Relics of the Desert Tomb Page 5

  The revelers were frozen in shocked silence. Sygne crawled forward to pick a hunk of half-chewed food from the slipper of Tuhn’s wife. She hissed at Jamal, “No! They mean they’re having a baby. She’s pregnant.”

  At that moment, Sygne didn’t think it would be possible for Jamal’s eyes to grow any wider. But they did. Sygne was afraid they might roll out of his head and onto the Djungans’ stained carpet.

  6 – A Departure

  If Sygne had been wavering about what to do, then Jamal’s disastrous faux pas had cinched it. Chief Tuhn took Jamal’s outburst as a dire insult. He demanded that Jamal leave their cliffside abodes that very night. So Sygne and Ohbo helped him set up a tent on the eastern outskirts of the Djungan territory.

  Seeing Jamal out there in his miniature exile had broken Sygne’s heart. It was an excellent microcosm of what it would be like if she let Jamal travel to Albatherra on his own. So she gave Chief Tuhn a notice that she would be leaving Djunga in a week. Over the next seven days, she made sure that Iwawhil and the other new Djungan engineers knew how to construct and operate a few other large machines. And she taught Ullowhi to memorize the best passages from her pocketbook.

  One week later, Sygne ventured down from the bluffs with Ohbo and his camels to Jamal’s tent. As they rode down the hills they saw Jamal exercising half-naked in the hot desert sun.

  He wore just a tiny pair of briefs with a loincloth providing an additional, almost negligible layer of modesty in the front. He had stacked up stones so that he could pose in a suspended split between them. His eyes were closed, but Sygne imagined him thinking about his own muscles and, in his mind’s eye, admiring the way they shone in the sun.

  “Is he serious?” Ohbo asked.

  “Unfortunately,’ Sygne answered. She called out to Jamal, “Hey! Are you done giving the gods a show? We should start moving.”

  Jamal dismounted from the rocks and into an instant backward cartwheel. He then started doing handstand-pushups, grunting ostentatiously all the while.

  “I don’t want to watch this,” Ohbo said. He clutched his thick midsection, as if Jamal’s display had left him feeling queasy.

  Sweat dripped upside-down from Jamal’s neck to his forehead. But still he smiled. “You should watch. You could learn a few things and get fit in the process.”

  “If it means I’ll have to look as ridiculous as you, then I’ll pass,” Ohbo said. “And besides, fat humps and a fat belly are the hallmarks of a skilled cameleer.” With that, Ohbo glanced sharply at Jamal and Sygne; then he led his small herd toward the road to the east.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Jamal asked as he rolled out of his handstand.

  “Can you put on a robe or something?” Sygne said.

  “What’s wrong with you? You’re both acting strangely.”

  Sygne’s eyes kept drifting away from Jamal’s face and down to his body. She felt color rising to her cheeks, and she hoped that the heat of the sun would help to mask it. “I’ve been having more dreams about you.”

  “More of my memories?” Jamal cocked an eyebrow. “What did you dream about this time?”

  “You were back in Gjuir-Khib, just like you said you would be. In the Echelon Elite. I saw you meet… a lady of the royal court.”

  Jamal’s face went somber. “Nemeah? “

  “Yes. Blonde-haired, violet-eyed Nemeah.”

  “I see.” Jamal turned away, which was unfortunate because Sygne wanted to see more of his reaction. He started stretching, or perhaps he was posing so that Sygne could see his tone triceps and trapezius. “You’re jealous. Don’t worry. It’s only natural.”

  “I’m not jealous. Just… So did the two of you really have an affair? A royal lady and a former slave?”

  Jamal asked, “Do you remember my song? The one I sang to Yur?”

  Sygne nodded.

  “Then you know I did.” There was a hint of anger in Jamal’s voice, a warning that she shouldn’t pursue that line of conversation any further.

  So instead she asked, “And you still haven’t had any dreams involving my memories?”

  “No, I haven’t. But I tell you, I don’t really remember my dreams.”

  “Are you ready to go yet?” Ohbo called out from the road. “Albatherra is a long way away, and my ladies and I charge by the hour.”

  “And what’s wrong with him?” Jamal asked.

  “I asked him to stop telling me he loved me. And I told him we were better off just as friends. Do you think that was too harsh?”

  “Doesn’t sound too harsh to me,” Jamal shrugged, “but I just got banished by a tribe of dung worshipers, so I may not be the best judge of social graces.”

  Sygne chuckled at that. “Perhaps not.”

  “Are you sure we should take him with us?”

  “‘Take him with us?’ He’s our guide. If anything, he’s taking us with him.”

  “It’s a well-defined trail,” Jamal said. “And you have your compass.”

  “What about finding food? Water?” Sygne countered.

  Jamal held up his hands. “I’m asking for his sake. You know how we talked once about how all of life is a story, and all of us have our roles to play?” Jamal pointed to himself and to Sygne. “The two of us? We’re obviously heroes. Performers on the glorious stage of adventure. Ohbo, on the other hand, his role is most definitely the ‘narrative fodder.’”

  “‘Narrative fodder?’ What does that mean exactly?”

  “It means, if we run into trouble, Ohbo will be the first one to fall victim to it. That way it helps to establish the stakes for us.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Sygne said.

  “Think about it,” Jamal said. “He’s not pleasant to look at. He has a horrible personality, and no interesting skills. If the gods allow any one of us to die on this trip, it’s going to be him.”

  Sygne actually stamped her foot. “That is a horrible thing to say. For just a moment, Jamal, can you act like this isn’t all some simple story with you at the center of it all?”

  ***

  And so they started out on the sandstone trail to the Sapphire Sea. On the trail’s northern side, the horizon buckled endlessly with large dunes. On the road’s southern side, sheer stone hills rose up like a wall.

  They all wore off-white desert riding garb. Loose pants and flowing cloaks and scarves that kept out the sun and kept in cooling perspiration. Chief Tuhn had supplied them with excellent riding clothes, and yet Sygne knew that this was going to be an unpleasant trip for her. She had traveled this road once before, two years ago when she left the Academy. That time she had ended up with sun poisoning. This time she had promised herself she would be more conscientious and liberal with her applications of skin-lotions, but already she could feel her pale face beginning to bake and tighten in the ambient light of the sun.

  Sygne exhaled in a long, heavy breath. The trail ascended a gradual slope, and it was as if Sygne could feel herself inching ever closer to the scalding sun. Sygne took a look behind them at the road stretching back toward Djunga. She saw a trio of misshapen black specks on the simmering horizon.

  “What’s that?”

  Jamal tried his best to look behind him, but he wasn’t very graceful on his dromedary hump. “I don’t know,” Jamal said distractedly. “Ohbo! How frequent are travelers on this stretch of road?”

  “Fairly frequent, considering that this is the safest land route between the Sapphire Sea and south-central Embhra. Of course, anyone with enough money will choose to sail rather than travel over land, but I suppose we’ll see a few caravans of pilgrims or refugees or mediocre merchants.”

  “Caravans?” Sygne asked. “What about a party of three?”

  Ohbo twisted on his camel. “That would definitely be a suspicious number. Three riders by themselves? They’re probably up to no good.”

  “We are three riders,” Jamal noted.

  Sygne smirked. “As he said.�
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  Ohbo stopped the camels, and they dismounted. Jamal used Sygne’s lenses to examine their pursuers. He was clearly agitated by what he saw. He nearly dropped the discs of glass, and Sygne had to dart her hands out to catch them before they broke against the sandstone.

  Jamal said, “I think they’re aqrabuamelus. Scorpion-men.”

  “Aqrabuamelus?” Ohbo’s mouth stretched into an elongated ‘o.’ “They’re supposed to be fierce warriors.

  “And skilled trackers,” Jamal added.

  Ohbo squinted through Sygne’s lenses. “I estimate they’re at least a half day’s right behind us. They probably travel faster than the strangest. Don’t you think? With all those legs…”

  Jamal said, “But unlike the strangest, they’ll have to rest.”

  Ohbo nodded. “If we quicken our pace, I don’t think they’ll be able to catch us. Tomorrow we can lose them at Skeleton Head Mountain. There’s a huge maze of caverns there—far more complicated than Djunga.”

  “Wait… Why is it called Skeleton Head Mountain?” Sygne asked.

  “Because it has two big indentations near its top that look like eyes,” Ohbo said. Then he pointed at his teeth. “And a row of small caves that look like—”

  Sygne stopped him, “No, I get that. But why ‘Skeleton Head Mountain?’ Doesn’t ‘Skull Mountain’ sound better?” She glanced to Jamal for support, but he seemed preoccupied. “Or at least more imposing?”

  Ohbo blinked at her. “‘Skull.’ I suppose that would be more succinct. I don’t know—it’s always been called ‘Skeleton Head Mountain,’ so I never thought about it being called something else.”

  Jamal said, “Can we focus on the important thing here?”

  Ohbo continued, “I suppose it was named before people knew you’re supposed to call a skeleton head a skull.”

  Sygne allowed, “Well, it’s not that you have to call—”

  “Sygne! Please!” Jamal interrupted. “Listen to me. I want to stay here and fight them.”

  Sygne and Ohbo both gaped at him.

  “Fight them?” Ohbo cried. “Are you insane?”

  Jamal shook his head. “If we all go to Skeleton Head Mountain, then we’re just postponing the inevitable, and tiring ourselves out in the process. You go on ahead. I’ll fight the aqrabuamelus here.”

  “But what if you die?” Sygne asked.

  “She’s right.” Ohbo shuddered and gnashed his teeth. “The scorpion-men have huge, razor-sharp pincers. And long-reaching tails. And don’t forget their poisonous stingers!”

  “Venomous,” Sygne said. “Scorpions and scorpion-men are venomous.”

  This correction only made Ohbo more agitated. “You hear that, Jamal? It’s not the aqrabuamelus’ poison that will liquify your flesh. It’s their venom. I hope you’ll keep that in mind while you’re dying alone like an idiot!”

  Sygne decided to pile on. “Is this about our conversation this morning? Is this some kind of drastic lesson about Gjuiran heroism?”

  Jamal held up his hands. “I can take them. Remember… I fought with a war goddess and won.”

  “What’s he talking about?” Ohbo cried. “Oh no! I think the sun has got to him. We’ll have to tie him up…”

  “You didn’t fight a war goddess,” Sygne clarified. “You fought a war goddess’s finger.”

  “I defeated a war goddess’s finger.”

  Sygne said, “You fought it to a draw.”

  Ohbo held his head. “Have you both gone sun crazy?”

  “It will be okay,” Sygne told the cameleer. Then she turned back to Jamal, who was beginning to pull his gear off of his camel Daphne’s back. He clamped a pair of bronze bracers onto his forearms.

  “Jamal…”

  “Do you know where I got these?” he asked her. She could see that the armor was decorated with intricate—if anatomically exaggerated—engravings of mermaids. Jamal answered his own question. “From a friend who died trying to protect me when Bliss first attacked. I had to arrange for his funeral, sell off all his possessions.” Jamal clenched his jaw for a moment. “I understand what is at stake here. I might like to think of my life as a story, but I know that when it ends, it ends permanently.”

  Sygne touched his shoulder. “I’m sorry your friend died. I’m terrified that you might die too.” She realized there was something else she could say. “You told me once that it’s never good when men war with other men. Whether you die or the other man dies, it’s always a tragedy.”

  Jamal’s eyes were dull, half-lidded. “Yes. So?”

  “So? So the aqrabuamelus are half men. They have the brains of men, the hearts of men.”

  Jamal set down his pack on the sandstone. “That’s true. But what would you have me do? It’s either us or them.”

  “That’s not true, at least not yet. You heard Ohbo’s idea. We could possibly avoid bloodshed. And it’s a way for us to stay together.”

  Jamal’s body heaved with a long, loud breath. “Okay, we keep on moving. But mainly because I’m worried about you. And worried about what I might do to the human halves of those things.”

  Ohbo looked immensely relieved when Sygne told him that they would all three be moving east. She tried to match his smile, but she was preoccupied, trying to devise her own nonviolent, scientific way to solve their aqrabuamelu problem.

  7 – Quandary at Skeleton Head Mountain

  For the rest of the day, they rode along the brim of the open desert. It was a tense trip. The aqrabuamelus kept a steady distance behind them, always just barely there on the horizon. Just as with the strangest, Jamal felt a constant crawl of dread moving down his spine as they rode. That looming danger was always there, just behind them.

  In fact Jamal began to wonder if the aqrabuamelus were toying with them. Were the man-hybrids herding them along the trail toward some trap?

  On the afternoon of the next day, Jamal’s worst suspicions were confirmed when Skeleton Head Mountain finally rose from the desert haze. The hollowed out recesses that formed the mountain’s ‘eyes’ stared out at them with a tectonic contempt. The megalith wasn’t the only thing watching them. Three distant figures stood on the sandstone trail, barring any progress to the mountain.

  A quick check with Sygne’s lenses proved that these new strangers were also scorpion-men.

  Jamal said, “It’s a pincer movement.”

  Ohbo snorted. “Aqrabuamelus in front of us, and aqrabuamelus behind us, and you still make jokes?”

  “No, it’s a military tactic,” Jamal said. “Our enemies are closing in on us from both sides. These new foes are less than an hour away.” Jamal surveilled the desolate crags of rocks to his right, then the even more desolate wasteland to his left. “Now they have us trapped with nowhere to run.”

  “I’m sorry,” Sygne said. “If we had stuck with your original plan—”

  “Then you and Ohbo would have run into these eastern aqrabuamelus on your own. It wouldn’t have mattered much either way.”

  Ohbo trembled. “So what do we do?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” Sygne said. “Ohbo, you said that your camels can travel through the desert for weeks without water?”

  “Yes.”

  Jamal felt the need to add, “But we cannot.”

  “We have water for ourselves.” Sygne gestured to the bulging water sacks on the camels’ backs. “I’m sure the aqrabuamelus have water too, but they can’t travel as long in the desert as the camels can. Exerting themselves.”

  Jamal frowned. “I don’t like that idea.”

  Sygne asked, “Ohbo, can you show us your map?”

  The cameleer took one more wary look at the figures in the distance; then he unfolded his hand-traced map of the eastern Tawr and set it down on the sandstone.

  He showed them Skeleton Head Mountain. Sygne ran her finger directly north of the landmark. After tracing two inches of distance, she stopped at a tiny floral icon
isolated on a tract of blank parchment.

  “That’s an oasis, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Ohbo said begrudgingly. “An oasis mapped in the middle of the moving dunes, fifty years ago. And do you see this circle?” Ohbo pointed at a four-inch wide perimeter just to the left of the oasis. “That’s the Cursed Quarter. Tallasmanak is situated somewhere in this region.”

  Jamal sat straighter and blew out a puff of breath.

  “Tallasmanak? The City of the Dead?” Sygne almost scoffed, but she caught herself. Jamal could see her choosing her next tact. “That’s an old legend.”

  Jamal interjected, “The Dweller Under Dreams was an old legend, too. Doesn’t mean it didn’t almost obliterate us—”

  Sygne pointed emphatically at the oasis on the map. “But look—this point is clearly outside the zone of danger, and with my compass we can travel directly north. We won’t veer west.”

  The cameleer shook his head. “My beautiful Bright Star. You know it pains me greatly to ever criticize you. But I believe this is a case in which you are being too clever. You know too much to know that you don’t know enough.”

  “Hey…” Jamal said. “She knows a lot. Enough to know this is an insane idea. Traveling across the open desert? We could end up lost, roaming around in circles for days.”

  “As compared to being ripped apart and liquified by scorpion men in the next hour?”

  Jamal shrugged at Sygne’s point. It was a good one. He went through the reasoning out loud. “The aqrabuamelus are probably traveling light. Foraging for food. They won’t want to travel across the shifting sands.”

  Ohbo said, “That’s because they know they will be headed toward the City of the Dead!”

  This time, Sygne chose not to hide her skepticism. “Tallasmanak is just a legend. Think about it. Why would anyone build a city out in the middle of the shifting sands? It’s not feasible, they would all—”

  “Die?” Ohbo said.

  Sygne sighed. “Well, if they’re all dead then they won’t bother us.”

  The cameleer groaned. “I really wish you hadn’t said that.”