiration no longer dripped down her face; her feet were petrified, but continued to mechanically measure the footsteps; her swollen tongue had stopped obeying. Jumanna didn’t turn around; she just knew the students must be following. Lagging behind, but following. They had to believe in her! After all, she believed!
She began to climb up the hill. Scattering sand entangled her legs. But Jumanna didn’t give up. She climbed.
What kind of power led her? It was impossible to understand. Perhaps it was The Power, the nature of which could not be explained.
As the sun was rolling towards sunset, another night in the open sand meant death! But Jumanna didn’t think about it. She climbed to the top of the hill, and there the beautiful green valley unraveled before her gaze! It was not an oasis! Not a mirage. The desert just ended abruptly. The blue river, beginning to glisten with reddish shades, separating life from death. Death in the guise of golden sand lost its power where the river bank began.
And only now, understanding that she had won, Jumanna gleefully turned around. Makacash had already crawled up to her. Much further, Moualdar, Astramed and a few more boys began to climb the hill. Slightly lower than them, the other brisk boys could be seen. Lamis followed, holding the hands of the two girls, while the lazy Mulaf and others followed. And quite a bit further in the distance waddled Calif with small Munu and her herdmate, Inaya, in his arms.
“Faster! Faster!” cried Jumanna, no longer strictly, but joyfully. “We made it!”
Even from afar Calif accurately grasped the change in her mood and quickened his pace.
Everyone literally rolled head over heels down the slope, dipped their heads into the river and drank like animals.
In the last rays of the sunset, they crossed the river and fell into the canopy of green trees, rare, but with thick buxom crowns.
Jumanna leaned her elbows on the tree trunk. Lamis sat down beside her.
“Thank you,” she said in a weak voice. “You’ve saved us all! You brought us to the Valley!”
“It’s all thanks to the lion,” Jumanna sighed.
“What lion?” Lamis asked in an amazed tone, but immediately drifted off.
10
Jumanna opened her eyes and looked at the sun. Noon had long since been and gone. Yesterday she used up too much of her strength. When she got up, she realized that the students had long since woken. The caretaker had no time to wipe her eyes when twenty-two students, led by Calif, approached her, each one dropping to one knee. Lamis joined in.
“Thank you, our caretaker and teacher, Jumanna Inaiya Khaniya Amatt!” the eldest boy began. “Yesterday we were too tired and couldn’t tell you this! Forgive us! We must thank you endlessly! You saved us many times! And now you have brought us to the Valley.”
“Thank you!”
Sincerely and fervently, the phrase “Thank you” was repeated by the childish voices.
Jumanna only smiled in return.
She bathed her face in the water, and then realized that it was worth swimming. Stepping aside, she got undressed, and with obvious pleasure entered the cool waters of the river. After spending almost half an hour there, she went back to the camp and began to collect fruit from the trees. The juicy peaches and oranges became a wonderful breakfast.
Jumanna announced that they would spend the day in the fruit grove to restore their strength.
In his ear, Calif was instructed to take all the boys to the river and properly wash them. Lamis was already going to the other side to bathe the girls. Jumanna halted her friend.
“Did you really not see the lion?” she asked, looking into Lamis’s eyes.
“What lion? Please explain!” She was obviously surprised.
“Who killed the dragon?”
“You!” Lamis said, even more surprised.
“And no one helped me?”
“Calif and Makacash,” The tone of her younger friend filled with bewilderment. “But the dragon quickly scattered them in different directions. And you rushed straight at him and blew his head, and then rushed forward and led us, running like an antelope! I was afraid we would collapse, but you… you instilled confidence in us! And we reached the Valley! Do you not remember?
“I remember,” said Jumanna, “It just seemed to me that I saw a lion… do not pay attention to me! It’s the emotions.”
“Thanks again!” Lamis enveloped Jumanna in her arms.
11
The day was calm. Evening came, then the night. Jumanna did not want to sleep. She sat and thought. There were so many questions…
Was the lion a phantom? Or not?
And how did we come to the Valley in just a few treks? We should have walked for at least fifteen days. Did the astronomer Al-Dassay lead the caravan so far to the northeast? Or was it that after the caravan’s death I lost count?
She decided she didn’t want to think on it further, instead allowing joyous emotions to overwhelm her. After all, the students had survived the ruthless desert! She, Jumanna Amatt, had succeeded in leading them to the borders of the Valley!
Everyone would’ve been proud of me! Father… Brother. I must write to him! He will be bug-eyed with surprise! And my mother will be proud… but my mother shouldn’t know about our adventures!
And then Jumanna felt a hunch.
The diary!
Of course, it was necessary to add new records to it. In the desert, there had been no time for it, and now it was worth making a few notes while their recent experiences were still ripe. But the impulse quickly dried up. Jumanna remembered she had no ink.
She dug into her hiking bag to make sure of this, and along with the diary, she took out the “Journey to Sky.”
Volume One — The Ito Empire…
Once again, her memory filled with images — Father, the Universe, a starry sky, the Lion constellation and the ghost of a lion in the desert, the Star of the Marawie, the scorpio-angler, the dragon, the experienced astronomer who had lost his way, as well as those strange voices, forebodings, visions and dreams and… this book.
All the incredible events that had taken place in the last few days in no way looked like a series of accidents. On the contrary, they were more like parts of one chain.
Strange, very strange…” Be afraid of your desires,” the wise say. I wanted my journey to be Great, and the stars, as if they had heard me, had reshaped themselves, plotting my route.
Jumanna took the book and opened it. In the bright light, all the symbols and sentences were perfectly readable. And now, it seemed a sort of magic arose from the moonlit glow of the ink-filled pages! Again, Jumanna felt something. Yes, yes, something related to that special energy. Nothing like this had happened before.
Maybe this is really due to emotions?
Jumanna began to slowly turn over the pages, briefly re-reading the paragraphs that she knew almost by heart:
THE TRAVEL TO THE SKIES
Volume One — The Ito Empire
Sixth edition. A summary of the Grand Book
Author: Azir Amunjadee
Azir Amunjadee, also known as Azir the Wanderer, is a member of the Old Pages Clan and descendant of Demar Amunjadee, creator of the famous Adventure Book. Azir is the author of a number of works in which he describes in detail the history of the northern people. He is the only stranger who managed to see the closed lands of the Ulutau and visit the mysterious Tau schools. The manuscripts of Azir help to form a notion of the amazing northern philosophy. They have been translated into various languages and are part of a series of books describing all the people of Elinor.
The Ito Empire — General Information
In the north, is the Dead Land. Here everything is shrouded in a dense veil of fog. Not a single ray of sun penetrates it. From the fog emerge demons, the most dreadful creatures, and only one nation can resist them — the Itoshins. The main settlements of these amazing people are located on a plateau called the Life Border Plateau. It is a ridge of stony hills, covered with eternal mist and fog. Nothing grows here, except for dry thorns of different forms, and only yauls can eat them — these animals truly have iron stomachs. The cities of the Itoshins are united into an empire ruled by the immortal emperor Tosho and his eternally young daughter Tsvetsho. All the people of Elinor are surprised at how the Itoshins can live in such inhuman conditions. I, Azir Aniluir Anevandi Anademar Amunjadee, travelled from the city of Eavette up the Huma River until Kawa, then continued further along the misty hills to Moon Lake, saw the emperor Tosho and the portraits of his beautiful daughter, and fought with the demons of the Dead Lands. I’m the only Djunit who walked the Path of Horror to the Celestial Plateau and survived. I have traveled this way so that you, my dear reader, can learn more about the amazing northern people and love them, as I do.
The Ruler of the City of Eavette
Dear curious reader, before telling you about the northern people, I would like to share a story about how their formation began.
To tell you the truth, it’s difficult to reliably explain what happened during the Great Exodus of the people from the Valley of the Ancestors, as it was so long ago. I studied myths and legends of local residents, wrote down old songs, and visited ancient libraries. Based on this knowledge, I can roughly restore the events of those old years.
The Itoshinian ancestors lived in the heart of Elinor — the Valley of the Ancestors — in the city of Eavette and its suburbs. When the lands in the Valley became scarce, tribes from other cities began to wander in search of better lands, and as you, of course, know, wise reader, this was how the Great Exodus began. Yes, it was also then that our great people emerged, when Marawie the Sand Lion, our father and leader, led experienced farmers to the south, into an endless desert.
About the formation of our people, you, my deeply versed reader, of course, know. However, about the formation of other nations, you, most likely, do not.
The inhabitants of the city of Eavette occupied the fertile northern part of the Valley, and did not intend to leave it.
But one day Tosho, the ruler of the city of Eavette, had a traveler for a visitor, a traveler who had returned from the wild northern lands. Unfortunately, dear reader, I could not find out the name of this traveler. This is a great pity, as only thanks to this man was the terrible north uncovered. It was he who sold to the ruler Tosho ancient tomes, which he had found in the northern ruins. According to legends, these were the books of the Second Epoch. But no one will ever find out what was in them, since these tomes were later destroyed by Tosho himself.
After studying these books, the ruler gathered the most devoted comrades-in-arms, as well as six noble families, and set off on a journey to the north, thereby continuing the Exodus from the Valley of the Ancestors.
The Journey of the Seven Families to the North
It’s hard to say for sure what exactly Tosho went to look for in the northern lands, but I guess there were some incredibly important artifacts left from the Second, and even from the First Race.
Initially, the way to the north did not cause any trouble, as evidenced by the ancient legends of the Itoshins. On the road, Tosho had a daughter, Tsvetsho. She was destined to play an important role in the emergence of the people of Ulutau, but I will tell you about it later, dear reader. When Tosho and the six families reached the Life Border Plateau, the first problems began. The plateau met them with dank dampness and thick fogs. For about five years, the ancestors of the Itoshins wandered this labyrinth of hills and bare rocks. It was there they first encountered the procreations of Dead Earth — wicked creatures, unlike any animal of Elinor.
Many songs and legends are composed about the first meetings of the Itoshins with the demons. It all started when the people began to see shadows in the fog. Eerie visions haunted the travelers for months. They talked about nightmarish creatures, darting about in the fog, but no one could see them. Then people began to disappear. At first, they were either those who got separated from the main cart or hunters, but later the disappearances continued among the main detachment. No one knew where these people disappeared to. This led to the pathfinders’ growing fear of hunting. They began to stay together as a dense group, and the expedition was on the verge of failure.
It was then there occurred a split. Two families — Maca and Yugie — decided to stop the search and leave Tosho. No persuasion could convince them to stay. The ruler cursed these families. Their representatives left Tosho, carrying away his curse. The further fate of the Maca and Yugie families is quite tragic. None of them came down from the plateau. They got lost in the eternal fogs, and one can only guess what their deaths were like. The Itoshins told me that sometimes they meet their wayward souls, mutely wandering in the darkness in their eternal search. This vision is called the curse of the Maca-Yugie, and to see it is considered a malicious sign.
The remaining four families — Unu, Wari, Saku, and Taki — and Tosho with his daughter, continued their journey. On the road, they lost another family — all the Wari went missing. Tosho’s wife also died tragically; she fell off a slippery path and plummeted into a bottomless crevice.
But mighty was the will of Tosho, and the desire to find what he was looking for was great. To inspire his people, he took his sword and went alone, straight into the thickness of the fog. After a while he returned, dragging the body of an unknown creature. The sight of the monster was terrible — its jaws held huge, sharp teeth; five ridiculous extremities ended with razor sharp claws; the creature lacked eyes and ears. To the question regarding how Tosho had overcome this beast, he replied that he had not felt fear, only anger, and that the creature itself had rushed at his sword. This event is depicted on the frescoes covering the walls in the Emperor Tosho’s palace. The carcass of the first murdered demon was turned into a scarecrow, which to
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