The travel south bored the hell out of Sparrow. The desert was lifeless and dull, and everywhere she looked was sand, sand and more sand. She was sick of sand. It got into every nook and cranny imaginable. She needed a bath desperately to alleviate the insistent itching in the parts of her body that creased, like in the back of her knees and between her thigh and belly. Every time she went to bed she had to sit there and carefully use what little water they had to wipe as much of the sand from her nooks and crannies. She even started getting sand in the crack of her arse, as well as other places; not that she would admit that to anyone. She peered back at the caravan of nomads that trundled sedately behind them in a long train of wagons pulled by the Ginrul; she sniffed indifferently.
She sat on her Ginrul and her behind ached with the constant sitting in one place. Not to mention her back from the constant slouching; it just took to much effort to sit straight all the time. Though she remained quiet a lot of the time, being known as women of few words, she often took some time to mentally complain to herself. She often felt better after wards, but in the unbearable heat of the desert it was of no comfort. She sighed heavily and eased her buttocks into a better position making the Ginrul grunt.
"Oh shut up," she snapped, "I'm the one that has to sit on you... I think I would have preferred to run."
Running, now there was a pleasure she missed since the incident at the Tattered Spire. She often had enjoyed the long distance runs she had to make with Gwayne, her dog, by her side. The feel of her muscles working as she took each stride, the air filling and leaving her lungs, and most of all the feel of the wind in her hair as she sprinted. She could run to any place in Albion with the ease of a canine and Gwayne was possibly the only thing in Albion that could keep pace with her. The exception being the creature she rode but she was not counting Samarkand. She conceded she missed those days. Running had always been a relaxing activity especially if she was angry. Being able to beat her anger out with each stride had been the best feeling in the world, pushing herself further and further beyond her limits. She sighed wistfully as she kneaded her thigh. Even though she had been proud of her physique time had softened her muscles giving the illusion of femininity even though she had always been, and may always will be, more of a tomboy. Well you had to in her line of work. She would love to see a 'lady' do what she had to.
She sighed again and chuckled dryly to herself at the thought of seeing many of the noble ladies from Bowerstone trying to lift a sword let alone swing it. She felt a presence approach her and her head turned slightly to see Reaver peer at her curiously an amused smirk curling his lips. She was glad she was wearing her full head scarf she was given by the nomads so he could not see the flush that crept into her cheeks.
"Everything all right Sparrow?" he asked airily.
She sighed again and snorted. "Fine, fine," she waved her gloved hand dismissively, "I was... just thinking that's all."
"Oh," the curiosity plain in the pirates voice, "About what?"
Sparrow could not help but laugh at him. He scowled in annoyance and huffed sulkily.
"Not about you if that's what you think," she commented casually and she laughed when he pouted. "No... I was thinking about how much I had enjoyed running that's all."
Reaver snorted derisively. "Running? Why would you do that when there a more effective modes of transport like ships or carriages."
"Ships are fine if your crossing huge bodies of water," Sparrow smiled, "and carriages I hate because they bounce too much on rough ground and it makes me feel sick. I always found the fastest way to get from point A to point B was by using my feet."
Reaver considered this and shrugged. "Well either way I prefer a way to get from 'Point A' and 'Point B' with as minimal effort to me."
Sparrow's smile widened to a grin. Somehow she knew he was going to say that.
"I'd like to see you run a cross country race," she smirked, "You would find some way to cheat."
"Naturally," he admitted with no hint of remorse, "No point in doing something to win if you can't cheat."
"I bet your good at keystone then," the hero said with a small laugh. Reaver turned to regard her with a frown as he thought about it.
"Hmm, well yes, but I gave up playing that years ago."
"Why's that?" she asked.
"It ceased to be very challenging," he admitted with a shrug.
Sparrow burst out laughing which made Reaver scowl angrily. "What are you laughing at!?"
"You," she said pointedly, "if you cheat on things it would cease to be 'challenging'."
Reaver sighed as she continued to laugh. Their Ginrul trotted on regardless and behind them a pair of curious mauve eyes watched, twinkling in amusement. Lorna turned her head to the mage that rode beside her and the old man. She was currently nestled on the throat of Oota's Ginrul whose feathers were greying with age and the beasts reigns in her hands. She regarded the mage who was watching the spectacle with a smile and he looked down at Lorna with a wink. She giggled and drew her cloak closer to her self to ward off the intense sun.
On the other side of the old man's Ginrul rode Corban was was staring at the sandy ground his face hidden beneath the scarf wrapped about his face, head and neck. The old man turned his head slightly to watch him and with a grin he turned to the mage.
"I know for a fact that no rain falls in the desert," he said in a mild tone, "But do you get the feeling that there is a heavy rain cloud hanging over us?"
Garth chuckled as his eyes trailed to the slumped lump. Though he would admit the air about Corban's person felt heavier as if he was radiating depressive waves, he would not of called it a rain cloud. He gave Oota Dabun an awkward smile and turned to look else where. Then a thought occurred to him. This old man was old, so, he wondered, would he know more about the Animagi? He turned back to look at the old man thoughtfully as he joked with Lorna making the little girl giggle.
"Oota?" The old man looked up curiously fixing Garth with a intense stare that made the mage's innards squirm.
"Would you, by any chance, know anything about the Animagi?"
"Apart from they're extinct?" the old man replied pointedly.
Garth smiled wanly. "Yes, I know that but I mean anything else apart from they're extinct."
The old man chuckled and sat back on his seat as he thought about it. His gnarled fingers where curled round his chin as if they were made to fit that part of his face. The old man's dark eyes grew distant as if deliberating or was it calculating. Either way he seemed to be digging deep as it took a while for the old man to respond.
"Well, do you know about the thing with animals?" he finally asked his head tilted slightly to look at Garth.
"Well, I know that they always seemed to have animals around where ever they went," Garth replied.
"Hmm, well there is a reason for that," Oota said as his face became solemn, a hand rested on Lorna's head who was having to much fun directing the large Ginrul to even take any notice of the adults conversation. "I was born just towards the end of the war with the Animagi, just before they were considered extinct as a race. They were a tenacious people and fought with the last of their strength. I suppose you could say that was being stubborn however, if it were not for our numbers they would of won the war by sheer power."
Garth's eyes widened. "What do you mean 'sheer power'? They were few yes, but their power was no more than ours."
"Is that what you think," the old man chuckled and scanned the horizon with his eyes, "You see, they were closer to nature than we could ever hope to be. They respected the land, cared for it, loved it like a mother, and in return the beasts and the earth itself gave them power, protection and most of all companionship."
"What do you mean?" Garth asked breathlessly.
Suddenly the old mans face grew sorrowful and as he spoke, it was slow and deliberate. "At the age when an animagi child becomes an adult they perform a right of passage. Needless to say the result is the joining between man and beast. A bond that could not be broken, even in death." Garth's eyes widened, if possible, even wider as the old man continued. "The beast and Magi shared power, and together they were potentially stronger than you or I, but kill the beast and the Magi was almost defenceless. It was by this means that we won the war, by killing their beloved animals that we were able to pick them off one by one." The old man sighed regretfully and the tendrils of guilt crept into Garth's chest squeezing him from the inside. "Though this was the case, it was still dangerous to take on an Animagi in their grief, because they had the ability to call up a multitude of animals and if the Magi was especially strong and talented, they could cause the trees to fight for them as well. I have only ever witnessed the terrifying power of an enraged Animagi once and believe me, I was petrified and would not leave my house for a month."
"Was it really that terrible a power?" Garth asked a frown creasing his brow.
"Oh yes, if you saw it then you would know," the old man said firmly, "we were afraid of this bond with nature and perhaps more jealous than we realised."
Garth's eyes trailed to the reigns he had been gripping progressively tighter in his grasp as the old man spoke, any tighter and they may of cut into his hands. The guilt in his stomach intensified and he began to wish he had never asked. The very thought his great race were reduced to envious adolescent children afraid of something strange so that they had to destroy it. He sighed, his voice wavering as he exhaled. Oota Dabun smiled grimly and patted the man sympathetically on the shoulder.
"Believe me, I feel it as much as you," the old man said, "Probably more so."
Garth looked up curiously as the old man sighed and straightened in his saddle.
"Though that was a long time ago and hopefully we, as a race, have learnt our lessons," Oota stated, "it is all we can do in this case as no matter what we do we cannot resurrect a dead race, unless..."
The old man's eyes widened as if something had just occurred to him. Garth felt a simpering pang of hope as he leaned over slightly to stare at the old man.
"Unless...?"
The old man snapped out of his reverie and he gave the mage a puerile smile. "What?"
"Well, unless what?"
"Unless what?" the old man repeated blinking simply. Garth let loose an exasperated sigh as he ground his teeth in annoyance.
"Never mind," he ground out and the old man smiled cheekily.
"Oh-kay!" he chimed turning back to Lorna who handed the old man back the reigns.
As the sun reached its highest peak in the sky the sand was slowly beginning to change colour from yellow and into a pale grey. As they stopped atop of a dune the party came to a halt as the caravan behind them progressed onwards regardless. As Sparrow sat up on her Ginrul the old man, with Lorna, pulled in beside her staring down at the expanse before them. The desert ceased at the base of the dune and from underneath it strange grey spikes rose from dried and cracked earth. The craggy pinnacles seemed to tower over the caravans, but yet there was nothing menacing about them. They just seemed content to sit and point towards the sky longing to touch it.
"What is it?" She asked her voice filled with awe as the spiky terrain disappeared over the horizon.
"Well," the old man began, "Its called...mhmm... lets see, how would it translate...hmm nn no thats not right, mmm oh yes, 'The Forest of Bumpy Cones."
"'Forest of Bumpy Cones'?" Reaver scoffed in a incredulous tone, "that's a bizarre name."
"Yes well, the ones who named it some few millennia ago were off their heads on the particular type of salt in this area," the old man replied with a shrug and Reaver laughed, "This whole plain is essentially made of mineral salt."
"Really?" Sparrow's asked breathlessly, "This whole place? How is that possible?"
"Well, this whole area used to be a vast inland ocean," the old man said sweeping his arm to indicate the whole area, "it soon dried out after the area became hotter, but this ocean is the reason why this desert exists."
"Wow," she breathed in amazement.
"Hang about," Reaver interrupted his face creased with thought, "did you say the persons before mentioned were 'off their heads' on this salt?" He jerked his thumb towards the plain and the old man stared at him his eyes twinkling.
"Yes, the salt has narcotic properties."
Reaver's eyes brightened at the thought and he grinned playfully. "Really? What kind of effects does it have?"
Sparrow stared at him horrified he may even consider such a thing. He replied with a shrug though his eyes remained curious and some what longing. The old man rolled his eyes and resigned himself to shaking his head.
"Well, have you tried the particular herb a lot of Samarkandian's are fond of?" The pirate nodded, "Ok then if you licked one of those spikes you would be blazing for, oh, seven hours or so..."
Reaver's eyes widened at the thought and Sparrow turned to him with a frown.
"What does 'blazing' mean?" she asked.
"Its a state where your whole body feels completely relaxed, sometimes you would have giggle fits and the need to eat, but mostly you would be 'spacing', not totally with it and so on," he replied calmly.
"Ah ah, I'm not finished," the old man stated wagging his finger as if telling off a child, "If you ate a handful of salt you most likely would hallucinate and that can last roughly the same time depending on how much you ate, the more you eat the more intense the visions become, but if you were to dissolve the salt in water and boil it, that is when the substance is most dangerous because for some reason the steam intensifies all the effects. The visions become more violent no matter what your state of mind or how much you inhale prolonged exposure can result in violent seizures and ultimately death."
Reaver seemed to consider this seemingly undeterred by the thought of death as his finger tapped his chin in thought.
"Don't you dare," Sparrow hissed.
"What?"
"I know that face, your contemplating on trying it aren't you!"
"Well, the licking or eating sounds good but I don't think I would go as far as dying in steam, that is such an unimaginative way to die," he snorted, "what if it is drunk when dissolved in water?"
"Reaver!"
"What? It was a legitimate question."
Sparrow despite her self growled heatedly though Reaver ignored her and looked intently at the old man. "Well?"
"If you drank it you would more or less make you mightily sick," Oota said with a chuckle, "It would be almost be like drinking alcohol, except there is a risk of hallucinating as well."
"So basically it is a hallucinogen as well as a narcotic?"
"Simply put yes."
Reaver hummed thoughtfully to himself whilst Sparrow looked ready to hit him. Reaver sighed and looked over to Sparrow with a raised eyebrow. They stared at each other for a moment until Sparrow huffed and turned away.
"Fine," she snapped, "but I'm not going to be the one to deal with you afterwards."
"Fine with me," Reaver replied with an indifferent shrug and she glared at him.
"What do you mean fine with you!" she nearly screeched, "what if you go too far and something happens!"
Reaver sighed wearily and regarded her with a mild expression. "My dear I have many years of experience with such things."
"And!"
"And' I am more than capable of handling myself," he stated firmly noting that the old man had began to inch away as Lorna's face split into a huge grin.
"Is that so," she replied loftily, "In that case don't come crying to me when it goes wrong."
Reaver stiffened in his saddle as she also pulled away and followed the other three down the dune and onto the salt plain. He glared down at her as his teeth ground against each other.
"For your information young lady I do not cry! And if I did I would most certainly not go crying to you," He shouted down to her. She ignored him in part as she flipped him off over her shoulder. He growled. "Besides you are as sensitive and as sympathetic as a crazed hobbe with a mallet!"
She continued to ignore him and he huffed, slouching into his saddle with a pout. He glared down at Sparrow's back his eyes glittering. He nudged the heels of his boots into the Ginrul's shoulders and it trotted down the dune to catch up with the others. As soon as he reached the bottom, and the others followed the nomad train, he reached into one of his packs and withdrew a pouch. He stopped his Ginrul by one of the vast pinnacles and worked on the surface grinning when it just simply crumbled under his touch. Whilst humming one of his favourite sea shanties he grabbed a few handfuls and hid the pouch in his bag. With a few quick nudges he soon caught up with the others just as the nomad train began to curve into a westerly direction.
When he got to where the others stopped he found Oota speaking with one of his brethren. After a moments talk the gentlemen left to jump into a caravan, which trundled off just as soon as he jumped on. Oota turned to them with a bright grin as he rubbed his hands together.
"Looks like I will be joining you," he said cheerily and Reaver could swear he heard Garth groan under his breath. Reaver chuckled and bowed in his seat.
"It will be a pleasure to have you with us," he said grandiosely and the old man beamed.
"All right then shall we continue south?" Oota cried encouragingly and nudged his Ginrul forward pumping his fist into the air with the excitement of a child. Lorna giggled and copied. The site made the pirate chuckle as he followed pulling in beside the old man who had a silly smile on his face. Oota then looked over at the pirate his lips pulling back in a grin.
"I take it you grabbed a handful?" Oota whispered leaning over slightly. Reaver cast the old man a sheepish smile and he looked over his shoulder to Sparrow who was busy talking to Garth. He turned back to Oota and nodded. The old man's face brightened and he chuckled. "Wonderful, my place?"
Reaver looked mildly shocked but it was soon replaced with a huge grin. "Would be an honour."
The old man laughed and looked over his shoulder at the hero and mage. He gave the pirate a wink and both faced forward with an air of 'I-know-something-you-don't' about them. Lorna gave the old man a puzzled look and he patted her on the head pressing a finger to his lips followed by a wink. Lorna smiled awkwardly and shrugged turning back to the doll she had started making. Adults are weird, she thought as her fingers flew back and forth in a fluid motion.
After the nomad train parted ways to travel westward towards the grassier plains they continued south towards even more rainforest though Sparrow was not to know that. As the sun began its descending arch towards the jagged horizon they stopped for a break their Ginrul taking up their customary positions in a circle to protect their riders from any wind that may kick up sand. Sparrow sat leaning against her mount with a hand clasped about a water skin taking long draughts from it. The old man had taken to whispering in a very suspicious manner with Reaver and seeing that smirk on the pirates lips always made her suspicious. When he felt her eyes upon him, he looked up and gave her a cheeky wink before turning back to Oota Dabun.
Sparrow huffed her cheeks puffing out in annoyance. She looked looked at Lorna who was busy sewing away despite the heat that caused Sparrow to feel so drowsy. She peered over curiously and noted it looked a little familiar. Sparrow smiled wrapping a friendly arm about the girls shoulder. Out of habit the little girl nuzzled closer.
"So, is this one Garth?" Sparrow asked and the girl nodded wordlessly. Sparrow sighed. The small girl always seemed to go really quiet when concentrating on her work and hero always knew that it would be of excellent quality. Where she had learned to create dolls so expertly was beyond her. It made her wonder what exactly the small girl experienced in the slave camp. Either way she would never know and Lorna seemed reluctant to give up her secrets so the hero had to wait, years if need be.
Suddenly the small girl stiffened and her head tilted upwards. She squeaked and clasped her arms about the woman's waist seeking comfort.
"Sparrow!" At the sound of her name her head jerked up and the others had rushed to their feet save for the old man who sat calmly as a finger worked his inner ear. Sparrow tightened arms grip about the small girl as her other hand snaked about the handle of her pistol. Her eyes narrowed as she spied the large Ginrul that surrounded them. Upon their backs were soldiers clad in black armour whose silver studs glinted blindingly in the intense light. They had clasped in their gauntlet covered hands cruel looking lances that towered above them.
-Who are you?- Garth demanded in his native tongue, but the soldiers refused to reply. They seemed frozen, transfixed to their saddles until the circle parted and a grand looking fowl with reigns highly decorated with jewels, feathers and other precious stones stepped forward. Upon its saddle sat a portly man dressed in a long purple silk robe that seemed stretched about his vast stomach. His fingers were dripping in a multitude of jewels, his neck hidden by golden necklaces and his ear lobes were stretched by the heavy hoops, but his head was naked of anything even hair. Sparrows eyes slid to him a dangerous glint sparkled as she drew her pistol from its holster.
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I hope this chapter was ok its a bit later than expected, but never mind at least its up. Again leave comments and reviews with any critism and so on, I always like to hear from my readers. And thanks to Night Writer Z for that brilliant review X3 and to Fae... bless ya three times in a row heheh also yes he is a bit of card but what can ya do lol, and Of Bleeding Dreams, yes, I thought it would be funny if he did XD for some reason I could imagine him that way lol. The next chapter will up soon enough X3